Homicide and Hot Tubs

by Annabel Chase

  “Oh, I’m self-aware,” the pixie said. She released the guitar and it floated back to the space above our heads. “I’ve taken great strides to improve since I’ve been here, to make up for the garbage fire that was my life.”

  Lauren-Ann sounded like my kind of friend. “Care to elaborate?”

  The pixie shook her head. “It’s not the type of information that I’m comfortable sharing. Besides, it’s generally not a single heinous act that gets you sent here. It tends to be more of a pattern of behavior, unless the one act was spectacularly awful.”

  I clearly wasn’t going to get anything in her past that linked her to Akwan’s obliteration. I decided to shift back to the party. “So you didn’t hang out with Akwan at all at the party? Do you know when you last saw him—was he in the hot tub?”

  “No, it was before that. He’d changed into a swimsuit and I’d made a joke about his magic.” She smiled at the memory. “He had access to such cool magic and yet he had on a pair of lime green trunks. Ridiculous jinni.”

  “Magic doesn’t buy you class,” I said.

  “I don’t think his obliteration has completely sunk in. I keep thinking I’ll see him at the next practice session.”

  “How are the others handling it?”

  “I don’t know that they are. I figured we’d all go out and get smashed together soon, but no one’s proposed a date.”

  “What’s the process for that here?” There was no body to bury. There didn’t seem to be funerals or memorial services.

  “There is no process,” she said. “Villagers ascend and descend, but obliteration at the hands of someone here…” She shuddered. “We’re not equipped for it.”

  “I guess you’ll have to find a way to honor Akwan’s memory on your own,” I said. There was nothing in our conversation to suggest that Lauren-Ann was involved in his untimely demise, which was a relief because I thought she was pretty cool and didn’t want to subject her to the tribunal.

  “Is that all you wanted to know?” the pixie asked.

  “There is one more thing.” I glanced up. “How do you get the instruments to hover like that? Is it a spell?”

  “Pixie dust,” she said. “You’ve never used it before?”

  I laughed. “The only pixie dust I ever used landed me in a neighbor’s backyard dressed in a diaper and wielding a rattle like a club.” And I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

  She peered at me. “Your pixie dust sounds very different from mine.”

  “No doubt. I get the impression that lots of things were different for me.” Like the fact that supernaturals didn’t exist, or at least weren’t part of my life experience.

  “If you change your mind about an instrument, let me know. We offer lessons that include the price of rental.”

  “Awesome. I’ll think about it.” I pictured myself on stage, prancing around like Mick Jagger. Come to think of it, Mick didn’t play an instrument, did he? I probably just liked the idea of being the center of attention. That sounded more like me.

  “If you find out what happened to Akwan, I’d like to know.” Her voice cracked and I realized she was on the verge of breaking down. She’d been holding it together up until now.

  “Don’t worry. Word seems to travel faster than your wings around here. You’ll know.” I started for the door, wanting to get out of her way so that she could ugly cry in the privacy of her own music shop. As the door closed behind me, I heard the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven and felt a pang of sympathy, knowing Akwan would never get there now.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m not sure about this painting class,” I said. I stared at the blank canvas in front of me as the icy fingers of fear curled around my heart and squeezed. Art wasn’t exactly my thing.

  “Give it a chance,” Gia said. My neighbor had decided to take me under her wing in connection with all Divine Place activities. She’d presented me with the weekly schedule and refused to vacate my kitchen until I committed to at least two of them. Although Gia felt strongly that I needed exposure to creative pursuits, I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body, which became evident as far back as kindergarten when I came home at the end of the school year with an empty portfolio. My mother had assumed that I’d simply lost all the artwork between the classroom and home. When she called the teacher, Mrs. Stanley assured her that there was nothing missing. I simply hadn’t participated in any form of art for the entire year. The empty portfolio was basically meant to serve as a large envelope of shame.

  “I should be working on Akwan’s case,” I said.

  “Painting will help. It allows you to engage a different part of your brain.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s only one part.”

  “Relax, you’ll be fine.” Gia leaned over to straighten my paintbrushes and organize them by size. “Akio is a brilliant instructor. You’re going to love it. I promise.”

  The door to the art room opened and I turned, expecting to see the instructor. Instead, a familiar vampire strode across the room clad in black leather pants and a silver halter top that accentuated her pert boobs. Large hoop earrings dangled from her lobes. Jules looked more ready for the nightclub than the art club. Naturally she took the empty stool next to mine.

  “You paint, Jules?” I asked, attempting to hide my disbelief. Somehow it seemed incongruous that the vampire would be interested in any form of art—unless it involved blood spatter. Come to think of it, blood spatter could probably pass as an example of abstract expressionism.

  Jules straddled the stool, her boots clicking on the middle rung. “I saw you all heading over here and decided to see what you losers were up to.” She angled her head, scrutinizing the blank canvas in front of her. “I see the potential.”

  I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her perfect breasts. “Just out of curiosity, do any vampires have droopy boobs? Asking for a friend.” If I could go braless like that and still have the girls standing at attention, I’d have to reconsider Jurgen’s offer. Being turned might actually be worth it.

  Jules resisted a smile. “Your boobs are fine the way they are.”

  I glanced down at my own chest. “They’re like melons in the produce section. Mishandled and misshapen.”

  Gia poked her head between me and my canvas to address the vampire. “Now listen, Jules. You know you’re more than welcome to participate as long as you follow the rules. We don’t want any disruptions that will distract from the joy of painting. Understood?” Her tone of voice reminded me of a preschool teacher about to direct the annual holiday play. Good luck with that.

  The vampire’s lips melted into a smile, offering a glimpse of her fangs. “I’ll be an asset to the class. Cross my heart and hope to…Oops. Too late.”

  Gia resumed her upright position with a quiet huff. I wasn’t sure what Jules’s actual motivation was for joining the class. Group activities weren’t her style, not that they were mine either. I blamed Gia for my presence here. My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the instructor. He fluttered into the room clapping his hands for attention.

  “Look at all these enthusiastic artists. You make my afterlife so special.” He noticed Jules and I in the front row and his smile broadened. Glitter drifted off his bright orange wings and coated the floor. “I see we have two new participants today. Excellent. Why don’t you introduce yourselves to the rest of the group? We like to think of ourselves as one happy, creative family.”

  Any group of strangers that described themselves as a happy family was a red flag. In my experience, it was usually code for we’re too crazy for our actual families.

  “Hi, everyone. I’m Eloise. You’ve probably heard about me because it just so happens that I’m the only human in Divine Place.” A smattering of applause followed my introduction and I suddenly knew what it felt like to be Taylor Swift in a Walmart.

  Jules swiveled on her stool to face the group. “I’m Jules. I own Bloodlust. You’ve probably all bee
n drunk there at some point in the afterlife.” Her gaze settled on an elf across the room. “Except you. You don’t look fun. Don’t bother telling me your names because I don’t care who any of you are.” She swiveled back to her canvas and tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder.

  “What wonderful introductions,” the fairy said. “I’m Akio and, as most of you already know, I’m the art instructor here.” The fairy fluttered back and forth across the front of the room. “In my old life, I was an artist, so to be able to teach painting here is a dream come true. And this is why I love Divine Place. It may not be one of the heavenly realms, but we’re not boiling in a pot of hot wax so it’s all good.” He gave his wings a stiff flap and more glitter drifted to the floor. Who followed this guy around town and cleaned up his mess? Did this fall under the HOA’s duties? If so, the high fees were starting to make sense.

  Gia raised her hand. “Akio, are we finally going to start a still life project? I would love to capture the beauty of some of the flowers in my shop.”

  “There she goes again, promoting her store at every opportunity,” Jules muttered. “Give it a rest.”

  Gia poked her head in front of me. “Says the vampire who just mentioned her bar to the entire room.”

  Well, this was an interesting dynamic. I hadn’t seen Gia be snippy with anyone, not that I was surprised that Jules brought out the goddess of good cheer’s less than cheerful side. Jules was like a dark hole that swallowed everything within reach.

  Akio made a noise at the back of his throat to draw our attention back to him. “Still life is coming, I promise, but today we’re painting our feelings.” He motioned with his left hand. “Sometimes we eat our feelings.” He opened his right hand. “Sometimes we quash our feelings, which is never healthy.” He wagged a finger at that. “I thought today we would channel our feelings onto the page in front of us. These are trying times in Divine Place and I’m sure we must all be feeling a little unsettled by recent events.”

  “I heard the human was seen holding Akwan’s head under the water in the hot tub when his girlfriend found them,” a voice said behind me, loud enough for us to hear.

  Before I could respond, Jules launched off her stool and grabbed the woman by the neck. “I recognize you,” Jules said, her nose almost touching her victim’s. “You’re that nymph that lives over on Blood Moon Court.”

  The nymph opened her mouth to respond, but found that she couldn’t speak thanks to the vampire’s firm fingers inhibiting her vocal cords.

  “Do you know what happened to the last nymph that insulted me?” Jules asked.

  The nymph’s neighbor raised her paintbrush to interrupt. “Technically Janine didn’t insult you. She insulted the human.”

  Jules’s free hand shot out and tightened around the other woman’s neck. “Eloise Worthington is the marshal in this village,” Jules said. “Any insult to her, I consider an insult to me. Even more importantly, it would probably be considered an insult to Hera, since Madam President is the one who hired her.” She released their necks and they both coughed and sputtered their apologies.

  “Jules,” Akio began. “We don’t condone violence in this class.”

  Jules slowly turned and regarded him coolly. “I’m sorry, Akio. I thought you said this was a place to express our feelings. My mistake.” She sauntered back to her stool and perched on the edge.

  “On the canvas, Jules,” Akio clarified. “I’d like you to pour your feelings onto the blank paper in front of you.”

  “Duly noted,” the vampire said, satisfied.

  I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to check on the two ladies behind me. They were careful to avoid eye contact. I’d always taken care of myself and been willing to stand up for others, so it was strange to have someone I barely knew standing up for me. It was vaguely uncomfortable and yet also kind of cool.

  “Why don’t we get started before we run out of time?” Akio said. “You’re welcome to choose any colors for your painting.” He zipped across the front of the room as he spoke. He seemed to suffer from hyperactivity, which was even more apparent thanks to his ability to fly. “I’d like you to spend the remainder of class filling the blank space in front of you with whatever emotion you’re feeling right now. Any color. Any shapes. Any images. The choice is yours.” He paused in both speech and movement. “No one is here to judge. This isn’t a competition. I know I say that every class, but I feel that it bears repeating.”

  “What if I’m just feeling meh?” a voice asked from the back row.

  “Then paint your version of meh,” Akio said. “There are no rules…except try to make it pretty. Nobody likes an ugly painting.” He clapped cheerfully. “Paintbrushes at the ready and begin!”

  I stared at the white space. I tried to pay attention to my current emotions, but it was a bit of a tangled mass. I felt stressed about Akwan. I still felt bewildered by my arrival here and the fact that I was dead and in the wrong place. I was also mortified by what happened with Cole at my party. I’d never live that one down, even if I lived here for an eternity.

  I picked up a paintbrush and studied the color palette. How did I express confusion and fear in a painting? I couldn’t even draw a stick figure very well. My gaze drifted to Gia’s canvas and I saw that she had started painting a giant sun. I bit back a smile. Why did that not surprise me?

  “Do you really feel happy all the time?” I asked. “I know it’s kind of your deal, but don’t you ever feel angry or depressed?” Her little exchange with Jules suggested that she did, in fact, experience negative emotions on occasion.

  Gia kept her focus on the canvas. “I don’t know that it’s happiness so much as gratitude. I feel grateful that I’m in Divine Place and not somewhere far worse. I feel grateful that I haven’t been blinked out of existence.” She began to add a bit of pale pink to the page and I couldn’t decide whether it would be a sunrise or sunset. “I feel grateful that I have wonderful friends here and have created an afterlife for myself when I thought that I would never belong anywhere ever again. You don’t know what it’s like to be worshipped by an entire population and then, little by little, you and your entire existence become meaningless.” She carried on painting, the picture becoming more beautiful by the minute.

  “Wow, Gia. That’s pretty deep. You’re right. I can’t relate to that at all.” I shifted to the right to check on Jules. I was surprised to see that she was hard at work on her painting. I’d assumed that she would gut her canvas as an expression of her violent feelings. My eyes widened when I registered the image on her canvas. It was a heart, and not the two-dimensional kind that we used as an emoji and on Valentine’s Day cards, but the organ itself—except hers was black. The image was both alarming and incredibly moving.

  Jules cut a quick glance at me. “What are you looking at? You’re supposed to be doing your own creative expression. Get on it.”

  I touched my paintbrush to the blank canvas, still uncertain how to proceed. There were too many conflicting emotions. I knew I had to pick one and go with it, but it was easier said than done when they were all fighting for dominance.

  Akio began to circulate, occasionally commenting on someone’s progress. He stopped beside Jules and made positive noises about her creation. “How lovely,” he said. “Excellent display of emotion. You must be feeling heartbroken. Or it depressed?”

  She met his curious gaze. “Hungry,” she said simply.

  Akio laughed nervously. “I want you to know that this is a safe space for artistic expression.”

  Jules lifted a paintbrush in acknowledgement. “Safe space. Got it.”

  “Is there really any such thing as a safe space though?” I asked. “I mean, any time you have a group of more than one, really, you run the risk of upsetting someone or being upset by someone else. An offhand comment could be misconstrued. I might tell Gia that I think her painting is worthy of the wall in my seven-year-old nephew’s bedroom and she might not take that as a compliment.” />
  Gia narrowed her eyes at me. “Because it isn’t a compliment.”

  I pressed a hand to my chest. “But from my point of view, it would be meant as a compliment.”

  “You’re telling me that the only good place that my painting belongs is a child’s bedroom and, not just any child, but a boy child, which means that there will likely be messy fingerprints and dinosaurs all over the room.”

  I pointed a finger at Gia. “You need to brush up on gender identity, pun intended. Not all boys like dinosaurs nor do they all have messy hands.” My brother Jeff was an absolute neat freak and had been an aggressive hand washer from the time he could reach the sink.

  Gia’s normally cheerful face scrunched in frustration and she turned back to her canvas.

  Akio darted to the canvas behind hers, unwilling to engage any further. At least he didn’t examine mine. I hurried to catch up to the others and managed to paint a rainbow. I didn’t even like rainbows. I thought of the one painted on the side of my golf cart and cringed, so I added a black background and immediately felt better. Maybe I’d sneak a pot of paint out of the class with me to take care of my golf cart.

  Toward the end of class, Akio made us all put down our brushes and then he went around the room to spotlight each painting. I didn’t realize we would also have to share with the rest of the class. That was not my favorite activity. I still had memories of elementary school when we had to bring in a special item from home and talk about it. One time I brought my father’s bong and talked about how much nicer he was when he used it. The school wasn’t too pleased by my choice and neither was my father.

  “And now we have Eloise,” Akio said. He squinted at my painting. “How interesting. There seems to be two very disparate feelings on the page.”

  “It’s not that complicated,” I said. I pointed at the swath of black, careful not to touch the wet paint. “Katy Perry said it best. After a hurricane, comes a rainbow.” I made a voilà gesture with my hand.

  Akio patted me on the back. “Wonderful work, Eloise. A-plus for effort.”