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Chance Encounter In The Morgue
by Llarian
“Case file No. 361, John Doe. Subject is male, of Asian descent, mid to late twenties. Height approximately 1.75 meters, weight approximately 70 kilograms. Preliminary report from the crime scene suggests multiple gunshot wounds from point blank range as cause of death.”
Dr. Natalie Lambert, M.E. to the city of Toronto, switched off her tape recorder and regarded the lifeless body on her dissection table. The body had been waiting for her when she started her shift, already undressed and covered from neck to toe with a sheet.
“What a waste”, she murmured under her breath, brushing a stray lock of long black hair from the unknown young man’s face. And a beautiful face it was, with large eyes with long dark lashes under straight eyebrows, high cheekbones, a sensual mouth. The features, now relaxed in death as if in sleep, were almost too delicate and fineboned for a man.
“Now why did you have to play hero, boy?” Natalie admonished. But of course, the body did not answer. Shaking her head, she turned away to retrieve her scalpel from the tray. It was such a tragic death. According to what she had heard from the officers on the scene, the boy had tried to stop a robbery, saving three innocents only to get himself killed in the process. He was indeed a hero – but at the price of his own life.
Turning back to the table, Natalie let out a yelp, for the body was no longer dead. In fact, he was sitting up, clutching the sheet in a vain attempt at modesty, staring at her with large, confused brown eyes.
“I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you”, he stuttered.
Nat drew in a deep breath to steady herself.
“Can’t you guys stop doing this to me? You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Natalie nearly yelled, and regretted her strong reaction the very same moment as she saw the young man shrink back under her verbal barrage.
“I’m sorry”, he repeated. “Uh.. where exactly am I? This the morgue, ma’am?”
He looked around with those large, soft brown eyes of his. Natalie felt her anger melt away; obviously, this young man was more scared and confused than she was. After all, it was not the first time she had a dead body wake up on her. She should have got used to it by now.
A small part of her mind marvelled at his self control. He should be ravenous after being shot into a bloody pulp, yet there was no hint of gold in his eyes, not a single tip of a fang in sight. But still, she took a step back, trying to keep her distance should this strange vampire suddenly decide to have her for a snack. Better to get him out of here quickly, before he changed his mind or someone showed up. Someone who was even less supposed to know about vampires.
“If you’re hungry, there is something on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. I better get started on doctoring your report. We don’t want too many questions asked, do we?”
Natalie turned away with a nervous laugh.
“Uhm.. I’m not hungry, thank you. Look, I’m really sorry for scaring you. I got shot, right?”
Draven realised he was babbling, but he couldn’t help it. Eric’s mind was a jumble of emotions. Here he was in what appeared to be a morgue, and the lady coroner’s reaction to a dead man sitting up on the dissection table and talking to her was to offer him something to eat. Weird. He would have expected her to faint. Or at least to run, screaming.
How was he going to get out of this one? He had been killed before, not just once, but never did he have to talk his way out of the morgue. For a fleeting moment he wondered what would have happened if he had not woken up before the autopsy started; would his body have healed up in time before the funeral?
Then he remembered her words: “Can’t you guys stop doing this to me?”
“You have a lot of people wake up here?” he asked and could have kicked himself the next moment. Lame, Draven, he thought.
Natalie sighed. It was going to be one of those nights.
“I guess I should be the one apologising”, she said, turning back to her not entirely welcome guest. “I didn’t mean to be so cold. Let’s start over, shall we? Hi, I’m Dr. Natalie Lambert, M.E. Welcome to the city morgue, in some circles known as Natalie's Bed and Breakfast.”
She extended her hand to him in greeting; automatically, Eric shook it. The sheet he had been clutching in front of him started to slide, revealing his finely sculpted chest and washboard stomach. Desperately he grabbed it with his left hand to prevent it from sliding any further down.
“Eric Draven. And... ah... I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d really like my clothes back, ma’am”, Eric replied, blushing a bright pink.
And only then Natalie noticed his distinct west coast accent.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she questioned, reaching for the evidence bag which contained Eric’s personal belongings, including his clothes.
“Port Columbia, Washington”, Eric mumbled, his eyes fixed on the bag. Natalie handed it to him with an apologetic smile.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much left of your clothes. Maybe you’d rather try some of our spare grubs?”
Draven shook his head. “I’m sure these will be fine”, he said, pulling out a pair of black jeans which miraculously did not show any bloodstains. But then again, he did not bleed like the living. The shirt, however, was a whole different story. Not that it was stained. There was hardly anything left to be stained. His favourite shirt, turned into a tattered rag.
"There goes another one”, he sighed, dropping the garment and rummaging for his boxers, first pulling out one boot, then the other before he finally found what he searched for.
“You get shot a lot?” Dr. Lambert asked him.
Eric lifted his head to meet her curious gaze. Cocking his head birdlike, he gave her a lopsided smile.
“I guess I never learned to stay out of trouble.”
Her answering grin was dazzling, but vanished quickly to be replaced by a look of concern.
"Are you sure you're not hungry?"
"Quite sure, thanks. If I could only have some privacy to get dressed..." Eric let the sentence trail away unfinished.
Natalie harumphed at that. "I'm a doctor, young man. There is nothing I haven't seen before," she told him.
Eric just stared at her, his blush deepening. Finally, she relented.
"Of course. I'll just go and see if I can find a shirt for you to wear, ok?"
"Yeah, thanks."
Eric heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Dr. Lambert. Quickly he hopped off the table and got dressed in his boxers, jeans and boots. He was just lacing the boots when he heard a knock at the door.
"Are you decent, Mr. Draven?"
He nearly laughed out loud; damn, but the lady doctor had style!
Still grinning, he opened the door and took the teeshirt she held out to him, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion.
"Thank you, doctor. I feel a lot less at a disadvantage now."
Natalie nodded. Draven did seem more relaxed now that he was properly dressed. For a moment she wondered if that was another vampire thing - an unusual high sense of modesty. Or maybe he had simply grown up in a time period and culture that required men and women to cover up their bodies more than was usual for the late twentieth century. She decided to ask.
"So, how long since you... ah..."
"Died?" He provided the word before she could fumble for a politer phrase.
Draven shrugged.
"It'll be two years next Halloween", he replied.
Natalie felt her jaw drop.
"Two years" she breathed. That man was hardly more than a fledgling!
"Yeah, I've been back since last Halloween", Draven continued. "Don't remember where I was in the time between. Maybe in my grave. At least it was empty when the police opened it."
Belatedly he noticed that Natalie was staring at him in horror. He shook his head. "I'm sorry", he whispered. "I didn't mean..."
He was not prepared for the look of pure rage that crossed the doctor's features.
"Are you telling me you were buried? The one who made you ALLOWED you to be buried?" Natalie fairly screamed at him. Draven took an involuntary step back.
"Well, I.. I was dead", he stuttered. Now what was that about? Of course his murderers allowed him to be buried; that was the plan, after all. Kill Eric Draven.
Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose in order to control her fury and took deep, calming breaths.
"Undead, you mean", she muttered. "God, this is awful. How could they?"
She took his hands, and all Eric could do was pull back before he saw her thoughts, her memories. He did not care to take part in her emotions right now.
"Look, I don't know how they do things in Port Columbia, but Toronto is different. You'll like it here. A lot of your kind live here."
"A lot of my kind?" Eric echoed. "I only met one other like me before... how many are we talking?"
"Well, I don't know exactly. A couple hundred, maybe. Toronto does have a rather large community."
Oh my god, Eric thought, what happened here to make so many return as crows? He must have visible paled, because Natalie took his arm to steady him.
"Here, you better sit down. You're pale even for one of your kind."
She pushed him into the office chair behind her desk.
"And you really should feed. When was the last time you had a decent meal?"
Eric blinked.
"Uh.. before I died?" he offered.
"No, I mean when did you last feed? You look like hell, you know. And getting shot to shreds must have cost you a lot of strength. It's a miracle you haven't gone for my throat yet. Not that I don't admire your control, especially for one so young, but that cannot be healthy."
She strode over to the refrigerator, taking something out of it and holding it out to Draven. It was a bag of blood.
"Here, this should tide you over. Drink up."
Eric stared at the bag, unbelieving. He felt nauseated at the very thought of drinking this, and it must have shown on his face.
"My, you're positively green! Don't like human? Sorry, I don't keep cow or rat here. All I can offer you is this or a protein shake."
Cow blood... rat blood... Eric felt like losing his last dinner.
"I think I better leave now", he managed. Maybe he got out of here before this nutcase decided to threaten him with a wooden stake. He briefly wondered if he might catch her brand of insanity if he were to sense her thoughts. Better not take the risk.
Slightly stumbling, he got to his feet, feeling his way to the door.
"It's... ah.. been nice meeting you, Dr. Lambert. Really. Nice."
He was not prepared for her reaction. Dr. Lambert smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand.
"Of course, how stupid of me! The code.. look, I may be mortal, which you no doubt noticed, but I've been the doctor to the undead here in Toronto for years. There is really no need for you to
keep up the facade with me."
"Sure, doc. Whatever you say."
Eric managed a weak smile, edging his way around the table. He had faced murderers, a snake spirit, countless weapons trained on him without so much as a twinge of fear, but this little woman and her delusions gave him the willies. Big time. How could they ever let her on a job like this? Then again, she probably liked cutting up dead bodies. Liked it enough to be really good at it.
"I.. I really have to get going. See you another time." I hope not, he finished silently while fumbling for the door knob behind his back.
"Right, if you insist. At least let me give you an address.. it's a club, called the Raven, on Duncan and Richmond Streets. You get what you need there, just ask for the house special."
Eric plastered a hopefully grateful smile on his face. "Yeah.. thanks doc... be seeing you."
Slipping out of the door, he fled the building as fast as he could.
Outside, he paused and breathed deeply. The night air was cool and calming.
"Oh man", he sighed. "Vampires! I don't get it! How can a coroner believe in vampires?"
***
Finally back at the hotel, Eric mentally prepared himself for the tonguelashing he would receive from his closest friend and confidante before knocking on the door. However, he had not even lifted his hand before the door flew open and he was dragged inside by a furious Daryl Albrecht.
"Draven! Where the hell have you been?"
Albrecht did not wait for an answer, he continued to rant.
"I win a trip to Toronto for two, could ask anybody to accompany me, and who do I pick? You! And you do the disappearing act on me again!"
Eric opened his mouth to speak, but Albrecht wasn't finished yet.
"You know, I could have made up with Cordy here. Or I could have asked Capshaw. Or even Vincennes. But no, I pick you. And you just run out and disappear for hours. So, where the hell have you been?"
"The morgue."
"The what? What for the love of god where you doing there?"
Draven leaned back against the door and sighed.
"I saw a robbery, intervened, got shot, woke up in the morgue", he drawled. "That's the short version. Anyway, the coroner's nice, but whacky. Completely nuts. Thought I was a vampire."
"A vampire?"
"Yeah. Even offered me a bag of donated O negative as a snack. Weird, huh?"
Albrecht swallowed hard.
"Vampires. What next?" he muttered under his breath. "Zombies from outer space?"
He opened the door, grabbing Draven's arm.
"Come on, I need a drink now. And I'm not going to let you out of my sight again."
"Where are we going?"
"A club. You'll like it there. Your kind of music. It's called the Raven."
Draven stopped dead in his tracks.
"The Raven?"
"Yeah. And I swear, there will definitely be no vampires there."
END
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