Death Comes Ashore

by Corinne O'Flynn

  Now she was in the back of a sweltering hot van, something fuzzy shoved into her mouth and something dark over her head. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe…

  Now she was in the basement of a large house, strapped to a table as a man wearing a golden mask with twisted horns chanted over her, mostly gibberish words that meant nothing. Then she felt something inside her disappear. Watched the world go dim, as if the glow around everything had turned off. She knew now that this was the moment her magic had departed. The moment she became a husk, a broken witch.

  Corey startled in her seat, sweat dripping from her armpits. She gripped the edge of her desk. “No.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, then another until she could control her breathing and slow it down. She forced herself to come back to the present moment. She hadn’t been able to save herself when she was a kid. She didn’t understand at the time that they were stealing her magical soul, or what that meant for her. She couldn’t go back and fix any of that. She couldn’t undo what had happened to Wanika Soto, but she was going to find the person who had done this and make them pay.

  With shaky hands, she picked up the photos one by one and placed them in the folder. She gathered the reprimand report and the rap sheet and calmly laid them on top of the photos, taking time to line up the corners, obscuring the image of Wanika Soto as the half-buried girl swam through the sand.

  “I’ll find them. I promise,” she whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Corey drove across town with the Toyota’s windows up and the air conditioning blowing full blast.

  The cold air moved like water, washing over her face and through her hair, clearing her mind. Traffic crawled as work crews gathered loose branches and leaves torn from the tall trees lining the highway; debris left over from last night’s storm. Corey rolled to a stop, her gaze on the hills in the distance. She pictured the river, the craggy cliffs and the valley where she lived. Everything pulled at her, drawing her home to the rugged trails shrouded now by low clouds.

  Wanika Soto had been a student at Rathmoore Academy. She didn’t live in the main dorms like most of the students, instead she’d been placed in one of the many on-campus apartments reserved for the especially gifted witches.

  Like all the magical spaces on the island, Rathmoore Academy was concealed by spells woven and maintained by the Prestigium’s Monitors. Mundane humans who happened by would see nothing of interest here. A thick forest overgrown with thorny underbrush wouldn’t spark their curiosity, in fact, it would send them away. But even Corey, with only a remnant of her magical soul, was powerful enough to see everything and get through.

  She drove through the ornate gates onto the grounds for the school. The winding lane led through the trees until the campus opened up before her. Having been here before, she located Wanika Soto’s house easily and parked outside. She got out of her truck and slipped on a jacket from her back seat to conceal the shoulder holster and the Glock .40 she wore. No need to freak anyone out.

  The white bungalow-style house sat back from the road, framed by an aged wooden fence. Fragrant lilac bushes lined the property inside the fence. The pale purple blooms caught the sunlight as she approached. Corey raised her hand to knock on the door just as the knob turned and a tall, thin woman appeared. She wore a long orange skirt, a white tank top, and had a yellow canvas backpack slung over one shoulder. Her ash blonde hair was cut in an uneven, angular bob.

  “Oh!” The woman jumped when she saw Corey. The door swung inward and rattled back against the interior wall.

  Corey raised her hands, palms out. “Sorry. I was about to knock,” she said. “Inspector Corey Proctor.” She extended her hand to shake.

  The woman regained her composure and stepped out onto the wide front porch. She gripped Corey’s hand firmly and shook. “Ellen Fischer.”

  “Hi, Ellen. You live here?”

  “Yeah. Three of us share the house. You’re an Inspector? Is everything okay?”

  Corey smiled. “Yeah. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

  Ellen looked at her watch and then down the lane toward the red brick buildings of the Academy in the distance. “I have class in twenty minutes. But you can walk with me. Will that work?”

  “Sure.” Corey joined the woman and they walked down the driveway, turning onto the sidewalk of the grass-lined road. “When was the last time you saw Wanika?”

  “Wanika? Yesterday morning. We both have class at nine. We walked together and got coffee in the cafeteria on the way.” Ellen stopped walking. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

  Corey wasn’t ready to share any news about how they had found Wanika. She couldn’t until the family was notified, at least. She smiled, the lie coming naturally. “Yes. I just need to ask her some questions about a case. Did you see her at all during the day?”

  “No, but we don’t have any of the same classes. I’m studying potions and internal magic. She’s studying herbology and botanical magic. She got in to the Magical Botanical Medicine program at Lisse in the Netherlands next year.”

  The photo of the girl buried in the sand filled Corey’s mind. Wanika Soto wouldn’t be doing anything next year. The thought landed in her belly like a stone.

  She nodded. “What about after school? You two usually meet up?”

  Ellen sidestepped a wide puddle in the cracked concrete. “Sometimes. She works at the nursery up on campus most days. Growing things takes up all of her time.”

  “Did she work last night?”

  “No. Actually, we had plans last night. She didn’t show.”

  “What plans?”

  “A bunch of us got together for drinks at Jimmy’s in the harbor. It’s a ‘dane bar.” She shrugged. “Watched the storm blow in.”

  “Is it odd for her to not show up and not come home?”

  Ellen shrugged. “Not really. Nikki said she was picking up her boyfriend and another girl. Sometimes she flakes on us and hangs with him, stays overnight on the boats he works on.”

  “Nikki?” The stone in Corey’s belly turned to ice at the mention of the name. It was the name of the friend Bronwyn said had been with Alicia last night.

  Ellen nodded. “Wanika. Nikki. That’s who we’re talking about, right? Nikki Soto?”

  Corey’s heart skipped, the sound of her racing pulse becoming a hum in her ears. “Do you happen to know the other girl’s name?” She needed to hear it.

  Ellen nodded. “Alicia Turnkey. Come to think of it, none of those guys showed up last night. You sure everything’s all right?”

  Corey’s mouth had gone dry. “And Alicia, is she another friend of yours?”

  “Yeah. She goes to school with us, but she lives at her mom’s. Works as an intern for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Ellen smiled. “Hey, I bet you know her, it’s at the office up near the causeway? Alicia’s tall and she has long blonde hair, wears it in a braid a lot.”

  And there it was. Corey’s scalp tingled at the notion that Alicia had been with Wanika—Nikki last night. Oh God. What was she going to tell Bronwyn? “What about the boyfriend? You know his name?”

  “Damien something. He’s a boat mechanic.”

  The pieces clicked into place in Corey’s mind. Witch Island was a small island. Small world. “Does Nikki have a car?”

  “Yeah, an old Jeep. Light blue.”

  “Good. Thanks.” Corey’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out and checked the screen, her thoughts piling on top of each other, folding and churning like ocean waves. “Ellen, I have to take this. Would it be okay if I stopped by again later? Talked to your other roommate?”

  Ellen shrugged. “I guess. You’d have to get with him on his schedule. He works nights.”

  “Okay.” Corey handed Ellen two business cards. “Keep one, give the other to your roommate. What’s his name?”

  “Mike Rhodes.” Ellen tucked the cards into her backpack.

  “Thanks.” Corey’s phone buzzed again. She tapped the screen to tak
e the call. Sweat dripped between her shoulder blades. “Proctor.”

  “Inspector. It’s Polly. Dr. Harwing. I’ve got some preliminary findings for you. Is now a good time?”

  Corey watched Ellen walk the rest of the way to the corner, wait for a pair of students on brooms to fly past, and then she disappeared into the crowd of students moving between classes. She had an easygoing nature about her, a fearless certainty in her gait. The walk of someone who’d never experienced the darker things this life had in store for some of the less fortunate ones. Sunlight caught Ellen’s sandy hair as it moved in the breeze. I hope you always feel that way, Ellen Fischer.

  “Inspector?” Dr. Harwing’s voice rang in her ear.

  Corey had forgotten she was on the phone. “Yes. Sorry, Doctor. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Five

  Corey stepped into the morgue at the Magical Death Examiner’s office, grateful to be wearing her jacket. The temperature in Dr. Albarexi’s sky blue tiled space was kept at a constant state of refrigeration. The air held the tang of disinfectant cleanser with a hint of lemon and bleach, though no matter how clean it was, there seemed to be a constant dingy pall about the place.

  “Dr. Harwing?” Corey’s voice echoed through the hall. After a moment, a pair of heavy double doors swung open and the doctor leaned out. She wore a hot pink polka dot lab coat with matching booties and surgical cap. Her protective goggles were pushed up onto her forehead, letting her silver glitter eyeshadow glint under the artificial lights. The woman looked more like she belonged on a stage than in a morgue. Maybe the wardrobe choices were made intentionally, a way to separate herself from the death that surrounded her. The idea made Corey smile.

  “Inspector Proctor, good to see you. There are paper booties and gloves in the cabinet. Slip on a pair and come in.” Dr. Harwing snapped her fingers and her white gloves flew off her hands and floated into the trash as a new pair sailed across the room and nestled down over her fingers to replace them.

  Corey stepped over to the cabinet and pulled on the booties and gloves by hand. She was aware that Dr. Harwing watched her curiously, no doubt wondering why she was doing something so simple without the use of magic. But Corey didn’t offer an explanation as the two women entered the lab.

  The body of Nikki Soto lay on a shiny steel table in the center of the room. Bright lights overhead made her skin seem to glow. Her right arm, still frozen in position from rigor mortis, arched over her head.

  The incision from the autopsy formed a thick Y across the girl’s chest that started at her shoulders, drew down between her small breasts, and disappeared beneath a plastic sheet that lay over the body’s lower half. A needle and thread weaved itself through the air, suturing the cut with precision stitches when they arrived.

  “What do you know?” Corey asked, unable to stop looking at the body.

  Dr. Harwing paused a moment before answering and pressed her lips into a thin line. “This is an interesting one. Miss Soto’s been telling me all about what happened to her.”

  “Telling you?”

  “Every single body tells a story, Inspector,” Dr. Harwing said. “You just need the tools and the will to listen properly.” She smiled at Corey.

  She had an open smile. The kind that spoke of how she shared things with the purpose of connecting rather than condescending. Corey nodded, grateful for the invitation. The vibe in the morgue had done a complete one-eighty—for the better—with Dr. Albarexi gone. “Okay. What did she… tell you?”

  “Well, as you can see, rigor mortis is still going strong. Based on rigidity and liver temp at the scene, and the air and water temp overnight, I put the time of death around ten to fourteen hours.”

  “That puts it…” Corey counted backward in her head from the time they arrived at the scene this morning. “…around seven to eleven last night?”

  “Roughly, yes. And…” Dr. Harwing raised a finger in the air. “You can see here, some faint lividity on her left cheek and neck, and down the left side of her body.” She pointed to the areas where slight purpling appeared like an old bruise. “There are pale spaces on the left shoulder, here, and on her hip. These indicate that she was likely lying on her left side at the time of death, so the blood settled, but her weight on these points of her skin kept the blood from settling in those areas of pressure.”

  Dr. Harwing walked to the foot of the table and with a wave of her hand, the corner of the sheet lifted off the body. “But lividity didn’t have time to become fixed in that position. Shortly thereafter, the blood settled in the lower legs and pelvis, consistent with the position where she was found on the beach.”

  Corey inspected the darker areas where the blood had settled in Nikki Soto’s lower body. “So, she was definitely moved after she died,” she said.

  “Right.” Dr. Harwing nodded. “There wasn’t much trace evidence on the body. Beach sand, salt residue, bits of shell, seaweed, that’s about it. To be expected after washing up like she did.” She waved a finger and the plastic sheet moved itself back into place as she spoke, pointing out the different findings. “Scrape abrasions appear over her entire body. As I said before, these are consistent with being dragged through the water, over sand or rocks. She has a burn of some kind on the outside of her right ankle.” Dr. Harwing pointed to the bottom of the girl’s right leg. “I can’t tell what it’s from yet.”

  The doctor turned and stared off in the distance as if someone had spoken to her from the far side of the room. “Hmmm. Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ll have to look.” She arched a brow and spoke as if there was someone else in the room. “You know I don’t like when I can’t tell the origin of things.”

  Watching the doctor gave Corey the chills. Was there someone else in the room Corey couldn’t see? After her last case, she’d had enough of shit she couldn’t see. No thanks. “Doctor?”

  “Sorry.” Dr. Harwing looked at Corey, her eyes wide. When Corey didn’t respond she went back to the body. “Ok, where was I? Back to the facts.”

  Corey took a deep breath. “Burn on the ankle?”

  “Oh yes! No idea what caused it. And I don’t like that. Not. One. Bit.” She poked a finger in the air toward Corey as she spoke each word, then turned to look at the body. “But I’ll get to the bottom of what happened to you, young lady. Just you wait.”

  Corey backed up a step as the doctor walked past her, around the table. She couldn’t decide if the doctor was quirky or just awkward. She seemed competent, and there was no doubt she was deeply engaged in the case.

  Dr. Harwing continued, oblivious to Corey’s thoughts. “There’s evidence of edema and some scabbing around the edges of the burn, so it’s recent. I’ve collected the fluid from several blisters to check for protein to confirm, but I’m almost one-hundred percent sure that it’s pre-mortem.” She waved an overhead lamp down to shine its light closer to the table.

  Corey leaned in to see a half circle of swollen, damaged skin just above the girl’s ankle, about the diameter of a quarter. When she got close, the skin seemed to twinkle like a tiny piece of craft glitter had somehow been injected under the skin. She blinked and it was gone—almost like a trick of the light.

  “There’s adhesive residue above and below the burn, from tape or possibly a bandage. I’ve collected samples of that for testing as well. But, as you can see… there was definitely dark magic at work here.” Dr. Harwing waved a hand through the air, indicating something that was clearly obvious.

  Corey sighed. She didn’t like explaining. “Doctor, I can’t see any of that.”

  “Any of that?” Dr. Harwing looked confused.

  Corey waved her arm over the body in the way the doctor had moments ago. “The proof of dark magic. I don’t have…”

  The doctor’s face blanched and then went red. “Oh! Oh, yes. Inspector Proctor. I knew that about you. I am so sorry. Forgive my rudeness.” She took off her glove and grabbed Corey’s wrist. “Allow me.”

  The doctor whispered a word
and then the whole room seemed to glow.

  Corey blinked and stared at the colorful wisps of light encircling Nikki Soto’s body wherever magic had touched her prior to her death. The wrists were bound in sickly green swirling streams, her mouth seemed to boil over with a smoky green miasma, and her ankles were glowing dark green and violet as well. Corey stood mesmerized by the glimpse of the magical residue and then quickly shook off her hand from the doctor’s grasp and ran to the sink, where she threw up the contents of her stomach.

  “Inspector? Are you all right?”

  “How did you do that?”

  The doctor shrugged. “I’m sorry. I felt some of your magic reaching to see. I didn’t mean to make you ill. I just wanted to share the view.”

  Corey wiped her face and took a deep breath. She hadn’t felt energy like that since… well, since it was cut from her. The sensation was so alien. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Of course, forgive me. I assumed.”

  Corey stood up straight and blew out her breath. She was determined to continue. “What about her clothes, and the ocean trash she got caught up in? The net?”

  “That was another interesting thing. Take a look over here.” Dr. Harwing stepped around the table to a wide counter where Nikki’s clothing and all the objects they had found with the body had been laid out.

  “If she had been wearing a shirt or bikini top, it could have been pulled off her with the rough tide. But her jean shorts made it through the weather.”

  Corey inspected a pair of cutoff denim shorts, orange bikini bottoms, two hemp necklaces—one with a pale cowrie shell and the other with three green glass beads. A clear Petri dish held a small pile of seaweed strands. Another round dish contained a few tiny shells and a small piece of driftwood about the size of a dime. A large plastic bin contained a volume of red fishing net, piled high and tangled. A dozen photos of the crime scene hung on a cork board above the counter. Neon green and violet splashes covered the scene in the pictures—the way Corey was accustomed to seeing the residue. Two push pins placed at the top corners of each photo held them neatly in place.