by Lisa Emme
I heard the question in his voice, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the sight in front of me. My eyes were wide and I could feel my heart rate rise, only it wasn’t from Nash’s kiss. I looked down at the bottom of the stairs in increasing horror.
“Harry!” Nash took me by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, pulling my gaze back to Nash. “Nash! You’ve got to see this.” I grabbed his hand in mine and tugged him to the top of the stairs and pointed down. “Can you see that?”
Nash gave me a worried look and then turned his gaze to where I was pointing. “Shit!” He took an involuntary step back. “What is that?”
“More like who,” I replied, shaking my head. I had never seen a ghost like the one I was looking at now. It was a woman. From her shoes to her clothes to her hair, she looked like your stereotypical soccer mom. But her face! It was like some sort of macabre mask. Everything looked completely normal, except the woman’s mouth appeared to be sewn shut with big, thick, irregular black stitches. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” I turned to look at Nash. “Have you? I mean, have there been any dead bodies lately that might have looked like this?”
Nash shook his head. He took a step down, moving closer to the ghost. “Hey,” he said, calling out to the grisly spectre. “Who are you? What do you want?
The woman looked up at us and then turned away, moving across the parking lot. I say moving, because she wasn’t really walking or even floating. It was more like she was winking in and out of sight, each time moving slightly farther away from us. Nash and I hurried down the stairs after her.
“Hey! Come back.” I raised my arm like I was hailing a cab. I’m not sure what purpose that served, but sometimes you just can’t stop your muscle memory from kicking in.
The ghost disappeared and then blinked back about fifty yards ahead of us. She was leading us down the alley. Nash grabbed my arm when I made to follow. “Wait Harry. We don’t know what could be waiting for us.”
“Well, her body, of course.” I gave him a ‘duh’ look, holding my hands up in front of me with a shrug.
“I figured that, but what if her killer is still around?” Nash looked at me expectantly.
“Oh yeah, I hadn’t thought of that.” I chewed on my bottom lip.
“Let me grab my gun.” He went back to his truck and unlocked the lock box in the centre console, pulling out his Glock. He clipped the holster to his belt and then grabbed a flashlight, handing it to me. “Okay, let’s go. You lead the way.”
We followed the mute ghost through the alley and out to the nearby street. Several blocks later, she stopped and turned into another alley. After a few minutes of searching, we finally found her body stuffed in a large dumpster.
“Oh yuck,” I gagged as Nash threw back the lid of the bin. The woman’s body had been thrown in on top of several bags of trash. The stench of death was thick, mixed with a retch-worthy combination of rotting leftovers and coffee grounds. Like the body from the day before, the woman’s throat had been torn out, but that isn’t what took me by surprise. No, it was the fact that despite what her ghost looked like, her face was unflawed. There were no black stitches holding her mouth shut.
“I don’t get it,” Nash said. “I thought her mouth would be all…you know, stitched up.”
“I don’t get it either. I’ve never had a ghost come to me looking like this. I don’t see ghosts as they are at death.” I shuddered at the thought. I’d seen some pretty gross dead bodies. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if their ghosts walked around looking like bloody, torn disasters. “They usually look really good, sometimes even better than they did in real life.”
It was true. When ghosts manifested, they took on the form that they perceived they had in real life. Quite often, that meant that they looked slightly better than they actually did when they were alive. You know how it is. You see yourself in your mind’s eye as slightly taller, slightly skinnier, prettier, sexier. Sometimes it works the opposite though. I once helped a young woman who had died without mending a rift between herself and her parents. She was quite pretty, but on the plus side of the size rack. I was shocked when I went to her funeral and saw a picture of her. She was all bones and angles, her cheeks sunken. She had been suffering from anorexia and had basically starved herself to death. Even in death, she saw herself as fat. It was sad.
I looked at the ghost in front of me. Unlike the man from last night, she didn’t disappear the moment we found her body. “Who did this to you? Why is your mouth like that? What happened to you?” I bombarded her with questions, but she shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. “Why can’t you speak?” Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with terror, reminding me of that famous painting by Munch.
Throwing my hands up in frustration, I looked at Nash. “She’s no help.”
“Okay, I’ve got to call this in.” He pulled out his cell phone and stepped away from the dumpster.
Despite the vile stench, I took a step closer, shining my flashlight on her body. She was dressed in the same outfit that the ghost was wearing, although in reality, her clothes were torn and bloodied. My stomach heaved and I found myself swallowing back bile, when I realized that her pants were pulled down to her ankles. Had the bastard raped her as well? More than likely, judging by the blood on her thighs. I began to turn away, unable to stomach any more, when my flashlight passed over two small dots on her inner thigh. I leaned in, holding my breath from the stench, and took a closer look.
“Fuck! Nash? You’ve got to see this.” I waved at him, trying to get his attention. He finished on his phone and came to stand beside me. “Do you see that? On her thigh?” I pointed to the small punctures that looked suspiciously like a vampire bite.
Nash’s eyes narrowed and he began to curse. He pulled out his phone again and punched in a number. “Yeah, good evening to you too, Salvador. We need to talk. Tonight.”
After he punched off the phone, I looked at him wryly. “So, second date, second dead body. You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Nash.”
Chapter Ten
The next couple of days were kind of a whirlwind. After the less than stellar ending to our date, Nash packed me off in a squad car with a uniformed officer, a ‘uni’, to escort me home while he stayed to oversee the processing of the crime scene. I hadn’t seen much of him since.
The city was in an uproar and the proverbial shit had hit the fan. Two more bodies had turned up, bringing the death toll to four. The higher ups in Nash’s department were pulling their hair out, especially after they had no choice but to declare that there was a killer on the loose after a keen reporter caught on to the similarities of the deaths and the paper had splashed a headline about ‘ravaged bodies’ across the front page. Needless to say, there was a lot of pressure to put an end to the killing spree.
Compared to two more people being slaughtered, my troubles seemed pretty trivial. Things at the coffee shop were moving right along. All the licenses I needed suddenly came through. I don’t know whether it was brownie magic or Salvador’s business influences in the community, but either way, I wasn’t going to complain. Artie stopped by with our crockery order and I ran everything through our new commercial dishwashers and stocked the shelves. The coffee maker was getting a good work out and Tiffy and I were now expert baristas thanks to Isaac’s tutelage. Tiffy in particular took to the whole barista thing like a natural. She even exhibited a bit of artistic flair when it came to cappuccino foam art. Her best so far was a dragon. I was lucky if I could keep it from slopping over the sides of the cup.
Morris and the boys stuck around even though all the inside work was completed. The weather was holding so I bribed them with free hot drinks to chase away the cold and put them to work clearing out the side yard off the new French doors. I designed a small outdoor seating area with raised pla
nters and Morris was building all the benches and flower boxes while the boys did the heavy lifting and put in a new cobblestone patio and pathway. Morris also carved a beautiful sign with the newly christened name and hung it from a wrought iron frame over the doorway.
With all the activity, the neighbours and passers-by started poking their heads in. We handed out free samples and told people to start spreading the word that we were opening soon. I hadn’t picked a date, but with the upcoming arrival of the Mariposa, I was inclined to wait until after the visit and Isaac seconded the idea.
On the night after the fourth body was found, Tess and I were hard at work weeding through the ever growing stack of résumés. It seemed like every werewolf in the city had decided they needed a job in the new shop and so I had recruited Tess to help go through them all. Not knowing what to expect in terms of actual customers, I decided to hire two people to start. Mrs. P would continue to operate the flower shop as usual, but now that Tiffy’s social skills had improved, she would move over to provide daytime help in the coffee shop. I figured at first, we’d make sure to always have two people in the shop at any given time. Judging from the applications I had, I didn’t think it would be a problem to hire someone else if customer traffic warranted it.
We were in the process of winnowing down the list to our top five applicants in order to set up some interviews when my ‘spidey-sense’ vampire detector went off. I turned to look at the door just as it swung open, the little bell above it chiming quietly. For a minute, I thought my sixth sense must be on the fritz because standing in the doorway appeared to be a slight, young girl of about sixteen or seventeen. She was dressed in skinny jeans with the knees worn out, tennis shoes and a black hoodie. Her hair, which was dyed a fiery red, was pulled back in a ponytail and for the most part hidden under a frayed, army style cap. She could easily pass for just about any teenager in the neighbourhood. That is until she turned and met my eyes. I sucked in an involuntary breath in surprise. Beside me, I could feel Tess’s hackles rise. I put out a hand to keep her in her seat beside me.
“Hi. I’m sorry, we’re not open yet,” I called over to the young vampire. I say that facetiously because one look in her eyes and you knew she wasn’t young. You know how you look at someone and think they’re an old soul? Well, this chick was old, despite her teenage looks.
“You are Harry Russo, yes?” The vamp raised an eyebrow. She didn’t try to approach, possibly because Tess was softly growling, obviously on edge, beside me.
“Who wants to know?”
“I am Hilde. I come to bake for you.” She shifted nervously, looking down at her scuffed tennis shoes and for a second she looked like a teenager again, an awkward teenager.
“Sorry? I don’t know –”
“Hilde!” Isaac’s voice rang across the room. “You’re early. I didn’t get a chance to speak with Harry yet.” He strode across the room, his arms open in greeting. Hilde relaxed visibly and so did Tess.
“Isaac? Do you know her?” I rose from my seat as Isaac and Hilde approached.
“Forgive me, Harry, I was hoping to speak with you first, but it seems Hilde is rather anxious to get started.” He gave Hilde a pointed look. The two seemed comfortable together and standing there they looked almost like father and daughter. It was kind of freaky.
“Uh, that’s okay, but –”
“I wish to bake for you. Here in the shop. No better bread will you find than mine.” Hilde’s expression was one of certainty and pride.
I looked at Isaac who nodded in agreement. “Hilde is a superb bread maker and has had experience in the,” he paused for a moment, “in the service industry.” Isaac’s expression was a little strained and I could tell that there was more to it.
Hilde laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh that sounded incongruous with her slight build. “Oh Isaac, do not coat it with the sugar.” She turned to face me again. “Excuse me. My English is not very good. I am, how do you say, a calling girl?”
“A call girl,” Isaac corrected, then quickly swallowed uncomfortably. “Although I don’t think that is the particular term in your case.” He turned to me. “Hilde has been working in a brothel in Eastern Europe for the last few, er, decades. As you can probably tell, she appeals to a particular clientele.”
I watched Isaac as he spoke. I had never seen him look quite so uncomfortable. His words finally sank in and realization dawned on me. “Oh! Ohhhhh, that’s… that’s awful.”
Hilde shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Eh, it is not so bad, but I get bored. Too many old men that like to spank little girls who call them daddy. I would rather bake bread.” She looked at me expectantly.
“Well, sure. I can totally understand.” I looked again at Isaac feeling put on the spot. “I just don’t know how much work we’ll have for you to start. I don’t know what the demand might be.” I chewed on my lip thinking. “But if you’re willing to work in the coffee shop as well?” I turned to her to see her response.
Hilde’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I would like that. I can serve and clean and bake, whatever you need.” She rushed on excitedly, her enthusiasm evident on her face. Again, it was easy to forget she was more than just a teenage girl.
“Okay, sounds like it’s a deal then. I’m sure we can work out an agreeable wage.” I looked at Isaac and then back to Hilde, my smile fading. Something wasn’t right. They didn’t seem happy enough. “What am I missing?”
Isaac shifted uncomfortably. “You see Harry, Hilde is here because she is to work for Salvador. It was part of an exchange between Hilde’s Master and the Magister. In order for her to work here you would have to –”
“I want for you to do to me as you have Isaac. I wish to be bound to you.” Hilde grabbed my arm, a fervent look in her eyes.
“What? No!” I pried her fingers from my arm, a look of shock on my face. “I couldn’t do that to you. I didn’t mean to do it to Isaac. How could you ask for that?”
“Harry, it’s not a bad thing that you have done to me, honestly.” Isaac looked at me with concern. “Do you still feel that you have done me some sort of disservice?”
“Well,” I frowned at him. “I…I don’t know. You’re definitely a lot different now than when I first met you, but –”
“There is no but, Harry. I much prefer being bound to you instead of Salvador.” Isaac took my hand and squeezed it. “You forget that I would have been bound to someone, one way or another. When we first met, I was bound to Salvador and very unhappy. Now I am bound to you and I, well, I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”
“But wouldn’t it be better to not be bound at all?”
Isaac shrugged. “Well, I could probably strike out on my own, but it would be very hard. There aren’t many unestablished territories left in the world. And it would be decades or maybe more before I would be established enough to be safe, to not have to face countless challenges as other vampires seeking their own independence tried to usurp me.”
“But vampires like me, Harry,” Hilde shook her head. “I will never have enough power to leave my bonds behind. I would rather be bound to you and have a chance to explore my happiness than live another century as a sex toy.”
“Geez Harry,” Tess chirped in, startling me. I had forgotten she was there. “When you put it that way, I’d want you to bind me too.”
I threw Tess an exasperated look. She was totally not helping. I frowned at Hilde. “You don’t even know me. How do you know being bound to me is better than being bound to Salvador?”
Hilde smiled. “I know Isaac and trust him. If he vouches for you, that is good enough for me.”
Isaac gave me a tentative grin. I bit my lip again thinking things through. “Let’s say I agree.” I put up a hand stalling Hilde’s happy response. “For argument’s sake, we’ll say I agree. Salvador isn’t going to just let me take you from him, is
he?”
Isaac and Hilde exchanged glances. “No,” Isaac said, “But I have a plan.”
Chapter Eleven
“Your plan sucks, Isaac.” I whined again for the tenth time. We were on our way to Dante’s to see Salvador and it wasn’t even a required visit. Although technically it had been a week since the last time I had seen the Magister, he hadn’t called to arrange this week’s ‘date’, so as far as I was concerned this one should have counted for extra credit.
Isaac shot me a look I’m sure is similar to that worn by many a parent at their patience’s end when dealing with a pain in the ass offspring. I clamped my mouth shut. I couldn’t really complain about him treating me like a child when I was acting like one.
“The plan has merit,” he said. “It will work.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mumbled to myself, turning to look out the window. I turned back to look at Isaac. “You know, you’re supposed to be looking out for my safety, not setting me up in a room full of vampires.”
“You will be perfectly safe, of that I can assure you.” He gave me a calculating look. “Besides, aren’t you the one who always says she can take care of herself?” His gaze flicked upon my katana where it was strapped across my back. Isaac had seen it enough times to know it was there, the small ‘no-see-me’ magic I had cast on the sheath no match for his mind’s perception.
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I go around stirring up hornet nests.”
“Trust me Harry, this plan will work and it will take care of two birds with one stone.”
