Hotbloods, Coldbloods, and the Creatures In Between

#8: Vito

The officer cap fit snug around my skull. His shoes were too big, too much fabric around the belly and shoulders. Thankfully, it was a short-sleeve, so I didn't have to worry about cuffs reaching past my fingertips. Officers in uniform, and a few authoritative looking fellows walked the crime scene, taking pictures and observing bodies. Stale bodies.

Vampires aren't vultures. We don't scavenge, and I grimaced at the decomposition already taking place. Four dead bodies were discovered at the accident. A large, transport-looking truck laid on its side, a hole the size of a bowling ball punctured through the wall of reinforced steel. That's some high-grade, military shit. It was the kind of transport that we'd transport criminal vampires. Vampires that didn't obey my mother's commands as the Milanese Queen, such as 'don't level an entire god-damn village of warmbloods.'

"I don't know what could be responsible for that." A young detective said, running his latex-gloved finger along the sharp edge of where steel was punctured. I wandered closer to the truck and peered inside. Blood had been lathered on the walls, floor, and ceiling. It was old blood. A few hours old, already turning a dark, brownish red and smelling of iron and rot. Six bodies were inside. Some hunched over others, some, mangled beyond recognition. There could be seven or eight bodies, but it was too hard to tell. Limbs were mangled, bent and twisted like pretzels.

Hanging from a corpse's hand, intertwined between fingers horrifically bent in different directions, were long strands of hair. Maybe we were looking for Gryle's muscle; helping with a jailbreak. A part of me was curious, the other, more concerned about contacting the family back home for help in finding my parents, mysteriously missing.

I step into the back of the truck and reach for the few strands of hair. "What, is this your first crime scene?" I deep voice says to me. I stand so quickly that I almost slip on the gore beneath my standard-issue shoes. I turn. A detective is looking at me suspiciously. "Officer..." he says, his eyes narrow as he reads my badge, "Connors. Do you want me tell your commanding officer that you're contaminating my crime scene?"

I want to punch him in the throat and drink him dry. I don't take kindly to being scolded. I bite my tongue and I can feel blood travel between my teeth. "No, sir." I say with a sharp breath.

"Get the hell out of the truck." He says, and gestures for me to get the hell out of his sight before he fires the poor, unfortunate, and probably cold, Officer Connors.

"It won't happenagain." I say, and head back towards Sonny, Dominic, and Ry.