by Eli Constant
After I’ve put on the gloves, I poke gently at the charred flesh inside the chest tomb. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but there’s more to this, I can feel it in my bones. I press gently, covering every inch of the damaged flesh. Until I feel something hard.
Beneath the heat-melded surface.
“There’s something here,” I look up at the men, find the Sheriff’s badge on Dan’s uniform. “Sheriff, is there a way to get your coroner here to handle the body? I think there’s something they missed.”
“She’s out of town. Death in the family.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looks thoughtful. “Are you able to do what’s necessary?”
Nodding, I speak slowly. “I am, but I’m not sure how that works with your… protocol.” I’m trying to be respectful, when all I really want to do is slice and dice the body and figure out what the hell is under the burned skin.
“There’ll be some paperwork.” He says, but then uncrosses his arms and motions at me to proceed. It’s this universal movement that men seem to know when they’re allowing a woman to do a job. A little wave of the hand, just a teensy bit condescending. Or maybe that’s just in my head, boiled up from hot feminist blood. Ha. My grandmother had some strong opinions on actual equal rights.
“Okay then,” I murmur, replacing my gloves. I go through the stainless cabinets until I find sealed autoclave pouches. I pull out one marked scalpel and one marked curved forceps and open them, dropping the ruined pouches into the non-hazard waste. Returning to the body, I set down the forceps. The scalpel feels heavier than my normal brand. I take a deep breath and feel around until I find the hard spot again. I press the blade against the skin and feel a tinge of guilt as I push. It’s just a vessel, idiot. Like you want to tell people every single time someone dies. So I cut, a bit larger than the hardness.
The scalpel clinks against the stainless steel table and I pick up the forceps.
At first, the foreign object doesn’t want to release from the flesh. I pause, trying to see if I need to widen the hole. I don’t. It’s plenty big. I don’t understand. Something’s keeping the object in place.
“Something wrong?” Terrance questions, coming forward in such a way that he blocks Dan’s view of me for a moment. I give him a confused glance and try to convey that ‘there’s some weird my kind of shit going on here’. His expression in return looks… like pure exhaustion. More of my stuff.
I look away from him, my eyes falling on the woman’s neck. The five perfect lines. Five.
Points to a star.
The element marks.
Victims.
I change tools, picking up the scalpel again. And I slice a line through the five perfectly-made ‘scratches’. As soon as I do, I hear a clink much like placing the tools on the hard table. My heart pounds, but I don’t look yet. I methodically put the sharp knife on the table, steady myself, and then finally look back into that abyss that was once a woman’s chest.
At the bottom of the hole—that seems too long now, like the great fall of Alice through the tree after the rabbit—I see a jade-hued object. I pick it up gingerly. And I recognize it instantly.
A Lazarus Eye. A flawed jade, black tracing through the center. But… something’s wrong. Different. The traditional runes have been altered. Instead of giving life back to its bearer, it would siphon life. Siphon essence. It would keep their souls bound to whoever had embedded the eye. It would keep the power regenerative. A constant supply. That… together with tapping into the ley lines…
What had Mordecai said? It would take two to represent the originals. A woman and a man. An Eve and an Adam. I need to find them. But first, I need all the eyes. I need them, and they need to be destroyed. It would be harder for the coven leaders to open the Hellmouth without the power of their dead brethren behind them. Or, I assumed it would.
It had to be. Because I had no fucking idea what else to do to keep Bonneau from becoming demon central.
Chapter Seventeen
“Look, I don’t know how you’re going to get the rest of the Lazarus Eyes from the bodies. But you have to figure it out. The power they represent… destroying that might be the only thing that gives us a fighting chance against what’s coming.”
“I’m still not clear on what that is, Tori. I need more than the blind faith I’m putting in you right now.” Terrance is leaning against his cruiser, parked next to my car at the bar. He looks tired, but that’s no excuse for being a prig.
“Suddenly trusting me’s hard, Terrance?” I say his name pointedly, trying to make him see how his attitude towards me is shifting. Maybe he doesn’t realize it. Maybe I’m reading too much into his words. But telling him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and regretting that decision is a lot easier than standing by it. “How many times have I helped you? I’ve saved more than one life. Haven’t I? And I’ve been able to, precisely because of what I am.”
Terrance moved away from his patrol car and crossed his arms. “If it were just you, Tori, it’d be easier to swallow. But now every damn time I turn, there’s some supernatural bullshit dicking with my town. I don’t like it.”
“And you think I do?” I turn away and start walking towards the bar. I’m not leaving yet, not before I check on Kyle and Liam.
“You’re part of the problem. It’s not the same for you.” Terrance says it in his normal voice, but it seems almost like an accusatory whisper at my back as I’m moving away from him. I spin around.
“And your kind? Magicless humans? You’re the ones who chased down children and slaughtered them simply for having a gift. Which do you think is more evil, Terrance?” I hold up a hand as his mouth opened to say something in retort. I don’t want to hear anymore. “Save it. I don’t have the energy for this. Believe me, or don’t believe me. At the end of the day, I’m going to be the one to save your precious town.”
“Tori, wait.”
I twirl one more time, fire in my heart like a funeral pyre. “No. I’ve got a sick supernatural boyfriend and a fairy on the run who both need me. Maybe it’s time I stick to my own kind.”
I slam through the bar doors, but can’t help myself looking back at Terrance—the man I trusted. No, the man I do trust. Trust to keep my secret, to not betray me. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets, his dark eyes staring at the bar. He’s not turned away to get into his car. Because he’s thinking. And I wonder if I’ve just burned a bridge that can’t be repaired. Terrance can turn me in at any time. It wouldn’t matter that I have a clean genetic test on record. The world would believe him—partly because of the badge he wore, but mostly out of irrational ingrained fear.
Yet as mad as I am, as heartbroken as I feel that Terrance harbors doubts about me, I also can admit—in a tiny, tiny sliver of room within my brain—that he may have a point. Bonneau probably would be a better, safer town without bear shifters and Dark Court games and necromancers.
Terrance said he was tired of supernatural bullshit.
But supernatural bullshit…
Or human bullshit.
It all smells the same.
***
“Liam! Kyle!” I yell out as soon as I’m in the bar, and then I realize the bar is… open right now. And half of the town day-drunks are staring at me like I’m crazy. I wave awkwardly and mouth ‘sorry’ before moving past them all and into the bathroom hall.
In the storage room, I can see the office light is on, but the door is closed now. Maybe to keep out the noise of the active bar behind me. When I get to the door, I lift my hand to knock, but hesitate. They might be sleeping. Twisting the door knob, I crack open the hollow metal door. Liam is sitting on the sofa, his head leaned back and his eyes closed. Kyle is…
Kyle’s head is cradled in Liam’s lap and he’s breathing heavily, but his face isn’t as pale as it was when I’d left.
The sight of them sat together like that creates mixed feelings in me. I get flashes of a future where we could all coexist. Not… sexually. But
as friends, partners in dealing with the paranormal stuff that creeps into our existences.
They look peaceful together. Like Kyle isn’t jealous. Liam doesn’t have the hots for me. They are just brothers, caring for one another.
“Are you done looking?” Liam’s voice is low, and somehow both soothing and full of heat at once.
I start, feeling blood rush into my cheeks. I hate blushing. “Sorry, I was… erhm… just debating whether or not to wake you.”
Gently, Liam lifts Kyle’s head, shifts out from underneath him in a bendy fashion that’s definitely physically improbable, and then sets Kyle’s head back down on a decorative bear pillow I’d bought ironically for the office months ago.
Liam comes to the door, pushes through, and joins me in storage. He’s cautious though, making sure the door closes slowly, and quietly. The care I’m seeing in him throws me off-kilter. It’s thawing that little seed inside me that holds out against full-on loving him. It’s a haunting truth that you can love more than one person. Yet, I don’t believe you should have more than one person at once. I just don’t. “And how was your morning with our beloved Sheriff?” Liam’s mouth is wet and pink, like he’s just licked his lips as I’ve been lost in my thoughts. I wonder if he’s listened to them…
I hesitate. “It was enlightening. And further enforced what Mordecai warned me about.”
“How so?” he presses, before walking over to a row of kegs and sitting down atop one.
“It’s something my grandmother used to talk about before she died. We had an ancestor, a century ago or so, come back from the dead. The townspeople thought it was a miracle. But it wasn’t of course. It was necromancer magic. Our ancestor somehow harnessed the power to raise the dead into an object. A Lazarus Eye.” I cross my arms and walk to where Liam is. I don’t sit on one of the adjacent kegs, instead choosing to lean against one of the steel columns nearby.
“I’ve not heard of that,” Liam says slowly, his brow scrunched. He’s not used to not being in the know, not used to me being the one with information.
“It’s really rare. And a closely-guarded secret according to my grandmother.”
“You’ve never told me about it. And we’ve studied your grandmother’s journals. And the Necromancer tome.” He looks offended now, like I’ve purposefully kept this from him.
“It’s not written down, Liam. Like I said, it’s been closely-guarded. And when would it have come up?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Liam spoke again, his voice still laced with suspicion. “Maybe when we were talking about tools of the necromancer? How about when we discussed magical objects of the fae and I let you in on one too many a secret of the Courts?”
I hold up a hand. “Fine, fine. But it didn’t occur to me. Honestly. And again. Rare, Liam. It’s so damn rare I didn’t expect to see one in my lifetime, let alone five.”
“Five?” He gets up from the keg.
“I’m assuming five. The body I saw this morning. The heart was ripped out. It was… fucking awful. But a Lazarus Eye was embedded in the chest. The runes were different than they should have been. And I assume the heart had to be taken to avoid the Lazarus Eye from trying to work the way it was intended. I don’t know. I don’t know the details, Liam.”
“And five eyes for the five victims,” Liam speaks slowly, working it out in his head. “And if the stone doesn’t reanimate the body it’s in, what happens?”
“My grandmother walked me through it once. How to make one. God, it was a long time ago.” I start pacing, rubbing my hands together. “Perfect jade, round for skipping, cut in half and blood for dipping. Once together, say these words: a life once gone, will now return.”
“But you said the runes were different on this one?” Liam stands also.
“Yeah. They weren’t for healing, they were for siphoning.”
“Theoretically, if the blood in the stone was from another person, would the siphoned magic go to that blood source?” He continued, running a hand through his hair in a habitual gesture I’ve never seen before. He’s typically so in control, so sure of himself. When he sees me looking at him, he drops his hand and straightens his shoulders.
“Yes… maybe. I mean, anything’s possible I guess. I only know what I know. If my ancestor could make them for one purpose, someone could change them for another.”
“I think, perhaps, we should have a chat with our grumpy dwarf king.” Liam pushes his hands into his pocket. “And see if perhaps he knows more than he’s said.”
I nod. Though, I wasn’t entirely sure Mordecai would be pleased to see me. His visit to me had felt… a bit final. Almost a goodbye, like he thought the end was nigh.
“Tori?” The door to the office creaks open and I see Kyle, looking slightly pale once again, leaning against the frame.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be up.” I rush over, and hug him awkwardly, bumping my elbow hard into the wall. “Shit,” I grunt out, falling against him. He wavers, and for a second I think we’re both going to topple over. He manages to keep us upright though.
“And miss this greeting? I don’t think so.” The words are weak, but he quirks a small smile. I lean forward and kiss him gently on the cheek.
“Let’s sit you back down.”
“Actually, I think I want to go home if that’s okay.” Kyle extracts himself from me and turns around to get an oversized gray sweatshirt that’s folded on his desk. He’s shaking a little now. Cold. It dawns on me… I’ve been so focused on the case…
“Liam, were you able to remove the Dark Court mark?” I know my eyes are pleading for Liam to say yes, but I can see by his expression that I’m not going to get the answer I want.
“No, I was able to weaken the effects of it, but not remove it entirely. For that, I’m afraid, we’ll need an actual healer.”
“Dammit,” I murmur. “That’s… not good, Liam.”
“I know that. And you’re not going to like how we’re going to procure said healer. But that’s a matter for another moment. The larger threat must be addressed first. I’ve made Kyle strong enough to resist the worst of the mark.”
“And if I care more about my boyfriend than I do about Bonneau?” I argue, feeling the beginnings of a headache threatening. There’s just too much going on, too much for any one person to deal with.
“Then you are not the person I believe you to be, my Queen.” He sounds so certain, like he knows me so well. And that tiny sliver inside of me that was starting to thaw freezes over again. Though… the ice is now thin enough to fall through too damn easily.
“Let’s just go home, Kyle.” I turn to my bear beau who’s putting on a good face. “We’ll set you up on the couch, get the TV going, brew some coffee. I’ve got a few things more to do today, but then I’ll be home. No funeral work on the calendar.”
Kyle looks at the floor, then back up. “Actually, Tori, I want to go to Dad’s house. I think it’s safer for everyone.”
“Safer? Kyle, you can barely walk, let alone hurt anyone. No. You’re coming back to my house where I can watch over you better. Besides, you said home was with me. And no take backs.” I try to smile, try to make it a joke, but it’s not a joke at all.
Not to me.
Kyle insists on taking a taxi from the bar to his Dad’s place. Him driving off wrenches something in my stomach.
Chapter Eighteen
“Remember, he doesn’t really like visitors.” I direct the car onto the dirt road that leads to Mordecai’s place. He’s fixed the sign since last time I was here, though I highly doubt business is any better.
“I seem to remember being the fly on the wall whispering in your ear what to do, first you met the Dwarf King.” He leans forward, studying the building that’s appeared in the near distance. “Not much of a kingdom really.”
“It is to him,” I remarked, noticing that Liam’s not wearing his seatbelt. He typically doesn’t. “I really wish you’d put on your seatbelt when we’re driving.”
“To what end? The very worst of car accidents would only decommission me for a few days, Victoria.”
“Call it the human thing in me, but I’d just rather not watch you go flying headfirst through the windshield, Liam. Incredible fae body-healing aside.” Saying the words, made me think of a question I’d wanted to ask for a long time. “Liam, are you… are the fae in general, immortal? I mean, you’ve taught me a zillion things, but not once have you mentioned lifespan. Only that it’s really unusual for you all to die, so funerals are reverent, spiritual occasions.”
“To give you perspective, Victoria, Kir-shava-ley occurs about once every fifty years.”
“So, immortal unless something really badass offs one of you?”
“No. Really, really long lives—by your human standards—unless something ‘badass’, as you so eloquently put it, offs one of us.”
“Interesting. So how old are you then?”
“Old enough to know I’d rather not answer that question, as I know you’re not into dating vastly older men.” His clever boyish smile lit up the car then and I couldn’t help but smile in reaction to seeing it. Liam could be… irritatingly infectious.
“Now how do you know I don’t harbor secret desires for Silver Foxes? Clooney and Connery could get in my pants 365 days of the year.” I pull to a stop and shift into park a hundred feet or so from Mordecai’s front stairs.
“I believe the human actors Clooney and Connery are an exception to the ‘age matters’ rule for any woman. I honestly don’t see the appeal,” Liam gets out of the car, I follow a second later after turning off the car. “If it were me, I’d go for Keanu. As half-fae, Reeves’ aging process is significantly slowed. Not to mention that he’s as beautiful as a human male can be.”