Of A Darker Nature by Michelle Clay

didn't know anything more about him.
    The canine returned to sniff the ground where John Doe had lain moments ago. It snarled and pawed at the ground where he’d bled.  Beau called softly, “He's gone, Scotty.”
    The dog licked its muzzle. Intelligent eyes turned to survey Emily. “Is that your dog, Beau?”
    He shook his head and handed her rescued purse over. Dirt smeared his face and hair had freed itself from his ponytail. He’d also lost his glasses. “He's a coyote.”
    The animal leapt through the open door of her car and waited in the backseat. He whined and pawed at the seat.
    “Let's get the hell out of here.” Beau collapsed onto the passenger seat. He rubbed at the fading red marks on his neck and grimaced.
    Beau spoke after she’d driven a few miles. “Just drop me and Scott off on your way home.”
    Scott? Emily glanced at the rearview. Instead of the coyote, a very naked Scott Hall sat in its place. The pit of her stomach dropped. It seemed like something he might have mentioned in all the years she’d known him. She had finally managed to wrap her brain around the idea that vampires were real. Now she had to accept the reality that there were other things creeping around out there?
    “Did you just eat that guy's fingers?” Her voice was a little higher in pitch than normal.
    “Mm-hmm and they’re giving me heartburn.” He didn't quite meet her eyes.
    Emily tore her gaze away from the wiry coils of reddish-brown hair on his chest. “Were you going to keep it a secret forever or wait for the right moment to tell me?”
    Scott wiped at his smeared chin and shrugged. “It's not something I want everybody to know.”
    “I realize that, but until very recently, I didn't even believe people like you or Beau truly existed. It's a whole lot to absorb.”
    “Does it bother you that I go furry?”
    After saving her tonight, she couldn’t care less if he wore a pink tutu and sang Karaoke at the VFW every Friday night. “Furry is good. Furry is real good.” 

 
    Emily stepped back to admire her handiwork. The opaque makeup she used on the old woman's face, neck and hands hid the few blemishes beautifully. The makeup was subtle, and there wasn't a hair out of place. She appeared to be merely napping before the family’s viewing tomorrow.
    Emily took great pride in her work. She made sure the final memory the families had would provide comfort. She was the buffer that provided a positive influence on a family's grieving and healing process.
    She turned to the body on the other table. Scott had already finished preparing the young man for tomorrow afternoon. All that remained was to conceal the wounds on his face and neck. A car accident had left him bruised and battered. With a gentle touch, she dabbed makeup onto the gashes at his hairline. It wouldn't do to cause any postmortem contusions. She did her best to mask the cracked cheekbone and black eye.
    Sometime later, Emily emerged from the workroom. The man had taken longer than expected. Although she had used a gentle hand, his crushed cheekbone was spongy and had caved in. Before she had finished, he’d required a restructure.
    “Where's Scott?” Emily asked as she entered the front parlor. She’d already gone upstairs in search of him.
    Wren shoved the vacuum into the utility closet. “He left about an hour ago, said he had some errands to run. Are you headed out?”
    Emily shook her head. “Not yet. I want to make sure that guy's cheekbone set before I leave.”
    Wren wore a guarded look. “I don't want to alarm you, but there’s been a car parked across the street for a while.” She pointed at the shiny black vehicle.
    “There's no one in it,” Emily murmured. The windows were down, and the interior was empty.
    “You can check on the cheekbone in the morning.” Wren opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “You should go home. It’s been a long day.”
    “If it doesn’t set soon, I may have to do more to him. I'd