The minute Gabriel returned to the body, Erin darted around him. “Oh, Lord,” she prayed as she sank to weakened knees. “It’s Harmony.” Quickly, faster than Gabriel, Erin lifted the stiff wrist. The skin was cold, too cold for the vibrant girl she’d seen just yesterday. Though she understood the meaning of the cold, she refused to accept what logic told her. “I can’t find a pulse. Gabriel, I can’t find a pulse.” She bent over the girl’s body and pressed her head to the unmoving chest covered in a baby-blue tee. The shirt revealed a strip of midriff that did not rise and fall with life. Still, there was nothing.

Harmony couldn’t be dead, Erin thought, too sick of Death to give him another victim. Grimly, she gently angled Harmony’s head and pinched her nostrils. Timing the breaths, she puffed air into the unresponsive mouth, did compressions on the fragile ribs. Nothing. Over and over, she exhaled and pushed, but nothing. Save her, Erin. Press on the rib cage, then count out the breaths. One. Two. Fifteen compressions, she remembered, then two more breaths. Find the pulse. One. Two. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Meanwhile, Gabriel whipped out his phone. He hurriedly punched in the emergency number, adrenaline surging. The eternal ringing drew a smothered curse. When the line finally connected, he impatiently barked out information. “Possible homicide. Corner of Royal and St. Inverness. Two blocks from the Eighth District Police Station. Female, approximately twenty years of age. No pulse. We’re doing CPR. Send help immediately.” The last bit was purely for Erin’s sake. He cut the line without waiting for affirmation and dropped to his knees beside Erin.

A closer look confirmed what his earlier guess had told him. The motionless body Erin called Harmony was an empty shell, brain and heart done with their duties. As much to have something to do as to check, he reached past Erin’s futile ministrations for the girl’s throat. Pale ivory skin gleamed in the garish lights. All the warmth had seeped away, perhaps into the concrete, perhaps earlier.

It was then that Gabriel really noticed the full pallor. He’d spent years in countries littered with corpses. He could identify the complexion of death. Right after death, the human body pretended to hold life near, with the illusion of rosy cheeks and warm skin. Before the onset of livor and rigor mortis, the body looked as if it enjoyed full health. Hours passed before the flesh chilled and the frame stiffened into final repose.