Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

  She shivered and licked her bottom lip before folding it under her teeth. She did that when she was deep in thought.

  I shut my mouth and let her process. The break was nice. My heart rate didn’t settle to a calm pace, but it was getting there. The tips of my fingers and the surface of my skin felt like a cold static charge crackled over them.

  No biggie. No pressure. You just told Ortiz the big secret you’ve been keeping from her since you first met. She wouldn’t hold a grudge. I shut off my inner thoughts and stared at the gun. I changed my belief on the grudge thing and took a step to the left. Better for Daniel to have a hole in his wall than his solar plexus.

  “Ortiz?”

  She shook her head and came back to earth. “Yeah? Yes—no—you don’t get to call me that.”

  I nodded. It was fair enough. After everything we’d gone through together, and I had kept something like this from her. She had every right to distrust me. That didn’t make it feel any easier. My gut felt hollow and lined with lead at the same time. It was like an empty shell threatened to drag me through the floor with no stopping. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Norman. Charles.” She didn’t look at me. Ortiz was trapped in a mental circus trying to figure it all out. When she did look up, the steel was gone from her eyes. They looked softer. “Tell me about them.”

  “Yeah, sure. You already know most of it.”

  She nodded.

  “I...borrowed their bodies when I met you.”

  Her face lost focus. She didn’t say anything but motioned with her hand for me to continue.

  “Like I said, I’m a soul. Do you remember what I said over a year ago when we were riding in your car to see Marsha?” An invisible fist struck my chest and stomach in quick succession. That name brought back an unpleasant memory, and I have no shortage of those.

  Ortiz pursed her lips before nodding. “You said something about not remembering who you are—were—and how you’re stuck in this life.”

  I bowed my head. “Yeah. Here I am.” I gestured to Daniel’s chest with a hand. “I don’t have a body of my own. I don’t know what happened to it. All I know is that I was murdered, and that I got stuck in limbo. Since that moment, I’ve been tasked with inhabiting the bodies of those murdered by the paranormal. I use their bodies, skills, and memories to figure out what killed them, and stop it.” I tapped the tattoo. “And I’ve only got so long to do it.”

  Her brows rose and her eyes widened. “Norman. Charles. You inhabited the bodies of those who died.”

  I tried to look away, but I watched from the corner of my eyes.

  Her hands shook. They didn’t stop this time. “Daniel....”

  I didn’t say another word.

  “My friend is dead. And you’re wearing his body like a suit?”

  It was the truth—a hard one, and I didn’t know how I could make it bearable.

  The beads of moisture at the edges of her eyes became thin streams. An invisible sickle cut the strength out of her legs and she collapsed to a cross legged position. The gun came to rest on the inside of her thigh as she folded her arms.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She looked at me. Seeing her like that banded my chest with heated iron.

  I looked to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

  “For my friend dying?”

  I looked back at her and flinched. Some of the heat had returned to her eyes.

  “Or for lying?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “You really are the same guy?”

  I nodded again. “One and only.”

  She lowered her arm, thumbing the safety on her pistol before stowing it.

  I exhaled as quietly as I could.

  She placed her hands on the floor and pushed, using the momentum to help spring to her feet. Ortiz closed the distance between us in a matter of seconds.

  I offered her a weak smile. I should’ve clenched my jaw and leaned away.

  Her collar shifted. Leather tightened as she took another step, twisting at the waist. I could see the muscles in her legs flex against the tight jeans as she pushed off her back leg.

  My jaw felt like I’d been kicked by a horse. Pain rippled into the rest of my face. I hadn’t seen her fist move. My vision became a pixilated blur of color. Everything snapped into clarity as fast as it had left. I moved my lower jaw side-to-side, wincing as it throbbed. “Uh, ow.”

  Ortiz’s eyes froze, giving me a look that spoke volumes. “You deserve more than that.”

  I couldn’t argue. I sure as hell did deserve it. I counted my blessings in getting off so easy.

  She bristled, and her hand twitched.

  “You going to punch me again?” I tilted my head and arched a brow.

  “I’m seriously considering it. It won’t do anything but make me feel better.”

  Life’s complicated. We’re told so many things throughout it. What to do. What not to do. How to behave at certain times and in select people’s presence. In all of that, one of the things we’ve been taught is to not cave into our temptations. Don’t pull the trigger on impulses. That’s not always the best thing. Sometimes, it’s okay to indulge. It’s a fine line, and you have to take precautions to make sure you don’t go too far over it. But sometimes you need to give in to what you want in the moment. It can help in the long run.

  I gave Ortiz a goofy grin. “Sometimes you need to do what makes you feel better.”

  My ribs felt like someone had dropped a bowling ball on them when the second punch landed. I doubled over, pressing a hand to the area in hope of dulling the pain. It didn’t work. “Jesus! You can indulge without being so hostile about it.”

  She blew a breath out through her nose.

  “Feel better?” I winced and rubbed the spot again.

  “A bit.”

  That worked for me. I wasn’t keen on letting her use me for kickboxing practice.

  She didn’t back away from me, but she didn’t bring the gun back out either.

  Mixed blessings.

  Ortiz placed a hand on my shoulder and shoved, driving my back against the wall. She held me there. “Explain.”

  “What? One-word commands are rather ambiguous.”

  She blinked twice. “God, you’re still a smartass.”

  I pressed my lips together and gave her a coy look before turning my gaze to the ground in mock embarrassment. “Aw, you’re just saying that.” An acute row of pressure filled the meat above my collarbone. I twisted and tried to shrink away from her fingers. “Okay, okay.”

  She released her hold.

  I shook my head. “Jeez, Ortiz. I know there are some issues between us, and that they’re mostly my fault.”

  She arched a brow. “Mostly?”

  I held up a hand, motioning for her to give me a chance to explain. “Yeah, mostly. Look. Everything else aside, we’ve worked together to stop monsters—twice now. We’ve helped people—”

  “You lied to me.” There was an edge to her voice that could have cut through stone, but there was something else too. That sharpness carried an undertone of brittleness. There was a part of her that still had a level of feelings towards me.

  I didn’t know what they were, only that they were powerful, and causing her some measure of conflict. But she was right. I’d lied to her. I had my reasons. It didn’t change anything, except maybe how we’d move on from this. I cleared my throat and rubbed a hand against it. “So, what’s left to tell? You know my story as well as I do.”

  “I want to know why.” The last word rang like a silver bell, and it carried a ton of weight behind it.

  “Suppose that’s the question that really matters, isn’t it?” I met her stare for a fraction of a second before breaking the hold. “What do you want me to say?”

  She licked her lips and swallowed. “Anything.”

  “I can do that.” I shut my eyes, thinking about what I could say. Nothing would fix the damage. But maybe there was a way to move forwards—together. W
e’d kicked some serious paranormal butt side-by-side. It wasn’t worth losing her, as a partner and a friend. “Alright, but it’s the same reason I’ve given you before.”

  Ortiz fixed me with an oblique stare. “And they’ve all been bullshit.”

  If words could bite, those would have left marks like a rottweiler on a mailman’s ass.

  “To you, maybe. And yeah, some of them weren’t great; that doesn’t mean they were untrue. You know that. Remember when I was in Norman’s body?” She opened her mouth, but I waved her off. “No, seriously. What happened to you?”

  Her color paled just enough to mute the hints of gold in her complexion. Ortiz brought a hand halfway up to her left breast before she realized what she was doing. She stopped before her fingers touched her coat over the spot. Her hand shook, but she reined it in.

  That had an effect. Good. I was making my point. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you, Ortiz. But you know what?”

  “What?” Her voice had lost the hardened edge. Only the brittleness remained.

  “I had to watch that. I saw you fall, and guess whose fault it was? No—before you say anything—don’t give me the crap about your choices and decisions. Yeah, you’re right; you get to make those calls. But I could have turned you away at any time. You know that. You made your choices, and I made mine. I dragged you into this, no matter how you want to argue it. Remind me where I found you next? What happened to your life after—” The light of the world dulled before flashing across my eyes like lightning. My right cheek felt like I’d been slapped with a hot iron.

  Ortiz’s chest heaved, and her breathing followed in sync. Her right hand twitched, and the skin of her palm reddened. “Keep going. I’d love another reason to hit you.”

  I rubbed my cheek, blinking until I could think again. “Uh...no, no, it’s cool. Your turn to talk, I guess?”

  She balled her fists, planting them on her hips. “You’re damn right that was my call.” Ortiz’s index finger bounced off my chest as she made her point. “I never once blamed you, did I?”

  She didn’t.

  “Every decision I made, I’ve lived with the consequences, including the six-month break from my job. Yes, I was in a horrible place in my head and in the world. You didn’t drag me into that.”

  That didn’t do much to alleviate the guilt.

  “What you did, Vincent Graves, was worse.”

  I swallowed and cold lumps of iron formed in my stomach.

  “You lied to me. Do you think that’s what I needed? Protection? What I needed was for you to trust me the way I had you.”

  Had. Three letters. A simple word. And in the context, made me feel like a piece of frozen glass. One that just shattered. Trust is a fragile, living thing. It changes and evolves over time. You can nurture it, help it grow. You can let it wither, slowly, until the inevitable. And you can do what I did—break it completely.

  “I didn’t want you to hide things from me. I needed you to tell me, share them. That’s how you should have protected me if that was your goal. I needed to know. You blinded me, kept things in the dark. How is anyone supposed to help like that? You weren’t protecting me. You were protecting yourself.”

  And that was the sound of a hammer hitting the bits of broken glass that made up yours truly.

  Ouch.

  She was right though. Dammit, she was right. Everything I’d done was for me, and it didn’t matter how I tried to paint it. I could have brought her in, told her the truth. I didn’t. What I did was worse. I kept her at arm’s length. Close enough to ask her for a hand when I needed her. Far enough to push her out of the way—away from me. I thought if she wasn’t too close, she’d be safe. My misguided sense of heroism broke whatever it was we had.

  My voice lodged itself deep in my chest, refusing to surface. The muscles in my throat felt like frozen steel cables. Nothing moved. That entire section of my body locked down. I worked down what little saliva I could and cleared my throat.

  Ortiz watched me the whole time. She didn’t say a thing, just stared at me, and it was terrifying. There was no heated glare. No icy daggers. Ortiz’s face was a stone mask. I’d never seen that before. It hurt.

  “Yeah, you’re right. About all of it, and I’m sorry. I kept you in the dark because I was scared. Hell, Ortiz, look at it from my point of view.”

  A hint of fire kindled in her eyes, but she remained silent.

  “I’m not saying I’m right. I’m looking for understanding. I’m a soul without a body. Let that sink in. Do you know have any idea what that’s like?”

  The fire in her eyes dulled.

  I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Do you want to know something really terrifying?” I didn’t stop to see if she wanted to hear it. She asked for answers, and here we were. She was going to get them. All of them. “I don’t remember.”

  She blinked. “Remember what?”

  “Any of it. Honestly. Not just my past, or who I really was. When you go to bed each night, how do you do it? As Camilla Ortiz. You know how I do it? I don’t. I don’t know. It’s like the lights go out for a split second and I’m not awake to register it. It’s like blacking out and waking up in someone else; God knows who or where. My life—lives—whatever they are, go by in flashes. I live by the hour.” I held up my forearm and slapped the tattoo. “With all of the unexplainable stuff we’ve gone through together, tell me this: how do you explain that to someone?”

  I wasn’t aware of it at first. The thin muscles in my eyelids quivered, and something wet slipped across them. I shut my eyes and cut the tears off. Something fell on my shoulder, and I tightened in response.

  Ortiz gave me a gentle squeeze. “You tell that someone just like that, Vincent. What did you think—that after everything, I wouldn’t believe you? Or worse, did you think I’d hate you? Maybe be afraid?”

  “Honestly, Ortiz?”

  “Honestly.”

  “I don’t know.” I gave her a smile of brittle glass. “That’s what’s scary. I didn’t know how you’d react. I wanted to tell you. God, I did. When I took you to that church in Norman’s body, I had every intention of talking things out.” I thought of Church and turned away.

  He warned me not to tell her. That Ortiz wasn’t ready yet. It didn’t matter much now. I sighed and clenched a fist. But Church didn’t deserve my anger. So long as I was being honest with myself, the truth was...Church never physically stopped me. I don’t know if he could have. I likely could have told Ortiz anytime I wanted. But I didn’t. I made that choice. And every choice has a consequence.

  Ortiz tilted her head, regarding me. She gave me a gentle shake. “But?”

  “But...I don’t know.” I felt that sword point again. It dug deep into my gut. “And here we are.”

  She made a sound like she had swallowed what little moisture remained in her throat.

  I knew the feeling.

  “Yeah, not the best place to be.” She rubbed her index and middle fingers against her temples. “Who you are. The lies. Daniel’s gone.”

  I said nothing.

  “Jesus, it’s insane.”

  “The summary of my life, Ortiz. That’s what it is.”

  “God, your life sucks.”

  I snorted so hard it felt like the inside of my nose had been stripped by sandpaper. “You’re telling me.”

  We laughed. That was something we both needed. It was like the entire room had been blanketed in magic that instant. Everything felt lighter—fresher. Something clean took the place of something foul. Things weren’t better. Not that quickly, but maybe there was a chance they would be. I’d take it. Sometimes all you need is a chance, one you’re willing to take and follow through on. You just have to decide if it’s worth taking.

  I gave Ortiz a look. Yeah. Definitely a chance worth taking. “So, where’s this leave us, Ortiz?”

  She looked away, eyeing the apartment door, before returning my gaze. “I don’t know. Work in progress, maybe?”

/>   Aren’t we all?

  “Yeah, yeah, I can get behind that.” I exhaled and peeked at my tattoo. Between everything that had gone on with getting back, the puck, and Ortiz’s impromptu interrogation, I’d lost another hour. Forty-eight left. I blew out through my nose again. Two days to solve an investigation that had me feeling like I hadn’t even started.

  “Something’s going through your head. I can see it.”

  I shook my noggin clear and raised my forearm.

  Ortiz spotted the tattoo and put it together. “Right. Daniel’s death. You’re on a case, in my friend’s body.” She let out a heavy breath.

  “Yeah, that’s not something you’re going to get used to.”

  She gave me a grim laugh that made horror novels seem cheery. “No, it’s not.” Ortiz’s neck pulsed visibly as the muscles in her throat contorted. She was choking on something.

  I had an idea what. It’s never an easy question to ask, but if I knew her as well as I thought I did, she had the guts to ask it anyway.

  “So, how did he die?” Something flashed in her eyes. It was like a quick spark of static, lasting a second before fading.

  I told her what I knew.

  “That’s not much to go on, Vincent.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve been running back and forth trying to piece together his life and...” A thought struck me. I eyed her and turned away from her slightly. “You mind if I ask you some things now?”

  She rolled her shoulders in what amounted to a half shrug. “Sure. Seems fair.” There was an edge to how she said it.

  She wasn’t going to let this go. But then, would I?

  “How’d you figure this”—I waved at my borrowed body—“out?” Something didn’t add up. Ortiz was damn smart, but putting together enough to come after me took a lot of time and resources. Not to mention an uncanny ability to put things together. It’s not as if someone’s first thought upon meeting me in a new body is going to be, You must be a soul jumping from meat suit to meat suit.

  I may have given her the answer, but Ortiz had come close to the ballpark. Call me curious, but I had to know how.

  “Things weren’t adding up.” She folded her lips and chewed on them before continuing. “Norman. You left your—his...ugh.” Ortiz shook her head and shut her eyes tight.