Dead Men Walking

by Raquel Lyon

  She glanced over to the guy, her expression seeking guidance, but he was taking no notice of her. He’d spotted Saul lurking behind Connor, and his eyes were wide with fear.

  “What are you waiting for?” Connor said. “Go!”

  The girl grabbed her bag from the bed and stormed from the room. Connor didn’t bother to watch her leave. He didn’t care how pissed she was. She’d get over it, and at least she’d get to live, unlike the piece of scum standing before him. “You’ve been a bad man, Jarel. Who was she... supper?”

  Jarel swallowed and held up his hands, revealing a mark not too dissimilar to Connor’s own. “Please,” he begged. “Spare a dude some slack. You know what it’s like down there. We don’t all get to cut a deal like you.”

  “This isn’t about me. This is about a murdering scumbag who was sent there for a reason... and was supposed to remain.”

  “M-mistaken identity?” Jarel stammered.

  “Nope. No mistake.” Connor clicked his fingers, and Saul wove around his legs, his eyes illuminating the retreating trousers of his target with a red glow.

  “Wait. Please. I can’t go back,” Jarel protested.

  Connor’s voice remained firm. “This isn’t a choice.”

  Saul pounced, knocking his mark to the ground and widening his jaws far enough to fix over the man’s face. A yellow luminescence radiated between the join, and the man’s body jerked and shuddered, transforming flesh into motes of charcoal as Saul sucked the demon soul from it, until the only evidence of its existence was a dark stain on the carpet where it had once lain.

  Satisfied with the outcome, Connor turned to leave and noticed another spot of beige fur on Saul’s back become black as he trotted past and out into the corridor—he always had more of a bounce to his step after a good meal.

  Heading home, Connor ruminated on how it had taken three years for Saul’s coat to become the dark pelt it was now, but he wasn’t done yet. There were still a few more light patches to fill. Patches denoting rogues yet to be caught. To Connor, they were like a calendar, each one crossing off one step closer to freedom.

  A few streets later, they entered the small hostel that was their home for the time being. Working for the Devil only scored power and riches with a permanent position. Choosing the opt-out clause meant winging it hobo style.

  His pigsty of a room smelled of damp mixed with a faint tinge of urine filtering through from the bathroom. Bare floorboards held piles of dust created from the patches of plaster falling away from the walls, and under a grubby window, stained yellow by light from the street lamp below, threadbare sheets covered a grimy mattress. The state of his bed didn’t bother Connor. He never stayed anywhere for very long.

  Lying down, he listened to passing sirens as he waited for confirmation of his next assignment, contemplating where in the world he’d be travelling to next. He hoped he wouldn’t have to leave his present country. He felt a connection to the location as if it were where he was meant to be, but without his memories, he had no way of knowing if there was any substance to his suspicion.

  Saul yawned and settled down for a nap on the rug. Saul didn’t care where they went; he knew where he belonged and that he would be returning soon, and for a hellhound, there was a certain aura of serenity surrounding him. Connor didn’t even know his own surname—a safety measure to ensure he didn’t get any rebellious ideas of desertion, but they were ideas he’d never harboured. He had no wish to end up as one of Saul’s next meals. He would do his duty and pray that the Devil kept to his word.

  Saul’s ears pricked and he raised his head as Connor sat up with a jerk. On the table at the other side of the room, a light illuminated a folder.

  Chapter Ten

  IN PIPER’S EXPERIENCE, picnics were taken sitting on the grassy bank of a winding river with the sun casting glistening stars on the ripples, not in a cramped, dark space with skeletons for company and a missing body in her thoughts.

  She stuffed the last of the buttered pancakes into her mouth as the battering hailstones finally silenced. It had been difficult to hold a conversation between the noise and the delicious food occupying her mouth. She’d spent most of the time sneaking looks at Lambert when he wasn’t looking at her: the way his dark hair, grown a touch too long, curled at the back of his neck, the set of his jaw moving as he ate, and his bright green eyes darting occasionally to the coffin-laden walls.

  “I find it strange,” Lambert had said, “that they went to the trouble of interring a complete casket. In my culture, when a man dies—in battle, say—and his remains are unsalvageable, a simple epitaph is normally sufficient.”

  Piper had been trying to remember if Sophie had mentioned how Connor had died and concluded that she hadn’t, but she couldn’t make her mind up as to what was worse: having no body to bury, or discovering that the body you had buried had later gone missing. She had an itch to know which scenario applied, but with Sophie already mad at her, Sebastian away, and Jo playing invisible, only one option remained. Beth.

  She stood up and poked her head outside. Below a lightening sky, patches of ground were emerging from underneath the melting hail. She turned back to Lambert.

  “Fancy a trip into town?”

  *****

  The taxi stopped outside the bank, and Piper went to the cash machine for some money to pay the driver. After handing it over, she turned to find Mr Smithers, the bank manager, about to enter his building.

  He paused and smiled. “Piper. Good to see you. I was wondering where you were. Your father’s shop has been in darkness for days.”

  “I’ve been staying with friends.”

  Mr Smithers glanced sideways to survey Piper’s companion and his brow wrinkled. “And I see you have a new one.”

  “Actually, he’s...” She was about to say ‘my brother’ but checked herself just in time. Thinking her an only child, Mr Smithers would probably ask for an explanation, and how could she give one when she wasn’t even sure of the facts herself? “This is Lambert.”

  “Hmm...” Without offering Lambert a greeting, Mr Smithers looked back to Piper. “You weren’t coming to see me, were you?”

  “Um, no. Not today.”

  He nodded. “In that case, I’ll bid you a good afternoon.”

  Lambert waited for Mr Smithers to enter the bank before commenting. “He does not like me.”

  Piper laughed as they set off towards the shops. “He doesn’t know you. I didn’t like you much at first, either.”

  “What about now?” he said, staring at his feet as he asked.

  “You’re my brother. I have to like you.”

  Lambert’s feet stopped, and Piper swivelled to face him, wondering if her big mouth had said the wrong thing again. He stepped closer and took her hand as he searched her eyes. “And what if I were not your brother?” he asked.

  She swallowed the beating pulse that had momentarily blocked her throat. “I’d like you even more.”

  Dropping his eyes along with her hand, Lambert nodded and set off again.

  He didn’t utter another word until they were outside the laundrette, where he stopped and angled his head towards the roofline, seemingly searching for something. All Piper saw was a pigeon perched on the edge, pecking at something in the guttering.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A strange feeling of...” He blinked away a thought and continued walking. “It is of no importance. Where are we going?”

  “You wanted a more relaxing day, so I thought we’d do a bit of sightseeing. What do you think of the town?”

  He glanced around lazily before answering. “It is very... clean.”

  Their walk led them through the park, where, much to Piper’s annoyance, Lambert attempted to recommence his botany lesson. To distract him, she steered him towards the lake, and they passed by the stacks of wooden rowing boats lying unattended on the shore.

  He peeked under the tarpaulin covering one. “How about an outing?”

&nbs
p; “It’s winter. They’re closed. There’s nobody here.”

  “Then no one will know.” He grinned.

  “I’m not really much of a boat girl.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Water scares me. Particularly this water.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, asking the unspoken question.

  “A few years ago, there was an accident. A couple of boats capsized and the people were never found. They’re probably still down there,” she said, gazing out over the lake. A few feet away, a cluster of bubbles popped as they broke the surface, and Piper swore she saw a shadow undulating under the waves. A shiver unrelated to the weather rippled down her spine, and she pulled on his arm to get him to leave. “I’ve had enough dead bodies for one day.”

  They rounded the tennis courts and skirted the edge of the college grounds.

  “Piper?” Lambert said. “Why are we here?”

  “In the park?”

  “In town. Is it really only to show me around?”

  “I need to ask Beth something.”

  “I see. Is it about magic? Because, if it is, I would have to be offended that you did not think to ask me.”

  They’d arrived at the college building. Piper held the door open and waited for a couple of students to exit, then stepped inside. “It’s not about magic. At least, I don’t think it is,” she said, scanning the corridor for signs to the gym. If she’d remembered correctly, that was where Beth was most likely to be.

  “Piper! What an unexpected surprise to see you here. Are you thinking of returning to class?” Beth’s voice surprised her from behind, saving her from having to play hunt the teacher, which was probably for the best. If she hadn’t been able to find her, she might have been tempted to use her magic, and she had a feeling that it wouldn’t have gone down too well.

  She swung around with a wide smile. “No. I came to see you.”

  “Oh? Training not going as planned?” Beth took in the scrape on Piper’s forehead. “I can’t help with that right now,” she said. “Not here.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I’m between classes. Can we meet later? I’ll pop round to the Towers tonight.” She turned to walk away.

  “Actually, it’s just a quick question,” Piper said, loud enough to regain Beth’s attention. “It’s about Calpious.”

  Beth paused and turned back. “How do you know about that?”

  “Sophie told me, but I can’t ask her the question.”

  “Why? What’s the question?”

  “Did you bring Connor’s body back with you?”

  Her brow creased. “Of course we did. He’s in the family crypt. What on earth made you ask that?”

  “There’s been a development.”

  “Such as?”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Gone? That’s not possible,” Beth said, shaking her head.

  “Believe me, it is. Do you think Sophie knows?”

  “No. No way. She’d have told me. And you can’t let her find out. It took her ages to get over his death.”

  “That’s just it. The way she was talking about him, I don’t think she has... got over it.”

  “Then telling her will only make it worse. Look, I’ve really got to go. We’ll talk about this tonight,” Beth said over her shoulder as she blended into the crowd of students.

  Lambert touched Piper’s arm. “Now that you have your answer, what are you planning to do with it?”

  “No idea,” Piper said, feeling frustrated. Beth’s answer had only created more questions. “But this town is definitely in need of a missing persons bureau.”

  Chapter Eleven

  IT HAD BEEN TEN minutes since the dinner gong rang out, and Piper had spent most of that time fiddling with her knife on the dining room table as she waited nervously for Sophie to bring in their meal. Beth had arrived as Piper had sat down, and curiously, she’d brought her boyfriend, Sam, with her. Piper had wanted to continue their conversation, but with the prospect of Sophie entering at any moment, she couldn’t risk being overheard. Beth and Sam were now sharing a personal joke, and Lambert and Todd were talking boy stuff, so Piper had nothing more engaging to occupy her time than to guess how far the knife would spin around before it stopped.

  She straightened it quickly and folded her hands into her lap as Sophie finally entered carrying a tray heavily laden with three tureens and a pastry-topped dish. Noticing her struggle, Sam jumped up to take it from her.

  “This looks delicious,” Beth said as Sam placed the dishes on the table. “What is it?”

  “I thought Piper might appreciate a healthy serving of humble pie,” Sophie said.

  Piper lowered her eyes to avoid the sweep of inquisitive stares. Clearly Sophie had decided that saying sorry wasn’t enough and planned to force her to own up to her failings in front of everyone.

  “I wanted to apologise, Piper,” Sophie said unexpectedly. “It’s been a difficult few months for you, and I realise that may have affected your judgement. You are very much like me in that respect.”

  Lambert leaned in to whisper in Piper’s ear. “Do you know to what she is referring?”

  Piper shook her head as Sophie glanced down for a second, and wished she knew a spell to shut her up.

  “So, you might like to know, I had a very interesting afternoon walk.”

  “Sophie,” Beth interrupted, “I know you like to speak in riddles, but if you’re about to bore us with how you came upon a previously unnoticed vista you simply had to stop and paint, I’m going to have to stop you. The food’s getting cold here.”

  “Actually, I didn’t notice much of anything other than my paws racing through the grass.” Sophie waved her hand over the table. “Help yourselves to the food.”

  “Your what?” Beth’s mouth gaped.

  “I shifted.”

  “You can’t have. You haven’t shifted since... You must have been having one of your dreams.”

  “Those stopped too, if you remember.”

  “Well, yes. But...”

  “It wasn’t a dream. It happened, and it’s all due to Piper.”

  Piper recoiled as, once again, all eyes diverted to her, and she got ready to be berated for her stupidity when Sophie inevitably snitched.

  Instead, she was left dumbfounded at her host’s talent to skirt around the truth when Sophie explained how Piper had planted the idea that shifting abilities could be suppressed, and how it had led her to rediscover herself. Piper offered her a thank-you smile as she finished talking.

  “But you always said you wanted to forget that part of your life,” Beth argued.

  “Maybe I was wrong. It’s much easier to say you want to forget than it is to do it. Besides, it’s not as if I’ve gone back to a human life. I live in the Supe world now, despite my darling husband finding it necessary to exclude me from certain aspects of it. Which reminds me, Sam.” He looked up from spooning carrots onto his plate as she fixed him with a challenging stare. “Any news on our missing family member?”

  “Um... Which one? Ow!” he said as Beth nudged him in the ribs. “What was that for?”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. “Yes, Beth. What was that for?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re keeping secrets from me. Spill.”

  “It’s just... well... I heard something today, but it seemed so ridiculous that I asked Sam to look into it first, in case it came to nothing.”

  “Heard something about what?”

  “I don’t want to upset you.”

  “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

  “Um...” Beth twisted to face Piper, her expression pleading.

  Piper gasped. “Really? You expect me to be the bad guy?”

  “Allow me,” Lambert interrupted, laying his hand over Piper’s. “In my time in prison, I was perceived as one of the ‘bad guys’ for months. Once more will make no difference.” He turned to smile at Sophie. “Piper and I also
had an interesting walk this morning. A sudden ice storm forced us to seek refuge amongst your husband’s dearly departed ancestors, and I admit it was I who noticed the anomaly of the empty casket.”

  Sophie leaned slightly forward and tilted her head. “What empty casket?”

  “That of one Conner Lovell.”

  Everyone jumped at the clatter of silverware as Sophie dropped her knife and fork onto her plate, and she fell back into her chair as if she’d been shot by a stun gun.

  She was so still that Piper began to wonder if she’d had a heart attack, until her blank eyes blinked once.

  Sam rushed to her side. “I’ve got this,” he said, pulling out her chair and moving to stand behind it—his wings unfurling and wrapping around Sophie’s body until all that could be seen below the mass of grey feathers were her multi-coloured pumps peeping out from underneath. Closing his eyes, he tilted back his head and a faint white light radiated up from Sophie’s feather shawl.

  “What’s he doing?” Piper muttered to Beth.

  “Injecting a little angel exaltation. He has this annoying ability to invoke inner calm. He does it to me sometimes when he thinks I don’t notice. It wears off pretty quickly, but the wings thing helps to prolong it.”

  “Interesting,” Piper said, remembering how Sam had made her feel the first time she’d met him.

  “Is she okay, sweetie?” Beth asked when his head lowered again.

  “Ask her yourself,” Sam said, his wings folding back and retreating under his shirt.

  “Sophie?”

  “I’ve had better days.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve had worse too, but I don’t understand. How could”—she swallowed—“Connor’s coffin be empty?”

  “I have a couple of theories,” Sam said, resuming his seat.

  Piper listened as Sam began talking between mouthfuls. Apparently, Connor had suffered a slow death from the poisonous silver chains used to restrain him upon capture in Calpious, but some months before his death, he had been bitten by a vampire. Sam explained how it was entirely possible that dying with the venom still present in his bloodstream could have caused Connor to rise from the dead and become a vampire himself. He seemed to think it the most plausible explanation.