Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Vincent appeared in the library doorway just as the sun was setting. His expression was as blank as usual, but there was an energy to his posture suggesting his errand was urgent.
“Dr. Vale? I mean, Summer. I wondered if you might be interested in a more practical application of your research.”
Summer looked up from the heavy grimoire on supernatural bonds, which she was engrossed in. She rubbed her tired eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was in danger of some serious eye strain. “What kind of application?”
“There’s been another death. Similar to the ones you investigated in the Quarter with Rowan.” Vincent’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “The coroner is… a friend of the community. She’s requested a consultation from someone with medical expertise in… supernatural matters.”
“Fabian mentioned I shouldn’t leave Le Sang without an escort,” Summer said automatically.
Although her pulse quickened at the prospect of using her medical skills on something concrete was appealing after hours of research and theory.
She shook her head at the realization she was questioning a release from the mansion.
Have you become so used to your captivity?
“But I would love to help in any way I can.”
“Naturally, I would accompany you. Master Delacour is occupied with business matters this evening.” Vincent’s tone suggested this absence was fortunate rather than coincidental. “The examination wouldn’t take long.”
Summer studied Vincent’s face, noting the careful way he avoided looking toward the library entrance. “This friend of the community—does Fabian know about the consultation request?”
“Master Delacour values your expertise. I’m certain he would approve of you assisting with community concerns.” Vincent’s answer wasn’t exactly a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. “Your medical knowledge combined with your… enhanced perceptions could provide insights others might miss.”
Summer ran to her room to collect her medical bag, pleased to see it had appeared along with some other things she had left at her father’s house.
She met Vincent in the underground garage, tracing her fingertips over Rowan’s claiming bite.
No longer able to feel him through the bond, Summer noted the mark felt cooler than the surrounding skin.
The drive across New Orleans took them through the Marigny and into a section of the city Summer didn’t recognize.
Summer leaned back, watching the moon in the night sky.
Vincent’s hands were steady on the wheel, but she caught him checking the rearview mirror more frequently than she thought necessary.
“Are we being followed?” she asked.
“Caution is wise when investigating supernatural matters.” Vincent’s jaw tightened slightly. “Particularly when the investigation might reveal information certain parties prefer to keep hidden.”
The morgue was housed in a nondescript building, it could have been any number of municipal facilities. Dr. Linh Nguyen met them at a side entrance, her scrubs rumpled and her expression grim. Vincent introduced them formally.
“Thank you for coming, Dr. Vale. I’ve heard about your work with unusual cases.” Dr. Nguyen led them both through sterile hallways; they smelled of antiseptic and a metallic scent which made Summer’s supernatural senses recoil. “This victim is… complex.”
The body on the examination table had once been male, probably in his twenties, his lean build indicated regular physical activity. But the similarities to normal human anatomy ended there.
“Time of death was approximately six hours ago,” Dr. Nguyen said, pulling back the sheet to reveal the torso. “But the condition of the body suggests to me the death process took much longer.”
Summer pulled on latex gloves and moved closer, her medical training automatically cataloging what she saw. Her palms warmed as she took in the victim’s injuries. His chest was crisscrossed with scarring in distinct patterns. The parallel lines looked almost ritualistic in their precision.
“These marks,” she said, gently probing the surrounding tissue of the scars. “They’re partially healed. This didn’t happen recently.”
“This is what’s so strange,” Dr. Nguyen replied. “The scarring is weeks old, maybe months. But the cause of death was acute system failure, which I believe occurred this afternoon.”
Summer’s witch senses picked up traces that made her skin crawl. It was the same wrongness she’d detected in Mr. Guidry, the patient who vanished. There was a scent of the same lingering corruption from the French Quarter after the hybrid attacks.
“Vincent,” she said quietly. “Can you sense anything unusual about this body?”
Vincent moved closer, his nostrils flaring. “Magic. Old magic, and something else. Something that feels like…” He paused, frowning. “Like a transformation which was forced to reverse itself.”
Summer looked at the scarring again, this time seeing it with supernatural rather than purely medical eyes. The patterns weren’t random; they followed specific pathways through the body, marking points where major blood vessels and nerve clusters intersected.
“Dr. Nguyen, do you have records of any similar cases? Bodies with this type of scarring pattern?”
“Three others in the past week. All found in different locations, all with the same mysterious scarring, all dead from what appears to be systemic failure.” Dr. Nguyen pulled out a tablet, scrolling through digital files.
“The strange thing is, their dental records and DNA don’t match any missing persons reports.
It’s like these people didn’t exist until they died. ”
Summer felt pieces of a disturbing puzzle clicking into place. “Vincent, in the books I was reading today, there were references to forced transformation reversal. How would those reversals present?”
“Extremely painful. Potentially fatal.” Vincent’s expression darkened. “The process of changing from human to hybrid was traumatic enough. Forcing a hybrid back to human form would require incredible magical power and sophisticated medical support.”
“Medical support,” Summer repeated, studying the scarring patterns again. “These marks aren’t just from a magical transformation. This has been done with surgical precision to guide the process. This was done in a proper medical facility.”
She moved around the body, examining other areas of scarring. Each mark was placed with mathematical exactness, following anatomical pathways to maximize the efficiency of magical energy flow while minimizing the risk of immediate death.
“Whoever did this has extensive knowledge of both supernatural physiology and human surgical techniques,” she said. “And they’ve had practice. Lots of practice.”
“Did the other three bodies show similar accuracy?” Vincent asked the medical examiner.
“You mean the identical placement of scarring? As if they were all worked on by the same person, using similar techniques?” Dr. Nguyen pulled up photos from the other cases.
“Yes, they did. But here’s what really bothers me.
All the bodies are deteriorating rapidly.
Much faster than I have ever witnessed in human decomposition. ”
Summer examined the photos, noting the systematic way the scarring followed nerve pathways and major organ connections. “This wasn’t random experimentation. Someone is perfecting a process for reversing hybrid transformations. But why?”
“Perhaps,” Vincent said carefully, “to create humans who could be transformed again. More easily, with less risk of failure.”
The implications made Summer’s stomach clench. If what Vincent said was correct, then someone was building an army of humans who could be reliably transformed into hybrids, using forced reversal to eliminate the unpredictable elements which made Victor’s experiments so dangerous.
“The sophistication level here is incredible,” she said, moving back to examine the chest scarring. “This would require not just magical knowledge but advanced medical equipment, surgical facilities, and probably a full team of specialists.”
“Dr. Vale,” Dr. Nguyen said quietly, “there’s one more thing. We found traces of silver in the victim’s bloodstream. Not enough to be fatal on its own, but combined with the transformation reversal…”
“Silver would interfere with supernatural healing, making the reversal process even more traumatic.” Summer straightened, her mind racing through the implications.
“Someone is using silver to prevent the body from rejecting the forced change. They’re making the transformation stick, regardless of the host’s natural resistance. ”
Vincent studied the scarring intensely. “These patterns remind me of something I’ve seen before. In the old texts, Master Delacour showed me about Vatican hunter techniques.”
“Vatican hunters?” Summer looked up sharply. “What would they want with creating humans who can be transformed into hybrids? It was only a few months ago, when we were all trying to destroy the hybrids. I thought we’d been successful in eradicating them completely.”
“Perhaps not creating them for their own use, Dr. Vale,” Vincent said slowly. “But creating them to study how to most effectively destroy them.”
“That’s quite terrifying, Vincent,” replied Summer. “If Vatican hunters are perfecting techniques for both creating and destroying hybrids, they would have unprecedented power over the supernatural community.”
Summer hung her head. If the Vatican’s hunters could create armies of monsters to justify their hunting, then demonstrate their ability to destroy those same monsters, it would mean control of New Orleans would no longer fall under the auspices of the local supernatural.
“Dr. Nguyen, the DNA you couldn’t match to missing persons—have you tried running it against older databases? Historical records?”
“What do you mean by historical?”
“These people,” Summer said, studying the photographs again. “What if they weren’t random victims? What if they were specifically chosen because of their bloodlines, their genetic heritage?”
She thought of the young man she’d treated during her early weeks with the pack, the heir to an old werewolf line who’d been transformed into a hybrid and then cured through desperate supernatural intervention. If someone was targeting individuals with specific supernatural heritage…
“Vincent, I need to contact someone. A patient I treated several months ago. If I’m right about this pattern, he might be in danger.”
“Who?” Vincent asked.
“A young man from the Tremé line. The one who was transformed into a hybrid and then cured. If someone is collecting individuals with specific bloodlines to perfect their transformation techniques…”
Vincent nodded grimly. “They would want someone who had survived both transformation and reversal. Someone whose body had proven capable of handling the process without dying.”
Summer pulled out her phone, scrolling through her medical contacts until she found the number she needed. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Dr. Nguyen, thank you for the consultation. If any other similar cases come through, please contact me immediately.” Summer was already moving toward the exit, her mind racing through possibilities and preparations. “Vincent, we need to find Tommy Jensen. Tonight.”
As they left the morgue, Summer caught Vincent checking the rearview mirror again. This time, she was certain they were being followed—a dark sedan maintained perfect distance, its windows too tinted to reveal the occupants.
“Vincent,” she said quietly. “What haven’t you told me about why you wanted me to see the body?”
Vincent’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Master Delacour received a call this afternoon. Someone is requesting a meeting about potential collaboration on medical research. They mentioned having access to subjects with unique supernatural heritage.”
Summer felt cold settle in her bones. “And?”
“He agreed to the meeting. Tomorrow night.” Vincent’s voice was barely audible. “They specifically asked about you, Dr. Vale. Your medical expertise and your connection to the werewolf community.”
“I see. Thank you. By the way, Vincent, you really should call me Summer.”
“Yes, ma’am, but the Master would not like me to be so informal in front of witn… I mean strangers.” He glanced in the rearview mirror once more, and Summer twisted in her seat.
The sedan behind them maintained its discreet distance as they drove through the New Orleans night, and Summer realized she’d walked deeper into a trap than she’d ever imagined.
Someone wasn’t just experimenting on hybrids; they were collecting specific individuals for those experiments. Would they soon be collecting her?