by D. R. Perry
“Hello, Eunie.”
“Hi, Tino.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I called Maury, and he said I should call you.”
“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “You’re missing some time?”
“Yeah, a chunk of the afternoon. He said that if I’m not going to press charges, I should call you.” She clears her throat. “But I don’t understand why? Unless—”
“There’s no unless. He has me looking into things because we’ve been friends our whole lives, but Maury’s totally mundane and not in the know.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
There are a million things I could tell Eunice. About Maury’s health. About how I wish he were anything but mortal and fragile. About my unlife and all the troubles in it.
But part of being a good investigator is empathy. And Eunice sounds scared in a way that Kayleigh didn’t.
“Let’s talk. In person. Where can I meet you?”
“Down at Corey’s shop. Muse-icality in Warwick.”
“Oh, I know where Muse-icality is!” And I do, all right. It’s where I hit Sasquatch with my car, which I still don’t have.
“Great. Come by anytime in the next hour. We’ll be there.”
“See you then. Bye.”
I’m closing up my notebook with my slower and clumsier temporary (I hope) left hand when I realize my mistake. Before I can say anything, Esther’s grabbing her keys.
“I’ll fucking drive you there, but you’re walking your sorry ass back to the Pickerings’ after.”
I’m following her out the door and then waiting as she locks up and activates her wards. I understand way more about why she uses them now. Her lab is still pretty trashed, and I feel like a jerk because I was going to offer to help tidy things up.
“Thanks, Esther. For everything. If there’s anything I can do for—”
“No. Don’t fucking make anything remotely resembling a vow, asshole. Not to me, not ever.” She strides off down the hall and toward the stairs. I trot to keep up. She’s way faster than I am when I can’t turn on the supernatural speed.
“But, um—”
“If you don’t fucking understand why your sad shitsack ass can’t owe jack, then you need a prosthetic fucking brain.”
“No, I get it.”
We get in her car, which she starts immediately. Her stereo blasts out MMMBop by Hansen, and as is usual for Esther with her quirky musical selections, she starts bobbing her head and humming along with the tune as she drives.
I’m a child of the nineties, so I can’t stop my feet from tapping. Don’t ever tell her I said that.
As she pulls up in front of Muse-icality, it occurs to me that vamps making promises to Esther is hazardous to our health. But I can make one to myself.
I’ll do my best to keep all my limbs attached so she doesn’t have to call Mommy Dearest any time in the near future.
It seems like the least I can do.
Chapter Fourteen
The inside of Muse-icality is warmly lit, furnished with rows of shelves holding sheaves of sheet music. Instruments hang from padded hooks on the walls, everything from clarinets to a shiny silver triangle.
The counter where people purchase these items is almost an afterthought, tucked into a corner so as not to detract from the main focus here.
Muse-icality has nothing so mundane as a door marked Keep Out, No Public Restrooms, or even Employees Only. Instead, a collection of four doors line the back wall. Over top of them, someone’s stenciled the letters of two beautiful words.
Welcome Friends.
I’ve been here less than thirty seconds and I can already feel the sentiment, as though it’s a benevolent ghostly presence haunting the place. No wonder Sparky spends his alone time peering through the window outside.
“Tino, hi!”
A tall overall-clad woman with a mop of glossy chestnut curls and a rich contralto voice waves from behind the counter. Her accent reminds me of Doctor Maris’s, which makes sense because Centaurs are Greek, and if I’m guessing correctly, this lady grew up in that country. She’s in front of a denim curtain, which would explain why I hadn’t noticed her before.
“Hello. Corey?”
“Exactly!”
“It’s great to finally meet you. Eunice talked about you all the time back in high school.”
“A mutual activity, to be sure.” Corey chuckles.
“Eunice called.”
“Uh-huh. She’ll be out momentarily.”
“So, how many of these do you teach?” I wave a hand at the nearest wall of instruments.
“All of them.” She smiles. “And voice.”
“Awesome!” I lean an elbow on the counter.
We chat for a few minutes about her shop; how she chose the location, the decor, about lunches at the cafe next door. I find myself considering how much of a difference kindness can make.
Manners are a veneer, trappings. Esther’s mother had that act down pat, a technique to cover her fundamental cruelty. Corey Terry’s polite, but instead of acting as a blanket over a bucket of ice cubes, her manners enhance her warmth.
Eunice emerges from behind the curtain, pushing it aside enough for me to see a set of stairs back there. As she greets Corey with a quick hug, she’s practically glowing. I realize I’m looking at a true pair, a couple who’s bound to be compatible for a lifetime. Like my own parents.
I’d be the biggest jerk in the world if I interrupted this moment with a bunch of PI questions, so I don’t. Which is fine because I get to bask in this aura of contentment while it lasts.
Corey squeezes Eunice’s hand, then lets go, pacing away from the counter and toward one of the practice rooms. She picks up a broom on the way, humming a waltz.
“Okay, Tino. I’m ready to talk.”
“And I’m ready to listen.” I put my notepad on the counter between us, holding it steady with my new left hand.
“Oh!” Eunice blinks, then points. “That’s, um, different.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well, that’s not true. I’m alarmed because at first, I thought you grew it back already, which would mean—”
“I didn’t grow it back, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Really? Because that much blood that fast is a scary thing to contemplate.”
“Just bagged blood required after attachment. It’s a magical prosthetic.” I tap it with my pen, making a vaguely hollow sound. “One of my friends is an alchemist.”
She leans closer, the pointing finger hovering over my fake plastic hand. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Eunice presses the pad of her index finger against the back of my new hand. Her eyes widen before she withdraws it.
“Wow.”
And just like that, Eunice is rubbing her hands with sanitizer she’s gotten from somewhere behind the counter.
“That bad?” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “You’re the first person to see it, and—”
“No, there’s nothing wrong with your arm. But I do psychometry. You know, where psychic impressions come in from an object.”
“Yeah, okay. My friend had a not-so-nice person helping her.”
“Valentino Crispo, that’s the understatement of the century.”
“Don’t worry. I think the bad lady won’t bother us anymore.”
“I hope not.” Eunice shakes her head. “Anyway, one thing I can say for sure is that she had nothing at all to do with my lost time after school today.”
“Good.” While I’d love to catch Esther’s mother assaulting random in-the-know folk, I’m also glad Eunice never tangled with her. “So, what can you tell me?”
“Well, there are two things.”
“Okay.”
“I remember music.” Eunice leans her chin on her hand, inadvertently showing off the bruise there. It’s just like Kayleigh’s. “A song with words I didn’t understand. But it was a beautiful tun
e, an operatic duo in a language I’ve never heard.”
“Do you know who was singing?”
“I was. But also the other person. You know.”
“Right. I remember what a duo is.”
In case you aren’t aware, the difference between a duo and a duet is in how the song is constructed. In a duet, each singer has their own verse and sometimes a chorus to themselves. In a duo, both sing at the same time, often in harmony or on occasion in counterpoint.
“Anything else?” I’m expecting Eunice to say no and then move on to talk about some personal item missing. But she surprises me.
“He was a baritone.”
“He? Are you sure?”
“Yes. I remember because it reminded me of our duet from Into the Woods.”
“Oh, boy.” I sigh. “And when did this happen?”
“The last thing I remember before the singing was walking to the car after school let out. So maybe four in the afternoon.”
“Okay, and what’s the other thing you remembered?”
“It’s more like what I lost. The locket my parents gave me on closing night. I wear it every day I teach over at Stout. It’s got some of my best experiences in it, which helps when I touch anything nasty. When the police officer woke me up, it was gone.”
I’m writing everything down but trying to maintain some semblance of eye contact the whole time. Which is challenging, but really the best way to go about questioning someone about upsetting events.
“Thanks. Please call me if you happen to find or remember anything else.”
Corey comes out of the now-clean practice room, sets the broom aside, then puts an arm around her spouse.
“Are you making any progress on this?” Eunice’s hands are clasped in front of her collarbones.
“I think I will now.”
“I helped?”
“More than you know, Eunie. Thanks again.”
We all wave as I make my way slowly toward the shop entrance. I’ll definitely have to come back here again, with Sparky and Leora. Hell, with the whole Pickering family, too. We’ll bring the Terrys a basket of baked goods or something.
Outside on the street, I remember Esther telling me to walk home from here. It’s a temperate evening, so I head east, toward Warwick Neck. About halfway to Pickering House, a memory from the less savory part of my night stops me dead in my tracks.
Esther’s mother was missing a ring. She’s about the same age as the first victim in Maury’s file, too.
I take out my notebook, write myself a reminder to check the appropriate name, and make a few phone calls.
Back at home, the kids are already upstairs in bed. I head up to wish them all a good night.
Levi smiles and waves, his nose in a book I recognize immediately. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
“Homework or fun?”
“Both.” He smirks. “Victor reminds me of Raul in Phantom, the book version. What a schmuck.”
“I’m supposed to tell you to watch your language.” I shrug. “Mostly, just keep it clean around adults.”
“Which is practically all the time around here.”
“Tell me about it.”
He yawns.
“I think that’s your fun homework’s cue to get offstage and let you sleep.”
“Yeah. G’night, Tino.” Levi tucks a bookmark bearing the words Quitter Strip on its surface between the pages and sets the tome on his bedside table.
“Goodnight.” I leave his door open just a crack, the way he told me those first few nights I spent here.
I peer into the girls’ room, which used to be a point of contention. I can still see the marks on the wall and carpet where Sarah divided the room into two sides the day Leora moved in here, but the duct tape she laid down back then is gone now. And Sarah’s still, sleeping in relative peace.
Leora isn’t.
In fact, she’s not in bed. I’m not worried because I can hear her moving around in the bathroom across the hall. I stand and wait, shuffling my feet loudly so she won’t be startled by my presence.
When she emerges, I wave with my temporary left arm. She smiles at first, but the expression fades quickly. Leora’s eyes are fixed on the magical limb, wide and full of an emotion I’m not comfortable with. Which makes sense when I think about it.
“You should have come to me, vampire.” The dry raspy voice coming from Leora’s throat isn’t her voice. It’s Baba Yaga’s.
“Well, I figured you had more important things to do than undead orthopedics.”
“You’re in even more danger now.”
“What else is new?” I’m getting kind of annoyed here. Baba Yaga is fully within her rights to call on Leora as her avatar in the outside world at any time. But growing kids need rest, and a magically possessed one is no exception. “Look, it’s a school night here. Leora’s future should be important to you.”
“Our priorities for her differ. And may perhaps diverge if you aren’t more careful.”
“Okay. I already decided to avoid Esther’s mother forever. So you don’t need to worry about that.”
“The monster in the hand is more dangerous than the one in the bush, young one.”
“I’ll remember that.” I tap my foot, tired of waiting for the old crone to let my kiddo go already.
“Write it down.”
“If I do, can I finally tuck my daughter in for a good night’s sleep?”
She nods. Baba’s voice probably feels strange coming out of a different set of vocal cords. Maybe that’s why she always sounds cranky. I take my notebook out to jot down what she just said about monsters under the note about checking Maury’s folder with regard to Esther’s mother. My brain finally makes the connection.
What kind of being attacks and steals from a hunter, a mostly-harmless psychometry psychic, and a necromancer who sees magical creatures as things instead of people? A monster, of course. Someone who feels out of place despite their extreme power to command others. I can name exactly three individuals like that, and Baba knows it. Sebastian Caprice, Zack Milano, and King DeCampo.
“Shitballs.”
“Yes.” Baba’s smirk looks too much at home on Leora’s face for my comfort.
But why would any of them need their sentimentally valuable possessions? I’ll have to look into that, but Baba Yaga has seriously narrowed the focus of my investigation.
“Um, thanks, Baba.”
“Don’t mention it.” The smirk transforms into a feral smile. Thankfully, that expression fades in moments, replaced by an owlish blink. Big bright eyes gaze up at me as a small freckled hand rises to twist a hank of auburn hair.
“Hey, Leora.” I grin, tucking my notebook away for now. “Just here to say goodnight.”
“Okay,” Leora nods and begins to shuffle past me on slipper-clad feet. She stops before stepping into her room. “Tino?”
“What’s up?”
“Do you think I’ll ever feel normal again?” Her shoulders droop.
“I don’t know, kid.” I place my right hand on one of them. “But I can promise you one thing. We’ll feel like oddballs together, okay?”
Leora doesn’t have the words to respond. Instead, she turns around and throws her arms around me. Her face is wet and her nose pokes me in the ribcage, but I don’t care. The only thing to do now is hug her back.
An eternal moment later, we part. Her eyes are dry now, her expression wan. But her posture looks more tired than defeated now. As she closes the door behind her, I know she’ll be better in the morning.
On the first floor, the house feels deserted. Down in the basement, the television’s on. Probably Raven or DeCampo, trying to take their minds off things.
Tomorrow night is my appointment with Doctor Young.
I don’t feel like socializing, so I leave notes in the hall and the kitchen, then make sure the parlor curtains are fully drawn.
The moment my head hits the throw cushion on the tufted sofa, I fall asleep.
&nb
sp; Chapter Fifteen
“Valentino!” The name comes complete with a hand on my shoulder, shaking me. “Get up. It’s time to go downstairs.”
“Huh?” I run a hand over my face, then open my eyes. “Steph? What’s up?”
“The sun, almost.” She shakes her head and taps her foot. “Honestly, you’re too careless sometimes.”
“I just didn’t want to bother Raven last night.”
“They’re sleeping at this hour.” She pulls on my right arm. “Come along now.”
“Where were you?” I follow her, but figure we can multitask. She’s got a lot of explaining to do. “I haven’t seen you all week.”
“At the hospital, mostly.” She pulls the cellar door open, then waves me through it. “Being a squeaky wheel.”
“Hanging around?” I wink as I pass her. I know all about her secret ability to turn into a bat.
“Something like that, but not entirely.” Her feet make no sound on the wooden stairs behind me, no mean feat in those alpine-high heeled shoes she always wears. “I’ve made enormous progress, thanks to Doctor Maris.”
“I want to run a few things by you. About my latest case.”
“Just a moment.”
In the hallway between sunless rooms, Stephanie moves soundlessly. She presses the fingertips of one hand against DeCampo’s door and the other against Raven’s. Her eyes go out of focus for a moment. When they’re back to normal, she nods, then beckons me into the laundry area at the back of the basement. We sit on the old cozy couch there, and she scoops up the remote from the coffee table in front of it.
Once she’s got Pandora playing nature sounds on the Smart TV, Stephanie begins to relax by kicking off her shoes. Then she lets her hair down, literally. After that, she unslings the fashionable snakeskin satchel she’s been wearing cross-body all this time. My ears and my nose tell me what’s inside.
“Blood? Is that the stuff the king needs?”
“Some of it. Enough to get him back to normal for a meeting in Providence.” She shakes her head. “We’re unlikely to get any more unless we take back the city. But Valentino, we need more information about Whitby before we can use this on him. How he managed to take over, for one thing.”
