tip. “I love my cousin. I have a great deal of loyalty toward him. He’s not a bad male, but he . . . growing up, he was in a bad situation. Back then, things were different. Young civilians were bred to work in the fields and provide food—they were farm equipment, not blessings. His sire was a drunk who needed something to hit, and Syn decided at a young age that he’d rather it be him than his mahmen. So he took the beatings.”
Butch shook his head. “I knew households like that on the human side.”
“People can be assholes, no matter the species.” Balthazar shrugged and tapped his head. “One night, Syn’s father took a copper pot and chased the poor kid into the pantry. He beat Syn’s skull so hard it bent the fucking metal out of shape. He was never the same after that. Seizures. Blackouts. And . . . the rage came after that.”
“Classic concussive trauma,” V muttered.
“Even if that hadn’t happened, I think Syn would have had a lot of anger, but after that . . . he was different.”
“How did he get out of the situation at home?” Butch asked. “He killed his father.” Balthazar rubbed his eyes as if he were seeing things he would have preferred not to. “I was the one who found the body. It was unrecognizable. Field dressed and decapitated. I didn’t know who it was until I saw the head off to the side under a goddamn bush. Syn was sitting there, next to the remains, covered in his sire’s blood staring at the knife in his hand like he was surprised by what he’d done with it.”
“His first taste of death,” V whispered.
“I didn’t blame him for that one.” Balthazar shook his head and ashed into the mug. “His father had to go. But then, after his transition, there were others. A lot of others.”
“Females?”
“Yeah, females, too. To his credit, he never targeted someone who didn’t deserve it. The people he killed were murderers, cheats . . . thieves.” The Bastard looked up and smiled remotely. “I get a free pass on that last one because I’m family to him.”
“Sounds like you lucked out there,” Butch said.
“Yes, indeed.” Balthazar took a drag on the hand-rolled. “Things get gruesome when he goes to work and he’s very creative.”
“So the two females who were found down at Pyre are right up his alley.”
Balthazar got to his feet and went over to the black-and-white photographs of Mai’s body. “This is a little tame for him, actually.”
“Well, he got depraved enough for my tastes.” Butch shook his head as he looked at the wall of evidence that he’d created. “Autopsy showed he had sex with her after she was dead.”
Balthazar shot a look over his shoulder. “He penetrated her, you mean.”
“Not just that. It was the full bifta, as they say.”
The Bastard came back over to the table with a frown on his face.
“You’re sure about this?”
Butch fished around the papers on the table and pulled the report out. “Yup, this just came over to me and it’s right here.” He turned the top page of the autopsy document back and got to the notes. “Semen was found in the vagina, and Havers was able to determine by examination of the tissue that it was after death. I’m going to ask Syn to give me a sample, and if he refuses, I’ll have to force the issue. Maybe that’ll finally give me the concrete evidence I need.”
“Wait, you’re sure. About the semen?”
Butch tapped the page. “It’s in the report. And though I have a dim view of my brother-in-law in some respects, I’ve never had a reason to doubt his clinical findings.”
“Well, because if it happened after she died, then Syn wasn’t the last male with her.”
Frowning, Butch put the autopsy report back down. “What makes you say that?’
Balthazar exhaled a plume of smoke. “Because he can’t ejaculate. He never does. So if you’re sure that the sex happened afterward, then there was another person with the victim that night.”
The following evening, Boone materialized from Helania’s apartment to his father’s house. As he stood in the cold, he looked at the study window that he’d broken with the garden hose and its holder. The sounds of two workmales talking inside the house were carried through the hole Boone had made, the flimsy tarp that had been temporarily hung offering scant filter of what was being said.