by Helen Harper
The gun dropped with a clatter. I was barely aware of Fred’s pale face as he snatched the weapon and moved it out of the way for safety. My vision started to go blurry at the edges and the world slipped sideways.
Goddamnit. Not again.
Chapter Six
‘Welcome back!’ Dr Laura Hawes’ face came into focus, her brilliant wattage smile wreathing her face.
I managed a grunt. The smell of sulphur, which always seemed to accompany my resurrections, was stronger than ever. I wrinkled my nose and forced myself up to a sitting position. ‘How long?’
‘Twelve hours,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Just like the other times.’ Then, in a bid to be helpful, she added, ‘You were shot.’
Tell me something I don’t know, I thought ruefully. I touched the spot on my chest where the bullet had entered. There was nothing there but smooth, unblemished skin. I had to hand it to myself – whatever the reasons behind my repeated risings, my body had the recovery process down to a fine art.
‘How are you feeling?’ Laura asked.
I considered her question. The truth was that I felt fantastic. Energised. Full of vim and vigour. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘More than fine.’
Laura nodded, like she’d expected nothing else. ‘Good.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s quite a collection of people here because of you.’
My brow furrowed. ‘What? Why would there be—?’ Oh. My shoulders sagged. I’d died in front of a whole bunch of witnesses. Until now, I’d been able to keep my strange ability to evade death a secret. After dropping dead in front of thirty werewolves, including Lady Carr and Fred, there was no doubt that my secret was well and truly out of the bag.
‘If it bothers you,’ Laura said, ‘I can sneak you out of the back entrance. You can get out of the morgue without seeing any of them.’ She looked rather excited at the prospect of some sneaky skulduggery. But that would only delay the inevitable. I might as well face the music.
‘No. I appreciate the thought but I’ll have to speak to them sooner or later. Who’s out there?’
Laura reached for a clipboard. ‘Four werewolves, including the head of the Carr clan.’ I cursed inwardly. ‘PC Frederick Hackert and Special Constable Liza May. A Mrs Vivienne Clarke.’ My eyes widened. ‘And DSI Barnes.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Yep.’ She sent me a wry look. ‘No sexy vampire Lords this time around.’
‘I wasn’t… I didn’t…’ I grimaced. There was no point lying. ‘Alright, I was hoping he’d be here too.’ Lukas didn’t owe me anything but I’d kind of expected that he’d rush here when he heard about my third death. His absence shouldn’t have rankled, but it did.
Amusement danced in her eyes. ‘I don’t blame you.’
I pushed the vampire Lord out of my mind and stretched, checking my limbs and patting absently at a few tiny flames that were still flickering on my forearms. ‘Was anyone else hurt?’ I asked. ‘After I died, did anyone else get shot?’
‘From what I’ve heard,’ Laura said, ‘once you dropped, the atmosphere changed considerably. Your assailant was taken into custody and everyone else left the scene.’
I breathed out. That was something.
Laura handed me a small pile of neatly folded clothes. ‘I took the liberty of finding things in your size. They look like the sort of clothes you’d wear.’
I smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’
‘Any time, Emma.’ She wagged her finger at me. ‘This is becoming a bad habit of yours.’
Yeah. I couldn’t argue with that.
She left me in peace to get changed. I pulled on the functional underwear, tight-fitting jeans and professional-looking blouse, and ran a hand through my hair to tease out the knots.
Laura had helpfully left a small hand mirror too. I held it up and examined my face. It was still there. I was still me, at least on the surface. I couldn’t help wondering if something had altered inside me. Realistically, how many times could I die and come back to life again while remaining the same?
I prodded myself doubtfully and thought about what Reverend Knight had said about the importance of souls over bodies. Was there a darkness seeping into my soul because of my multiple deaths? I shivered. Could I even tell if there was?
My chilling musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. I knew from the brisk rap who it was. I sighed and called out, ‘You can come in, DSI Barnes.’
The door opened and she marched in, her arms swinging. ‘Twelve hours. I could set my watch by you, DC Bellamy,’ she remarked. She glanced round. ‘This is the second time in as many months that I’ve visited a morgue on your account. I haven’t spent so much time in the vicinity of the dead since I was a new detective.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I miss it. There’s a peaceful serenity about a morgue. It’s where problems get solved and life is wrapped up.’ Her gaze drifted to me and hardened. ‘Apart from where you’re concerned, of course.’
‘It’s not exactly something I have control over,’ I said, irritated by her implied censure.
She sniffed. ‘I suppose not. But it would have been far easier if you could have died without an audience.’
‘I’ll be sure to remember that next time.’
DSI Barnes folded her arms. ‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’ She tapped her foot. ‘By my count, thirty-three people, most of them werewolves, witnessed your death. We have a man in custody who’s been charged with your murder. At least last time you took care of your murderer for us – this time I have no idea what to suggest to the Crown Prosecution Service. Clarke killed you, and yet here you are alive.’
She tutted. I wondered if dealing with Clarke was a genuine dilemma or if she was just concerned about the paperwork. Then she gave me a long look. ‘Are you alright, Emma?’ she asked. ‘This can’t be easy. I could speak to our counsellors and see if there’s someone who can talk you through your experiences.’
I knew it was a genuine offer and I relaxed slightly. For all her gruff demeanour and business-like approach, not to mention her single-minded dedication to the Metropolitan Police Force, Barnes was kind and thoughtful at heart. ‘Thank you. I’m fine though, honestly.’
She gazed at me a while longer, then nodded. ‘Very well. All that remains is to arrange your reassignment.’
I blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘I can arrange for you to be transferred to another force outside London. Newcastle is looking for new detectives. It’s a lovely city.’
I was sure it was a great place but that didn’t mean I wanted to move there. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Why can’t I stay where I am? You might think I’ve screwed up the Clarke case, but I’ve been making great inroads with the supe community. I don’t think this is the time to transfer me out.’
‘If you stroll into Lisson Grove after dying in such a showy fashion in the middle of the street, everyone will know what you are.’
My muscles tightened. ‘Except I don’t know what I am. Neither do you.’
Barnes waved a dismissive hand. ‘You know what I mean. You can’t seriously think that you can wander around the streets now that everyone knows what you’re capable of.’
Her voice softened. ‘Much as I wanted you to be with Supe Squad, I am unwilling to put you at genuine risk. I’ve read your reports. I know that you’ve been repeatedly targeted by supes who want to make their mark because they’re aware there’s something different about you. That’s not something I was expecting. Now that you’ve risen from the dead, those attacks will probably happen more often. You’ve made yourself the biggest target in London.’
‘With all due respect, DSI Barnes, that’s where you are completely wrong.’
Both Barnes and I jumped. Standing in the doorway and looking entirely unperturbed was Lady Carr.
‘This is a private conversation,’ Barnes snapped.
The diminutive werewolf alpha strode forward until she was nose to nose with Barnes. Despite the grimness of the situation, I was fascinated. This h
ad all the potential of a prize-winning fight.
‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,’ Lady Carr said, looking at me with a flicker of awe. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing before and, believe me, I’ve seen many weird and wonderful things in my time. There is no denying the truth, however.’
To give her credit, Barnes stood her ground. ‘What truth is that?’
Lady Carr smiled. ‘DC Bellamy is one of us. She is a supe.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘How often do humans die and rise again?’
‘How often do supes?’ Barnes shot back.
‘There are many different types of supernatural beings,’ Carr said calmly. ‘I was concerned that DC Bellamy was too enamoured of the vampires, and that her allegiance to them would be to our detriment. But, as a supe in her own right, her allegiance will be to herself. We can work with that. In fact, now that we know of DC Bellamy’s make up, she will be afforded far more respect. In the space of twelve hours, she’s gone from a mere irritant to someone with incredible power and authority.’
As much as I disliked being called a ‘mere irritant’, given the work I’d put in over the last few weeks, I had bigger concerns. DSI Barnes’ ultimate goal was for the police to have greater control over the supes, not just now but in the future. If that control was only temporary, and contingent on my presence, it wouldn’t please her in the slightest. It certainly wouldn’t persuade her to leave me in Supe Squad.
It was ironic; six weeks ago I’d been utterly dismayed to be sent to Supernatural Squad by DSI Barnes, and now I was devastated at the thought of being forced to leave by the same person.
I cleared my throat. ‘I am a police officer first and foremost,’ I declared, slightly too loudly. ‘The fact that I come back to life after dying might only be temporary. It might never happen again. I might drop dead in a couple of hours and that will be that. We don’t know. Neither do we know how the supes on the ground will react to it. They might like the idea or they might hate it. So let’s not jump the gun. I believe I’ve dealt very effectively with the minor attacks. I see no reason for that to change.’
Lady Carr was almost gleeful. ‘We agreed to allow Supe Squad greater power after what happened to her predecessor, Tony Brown,’ she said to DSI Barnes. ‘Now it’s your turn to make concessions. We will revoke that agreement if DC Bellamy leaves.’
‘You can’t threaten me like that,’ Barnes said, her mouth twisting.
‘It’s not a threat.’ Carr’s tone was mild. ‘This is good for both of us. Yes, word will get out among the supes about DC Bellamy’s ability. Even I can’t prevent that from happening. But you sent her to us in the first place. That means you’ll be afforded respect too, simply through association. She lays the ground for your future plans. And she’s the sort of detective we can truly accept. Our werewolves will not attack her – quite the opposite.’
‘You can’t speak for the vampires. Or the Others.’
‘Lord Horvath has already discussed it with me. He contacted me immediately after DC Bellamy’s death twelve hours ago.’
I started. So Lukas knew I’d died again, he just hadn’t come to check that I’d also resurrected. That was fine. It was his prerogative. I had no reason to be hurt. Honest.
‘With the vampires and werewolves in DC Bellamy’s corner, the Others will follow suit. They will have no choice.’ Lady Carr glanced at me. ‘That is a good thing.’
DSI Barnes exhaled. ‘I have a responsibility towards my detectives in the same way that you have a responsibility towards your wolves. It’s not merely supes we have to worry about.’
She was talking about humans. How many humans out there would be desperate to do what I did? How many would want to cheat death, either for themselves or for a loved one? How many would want me locked up and experimented upon?
‘That,’ Lady Carr said, ‘is on you. The supernatural community will keep DC Bellamy’s secret to themselves.’
I had no real reason to disbelieve her and neither did DSI Barnes. My boss looked at me. ‘I know you might feel invincible, Emma,’ she said softly, ‘but that doesn’t mean you are. Your … ability puts you in danger as much it protects you.’
I met her eyes. ‘I’ve died three times. Believe me, I don’t think I’m invincible. But I want to stay with Supe Squad. It’s where I belong.’
DSI Barnes sighed. ‘Happy as I was that you chose to remain, I also told you that you would end up regretting it. Now I fear it’s only me who will regret it. But this has to be your call.’
I was surprised at how relieved I was to hear that. ‘Thank you.’ I lifted my chin. ‘I will stay.’
The morgue room door burst open again and Fred and Liza fell through it. Clearly, they’d been eavesdropping.
DSI Barnes glared at them. ‘Is nothing private in this place?’ she snapped.
Neither of them could stop themselves from grinning. Fred bounded over and gave me a tight hug. ‘I’m so happy you’re not dead!’ He squeezed me harder. ‘It’s amazing!’
‘I’m happy, too,’ I said into his shoulder.
‘You should have told us that you can’t die,’ Liza said. ‘You can trust us. We won’t tell anyone.’
‘You’d better not,’ DSI Barnes muttered darkly.
I shuffled my feet. ‘Fred?’
‘Yes?’
‘I can’t breathe.’
‘Oh!’ He released me and stepped back. ‘Sorry.’
I smiled at him. ‘It’s fine.’ And it really was. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I decided that I wasn’t a fan of big secrets. The truth might be more complicated – but that didn’t mean it wasn’t easier to deal with.
‘It’s nuts.’ Liza poked me with her finger to check that I was real. ‘When Fred told me you were dead, I…’ She shook her head and choked up. ‘I’m glad you’re still here.’
‘Hale and hearty.’
‘Can you do anything else?’ Fred asked eagerly.
‘Anything else?’ Like cheating death wasn’t enough?
‘Zap lasers from your eyes? Click your fingers and teleport across the world?’
I thought about my crossbow training with Kennedy and the ease with which I could now hold a heavy weapon. I also thought about the way I’d avoided being run over by that car. Okay. Maybe I’d still keep a few secrets of my own after all. ‘Nope. Nothing like that.’
‘Well,’ DSI Barnes said, ‘I suppose that’s settled for now. There’s only one final matter left.’ She looked at me. ‘What we do about the Clarkes.’
I grimaced. ‘Mrs Clarke is here?’
‘She showed up about half an hour ago and refused to leave,’ Fred said. ‘We tried to make her go home but…’ He gestured helplessly. ‘I don’t think she knew what to do with herself.’
‘I’ll go and talk to her.’
DSI Barnes’ eyes narrowed.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll be careful what I say. She wants to believe that I’m alive. The last thing she needs is for her husband to be locked up for murder for the rest of his life.’
‘Whether you’re still breathing or not,’ Lady Carr said, ‘that pathetic excuse for a man shot you.’
‘He didn’t mean to. I’m not denying that the Clarkes have their faults, and I’m not suggesting that they are grieving angels whose actions should be excused. But they do have their reasons. They want their son back.’
‘We all know that’s not going to happen,’ DSI Barnes snorted.
‘They know it too,’ I said sadly. ‘They always did. And that’s the problem.’
***
Mrs Clarke was sitting in the small waiting room near the front desk, surrounded by framed pictures of soothing landscapes and pretty flowers. A leaflet for bereavement counselling was clutched in her right hand; it was crumpled and twisted beyond repair.
When she looked up and saw me, her face whitened. ‘You … you’re alive,’ she gasped.
; ‘Yes. The force of the bullet knocked me out, but I was wearing a bulletproof vest under my shirt so no real harm was done.’ And then, because the devil was in the details, I added another lie. ‘It helped that your husband used a silver bullet. If it had been a lead one, I might not have been so fortunate.’
‘They told me you were dead. And,’ she looked round, ‘we’re in the morgue.’
Mmm. Yes, that was more difficult to explain away.
Mrs Clarke exhaled. ‘You wanted to teach us a lesson, didn’t you? You wanted to show us that Julian’s death doesn’t give us carte blanche to threaten others. Or to hurt others.’
Good grief. I couldn’t imagine a more callous ‘lesson’.
‘Being here in the morgue is a mistake,’ I said. ‘Nothing else. Somebody somewhere messed up.’ I was using an old defence we’d been taught about in the Academy. Suspects would claim that it was another guy who screwed up and committed a crime, so it was nothing to do with them. Honest, guv.
‘Whoever they are,’ she said, her head hanging low, ‘they’ve not screwed up as badly as we have. Julian would have been horrified that things had come to this.’
‘What your husband did was wrong. What happened to Julian isn’t the werewolves’ fault. They aren’t to blame for his death. Nobody is.’
All the rage had been sucked out of her. This was a different woman to the one I’d met earlier. I suspected that anger and the desire for revenge was all that had been keeping Mrs Clarke and her husband going.
‘He shouldn’t have gone there,’ she whispered. ‘He certainly shouldn’t have taken that gun.’
‘No,’ I agreed.
‘What’s going to happen to him? Will he be charged?’
‘That’s not up to me,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know what will happen next.’
She wrung her hands. ‘Can’t you … can’t you put in a good word for us?’
Our legal system didn’t allow for that; it was designed to prevent victims from being coerced into withdrawing any allegations. But as I was neither dead nor injured, I suspected that it would be possible for Mr Clarke to be charged on the more minor offences of possession of an illegal firearm and discharging a weapon with the intent to harm, rather than attempted murder.
