It was her

"Now, look at this," the pathologist pointed.

Vince lifted a scalpel and punctured the corpse's arm. A fine red powder spilled from the opening, like he had poked into a bag of rusty sand.

"What is that?" Drayce asked.

"That is blood, my friend. Extremely dehydrated blood."

"What could possibly do that?"

"That certainly is the million dollar question of the day, now isn't it? For blood to turn to a powder like this would take a sizable heat source or be freeze dried. The outside of the body would start to burn at such a temperature -- but as you can see, no burns."

Vince turned to Drayce. "You say there was a naked woman in the room when you busted in?"

"That's right. So?"

"Was she hot?" Vince snickered.

"I didn't have time to assess her attractiveness, smart ass."

Vince laughed. "Okay, okay. But here's something else interesting."

He pulled down the sheet to reveal the lower half of Travis' dead body.

"Notice anything?"

It was obvious, even to Drayce. Travis may have been dead, but he sported an extreme erection.

"Why isn't it decayed like the rest of the body?" Drayce asked.

"I have a hypothesis," Vince said. "The only time a dead man has a hard-on like this is if he was extremely aroused the moment he died. Whatever this mystery girl of yours did to him, they where having sex when she did it. Pretty hot sex, it looks like." He grinned at his own joke.

"Makes sense," Drayce thought. He did see her on top of him when he entered the room. The wings, tail, and horns were at the front of his mind, however.

"Let me know if you figure out anything else. The captain put me on leave for a few days."

Vince shook his head. "I think you're fine. We've known each other since college. After what happened to Phoebe, no one would be able to handle it well."

Drayce smiled. "Thanks, Vince."

*****

Drayce came home after sunset to his empty apartment. He hung his trench coat on the hook on the kitchen door. The kitchen lay in shadow; only a small bulb above the sink provided light. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer. Maybe he could relax.

He had just popped the cap and taken a swig when he noticed the unusual chill in his apartment. This wasn't the first time he had thought to call the landlord to fix the heater, but the temperature outside wasn't all that cold before he came in.

Drayce stepped toward the thermostat, and then stopped suddenly. A foreign scent tickled his nostrils. He recognized that smell, but it shouldn't be in his apartment - a mix of lavender, cherry blossom, and cotton candy. It was the same odor in the room where he found Travis' body. Drayce's mind stirred uneasily.

He looked around his untidy quarters. Case files and evidence photos lay messily on every available surface. Nothing seemed out of place or missing.

The windows appeared to be shut tight -- that was a relief. He glanced into the pitch-black living room and saw two small red lights in the corner. It all clicked in his brain at once.

He wasn't alone.

Drayce quickly drew his service revolver and aimed at the lights.

"Who's there?"

The two beady lights began to move towards him. The sound of clopping heels could be heard against the hardwood floor. A womanly figure stepped from the shadows of the living room.

"Is that how you greet all your guests? By pointing a gun at them?"

It was her. The woman from the night club. The one that killed Travis. And now she had come for him.

Drayce walked backwards into the light of the kitchen, his pistol still aimed at her.

"Guests are people I invite into my home," Drayce retorted.

"There's no need to be snide," the woman said, and extended her arm. In a flash, Drayce's pistol flew from his hands and into hers.

"This wouldn't do you much good anyway."

She reached into her coat pocket and threw three slugs from a handgun at Drayce's feet. He realized these were the bullets he fired at her the night before. Drayce's heart raced in fear, his adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was defenseless and unsure of what the creature wanted with him.

"What are you?" Drayce asked, his voice trembling.

The woman stepped up to Drayce, standing in the light.

"Have a seat."

The woman twitched her index finger slightly. One of the dining room chairs slid from under the table on its own and stopped at his side. Drayce reluctantly sat. She scooted onto the table in front of him, leaning forward slightly, crossing her long legs.

Drayce's vision involuntarily wandered from her knee-high leather boots to those toned legs covered in black silk stockings that disappeared under a black cocktail dress -- a dress very similar to the red dress she had worn the night before. The jacket, also made of leather, was unzipped. Her abundant cleavage looked ready to spill from her dress.

☆