Who By Water (Voices of the Dead Book 1)

by Victoria Raschke

  She was relieved and disappointed. She really wasn’t in the mood to be “on” and play host but they could always use the business. However, now she could go back to Maja’s apartment. Surely one of her roomies had to be home.

  Rok tightened his arm around her waist. “Where to?”

  They walked back to get their coats. Hers was cold and wet but it still beat getting pummeled with rain. “Rok, where were you going when I ran into you? Do you have stuff you need to do?”

  “I must have been looking for you.”

  She wrapped her scarf back around her neck tucking it into her raincoat. ”Were you serious about not having anything to do?”

  “Yes. You have the look of trouble in your eyes.” He squinted at her.

  “Would you go to Maja’s with me? I want to check on her.”

  “In this?” He turned to look at the rain coming down now in sheets.

  “I’ll go by myself.” She held out the keys to her flat on her palm. “I’ll be right back.”

  Rok curled her fingers back over the keys. “I’ll go with you.”

  They both put their hoods up and headed out into the rain. Moving from doorway to doorway, bent to protect their faces, it took them about twenty minutes to get to her flat. They stood on the damp landing. She knocked on the peeling gray door. She hoped it was the right one; everything looked a little different in daylight. A blonde waif of a woman opened the door.

  “Does Maja live here?”

  The woman looked up at Jo with eyes the color of a swimming pool. She was stoned out of her mind.

  “Not now.”

  “What do you mean ‘not now’?”

  “She must still be at work. She isn’t here and living, being, whatever.”

  Jo rolled her eyes. Shaking her silly wouldn’t get better information but she wanted to do it anyway.

  The woman-child looked past Jo to Rok who stood back from the door. “Do you want to buy some pot?”

  Rok shook his head and pointed to Jo.

  The woman looked back to Jo, slowly. “Do you want to buy some pot?”

  “No! I want to talk to Maja.”

  “She must still be at work.”

  Jo pulled the door closed in frustration. She did not want to be responsible for throttling a baked waif.

  Rok beat her twice at chess. Jo couldn’t concentrate enough to be much of an opponent. She made them a pot of tea because she wanted something warm to hold in her hands. Even with the radiators on, the apartment was chilly. The two of them sat on the futon, Jo with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out on the futon over Rok’s lap. They drank their tea. Rok rested his warm cup on her shin.

  She should still be looking, but Rok had convinced her it really was raining too hard to be out. The sheets and buckets had turned into a torrential downpour. The river was swollen and churning, and walking along it on the way to Maja’s, she had gotten the creeps again. There was something in there.

  She broke the silence. Usually she was happy just to be with him, but her thoughts had started leading her places she did not want to go. “So why are you thinking this isn’t the time to go to Nepal?”

  “Not a clear reason. It’s been many years since I have spent all the seasons in a year in Ljubljana. Or anywhere.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She meant it. She’d never felt afraid in her apartment in the time she’d lived there, but now the place felt almost alien to her. Everything she touched or saw seemed to trigger a memory, a dream, or a visit. It was quieter with her old friend.

  He sat his mug on the windowsill behind them and rubbed his calloused hands over her shins. “I am, too.”

  She laid her head back against the wall and closed her eyes and tried to think only of the moment they were in. She tried to be in her body; things had gotten awfully crowded in her head.

  “I can stay. If you don’t want to be alone.”

  “I’m sure you have things to do.”

  “I have time for you.”

  “Would you?” Jo opened her eyes and looked at him. “We can go hang out downstairs with Faron and his crew for a bit.”

  “It would be good to see him.”

  Rok doted on Faron. He didn’t have any children, and it was important for him to pass his knowledge on to others. They hiked together in places she would never go. When Faron was ten they’d climbed Triglav, the Slovenian rite of passage. From where she sat she could see the picture of the two of them at the top.

  “I should put clothes on.” She had traded her damp clothes for a robe when they’d come up. “I don’t think Vesna would appreciate me coming down like this.”

  Downstairs, Faron and his crew, which included Tomaž and Katarina’s daughters Ivanka and Veronika, were sharing a couple pots of tea at two tables pushed together. No one else was in the shop. Faron jumped up when he saw Jo and hugged her tightly.

  “You doing okay? Vesna said she was a little worried about you.”

  “I’m good. Vesna made me take the day off.”

  “So why are you here?”

  Vesna came out of the kitchen at the sound of the door. She was drying her hands on her apron. “Yes. Why are you here?”

  “It’s more fun than my apartment?” Jo cocked her head at Vesna. “What are you up to?”

  “Washing dishes. I sent Tina and Damijan home.”

  Jo hated to cut people’s hours but Vesna was more business-minded than she was.

  “Ah. Makes sense.” Jo took Vesna’s wrist. “Can we talk a second, in the office?”

  “Let’s.”

  Jo moved the hamper of towels and dirty aprons so she could close the door. “You might have given me a little heads up about your uncle.”

  “I think he’s pretty serious about his vows.”

  “That is not what I meant.” He was attractive, but despite Vesna’s teasing that wasn’t the only reason she existed. “I meant the ‘family business’ business. Why did you never tell me?”

  Vesna looked at her, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why didn’t you tell Gregor you can talk to dead people?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure he’ll think I’m crazy. Oh...point taken. But I was worried you’d think I was crazy, too, and I told you what was going on with me.”

  “I guess I wanted you to talk to Uncle Leo to make sure you weren’t.”

  “Thanks.”

  “There’s more weird stuff in this world than people know.” Vesna let out a tired sigh.

  Jo put her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the stone Leo gave her. “I’m figuring that out.” Jo sat on the desk. “I, we, should be out there, looking for her.”

  Vesna leaned against the wall. “I wouldn’t even know where to start beyond where you’ve already been. And besides, I think we’d drown.”

  Jo shivered. “There’s got to be something we can do.”

  Vesna stood back up. “Have you tried contacting Maja? I mean, I don’t know how this works or anything.”

  “I have no idea. So far they’ve only shown up when I’ve been alone, or mostly alone.” Jo looked down at her hands and twisted her ring. She had already asked Rok to stay. As much as she wanted to confirm what had happened to Maja, she wasn’t sure about taking a step that would confirm what she herself was becoming. Or already was.

  “You okay?”

  Jo nodded.

  Vesna pulled her into a hug and then held her at arms length, her hands soft on Jo’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

  “Me, too. But sorrier for Helena and Maja. What the fuck is going on?”

  “I don’t know. But we’ll get to the bottom of it. But promise me–”

  “Promise you what?” She felt like she was making more promises than she could ever possibly keep.

  “Prom
ise me you will take care of yourself. Please do what Uncle Leo tells you to do. He knows what he’s doing and he said he’d look after you.”

  She bristled at the idea of needing to be taken care of like she was a child or like she was her mother, but Vesna had a point. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing, not really. Somehow the dead could become solid in her presence. She could see and talk to them and none of them had come to her with good news. And someone, or some thing, if that was possible, seemed to be targeting people close to her. It was hard not to believe she and her newly minted superpower were at the center of it.

  “I’ll listen to him, I promise, but I’m not going to sit here or upstairs and twiddle my thumbs. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, especially if this is because of me and what I can do.”

  Vesna nodded. “I get that. You, we, don’t know what we’re dealing with. But you aren’t alone.”

  “I know that.” Every person tethered to her could be in danger. Looking into Vesna’s concerned face, she’d never felt more alone in her life.

  In the dining room, Rok was telling Faron and his friends about traveling in Tibet when he’d gone to climb K2. Maybe they could go on a trip together when all this was over. It had been a while since the three of them, or even just she and Rok, had taken off somewhere.

  Jo stood in the doorway and watched her son watch Rok. It was hard to believe Faron was twenty. Most Slovenia kids lived with their parents, but when he started at the university, he’d insisted on making the very un-Slovenian move into student housing. The tiny apartment had been part of it, but she suspected he also wanted some room to figure himself out. The single-mom thing had often had a “two of us against the world” quality, and now he needed to find his own way.

  As she watched, Ivanka put her hand in Faron’s lap and he threaded his fingers through hers. She was a little sad because he hadn’t told her he was dating anyone, and a lot worried because it was Tomaž’s daughter.

  Chapter 13

  The rain on the terra cotta roofing tiles kept Gustaf awake. If sleep was going to elude him, there were better ways he could spend the dark hours than staring at the crack spidering across the ceiling. He made a cup of chamomile tea, hoping the rain would let up and he could get some sleep.

  Something had been stolen from the museum the night of Helena Belak’s murder. His contact at the museum was evasive about what exactly was taken. All Gustaf knew was that during the upheaval when Helena’s body was found at the Emona house, an item or items had gone missing from the exhibit of Roman era artifacts. The case that housed the stolen property had not been smashed; it was simply empty. Gustaf had little doubt the theft was connected to the murder, and that both events were somehow connected to Jolene Wiley.

  He didn’t believe in coincidences.

  He stood in his room, tea forgotten. He’d added a pin with a dated red flag to the map. Light from the lamps placed around the room converged where he stood. He repositioned two of the lamps to focus on the map of pins. He stared more closely at the cluster of blue flags marking his own building. It hadn’t been necessary to included one for himself: Observers weren’t considered supernatural, though they existed to protect the secret of the Veil. Gustaf had a pin for himself because unlike most of his colleagues, he could see auras.

  Jolene Wiley’s aura had always been peculiar, even when she was believed to be dormant. A purple bordering on indigo radiated from her. It was the color of powerful visionaries. Lightning bolts of crimson and burgundy danced within this purple halo, indicating a deep connection to the earth. Wiley was different than most Voices he had seen or read about. He was angry at himself for not realizing sooner what that meant.

  Her uniqueness made him suspicious of every other blue-pin individual who had crossed her path. If he could see how different she was, so could they. He doubted the benevolence of anyone around that kind of power. He wondered what people or beings were out there that he didn’t have represented on his map.

  He sat at his desk and pushed open his laptop. Bettine needed to know what was going on at the museum, and he needed to get the Board’s permission to approach Wiley. Bettine must be told there was another active Voice and that unlike her mother or aunt, Jolene Wiley was most likely a Portal. It was doubtful that her family had trained her at all, and he was certain they hadn’t told her about this possibility.

  His message sent, he went to his kitchenette for a glass of water. He leaned against the counter and downed it in one long drink. His computer chimed with an incoming email. He had long suspected Bettine didn’t sleep, that she was more than she appeared, but keeping his own secret forced him to keep hers. Her reply email at 3 in the morning did not prove his theory, but it fit in with the mounting evidence.

  Gustaf,

  I trust your evaluation of the situation. Please approach Ms. Wiley, but do it cautiously. Whatever else you know about her, don’t forget that she is descended from an unstable line of Voices.

  I am concerned over the theft at the museum. The murder indicates that the artifact stolen is a Vessel. If that is the case, and you are correct about Ms. Wiley also being a Portal, things are even more serious. Under no circumstances should she be in the presence of a possessed person or other supernatural beings.

  You have reported Vesna Kos as a seer of auras. I know you have deep grievances with the Kos family, but you must enlist their help. Ms. Kos can assist you in finding the possessed, and if a demonic being has indeed escaped, her uncle will be valuable in returning it to its Vessel.

  I doubt Ms. Kos knows that revenge demons are masked by the auras of those they possess. The aggrieved are easy marks for a revenge demon, and their auras are often dark and murky. Start with those who may have been at the museum or Roman house who have such auras and are friendly with Ms. Wiley.

  I expect daily updates regarding this situation.

  Regards,

  B.D.

  He closed the lid of his laptop and leaned back in the desk chair. The matter had become more complicated. It had crossed his mind that the artifact could be a Vessel. If a demonic being had sensed a Portal near, it may have taken the opportunity to find a host willing to release it.

  No demon had been successful in permanently crossing into the waking world in his lifetime. The chaos and destruction the last one released still reverberated through the politics and psychology of the human population. Those who spoke about the evils of the Second World War had no real idea what humanity had been up against.

  Chapter 14

  Jo woke up in a puddle on her bed. Water dripped from the rafters above onto the duvet. It dripped down the wall opposite the window, behind the framed photos of the Smoky Mountains wrapped in autumn mists. She nudged Rok, barely rousing until he woke enough to realize that the duvet was sodden. He jumped from the bed with a mumbled, “What the fuck?” and with heavy-lidded, concerned eyes, he looked at Jo in the night’s blue gloom. “You okay?”

  “Just wet. Mattress is probably ruined.”

  “Maybe.” He pulled the duvet off and stripped the bed while Jo went to the kitchen to get some bowls and pans for the ceiling drips.

  She gathered up the few towels she had and went back to the bedroom. Rok had stood the mattress up next to the window and the electric radiator. It felt pretty dry, but just in case. The two of them placed the bowls strategically and rolled the towels into bright blue snakes to lay out along the trim on the floor.

  A crack of thunder on the heels of a lightning flash made her jump. Rok took her wrist and turned her cold palm up to cover it with his warm one. He didn’t say anything. He never needed to. His touch had the power to calm her heartbeat.

  “We can open the futon out.” She doubted she could fall back to sleep, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

  He nodded. She let his hand drop and turned to the wardrobe for a clean sheet and dry blankets. H
e went into the main room and pulled the futon out and flipped the back down to make a double bed. They put the linens on and climbed in together. She curled up next to him and put her head on his chest. Looking up through the window, she could see a patch of midnight sky between the angle of the terra cotta roofs. A curtain of silver rain fell from it, illuminated white every few seconds by another lightning flash. She wanted to fall back to sleep but was mesmerized by the rain and beset by thoughts of how and when they would find Maja.

  It was unnerving, this water infiltrating her flat. She had a ridiculous thought of walking down to the river and screaming at it to leave her the fuck alone, as if the river could possibly have a hand in what was going on.

  Rok’s chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm under her head and hand. She envied him the ability to drift right back to sleep. If it was the sleep of the just, not the dead, what did that make her?

  Jo woke up early, if she had ever really fallen asleep. She extricated herself from the tangle of limbs Rok became in his sleep and crept into the bedroom to see if the mattress was okay. The walls had dried and the leaks had stopped. She ran her hands up and down the mattress. It seemed dry. She muscled it back onto the bed, then sat on the edge looking out the window into the courtyard. The rain had stopped and the sky was turning a light shade of pre-dawn blue. Her bird neighbor was snuggled in its nest, its face hidden under its wing. She got up to close the door, sat back on the bed and picked up her phone. Aunt Jackie would still be up six time zones behind, but her phone was dead.

  Remembering to charge it was not her strong suit. She sat looking at the window, thinking about Maja, gazing somewhere in the middle distance. The chorus from “Time Bomb” drifted through her thoughts.

  Someone sat next to her on the edge of the bed. The door hadn’t opened, and Rok was still snoring in the main room. She turned to look.

  Maja was wet and dripping, though the bed and the floor remained dry. She was looking out the window. She had a choker of red and blue bruises around her neck that Jo had not seen in the mirror. She spoke before Jo had a chance.