Forty-eight hours in which to dread what is to come, Janvier had said to her once while they’d been discussing punishment in the realm of immortals and almost-immortals. It’s a stupid man indeed who seeks to break a law when the penalty is in Dmitri’s hands.
Parole wasn’t even a possibility until the vampire had served a hundred years.
As far as Ashwini was concerned, it was the perfect goddamn punishment. The vamp had been fucking and sucking from a thirteen-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old girl, both of whom had been raised in his household, the children of servants. Instead of protecting the innocents who’d looked up to him, he’d used their trust and that of their parents to systemically abuse.
He’d even groomed his victims to the point that they believed the abuse to be a normal part of life.
The two children had been damaged on such a deep level, Ashwini knew the prognosis for their future psychological health had been bleak at best. She’d heard rumors that it was one of the rare times Raphael had personally involved himself in the lives of mortals—this was long before Elena became his consort.
According to the rumor mill, he’d done something to the children’s minds that allowed them to heal. Ashwini had always hoped the rumor was true, that the kids had made it, were living safe and happy lives as the adults they’d now be . . . and that no other monster had invaded their existence.
Like the one who had preyed on this victim.
The female—who wasn’t any longer in the Dumpster, but had been put on a tarp on the fresh-fallen snow beside it, a white tablecloth protecting her from exposure—wasn’t a child. That much was clear when Ashwini and Janvier lifted one edge of the tablecloth to look underneath with the help of the high-powered flashlight she’d borrowed from one of the two cops who’d responded to the report of a body.
“I knew it was a Guild case soon as I saw it,” the senior member of the duo had said, her gray hair worn in a neat bun at the back of her head and her breath frosting the air. “Things I’ve seen on this job, you’d think I’d be immune to surprise. Never come across anything like this before, though.”
The victim, her hair like straw stripped of color, wasn’t a total mummy, had some shape to her. Enough that Ashwini could tell her face had the bone structure of an adult and her breasts had developed beyond adolescence. Her height appeared to be near the five-four mark and, with the skin around her mouth having receded, her dentition was clear and testified to her humanity. No fangs, not even baby ones. The marks on her body were myriad. The light reflected off the shiny white of long-term scarring, sank into the fresh purple-green of new bruising, was torn up by the mess that had been her throat.
Someone had hurt this woman over a long period of time.
Anger throbbing in her gut, Ashwini knew any further examination would have to wait for the cold clarity of the Guild morgue. “Why did you move her?” she asked the senior patrol cop.
Her partner, young and buff and a touch green around the gills, was on guard at the entrance to the alley/drive that serviced the back of the businesses along this stretch.
“Wasn’t me, ma’am.” A subtle jerk of her head. “Restaurant owner, he had her out before we got here. Name’s Tony Rocco.”
Glancing behind the uniformed cop, Ashwini took in the short and solid-appearing man who stood red-eyed in the open back doorway of the restaurant. She rose, giving the waiting crime scene techs the go-ahead to process the scene. The two weren’t Guild, but had worked cases for and with them before and could be trusted not to leak anything to the media.
“Thanks for coming out so late, guys,” she said before walking over to Tony Rocco.
Janvier held back, talking quietly with the techs.