“Jesus, Misha, you have a vampire corpse with no head laid out like Thanksgiving dinner,” she said, covering her mouth.
He looked up. “Well, by definition, all vampire corpses have no head. Considering that’s the only way to kill us.”
The human witch shot him a frown that might have been funny in a less macabre setting. “Is this the one that was trying to kill you?”
“Yes,” he said, tracing the lines on her chest. Black lines, almost like discolored scars, were raised across her upper chest and around her neck like a collar. “These don’t look like Kova’s marks.”
She nodded in agreement. “These are definitely different.” These were more jagged, almost thorned and barbed, where Kova’s were neat and precise, almost like a script.
Careful to cover the woman’s body as he went, Misha examined her wrists and ankles. They were banded in markings, like shackles had been inked onto her. Another long line of markings twisted up her spine to form a knot at the back of her neck.
With a wince, Misha removed the plastic sheeting covering the woman’s head. The human witch looked away, but he carefully examined the marks at the base of her skull. He took a picture of the markings, then quickly sketched the full symbol in his journal. The circular pattern resembled a Covenant mark, but it wasn’t the one Shea’s court had borne, nor any he recognized.
Still, this was connected to Shea. Paige’s blood smelled just like his, which made it likely that she was one of his Vessels. Armina and her apprentices might have rounded up the stragglers from his court, or even forced him to create new Vessels since they took over.
After checking that Shoshanna was still looking away, he gritted his teeth and cracked the woman’s jaw open. Her teeth were normal fangs, but her tongue was gone, a neatly cut scar in its place.
That explained the lack of conversation.
Shining a light into her mouth, he found another dark marking on the soft palate. God, the witch was thorough. He wrinkled his nose and covered the head again, then said, “It’s covered up.”
“What are you looking for?” Shoshanna asked.
Misha glanced at her. “When she attacked me, I could smell the magic on her. And it was so strange. She had no interest in Julian. Didn’t even flinch when he came at her.”
“We know Armina wants him alive,” Shoshanna replied.
“I thought that was why until we went after Scarlett,” he said. “When we were at her house, another one went after Safira. Completely ignored Paris even though they were in the same room. You saw her, didn’t you?”
Shoshanna flinched. Though Safira and Paris had made quick work of the unfortunate blonde vampire, the redhead still came back with one eye swollen shut, a dislocated shoulder, and horrific slashes ripped down her chest. “She looked bad.”
“Understatement,” Misha said.
“But still not disproving the original theory,” Shoshanna said.
Misha frowned. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t get past the lack of survival instinct. Paris told me the woman barely flinched when he stabbed her, just kept going for Safira. Even when he got between them, she wouldn’t touch him. It just… It’s like they weren’t even people anymore. I want to know how she did this,” he said.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. Because I don’t want this to happen to any of them,” Misha said pointedly, gesturing broadly.
Shoshanna’s brown eyes widened with horror. “Do you think they could?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I want to figure out,” Misha said, shaking his head. “But we know that Armina works with the Shieldsmen, and we definitely do not want vampire hunters who can turn us to mindless puppets.”
Her throat worked silently, and she nodded. “We should compare this to Kova’s marks and figure out if it was the same process.”
“We know it’s not exactly the same,” Misha said. “Kova has a mind of his own. And a tongue.”
Her gaze cut to the lump under the plastic sheet, and she looked back at him with a comical expression of horror. “They cut out… Gross, Misha.”
“I guess that solves the problem of being a smartass. If I was a witch enslaving Paris Rossignol, I’d cut his tongue out first,” he quipped.
She let out a sharp laugh and caught herself. “It could be a similar spell, though. With the marks on the wrists and ankles, it’s worth checking out. Maybe if we understand how to fix him, we can understand how this works. And how to prevent it.”
“Not we. I’ll work on that. You work on making sure Julian doesn’t lose his lover, all right?” Misha asked.
Her smile faltered. “Yeah.”
