Velvet Haven

this guy.”
    “You ever seen this?” He was holding up what appeared to be a bud of some sort. Mairi took it, knowing right away what it was.
    “Thorn-apple. It’s a deadly narcotic, part of the nightshade family. It’s hallucinogenic and it apparently heightens sexual arousal.”
    “And how do you know that, Miss MacAuley?” the detective asked with a smile.
    “You wouldn’t believe the shit that crosses this threshold, Detective. I’ve seen just about everything, and drugs that get people off are the least of the weird. Trust me.”
    He laughed, then reached for his pad. “Do ravers use this?”
    “Along with neo-pagans, occultists, rich people looking for a rush, and kids trying to be cool by experimenting.” Mairi paused. “Any chance that goth club over in the East End might have something to do with this? It’s close to Our Lady, and it’s the right sort of scene for drugs like this.”
    “Velvet Haven?” he asked, obviously surprised. “I doubt it. The owner, Rhys MacDonald, is careful to stay within the law. He gets raided regularly and we never find anything. Besides, she’s obviously underage. She’d never get past security there.”
    “She would if she was with a VIP member.”
    “Not at Velvet Haven she wouldn’t. I know MacDonald. He doesn’t want trouble. Customers who are VIPs are given that privilege because they don’t cause shit. VIP status isn’t bought like at other clubs. It’s given, by him. That’s how he keeps things in line.”
    “You hear stories,” she murmured, trailing off. “I just thought—”
    “Yeah, well. It’s just a bunch of freaks getting their rocks off playing dress up. There certainly isn’t any of this crazy shit going on,” he grumbled, waving his hand toward the body. “I can tell you that much.”
    Shoving his notebook into his pocket, he said, “I’m heading over to Our Lady in the morning to check her file. If I have any more questions I’ll be in touch. If you think of anything that might help us, anything she might have said, give me a call.” He handed her his business card, his brow arching when she took it with her right hand, leaving her scarred wrist safely out of grabbing distance. Thankfully, he didn’t comment or question her further; he just turned on his heel and left her alone with the dead body of Lauren Brady.
    God, what a waste. Mairi reached into the stainless-steel cupboard for a white plastic body bag. Pulling on a pair of gloves, she touched the cold, lifeless body, positioning Lauren so the bag could slide beneath her. Her exam glove rolled down slightly, and Mairi’s warm wrist touched Lauren’s cool chest.
    She hissed and jumped back. The body had . . . burned her. How was that possible? She looked at the symbol that had been carved between Lauren’s breasts and then at her wrist as she felt the burning give way to a painful tingling, like a bee sting. Her wrist was red, the scars as prominent as they had been when they were fresh.
    Louise poked her head around the curtain. “Want some help?” Mairi gasped and whirled around. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”
    “It’s all right,” she rasped, sliding the cuff of her jacket down over her wrist. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”
    Louise arched her brow, but let the comment slide. “I’ll have someone come in to prep the body for the coroner.”
    “I’ll do it.”
    With her hands on her hips, Louise arched her brows. “Five minutes ago you were bellyaching that you were on break.”
    “I know. Get Vicky to cover for me, and I’ll do this.”
    “You want some help? It’s creepy as hell doing death care by yourself.”
    “I’m good,” Mairi whispered. “I . . . kind of knew her.”
    Louise glanced at the body. “Poor child. What the hell is this world coming to? You know, the cops that came in here told me she’s the ninth one this month, but she’s the only one that was carved up like a turkey.”
    “Yeah,” Mairi murmured as she rubbed the elastic cuff against her wrist to relieve the stinging. “The whole world is fucked up, isn’t it? Maybe it’s a sign, Lou.”
    “A sign of what?”
    “The beginning of the end.”

    The shop bells tinkled as Mairi pushed open the door, and Rowan looked up from the magazine she was thumbing through. “Hey, I was just thinking of you, and here you are!”
    “Disturbing. I hate it when you do that.”
    Rowan laughed and closed the magazine, then tossed it onto the end of