Nadia
It was Halloween night when I found two puncture marks on the neck of the corpse on my table.
It wasn’t unusual. After all, dealing with injuries on bodies was part of my job as a medical examiner at the Grimwood morgue.
Except those punctures looked exactly the size of human canines.
Or vampire fangs.
"That’s not possible," I muttered, in disbelief.
That was my current position. Gloves pulled up to my elbows and the late psychologist Rayson lying pale before me. Cleaning the remnants of blood from the deep cut across his throat with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol.
It was supposed to be just another ordinary shift, but of course Grimwood wouldn’t allow that. Especially not on a night like this.
I grabbed my measuring ruler on impulse, because that’s what I did when something
