Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

  I got the feeling. It’s never easy referring to your borrowed bodies. It’s worse for others.

  “When I woke up at the end of our first case together, I found a body.”

  I shrugged but said nothing.

  “There was a problem though. Norman’s body didn’t look the same it did in his license, the way he should have looked.”

  I didn’t think about that. It must have reverted after I’d left it. But why didn’t it revert after killing the Ifrit? Or after I’d woken up at the beginning of the case? The deal was done by then. My brain felt like a dry sponge being torn to pieces.

  “That wasn’t all.”

  Her words pulled me back to reality, and my curiosity deepened.

  “Norman’s body looked like it’d been dead for days, but that wasn’t the weirdest bit.”

  Maybe Ortiz needed to reconsider that. It sounded pretty weird to me.

  “When the mortician got her hands on the body, things got unexplainable.”

  I laughed, passing it off as a cough when she glared at me. “Um, after all you’d been through at that point...” I trailed off when her stare intensified.

  “The mortician ruled it a heart attack, except it had happened earlier. It was like something had kept Norman’s body together.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “Something kept him young. Something kept him from falling to pieces when everything inside him said he had done that long ago.”

  I gulped. “Yeah, that’s weird.” The false smile I forced across my face didn’t do much. I’d hoped for a little quirk of her lips. A small smile perhaps. Nope.

  “You know what happened next?”

  I did, but remained silent.

  “It was the same story with Charles. You were acting weird, almost like Norman had. I didn’t say anything though. I mean, the only thread connecting the two of you was that.” She bowed her head, shooting a look at my tattoo. “It was how you acted, how competent you were, and then, the moments where you weren’t.” A hint of a smile touched her lips.

  It suited her.

  “Charles was never like that. Functional, yes, but the way you operated through the whole case was the way Norman had.”

  My gut roiled like living ropes twining over one another and stretching taut. Even through all of that, she thought I was competent. Another form of trust. Another one I’d broken. I kept the thoughts to myself, motioning for her to continue.

  “Imagine my surprise, Vincent, when I found your—Charles’—body on the floor of the chapel.”

  I didn’t want to think about it. I never gave it much thought before. When I end a case, I’m pulled from the body and the process repeats. That happens with no regard for anyone who comes across the dead body. It hits people hard, especially loved ones and friends.

  “When I turned the body over—” She winced and took a moment to regain her composure. Ortiz’s chest rose with every deep breath. Her fingers curled and folded into a fist several times.

  I gave her the time she needed. It was the least I could do, and I’d done enough. That was for sure.

  “He looked like the rest of the victims, Vincent.” She sounded like her throat was lined with sawdust. Hoarse and strained.

  It hurt to hear her like that.

  “The insides of his face were just wrong.” She suppressed a visible shiver. “It looked like the phage had gotten him too.” Ortiz gave me a look. “But it couldn’t have because you stopped it.”

  I tilted my head to the side and waggled a hand in a so-so gesture. “Technically, we killed it.” I grinned.

  She returned it, a bit weaker than I had hoped, but I’d take it. “Thanks, but when his body was examined, it was the same thing. His insides were filled with the same gunk we found in the other bodies. It was a mess, again. But you know what else was the same?”

  I didn’t answer, but boy did I have an idea.

  “The mortician told me that body had been dead for a while. The only thing that made sense was that Charles had been attacked before our case.” She gave me a knowing look. “That’s a lot of similar situations, too similar for coincidence, and I don’t believe in those. Some sort of magical glue held him together until the end. And now that glue’s holding my friend’s body together.”

  I lowered my head. “Yeah, I know. Trust me when I say it, Ortiz: I didn’t ask for this.”

  “I know, Vincent.” She rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes. There weren’t any tears that I could see, but I knew how she felt. And I knew Ortiz wouldn’t want me to see any.

  I looked away out of respect, just in case some rogue tears appeared. “That’s a lot of circumstantial stuff. It doesn’t add up to you figuring it all out.”

  “No, but it didn’t sit right. I’ve always had good intuition. I just had to dig. The second I left the asylum, that’s what I did, and I didn’t stop.”

  Never discount intuition. You can have all the tools and knowledge in a field, but there’s something intangible that comes with intuition. You can’t buy it, and it can’t be given. It’s formed and honed over years of dedication. Your mind knows a lot of things and buries them. It takes in more than we realize and shapes them, follows and connects threads. It’s a powerful thing. We process a great deal more than we realize. We’re smarter and cleverer than we give ourselves credit for.

  We may not have powers like the supernatural, but don’t think for a second that we’re powerless. We’re not. We’ve got knowledge, and in my world, that’s about the best form of power you can have.

  All Ortiz needed was a thread to pull on, and to keep tugging until she got close enough. She’d succeeded.

  “That’s great and all, but that’s still not enough to bring you here.”

  Her mouth spread into a lopsided smile, and she looked rather pleased with herself. “You’re right; it’s not.” She waggled her fingers in a gesture I’d given her before. “Secrets.”

  I blinked. There’s an unspoken rule—that I might’ve made up on the spot—that you do not steal someone’s thing. I glared at her.

  Her grin grew. “I had help.”

  “Uh, what?”

  Ortiz pulled a phone from her pocket, and tapped her fingers to the screen. I heard a faint ringing until she lifted it to her mouth. “Can you swing by?” Ortiz gave Daniel’s address to the person on the other end of the line.

  I arched a brow and eyed her sideways, waiting for an explanation.

  She fixed me with a look that would have been unreadable but for a slight quirk of her mouth. “Just wait for about thirty minutes.”

  “It’d better be worth it.”

  She smiled. “It will be.”

  So we did.

  Thirty minutes passed.

  The door opened.

  Chapter Eight

  She was a mousy thing. A young woman in her early twenties with a willowy build. Her outfit was picked from one of those hip urban apparel stores that sell popular nerd culture clothing. She wore periwinkle sneakers that clearly weren’t made for running. Her pants were tight-fighting jeans torn for fashion’s sake. She wore a t-shirt that caught my attention off the bat. It was black with bold white lettering that read: I Want To Believe.

  I resisted the urge to snort. The kid had taste. A bunch of them, it seemed like.

  Swirls of ink raced over the fair skin of her left arm in a tattoo sleeve. I couldn’t make out the design. Her hair was a coppery brown and worn in a pixie cut with a heaping of hair product. It had been textured and pulled to resemble something like a cockatoo.

  An olive-colored canvas laptop bag hung from her shoulders. It looked filled to the brim and like it should’ve been causing her discomfort. She flashed Ortiz a smile that made its way to her eyes. It looked like they were made from chips of cobalt mixed with gunmetal. Her smile widened in a way that brought out the dimple in her cheeks and made the small dusting of freckles stand out.

  Ortiz returned the smile before turning to me. She waved a hand to the woman in the doorway.
“This is Kelly Page.”

  Kelly tapped two fingers to the crown of her head and tipped them in a salute.

  I extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Kelly looked at my hand then turned to Ortiz, tilting her head as she waited for a cue.

  Ortiz inclined her head.

  Kelly took my hand.

  We shook, and I flashed her a reassuring smile. “I’m—”

  “The alien.” Kelly’s face lit up in self-satisfaction.

  My mind buzzed and tingled like a limb that had fallen asleep. I’m pretty sure it sent that signal to the rest of my body as well. I don’t know how long ticked by before I was able to respond. “Say, what?”

  She fixed me with a quizzical stare, tilting her head like a dog hearing a new sound. “The alien.”

  That’s what I thought she said. As if my life wasn’t weird enough already. I turned to face Ortiz, eyeing her and arching a brow.

  “It’s—she’s complicated.”

  Kelly shook her head, moving to the sofa where she plopped down. “Not really.” She unfastened the metal clasps of her bag, pulling a thin laptop out of it. “I’m the one who helped her put all this together.”

  I couldn’t see how. The kid was clearly a bit off-kilter. I eyed Ortiz.

  She blew out a breath, looking away for a moment. “It’s a long story.”

  Kelly snorted. “Not really.” Her fingers danced over the keyboard, eliciting a staccato of mechanical clicks. “I’ve been following your work. We all have.”

  My eyes spun, and I think something short-circuited in my skull. I looked at Ortiz and mouthed the word we.

  Ortiz said nothing.

  Kelly turned the laptop around, tilting the screen back so I had a clearer view. She pointed at a web page, smiling as she did. “People talk. They keep track of this stuff. People all over the world with tattoos just like that one.” She inclined her head towards mine. “I’ve kept track of all the sightings and compiled them onto my blog.”

  This wasn’t happening. I shook my head and winced. “Did you hear that, Ortiz? She has a blog.” I hoped Kelly wasn’t the sensitive type. My tone could have sanded wood to dust.

  Kelly ignored me, scrolling down so I could see images blur by.

  They were the sort of pictures reserved for Bigfoot sightings and the like. Each was a mess. But I recognized them. Mostly because I was there. My eyes felt like saucers. Each of the bodies that scrolled by...was one of mine. Case after case. Someone, somehow, managed to get a snippet here or there.

  She scrolled until a familiar street in Manhattan came to view. A lens flare obscured part of the photo. The body of a large beast, golden in color, was partially visible. It was chasing a blonde-haired man in a suit.

  The case I’d gone through in New York around a year and a half ago. The case where I’d met Ortiz. I remembered that bit, and the people snapping photos as it happened.

  Kelly turned the computer around and tapped away as she spoke. “There’s tons of these over the web. Lots of people think it’s a group or a cult. A few of us got smart and started putting things together. It took a lot of file-sharing and chat sessions.”

  My mind numbed. If there was enough evidence lying around, other people with Kelly’s skill and dedication could put this together. They could figure me out and—worse—the world in which I operate. It’s hard enough for me to safely navigate it. Someone stumbling into this with a little bit of knowledge was going to get into trouble.

  Knowledge is power in my world, but a little bit of knowledge is the worst. It’s just enough to chase things, and when you chase something, you normally follow it to the end. That end in my world is normally danger. A little bit of knowledge gives you just enough rope to hang yourself with.

  Acid seared my muscles, making its way to the lining of my throat. This is what I was afraid of.

  I backpedaled, not taking my eyes off Kelly. My hands fumbled as I reached out blindly. I got my fingers around Ortiz’s arm and tugged.

  She gave me an oblique stare. “What?”

  I hooked a thumb to the corner of the room, signaling her to follow me. I wanted to be out of earshot from Kelly, but close enough to keep an eye on her. It’s not that I didn’t trust her. It’s just that I’d been attacked more frequently than ever on this case. If it happened again, Kelly would be in the crossfire. I couldn’t accept that. And I couldn’t risk being in a position not to help should the worst happen.

  She followed me to the far corner while Kelly remained engrossed in her computer. Ortiz arched a brow and folded her arms under her breasts. “What?”

  I gestured with a subtle tilt of my head to Kelly.

  Ortiz followed the nod. “What about her?”

  “You getting involved in this—fine. I can’t do anything about that. We established that a while back. You’re too curious for your own good, and you’ve been through hell with me. You’ve earned your spot here, no matter how much I worry.”

  Ortiz gave me a knowing look. “I’m sensing a but.”

  “But, her? Ortiz, come on; she’s a kid. Older than Lizzie—sure—but Lizzie didn’t ask to be part of this world. She was without a damn choice. Kelly’s snooped too far already. God knows how she figured this much out.” I swallowed and lowered my voice. “Besides...alien?”

  Ortiz’s lips pressed tight. Her eyes shone in amusement, and her mouth twitched like she was trying to fight the urge to laugh. “Give her a chance to explain why.”

  I didn’t think I wanted to hear the answer.

  “So, what’s the real issue here, Vincent?”

  “The real issue? How about everything we’ve been through? Do you really want to involve another person? Someone with enough curiosity and knowledge to know there are things going bump in the night, but without enough sense to leave it all alone?”

  “You can’t make that call for her, Vincent, just like you couldn’t for me.”

  I could feel the heat building in my face. Any more and I’d be a living tea kettle spitting steam out of my ears. “But you can? You made the decision to rope her in.”

  Her face paled. “What?”

  “You heard me. She’s, what, in her twenties? How’d you find her anyhow?”

  Ortiz looked to the floor for a moment.

  Now she knew how I felt. It’s not always about the choices of others. Guilt’s a chain fashioned from barbed wire. It wraps around you and anyone who gets too close. They can come of their own volition, but it doesn’t keep you from feeling guilty if things go wrong. It makes the barbs sink deeper and drag you down. Every mistake is like a tear in your body. And I know something about tearing up your body.

  “Like I said, I started digging. I came across her blog, her theories, and photos.”

  “And you called her up because the alien theory made sense.”

  Ortiz snickered before swallowing it. “No, but she was close on a lot of it. Enough for me to connect the dots and run with the idea that there wasn’t a group of people running around. There was just one. Somehow he—you—managed to look like...” She stopped and rubbed the side of her head. “God, you’re a frustrating man, thing, soul.”

  I blinked, unsure how or what part of that to take offense to. So, I settled for all three. “I’m not a frustrating man-thing-soul. I’m an adorably witty soul-man-thing.”

  Ortiz’s lips quirked. “I really want to punch you again.”

  I raised a hand. “Sorry, I can’t pay for any more of the whole dominatrix thing. I’m broke.”

  Ortiz rolled her eyes.

  “But seriously, Ortiz, we can’t keep dragging people into this. Do you have any idea how horrible I felt for what happened to you?” I waved her off before she could argue. She had a point, and it was probably a good one. I didn’t need that right now. I needed her to know what it was like to be on the other end. The supernatural world did not care for mortals. It wasn’t nice. And more often than not, it left them in pieces. “You handled everything thrown at
you, fine. You’re tough—no arguing that. But what do you know about her? She’s curious. She’s a blogger. Great. Can she fight? Is she ready for this?”

  Ortiz’s skin flushed.

  “What happens if she’s not? What happens if she gets hurt or worse? Now tell me it’s her call, and how you’d feel if she died?”

  Ortiz failed to meet my stare.

  “I know I lied to you. You’re mad about that. Fine. But do you understand why?”

  “Yes, I do.” Ortiz rubbed her arms and gave me a look that let me know I might have gone too far.

  Great job, Graves. Way to bully your friend.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I’m sorry. Let’s just—” I broke off to wave a hand towards Kelly. I didn’t wait for Ortiz’s response before I moved near the blogger.

  Kelly looked up, scanning me with eerie attentiveness.

  I felt like I was under a microscope. Changing the subject seemed like a good way to break up the creepy stare. I got enough of those from Church. “So, uh, you never finished explaining how you figured all of this out.”

  Kelly stopped typing and gave me a blank look. “Easy. I did a lot of sleuthing, putting things together, and reading up on reports.”

  I wanted to point out that browsing the internet did not count as sleuthing. What I did—trailing monsters, following clues, and more—counted as sleuthing. It took a second for something to register. “Reports?”

  Ortiz groaned behind me. “That’s how I really found out about Kelly.”

  An impish grin spread across the young woman’s face. “I broke into a bunch of confidential stuff here and there. No biggie.”

  I eyed Ortiz then Kelly, who was clearly more than just an internet surfer. “You...broke into?”

  “She’s a hacker”—Ortiz sighed, pressing a hand to her head—“with a record.”

  My mouth parted, but I couldn’t find the words.

  Kelly beamed. She didn’t seem the least bit upset or embarrassed by the fact. “People have a right to know about this stuff. This information affects us all. I mean...aliens!”