A Fang in the Sass

19

Trevan squeezed the steering wheel so tightly in his hands, the plastic creaked. He was sure the other two smelled his anger. Of course, Roen had his head down, phone in hands. He was glad they didn’t ask questions.

“So,” Alain said from the front passenger seat, “what are we doing, besides smelling your anger and s*x? Did you mate?”

He really needed to be more careful what he thought. How many times would he jinx himself before he learned? “We are checking out the clan area to see what we see. It’s changed a lot in eighty years.” He deliberately didn’t answer the other question.

She told him to go away. Him to go away. Nobody told him what do to, even his mate. Unless it was in bed, and he was mostly okay with that. She was so hot, so delicious… Him, go away? Not happening, woman.

He was going to protect her from herself, if need be. Someone was after her family and it was time to find out who and put an end to it. If only they had a clue who the guy at the marina was.

Roen spoke from the backseat. “We’re stopping to eat, right? I’m starving.”

“I remember seeing a restaurant down the road from a crematorium when we drove in,” Alain replied.

“Crematorium?” Trevan said. “Why would vampires want a place like that? If they want to turn into ash, all they have to do is walk outside at noon.”

His front seat passenger, c****d his head. “That’s a good question. Want to check it out?”

When they entered the west suburbs of the city where much of the clan lived, a chill ran down his back. The place felt creepy, even though it looked like any other outer residential section. Most people worked all day, so they weren’t home until nighttime. Difference was he knew these people were home, hiding, sleeping, until it came time to seek prey.

Just like Alain had said, Ataturk’s Cremations was a block from the restaurant. After seeing the lights were off and no vehicles in the parking lot, they pulled around back and stopped. Busting through the wooden backdoor was fairly easy. They listened for an alarm, but heard no sounds. Not too many people broke into crematoriums, he guessed.

He’d never seen cremation equipment, except for the black and white photos of concentration camps during the world wars. The image of an old, dirty brick structure resembling a pizza oven was what he expected. When he stepped into the back room, he felt like he was in a hi-tech computer-age facility.

The shiny white tile floor was spotless as well as the bright white walls and ceiling. Three-foot-square metal containers were stacked along walls and rolling gurneys lined another. In the center of the room stood a shiny steel monstrosity that looked almost like a vault.

There was a small square door in the middle on the front side where the casket slid in, and readouts, gauges, and displays next to it. The machine was one hundred percent automatic and state-of-the-art. So much for mud bricks and matches.

“Holy hell,” Alain said. “This isn’t what I expected. They must do some serious stuff here.” He gave a chin pop toward the containers along the wall. “Wanna bet ashes are packed in there?”

Roen shuddered. “Man, the ashes go in urns for each person. Not a metal box that big.”

Trevan sighed. “Roen, I don’t think they much worry about returning these ashes.”

“Trevan, how many bodies do you think can fit in each of these metal things?” Alain asked. He lifted one of the containers. “I’m guessing it’s around fifty pounds.”

“I have no idea how much—“

“Siri, how much do a cremated person’s ashes weigh?” Roen asked his phone. Trevan raised a brow. Was he serious about getting an answer?

“A human body cremated into ashes weighs between five and nine pounds depending on body size and bone density,” Siri replied.

Trevan was incredulous. “If that thing can wipe my ass, then I’m buying one.”

Siri replied, “I do not wipe asses. I only make them look smart.”

Alain hooted. “She’s right, Roen. You are definitely a smartass.”

“Don’t listen to them, Siri,” Roen said, cradling his phone next to his chest. “They’re just jealous.” He slid her in his back pocket. “You got your answer. There’s ‘bout seven bodies in one those, give or take a couple.”

They stood back and scanned the rows of stacks. Trevan felt sick. “Let’s see what’s in the rest of the office.” They walked through a door into a quaint office space with a few rooms. Looked like a normal business with desks and chairs. Trevan opened a file cabinet drawer and sifted through files. Alain and Roen went separate ways.

He pulled up a thick file and thumbed through it. The folder contained shipping forms to several business addresses. All for pick up or delivery of ashes. Landscapers, industries, medical facilities, filter manufactures, and others he didn’t know. And each form listed several containers. They dated back less than a year. Holy f**k! All these in that short of time?

“Trevan, get in here. You gotta see this,” Alain hollered from the other room. Both he and Roen entered at the same time. The room was packed with personal belongings: piles of purses, a dozen shoeboxes full of jewelry and watches and eyeglasses, new looking shoes thrown into a corner, fancy belts draped over tables.

Alain opened one of several heavy duty trash bags. “f**k me.” He tipped it upside down and let the contents spill out. Wallets of every shape and color in the rainbow spilled out. He opened several, quickly spot checking. “They are from all over the U.S. Most are central United States, but there’s East and West Coast.” Alain’s face paled and he walked out.

Trevan was behind him. The atrocity of the meaning of the items in that room was beyond what any caring creature could handle.

They walked out the back door, got into the truck and left without saying a word.