Taya leaned back slightly in her chair, watching as William reluctantly accepted the file. His reaction to it served as a reminder of his questionable experience. It was curious that the director had agreed to this particular arrangement. After all, according to the files she had read on the supposed werewolf, he wasn’t exactly the most [i]qualified[/i] in law enforcement.
	Not on paper, at any rate. He'd moved around a lot, shifting from precinct to precinct, his station changing with every couple moves. Only time would tell how much of it was real. If nothing else, someone had certainly gone through a lot of trouble to fabricate a paper trail that fit a lifestyle for an immortal werewolf.
	She picked up her glass of Coke and stirred the straw through the ice. Realizing where William was at in Cormack’s section as he went to flip the page, she inhaled and reached slightly toward him to get his attention.
	“Oh, you may want to—” But her warning came too late. William had turned the page. Taya swore he turned a bit green at the crime scene photos that stared back at him. “Wait for the next page,” she finished with a sad, apologetic smile, glad that the angle of the folder prevented her from seeing the photos.
	She’d already seen the real thing this morning. Even thinking about it now made her stomach churn. The first time she’d seen one of the victims in person, she’d lost her breakfast. Not her proudest moment, but Eli had demonstrated the first signs of actual humanity toward her in the form of silent understanding.
	She’d been skipping breakfast ever since.
	Even this time, she could barely stand to see the carnage. She’d quickly used the excuse of talking to the deceased’s coworkers who had arrived at the building.
	She’d seen pictures of a lot of different crimes at the academy, but [i]nothing[/i] could prepare you for the real thing. Especially when the ‘real thing’ meant maliciously savaged. On the upside, she supposed, if she could get through this case, she could get through anything.
	If William really [i]was[/i] a werewolf, she was surprised he wouldn’t be desensitized to such gore, picture or otherwise. That he wasn’t, however, was almost a relief. She stole a quick glance toward Eli at the thought.
	The man took a slow sip of his tea as William looked through the folder. His eternal frown deepened into a scowl, and he stared into the steaming liquid with distaste. Gripping the mug by the rim, he lowered it back to the plate like meat gone bad at market.
	Eli placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers above the cup. His posture imperiously straight, his gaze settled impatiently on William.
	Taya, too, refocused on the supposed werewolf. Her head cocked slightly as she caught deeper emotion flash through his eyes, and he turned from one case file quicker than the others.
	She tried to steal a glance at the name or at least the placement in the file, making a mental note to figure out what had spooked him, before her comment gained his attention.
	Eli snorted at William’s admission. “If you are what you claim, I’m surprised you wouldn’t keep closer tabs on the lore that floats to the surface,” he scoffed.
	“It’s a touch more of a modern piece of lore,” Taya interjected quickly, hoping to draw William’s attention away from Archer and diffuse a situation before it could potentially arise. “It’s something that’s been popularized by recent media.”
	Eli raised a knowing eyebrow at her. 
	Taya cleared her throat at the silent accusation that she was well versed in the said media. “According to it, it’s a compulsion that werewolves have. It’s never really specified why, but there are plenty of fan-based theories. Then, there’s another media source that claims that if a werewolf… well… eats the heart of their sire, they would be cured of lycanthropy.” 
	Eli steepled his pointer and middle fingers. “Thus, I’m sure you can understand why we wouldn’t want that little particular to go public.” His head shifted down in an unspoken warning to William to keep quiet about it. “Hollywood fabrication or not, we don’t need people jumping to the conclusion that someone’s hunting for their [i]sire,[/i]” he snorted at the word, “and that those dead were werewolves. There’ve been enough witch hunts as it is,” he finished, his voice a dark, disdainful accusation.
	Taya groaned inwardly at his tone, and hastily picked up the conversation.
	“As for seeing what’s left of Cormack’s body…” Her voice faltered. “That won’t be a problem. We still have him and a couple of the more recent victims at the morgue.
	 A sickened, haunted look in her hazel eyes, she met William’s gaze. Her voice was softer than she intended as she continued. “But know that the pictures…” She glanced down toward the file, open, thankfully, to a page of text. “They barely do the damage justice. On any of them. They’ll be cleaned up at the morgue, but I need you to understand what you’re getting into here.”
	She met his gaze again, trying to convey the horrors he was getting himself into. Whatever his true age, whether he was a werewolf or a deranged human, he still deserved to have a fair warning.