by Eli Constant
“You have so much information on her, how come she was never identified?” I give Terrance back the files. “I mean, the artist rendering and all the physical specs. Surely, someone could have identified her.”
“You’d think.” He murmurs, staring down at Jane Doe’s picture, the file open in his hand. “We sent it out to all the surrounding counties, gave it to the feds. They turned up nothing. A few people tossed around the possibility that maybe she wasn’t registered, maybe came into the country illegally.”
“I guess that’s possible.” I bite my lip, looking up at the sky and letting the cold air bite my face.
“Tori, is there anything else you can tell me to help this along?” Terrance closes the file and glances up, wondering what I’m looking at. Of course, there’s nothing except sky and my thoughts above us.
The two victims remind me of someone else too, not just Mei, but I can’t figure it out. Not standing in the cold in front of the morgue.
I take a deep breath. Being able to speak openly with Terrance was going to take some getting used to. “When I found Maggie’s remains, I spoke to her.” I watch the police chief’s eyes go wide. It’s hard to believe that a cop, who’s served so long and has seen so much, can still be surprised. Then again, I’m probably the first necromancer he’s met. I’m not the only one who has some adjusting to do. “She did identify her killer as male. She said something about his face being both brown and white, like it was painted. But then she thought it was a mask. And his eyes might have been blue, but she wasn’t sure. She also said his hands were blue. I don’t know what any of that means though, Terrance.”
“Why wasn’t she sure?” I see Terrance’s fingers twitch, like they’re wanting to get his notebook out and start writing. He’s resisting though, not wanting to put anything on paper that can’t be proven without magical powers. He’s a fast learner. He’s going to protect me and keep my secret. It’s a better feeling than I could have ever imagined.
“It’s hard to explain,” I rub my hands together, phantom memories of reaching down beneath the ground to feel Maggie’s bones running through them, “souls as a rule can’t lie. They tell the truth. But Maggie had been stuck there for a really long time and she was disintegrating. I could have forced her to stay, but she was right on the edge of becoming something dark. Something we would call a wraith. On top of that, she was a murder victim. Sometimes a traumatic death can… Um, God, this is hard. I’ve never really talked about this stuff with someone who wasn’t raised with the knowledge.” I close the driver’s door and lean on it. “Sometimes, but not always, a murder victim’s memory will be really jumbled up. It can take time to put it back together and that wasn’t time Maggie had.”
Terrance is nodding, accepting my words. “Okay. What about the case last year? With the girls? I’m guessing you talked to Lilly Miller since you did the funeral.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Was she… confused like Maggie?”
“No, that’s different. Not only was she a child, so she was, let’s say… clearer about the world around her and still trusting of it, she was also freshly dead. Does that make sense? She hadn’t been in the, let’s call it the in-between long enough to get confused. So, with her inherent trust of people and not being dead long, she knew what happened to her. She knew details like the car and the shirt the man wore.” I can hear the lie in what I’m saying, but only because I know the truth. My sadistic half-brother Braeden had altered Lilly’s memory as she lay dying. Instead of doing anything to save her, he’d messed with her mind to keep himself safe. Someday, blood relation or not, I was going to hurt him. Or kill him. Or maybe both and I’d enjoy every freaking minute of it.
“Okay.” Terrance takes the files back from me and tilts his head forward to rock it from side to side like he’s trying to relieve tension in his neck. “If you hear anything from…anyone, let me know.”
“If a spirit materializes in my kitchen and tells me the name of the killer, you’ll be my first call. And then you can run him down, lock him up, and throw away the key. He’ll be one fully mirandized criminal.”
Terrance looks at me in shock, but then he smiles. “You know the best part about me knowing your secret?”
“What’s that?” I didn’t like the grin spreading across his face like a kid in a candy store.
“I get to make the following rule. Unless you want to put on a badge and learn how to actually talk like a cop, then no more spouting off like you’re some Deputy Do-Right taught how to do the job by Barney Fife in an Andy Griffith episode.” He chuckles, wiping a tear from his right eye. “Seriously, girl, I don’t know how much more of that I can take.”
I reopen my car door and give him a wonky salute. “10-4, Chief. I copy.” Closing my door does nothing to dull the sound of his riotous laughter. And as I drive away, I can still see his shoulders jumping up and down as he sits in his squad car. It really wasn’t that funny and I have the sneaking suspicion that the laughter is a product of relief more than anything.
Because the truth is out. He’s one less person I have to hide myself from. One person versus the entire ignorant world. But that’s something and more than I’ve had in a long, long time. Yet, it’s also overwhelming. My heart is racing, waiting to be arrested, waiting to be burned.
I pull to a stop at a red light a few blocks down and I dig into my purse to quickly grab my phone and check to see if I’ve missed anything. It’s late afternoon and the clouds overhead are as thick as they always are in our town, made so dreary post-War. We’ll get another few inches of snowfall overnight tomorrow, if the news is right. It makes the world beautiful though, so I don’t mind. It’s better than rain.
The light turns green just as I depress the button that lights up my cell phone screen. There’s no one behind me, so I check for missed calls and texts before moving forward. There’s only a missed call from Mei and I’m pretty sure I know what to expect from the voice mail she’s left. It’ll be all about her wonderful date with Dean.
I’m a bad friend and ignore the message. For two reasons. One- I’m still disturbed that the victims in the morgue should be so physically like her, and two- Kyle and I are in the middle of a relationship snafu (I can’t stand thinking of it as a fight) and right now, I really don’t want to listen to another lovely tale about another lovely date, no matter how much I care about Mei and her life.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m cut out to be real friends with anybody. I can be selfish, wrapped up in shadows and consumed by my own life. I guess that’s why I do need friends though—to yank me back when the abyss seems too inviting.
Chapter Eight
Kyle does come over for dinner.
We awkwardly hug at the downstairs door and then he goes up the stairs without a look back. I take a moment before following, resting my head on the cool wood of the closed door for a moment. When I mount the stairs and enter the apartment, he’s already in the kitchen at my small dining table with a thawed bass on a cutting board.
Dating him, I’ve discovered another new gift thanks to Liam’s mark and my Blood Queen title. I can feel his mood. It’s especially strong when he’s… in the mood. Which he is not tonight.
“This was really nice of Leslie.”
“Yeah, it was. I think she needs someone to care for, with Corey being gone. He really doted on her and he always snuck me extra cookies when I was over and she was baking, so of course, he was pretty perfect from a kid’s viewpoint.”
“Sounds like a good guy.”
“He was. And they were great together, the kind of couple you knew didn’t have a secret between them and just loved the hell out of one another.” I clamp my mouth shut after I realize what I’ve said. And I can see Kyle’s eyes tighten as he slides the filet knife into the bass.
“You know, it’s really better to do this fresh and then store it. I’m surprised her grandson didn’t prep them all before giving them to her.” He moves the knife slowly, creating a clean
line in the abdomen of the fish from chin to tail. Do fish have chins?
“I think she’s just grateful he makes time for her. I doubt she’ll even touch the fish still in her freezer. She told me a while back that eating fish makes her think of Corey.”
“I can see that. Once you get really attached to someone and then they’re suddenly gone, it’s hard to face things that remind you of them.” He splays open the bass and starts working the bones out.
“You’re good at this.”
“I watched a video before coming over.” He can’t suppress his grin as he pulls out a line of bones. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” He sobers quickly though. “So we both have secrets. I don’t know how to gut a fish and you…”
“It’s not that I want to keep things from you, Kyle. I don’t.”
“Then tell me the truth. There’s something going on with you. I know it. I’ve been with you for a while now. I kept telling myself that you had a right to be secretive.” He takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. “Is there something going on with you and Terrance? Or someone else? So many times, I’ve heard you talking to someone in a room and I’ve walked in and you act like you’ve been caught red-handed. Why would you hide your phone and act that way if it wasn’t something like that? Are you seeing someone else with me?”
I’m taken aback. This has nothing to do with finding Maggie’s bones near his bar or me getting distracted in a store because I feel a spirit. This is normal human relationship shit. I nearly laugh, until I see the hurt on Kyle’s face. I can’t find humor in this, not if he’s in pain.
“God, Kyle, no. I’m absolutely not cheating on you. You’re the first guy I’ve really been with since Adam died. I don’t want to jeopardize this good thing we’ve got. I care about you.”
“Well, I love you, Tori. I love you.” He points at his chest. He’s a huge man, but in this moment he looks small and vulnerable. Just like Terrance had in the morgue, trying to dig honesty out of me. “And I’m not crazy. Something’s wrong here. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
As Kyle is talking, he’s still working with the fish, looking down every now and then, keeping his hands busy. Maybe to help him process what he’s saying, what I’m saying. Busy hands are good for that.
“You’re right, there is something.” Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to tell two people in one day my secret? Shit. This is like living in one of my nightmares.
“Tell me then. I won’t be in a relationship that’s not built on honesty. I’ve been down that road, over and over again. I don’t want that with you.” Kyle’s large chest is straining the black cotton tee he has on, the arms are a bit too small and his upper arms look like vintage-Schwarzenegger, i.e. Mr. Universe. I want him back in my bed. I want his large body tucked against mine and his arms wrapped around my waist.
“Okay, here goes.” I stand straighter and get ready to spill the beans.
“Shit.” Kyle’s expletive cuts me short. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?” I walk quickly over to his side of the table
“Something jabbed into my finger.” He shows me his right index finger. Sure enough, a little dot of blood is blossoming along the skin. It’s surrounded by bits of fish flesh and spiny bone fragments.
“Maybe just one of the bones?” I turn around and wet a paper towel at the sink to clean his hand off. I swipe gently against his skin, and take a closer look. “It’s a puncture, but there’s nothing in the wound now I don’t think.”
Kyle’s staring at the partially-prepped fish. “What’s that?” He pulls the hand I’m cleaning away, which is his right and dominant hand, and he uses his nails to extract something buried in the bass. When he lifts it, my jaw drops. Because I recognize what it is. Rationally, I know it’s an impossibility. There are a million in the world like it, I’m sure.
But what would the chances be of seeing it in a picture yesterday and seeing it in person today? What would the chances be of a father driving so far from his hometown to find me to do his son’s funeral services?
“Guess he must have swallowed it at some point. Damn thing hurt.” Kyle goes to throw away the object that jabbed his finger, but I quickly grab it from him.
“No, let me have it. I’ll clean it up and do something with it. I think it’s pretty sign-from-above to find a heart in a fish you’re fileting while we’re in the middle of our first real disagreement.” My fingers curl around the little red earring and my heart beats furiously in my chest. Leslie had said her son went fishing in Lake Marion. What did that mean?
Was Timothy’s body in that lake somewhere? Decaying and waiting to be found? I swallowed, bile rising up my throat at the thought of some fish taking a bit out of the lost boy’s ear.
“I didn’t think about that. It’s pretty serendipitous.” Kyle’s smile warms me to my toes and I love that the twinkle in his eyes is there again.
“Yes, it is.” I lean over and I kiss him. And he kisses me back, thank goodness.
As I’m walking away to my bedroom to put the earring somewhere safe, I hear him speak again and the warmth drains away.
“We still need to talk, Tori. I still need the truth.”
I turn around. “I know, Kyle. For tonight though, can we just be us?”
He nods. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Chapter Nine
When I come back from the bedroom, Kyle and I act like nothing’s wrong. We cook and we eat and we laugh and we cuddle on the couch watching some old film on the classic movie station. It’s in black and white. That’s Kyle’s preference anyways. He says modern movies are just missing something and the monochromatic visuals make you focus on the storyline more. It doesn’t have all the exploding, shoot-‘em-up distractions and CGI.
I don’t watch a lot of television, save for the news and two shows that will be back in season soon. What I’ll never watch is horror movies and anything having to do with the human interpretation of the afterlife and ‘ghosts’. They’ve got it all wrong and the few times I’ve hazarded a watch at a paranormal show or movie, I’ve ended up yelling at the screen pointing out all the mistakes—like an ex-military guy would do while watching a war film.
The movie ends at some point, but we don’t notice. We’re too busy whispering and laughing and sneaking in kisses. It’s so comfortable that I nearly forget his ultimatum. That was the point of just asking him to let it go for the evening, but it does taint our togetherness—knowing that the questions will be back before I know it, and that I can’t avoid giving answers forever.
One more day though, maybe that’s all I need. It’s too hard facing spilling my guts twice in one day and not being sure if I’ll survive both the tellings.
As a new movie begins, this one another black and white with Brando as the titular male lead, Kyle pulls away from me and runs his hands through my now-disheveled hair. “God, you’re beautiful, Tori.”
“You keep telling me that.” I feel the blush creep into my cheeks, like a wraith twisting and turning, crawling up a set of stairs in the most horrific way possible. It makes me uncomfortable when he compliments me, but then I’ve not had such praise since Adam. A girl gets used to having her own judging voice playing down her attributes day after day. And the mirror is a nasty beast.
“I wish you’d listen.” He runs his hand down my face and plays his fingers across my clavicles. “I like a little meat on my girls anyways.”
“It’s not what you like though. It’s what I like and how I feel. I’m only fifteen pounds from my goal and the size tens buried in my closet. Losing this weight means something more than just being thinner though, Kyle.” I try to explain, but men have a harder time conceptualizing a woman’s size and her sense of self-worth. Guys can go around with extra weight and not be socially brutalized for it. I know some men suffer from poor confidence, that they feel the same way as a woman would, but I know for a fact that Kyle—with his toned body and comment some time ago that he
’d always been the athletic type—doesn’t have a problem with his image.
“I just want you to realize that I love you, all of you.” He bends towards me and kisses my neck.
“And I appreciate that, more than you know. But you’re just going to have to accept that I still feel I have work to do. Okay?”
“Okay,” he murmurs the word against my skin, his breath caressing and causing little goosebumps to sprout. The heat of blush is no longer contained in my cheeks. It moves downward to warm my belly… and other places.
“Does it bother you that I haven’t told you that I love you, too? You’ve said it more than once now.” I don’t like that he’s said it first, but I’d like it even less if I’d said it first and then been the one left in the lurch, waiting for my feelings to be returned.
“You’ll say it when you’re ready. I’m not in a hurry.” His hands are playing with the buttons of my shirt now, one pops open and he gives a little anticipatory sigh as the lace of my violet-colored bra peeks through the newly-made gap. “Not in too much of a hurry,” he admits, snaking his index finger beneath my shirt to tickle the little satin bow that rests on the bra material between my breasts. They’re slightly smaller than they were with all the working out, but not so much that I’ve had to go buy all new undergarments.
“Maybe in a hurry for other things though?” I tease, now allowing my own hands to begin exploring his body again. We’re quickly moving past the kissing and cuddling and into warmer, wetter things.
“In more of a hurry than I should be.” His hands have left my blouse and he’s leaned down so that his head rests against my chest, the great mass of his body fits awkwardly on the couch because of the way he’s moved against me. He tilts his head so that his eyes can look at me. And they are bedroom eyes, full of promises.
