by Amber Benson
“It’s Daniel’s date,” I said, swallowing hard. “Coy.”
“Where’s her, you know … head?” Runt asked, both of us refusing to move any farther into the bedroom. I shook my own head—glad it was still attached to my neck—and shuddered.
“You got me,” I said, taking a tentative step forward. “I hope the bad guy didn’t take it.”
Normally, a harvester would’ve already come to collect Coy’s soul, but since we were in the middle of All Hallows’ Eve, this wasn’t the case. Had this happened at any other time, I would’ve at least been able to see and talk to her newly departed soul and reassure her everything was going to be okay, but the cessation of all magic had made that impossible. Wherever her soul was, it was just going to have to wait awhile for collection.
“I think she was a Goddess,” I told Runt.
“She smells immortal,” Runt said, sniffing the air, nostrils flared.
“She does?” I asked, curious what immortals smelled like to a hellhound.
“Yes, she smells like burnt sage and rose petals,” she replied. “Very faint now, though. The iron scent of the blood kind of overwhelms.”
Tired of standing in the bathroom doorway like a terrified teenager, I walked into the room, careful not to get my bare feet in any of the blood.
“I’m gonna look for her head,” I said, skirting over a long finger of blood on the run from the original pool. I’d seen enough Law & Order to know touching anything would be considered compromising the crime scene—and I knew Jarvis would punch me if I did that.
I stayed close to the edge of the room, keeping my hand on the wall as a guide. I let my eyes drift over the headless body, the garish green sequined dress giving the corpse a surreal appearance. Beneath it, the cold dead flesh seemed almost rubbery, like it wasn’t a real person, but one of those animatronic caricatures you saw populating The Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. In fact, I kept expecting the body to get up and wave me on to the next part of the ride—creepy!
“Do you see it anywhere?”
“Nope,” Runt said and whined unhappily.
“Me neither,” I said, finally making it to the bedroom door, which of course was on the other side of the room. Here, I was afforded another vantage point, one that gave me a view of the space between my bed and the wall.
“Nothing over here, either.”
I unlocked the bedroom door and opened it, letting in a blast of chilly air.
Outside, the courtyard was calm, the chirp of crickets pervasive as I left my bedroom—which in my mind had now become a charnel house—and tiptoed out into the night. Behind me, I heard Runt’s toenails clicking on the tile, and then she was next to me, her flank quivering.
“It’s creepy in there, Cal,” she whispered, brushing up against my leg.
“I know,” I agreed, patting her head.
I looked to my left and saw the bodyguard standing at the entrance to the courtyard, his eyes fixed on our door. I waved in his direction, gesturing for him to join us, and he nodded, moving toward us with military efficiency.
“What do you need, ma’am?” he said, his voice gruff. He had a thin, ratlike face, and up close, it looked like he Brylcreemed his hair.
“Has anyone entered this room since we got back?” I asked, keeping my tone even.
The bodyguard shook his head.
“Not a soul.”
Interesting choice of words, I thought to myself.
“Well, somehow someone got in,” I said, gesturing to the open doorway.
“Jesus Christ,” the bodyguard said, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the headless corpse lying on my bedroom floor.
“I went to take a bath and the room was empty,” I continued. “When I came out, this was waiting for me.”
The bodyguard shook his head again. This time more adamantly.
“No one went into this room, ma’am. Not on my watch.”
I believed him. The bodyguard had no reason to lie, and besides, he looked as shocked by the whole thing as Runt and I did.
“We need to alert my Executive Assistant,” I said, shivering in the cold night air, but not at all interested in going back into the warm bedroom. “Can you call up your buddy on that earpiece thing and get him to bring Jarvis over here?”
The bodyguard nodded, putting his hand to his earpiece.
“John, can you give me a location on Jarvis de Poupsy?”
Even under these horrible circumstances, Jarvis’s last name made me want to giggle, but I stifled the urge, not wanting to seem callous. There was a dead girl lying a few feet away, her head missing in action, and as the embodiment of Death, I owed her some respect, even if I hadn’t really liked her all that much in life.
“He’s on his way, ma’am,” the bodyguard said, reaching out and closing the bedroom door. “Until then, this is a crime scene and I need you to stay out.”
i’d left the room in my pajamas with no shoes and socks, my hair still damp from the shower, so by the time Jarvis and the second bodyguard arrived, I was freezing.
“Calliope? Where is your coat?” These were the first words out of Jarvis’s mouth when he saw us standing outside the bedroom door waiting for him.
“Inside,” I said, pointing at the closed door. “But it’s a crime scene so we can’t go in.”
“Open the door,” Jarvis said, frowning at the bodyguard who’d locked us out. “I need to see what’s happened and then we can decide how to proceed.”
The rat-faced bodyguard opened the door and I got to see Jarvis’s face blanch as he was introduced to what was left of Daniel’s date. Seen from outside, the body looked even more jarring; the jagged edge of flesh where Coy’s head had been severed from her neck was on grisly display, bone and sinew making a bloody tableau.
“My God,” Jarvis gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. “What happened?”
“No one entered the premises since Ms. Reaper-Jones and her dog returned,” Rat Face said, his gaze steady, his eyes betraying nothing. “I haven’t been inside the room, but when we did reconnaissance earlier this afternoon, we ascertained there were no other exits from the location besides this door and the windows.”
“We didn’t want to touch anything,” I said, “so I didn’t check to see if the windows were unlocked or not.”
“Actually, ma’am,” Rat Face continued, “no one could enter or leave via the windows without a key—they’ve been fitted with special locks to prevent theft. Apparently, they had a break-in a few years ago and three Ming Dynasty vases were stolen.”
“Let’s check them anyway,” Jarvis said, pushing the door all the way open and stepping inside. The bodyguards followed Jarvis inside, Rat Face stopping to pick up the coverlet from the foot of Runt’s bed and passing it back to me so I could wrap up in it.
Runt and I watched from the doorway as Jarvis and the other bodyguard checked the windows, discovering that they were, in fact, still locked from the inside, adding another layer of mystery to how Coy got into the room … and how her murderer had gotten out again.
“Calliope, you and Runt were in the bathroom, correct?” Jarvis asked and I nodded.
“I took a bath and Runt stayed in the bathroom with me—the body was there when I got out.”
“I think we’d better call the police,” Rat Face said, reaching in his coat pocket for his cell phone, but Jarvis stopped him.
“Not necessary. I already took the liberty of contacting the authorities.”
Rat Face returned his cell phone to his pocket.
“A detective from the Bureau happens to be vacationing in nearby Cambria and they’re sending him up now,” Jarvis continued. He didn’t explain that “the Bureau” he was talking about wasn’t the FBI, but the Psychical Bureau of Investigations—the supernatural version. “So, we’ll wait for him to arrive, but until then I think we should seal the room.”
The bodyguards seemed happy to comply with Jarvis’s suggestion, but before they could begin, J
arvis crooked a finger at me.
“Calliope, I would like you to go into the bathroom and get your shoes.”
I stared at him. My shoes? What the hell was he talking about? I didn’t have any shoes in the bathroom.
“Go now,” Jarvis said firmly.
Not doing what I’d normally do—openly question him in front of strangers—I did as he asked, hopping over the drying bloodstain and going back into the bathroom to look for my nonexistent shoes.
I stood in the middle of the bathroom, looking at the toilet and tub, trying to figure out why Jarvis had sent me back in here. My toiletries were where I’d left them, the wet washcloth and towel hanging on the towel rack to dry, Runt’s untouched bowls of water and food were on the floor next to the closet. Everything was exactly as we’d left it—and then it hit me. Jarvis had sent me in here to collect the book!
I jogged over to the closet and slid the door open, revealing an empty wooden bottom. Kneeling down, I jerked open both of the tiny bottom drawers, popping the dowel out of its hiding spot. I used my body weight to push the dowel back into the molding, the hidden compartment in the bottom of the closet opening wide. I stuck my hand inside its shadowy recess, my fingers feeling around for the book.
“Crap!” I muttered, leaning forward, so I could peer down into the compartment, my face inches away from all the dirt and cobwebs.
But I had no luck: Someone had cleaned us out. Both the book and the old locket were gone.
“Crap, crap, crap,” I hissed, shutting the two bottom drawers as quietly as I could and sliding the closet door back into place.
This was bad. Really, really, really bad.
I stood up, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to figure out the order of events. When had someone come into my room and stolen the book … and did this have any connection to Coy’s murder? I figured since the book had been placed in the hidden compartment after the Masquerade Ball, the theft could only have occurred from the Death Dinner onward, so that limited the suspect pool to the high-level members of Death, Inc., and their dates, plus Zinia Monroe, the two servers, and Donald Ali.
I hadn’t included Daniel in this list because … well, because I didn’t think he was capable of stealing anything or hurting anyone. I knew that I was being naïve, but until someone gave me hard proof Daniel was involved in any way, I wasn’t counting him.
I left the bathroom empty-handed on all fronts. Luckily, Jarvis had the two bodyguards rechecking the window locks, so I was able to tiptoe over and grab a pair of sneakers from beside the bed and slip them on before anyone noticed.
“As soon as they’re done, we’re all supposed to go up to Casa del Amo and wait for the detective to arrive,” Runt said when I had my shoes on. She was waiting in the doorway, her pink eyes uncertain. I nodded and followed her outside, leaving Jarvis and his security team to secure the room without us.
As soon as we were clear of prying eyes, Runt looked at me expectantly. I shook my head.
“Gone. Someone must’ve gotten in while we were at dinner and taken it then,” I said.
“Or maybe whoever killed Coy was still in the room, and when we left, they took the book.”
I hadn’t even thought of that possibility. Either way, someone had their hands on a very important, very dangerous piece of Death arcana, and Jarvis was not going to be happy to hear it.
A moment later, Jarvis joined us outside, his eyes ringed with exhaustion.
“Let’s go,” he said, motioning for us to follow him.
“What about the bodyguards?” I asked.
“One of them will stay here,” Jarvis said, moving quickly, his body a tension rod that seemed about to snap. “That way no one can get into the room without permission. The other will start notifying the rest of the guests and ask them to meet us in the drawing room at Casa del Amo.”
The landscape lighting was still on, making it easy to adhere to the path, but the bright lights left me feeling exposed, so I waited until we were absolutely alone before I told Jarvis about the missing book.
“It’s a disaster,” Jarvis whispered, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat.
“Runt thinks the murderer might’ve still been in the room and waited for us to leave before grabbing the book.”
This piece of information didn’t make Jarvis feel any better.
“If the two crimes are even connected.” He sighed. “Neither of the bodyguards saw anyone enter or leave your room all night. Which makes me think magic has to be involved—”
“But there’s no magic, Jarvis,” Runt said. “Not since midnight.”
Jarvis sighed, slowing his pace, his body riddled with worry.
“I know that, Runt,” he said sadly. “I just have no other explanation.”
Jarvis was always in possession of a good hypothesis, so the idea that my know-it-all Executive Assistant didn’t have an answer for something was chilling.
“So, what happens now that someone else has it?” I asked, changing the subject. “What damage can they do?”
“It depends on who is in possession of the book,” Jarvis replied. “If it is someone truly terrible, they could immediately begin the Apocalypse and thus end this world as we know it. That is the worst-case scenario.”
“I don’t like that one,” Runt said.
I didn’t like it, either, but I decided the other possibility was almost as bad.
“Now, if it fell into the hands of someone interested in controlling Death,” Jarvis continued, “it’s a different matter entirely. The book could ultimately be used to manipulate the Harvesters and Transporters into doing that person’s bidding, which would leave you out in the cold. We must get the book back in your possession by midnight, Calliope, or else it could get bad. Very, very bad indeed.”
“Shit,” I said, starting to understand exactly why Jarvis was so worried.
At that moment we arrived at the entrance to Casa del Amo and Naapi came rushing out to meet us.
“We just heard the news,” he said, grasping Jarvis’s arm and giving it a squeeze. “I’m terribly sorry this has happened tonight of all nights.”
Jarvis started to thank him for his concern, but Naapi wasn’t finished.
“I hope my revelation at dinner didn’t have anything to do with this atrocity.”
“I doubt it,” Jarvis said. “We don’t really know what happened—”
“So, it definitely wasn’t an accident—”
“No one gets beheaded by accident,” I mumbled, but Jarvis shot me a nasty look and I shut up.
“Beheaded?” Naapi cried. “So it was murder.”
Jarvis was still sending me angry looks, so I let him explain.
“We don’t have enough information to say for certain,” he said, moving toward the front door. “But the Psychical Bureau of Investigations is sending Edgar Freezay. Which makes me feel very comfortable that this will be resolved in a timely fashion.”
“Edgar Freezay,” Naapi repeated thoughtfully. “A truly great man, though I heard he’d retired from the Bureau.”
Jarvis opened the door, the heat from the building snaking out to beckon us inside.
“He did, but he still consults for them from time to time,” Jarvis replied. “Besides, he’s a close, personal friend, so the call was an easy one to make.”
Naapi nodded, looking relieved.
“I’d best go tell the others. They’re in the drawing room.”
He took off down the corridor just as the door closed ominously behind us. Jarvis waited until Naapi was gone, then he took my arm and led Runt and me into a hidden alcove just out of eavesdropping range.
“We’ll be in good hands,” he whispered, giving me a smile for the first time since we’d discovered the body. “Edgar was a great friend of your father’s … and he adores your mother.”
fifteen
The crackle of logs combusting in the fireplace filled my ears as I sat curled up in front of the roaring blaze, letting the heat defro
st my freezing hands. I knew the coverlet had been nowhere near Coy’s body, but for me, it was tainted—and I didn’t want it near me any longer than necessary, so I’d set it down on one of the ottomans, preferring to roast in front of the fire to stay warm.
We’d entered the drawing room to find Morrigan, Caoimhe, and Yum Cimil already inside, waiting for us. Jarvis had stayed on with this core group after dinner, drinking Chambord by the fire and discussing Naapi’s impending resignation, when the bodyguard had swooped in to tell him about the death.
Only Caoimhe seemed upset by the news, her already pale face whitewashed in the firelight. The others were calm, openly discussing what they thought might’ve happened to the young woman they’d just shared dinner with.
