by Eli Constant
“Terrance, if I can’t speak cop then you can’t speak necromancer.”
He smiles. I smile.
“Deal.” Terrance says and he zips his coat from midway up to just under the chin. “Want to meet at the station around ten?”
“Sure…” I trail off. “Shit, no. I can’t. I’ve got a funeral tomorrow.”
“After then.”
I nod. “Yes. But you’ll have to pick me up. I’m sans a vehicle right now.”
“What the hell’s that then.” Terrance points and I turn to look at my black sedan. And the empty passenger seat.
“That is a work vehicle. I don’t want to run up the miles on it and get past my warranty.” Where the hell is Liam?
Not far. His voice whispers through my mind and makes my insides squirm… just a little.
“Fine. I’ll pick you up. On the way to his place anyways.”
“Great. I can be free by three. Dean and Max can do the clean-up and such.”
Terrance doesn’t even say goodbye. He just walks away back towards the morgue, bending over a little to keep the snow from going into the fur-trimmed hood of his black jacket. He looks like a tall, dark mountain pushing through the whiteness.
When he’s disappeared back into the building, I turn to walk to my car. And Liam is magically back in his seat, staring at me with what can only be described as bedroom eyes.
This whole not-leading-him-on thing isn’t going to well… especially since my inner voice won’t shut up about his dreamy, come-hither eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
I think about Mei as Liam and I drive back home.
I just can’t stop seeing her as one of the puppeteer’s victims. They all look so much like her. Too damn much like her. Seeing Timothy’s body, freed from the block of ice, has sent my paranoia into overdrive. I know, rationally, that Mei has absolutely no connection to any of the victims. You don’t get killed just for looking like someone.
But… I mean… you do. When a serial killer has a favored victim type, looking the way you do is exactly why you get killed. I need to make sure Mei’s safe. I reach over and dig in my purse which is on the arm rest between me and Liam.
“You really care about her?” Liam’s voice makes me jump.
“Jesus, Liam. Can you listen in even when I’m not directly speaking to you?” A seed of uneasiness in my stomach is telling me that I don’t want to know the answer.
“Yes.”
Well, at least he’s honest and to the point. “That’s just great.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
“Oh, shut up. You know I was being sarcastic.” I grip the steering wheel so hard that my fingers hurt. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t be around you if you’re just going to go into my private thoughts anytime you damn well please.”
I glance over and am glad that Liam at least has the courtesy to look a little ashamed. “It is a reflex, Victoria. I was born with this gift and it’s hard to shut it down.”
Sighing, I loosen my grip on the wheel and my hands thank me. “I guess I know what that’s like. But if you can control it, even a little bit, this thing between us could be a lot easier.”
“What thing?” I can feel his teasing. It’s palpable.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Exasperated, I lift and slam my hands against the steering wheel. I almost run us off the road. “Come on, Liam. I’m with Kyle. I love Kyle. You were the one who said you couldn’t be with me like that and you are the one who disappeared without a word. Don’t push your feelings on me now.”
We fall into silence again. Vocal silence. Inside my mind, I’m speaking volumes. It’s unfair that Liam can read my thoughts when I’m blind to his unless he allows me in.
The Thunderbird is parked where my Bronco normally goes when I pull into my driveway. I’m not sure how Kyle’s going to feel about me arriving with Liam.
“I won’t come in.”
“Stop reading my mind, Liam.”
“Doesn’t it make things a little easier, me knowing what you want?” He’s not teasing now. He’s hurt. Shit, I don’t know which is worse. The teasing lover boy or the wounded reject.
“You can come in, Liam. Kyle knows we’re friends. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine.”
I slow to a stop behind Kyle’s car and I shift into park. I’ll move the sedan into the garage later. “Please don’t be hurt, Liam.” I’m avoiding looking at him, gripping the steering wheel again so hard that it hurts. I force my head to turn. I’m such a mixed up jumble when it comes to Liam. There’s so much I still don’t understand about him. And now he’s here, basically a fugitive from his people, because he was made to admit his feelings for me. I was messing up his life without even trying.
When my eyes find his face, his expression is soft and kind. I want him to stop delving into my mind. I don’t like not being able to hide from him. I’ve spent my life hiding and with him, I can’t even so much as hide the briefest passing thought.
He lifts his hand and moves his outstretched fingers towards me. They stop just short of my cheek. He lets his touch hover just above the skin before his hand falls back down to rest in his lap, cradled by his other hand that has not moved. “I know you’re worried for your friend. You’re a necromancer and the Blood Queen. You have the power to taste a person’s blood and keep track of them. You’ll know if they’re in danger.”
I drop my hands from the steering wheel and I clamp my mouth shut when I realize it’s fallen open with shock. “So, what… One of my new powers is human GPS?”
“Not a bad comparison.” Liam opens his door and a rush of cold wind slams into the heat pushing out of the interior vents. “It doesn’t take much, just a drop. Then you’ll know if your friend is ever in trouble.”
Before I can ask him more questions, Liam gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. He turns into the fading, wispy specter. So very pale that the snow instantly swallows him up.
The sight of him disappearing leaves me feeling strange. Empty.
How can I love Kyle and also have feelings for Liam? When I was with Adam, no one could have turned my heart.
When I open the lower door to the Victorian, I hear laughter coming from inside the parlor. I long to go upstairs, kick off my shoes, and sink onto the couch with a cup of coffee, but obviously there’s a party going on in a place that’s usually quiet and somber.
Leaving my purse on the first step of the stairs, I pull up my big girl panties, open the door into the first floor of the Victorian and I follow the voices. I find them in the furthest room off the foyer. It’s small and intimate with a burgundy velour couch and wingback chair. I call it the mourning room, where people can go when they want to grieve in private.
There’s no grieving going on tonight though. Mei and Dean are sitting on the sofa holding hands and Kyle’s large frame is tucked into the wingback chair. There’s a pizza box on the coffee table between them all. It’s empty. The smell of sausage and olives reaches my nose and my stomach rumbles. “I see that I don’t even warrant a single slice.”
“Tori, hey!” Mei hops up like a jackrabbit and skips around the table to hug me around the neck.
“Hey.” I wrap my arms around her and then let go. “Get away, you smell like pizza and I’m starving.”
Mei laughs. I love the sound. I love having a friend. I won’t let anything happen to her.
Liam’s words ring in my mind.
“Hey, do you want to spend the night? We haven’t had a girls’ get-together in forever. Not now that you’re dating Dean.” I look behind Mei to Dean still sitting on the couch. He smiles, going a little red in the cheeks. It’s a nice color against his moderately-tan skin. His deep brown eyes smile right along with his mouth.
“Sure. I’m not working a shift today. Oh,” she turns away from me, “Do you mind, babe? I know we were going to see that movie you’ve been talking about
for weeks.”
Dean stands, laughing. “You mean the one that you’re only going to to make me happy, because you have absolutely no interest in shoot-’em-up action flicks?”
“Yes, that one.” Mei breaches the small distance between her and Dean and the two snuggle against one another. It’s enough to make someone turn away embarrassed. Of course, when I turn away, Kyle’s face greets me. If Liam had bedroom eyes earlier, Kyle’s eyes were a secret sex room tucked in the basement of a closet nympho. I feel fire in my cheeks. My blushing only makes Kyle’s smolder go volcanic.
“Nah, you stay and hang with Tori. I don’t mind going to see it alone.”
“I guess that means we don’t have plans for tonight then.” Kyle walks over, but he doesn’t embrace me. I think Dean and Mei’s show of affection was enough lovey-dovey-ness in the room without us adding to it.
“Did you want to have plans?”
“Always.”
“Why aren’t you still at the bar?”
“I left Mikey in charge. And Cherry seems to have gotten on board with what I need from her.”
I snort. “That girls not interested in what you need from her. She’s only interested in what you can give her.” I flick my gaze down South to where his jeans are a little too filled then I find his eyes again, quirking my eyebrow knowingly.
“And I’ve made it perfectly, perfectly clear that the only thing I’m offering her is a paycheck.”
Now, he does hug me. For a brief moment, there are two couples in the mourning room existing in the same space yet also on different continents. None of us are embarrassed. Then, I cough, realizing that we’ve all forgotten the world around us. “Well, boys, we’re kicking you out.”
“Guess that’s our cue, Dean.” Kyle kisses me quickly, our lips only brushing for a moment.
“See you tomorrow then?” Mei is still hugging Dean, whispering against his plaid shirt.
“After the funeral’s over, sure.” He looks at me. “Mind if she meets me here again?”
“Nope. Feel free to make this your meeting place whenever. Although, I think you should come clean with her parents sooner rather than later.”
“Later.” Mei quipped. “Definitely later. When I have the first and last month’s rent for an apartment saved up.”
“You really think they’ll kick you out?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice.
“Tori, you don’t know how serious my parents are about our culture. I’m expected to live the American dream, make something of myself, but also marry a good Chinese boy and carry on every tradition in the ‘how to be Chinese’ handbook. As soon as I admit to them that Dean is something more than a friend, then I start a new life. One that will, more than likely, not include them.”
“Even if it causes a rift, Mei, it’ll heal. Your parents love you.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She’s frowning, but in seconds the frown is replaced by a smile. “Anyways, you boys get out of here. We’ve got ice cream to eat and gossip to gab.”
It takes another twenty minutes of goodbyes to actually get Kyle and Dean on the road. Mei and I wave from the porch.
As we’re locking up the front of the house and walking towards the inner stairs to my apartment, we’re both silent. Maybe because we’re both coming down from boyfriend highs. I speak first. “You know, Mei, if your parents ever do kick you out or you need a place to live, you could stay here for a while. I don’t have an extra room, but we could make it work.”
Mei doesn’t say anything and I’m in front of her so I can’t see her face. She still doesn’t say anything as I grab my things off the first step and start ascending. She doesn’t say anything at all. When we’re into the apartment with the lights on, I can finally see her expression.
She’s crying. Like full blown, snot coming out of her nose, crying. Yet she’s making no noise. Which is very, very odd. “Um, Mei…” I’m not sure what to say and I don’t understand why she’s acting like her dog just died. “What’s wrong?”
Finally, she makes a sound. It’s something like a scream-sob, a string of unintelligible words and with each utterance, her body shakes even harder.
“Mei, calm down. What can I do?” Nervously, I walk a little away from her, thinking maybe I can get her a glass of water from the kitchen.
My moving away seems to trigger something in her and she runs toward me and wraps her arms around my neck. I’m taller than she is and I’m suddenly aware of how it must feel to Kyle when I hug him. She’s close enough now that I can make out the words when she speaks again. “Oh,” sniff, “Tori,” sniff, “I’ve never had a friend like you. You’re,” shaky sob, “absolutely the best ever.”
Surprised, I pat her on the back awkwardly. “You are too, Mei. Now please stop crying. Can I get you something?”
“I mentioned ice cream earlier and I really, really hope you have some.” She’s almost speaking normally now. And she really needs a tissue.
“Well,” I think forlornly of the ice cream I had tossed to make room for all the fish from Leslie. “I’m actually out.”
“Cookies?”
“Diet.” I respond, grumpily. “Even the ice cream was low-cal.”
“Yuck.” Mei sticks out her tongue and then walks past me to where the tissues are; she grabs a few and dabs her eyes, then blows her nose. She’s one of those people that sounds so delicate and tiny when she speaks, but when she blows her nose—watch out. She sounds like an elephant. It had taken some getting used to.
When she lowers the used tissues, her nose is bleeding. “Crap. This happens sometimes. Sorry.” She tosses her used tissues in the trash and then she takes another handful to shove against her nose.
“Want some tampons?” It sounds like an odd thing to offer, but seriously—those things are amazing to soak up the blood and stem a nosebleed. Just unwrap, pop it up the nostril, and voila!
“No, it’ll stop in a minute.” That’s girls for you. We all know how feminine products can multitask. Once, I used an overnight pad with wings to press against a cut on my side. A little medical tape later and I’d had a proper bandage. Mei pulls the tissues away from her nose after a minute or so and I see she’s right; the blood has already slowed to a trickle. Wait, the blood.
Mei holds the tissues to her nose once more, but only for a brief moment, and then she pats around her nostrils to get any flecks of red. Quickly, I move forward. “Here, let me go ahead and empty the trash. It was getting kind of full.”
“I can take it out for you? I mean, I’m the one throwing in bloody tissues.” She leans down as if to take out the white trash bag from the metal canister.
“Nope. My house, you’re the guest. I’ll get it.” I pull out the trash bag before she can toss in the bloody tissues. When I turn to walk away, she stops me.
“Here, forgot these.” She’s moving towards me, the tissues wadded tightly in her hands. “Can you open the bag for me?”
“Just give them to me.” I force a laugh that I hope sounds casual. “I work with stranger blood and guts for a living. I can handle a little of yours.”
Mei hesitates, but she eventually hands me the crimson tissues. “Sorry, it’s sort of gross.”
“Really, Mei. Don’t worry about it. Embalmer, remember.” I smile and she nods. “Be right back. I’m going to run this outside.”
Before I’m even out the door, Mei’s walked over to the sofa and settled herself down against the cushions. She makes short work of finding the remote buried beneath my throw pillows.
There’s a second furnace behind the freestanding garage. It’s not quite set up like the crematory indoors and I only fire it up when I’ve accumulated enough trash to warrant the work. I could pay for the city trash service, but I don’t. Why pay the thirty bucks a month when I can burn everything? Except the recycling. I’m good about that—trucking it out to the center once a month.
It’s weird, actually, to have the large ‘burn the witch’ oven sat under an outcropping of roof behi
nd the garage. It’s something Grandmother Sophia had put in. Maybe she didn’t want to pay to have her trash hauled off either.
“God,” this is going to be gross. I’ve tossed the bag of kitchen refuse into the large black bin and I’m staring down at Mei’s tissues, trying not to be sick on my stomach. Liam said it wouldn’t take much. Just the smallest drop.
Hopefully blood already drying on tissue counts.
I tear off a small piece, one that’s completely colored red-going-brown and I open my mouth, stick out my tongue, and close my eyes. Shit, shit, shit. This is so gross.
But it’s more the idea of what I’m doing than the actual taste that ends up being gross. The paper dissolves quickly, leaving behind a metallic earthiness. It’s almost what I imagine copper would taste like. I open my eyes as my mouth begins to buzz with an odd sensation like I have my teeth clamped around a hive of bees.
The feeling grows down my throat and into my belly. It warms me, hotter and hotter, until I’m on fire.
And then I am lunged into Mei’s life.
Not just her now, but her forever.
I see her as a child, crawling beneath a large table, hiding from her mother.
I see her as a teenager, huddled over books in the library. I remember her then—so shy and difficult to befriend.
I see her now, dating Dean and flushed with happiness.
I see her older, married with a child at her breast. No Dean in sight.
And then she is a grandmother.
And then I see her grave.
My eyes flash open as if a spark of electricity has bid them to awake. I’m alone behind the garage, but I’m also not. I feel Mei, sitting on my sofa watching TV. She’s got her cellphone against her knee. I can feel the heat of it against my own body. She’s smiling as it vibrates. Dean is texting again. She’s safe.
It’ll overwhelm you, if you allow. Liam’s voice seeps into my mind, changing the vision of Mei. It blurs until it is less clear. I can still feel her, but not as strongly. You have to control it, bury her down so that her consciousness doesn’t overwhelm your own.
