Dr. Reginald "Reggie" Didel is the Chief Medical Examiner in charge of the graveyard shift at San Francisco's morgue — and secretly, an opossum shifter.
Soft-spoken and a little pudgy beneath his knee-length gray trench coat, Reggie has thinning blonde hair, wide-set dark brown eyes, and the kind of round, pale baby face that makes pinning down his age impossible — he could pass for anywhere between his thirties and fifties.
Everything about him radiates kindness and quiet competence, from his soft, dry handshake to the way he excitedly explains the science behind vampire blood cells or exclaims with scientific glee over a headless, handless corpse. He slips easily into mentor mode, patiently guiding Sophie through the grim mechanics of autopsies while sharing green apples from his paper-bag lunch.
Beneath the gentle, unflappable exterior — the man who says "ah, dang" and wrings his hands when he's worried — lives a fierce loyalty that surprises people. He'll almost snarl at a homicide detective to defend the truth of Sophie's visions, stand his ground against Mac's bluster to protect his team, and bet his own money on a stranger's courage when everyone else wagers she'll fail.
As a lesser-kingdom shifter, Reggie knows what it's like to be underestimated and dismissed by the powerful, which is precisely why he offered a broke, tattooed woman a job in a bar — because she needed a break, and because the same instincts that told him she could be trusted also told him she'd once saved his life with a piece of rusty fence and her last apple.
