Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

  I glared at her. “Stop that. I’m not an alien. What makes you think that?”

  “The reports, consistent actions, your attitude, the tattoos. It’s all indicative of a single personality. It’s too consistent. You can’t ignore the signs. The dead bodies at the end of a case. You’re an alien, using corpses as a host.”

  I lost it and told her everything.

  She shook her head in denial. “No, that doesn’t add up. There’s no scientific evidence for monsters, magic, the metaphysical, or any proof of a soul. We’re chemicals and electrical signals.” She looked me up and down. “Some more advanced than others.”

  My head throbbed, and I had to put my hands to my temple. I winced, trying to recall the signs of an aneurysm. This girl was going to kill me.

  This was getting out of hand, and fast. Ortiz knew my secret and had no intention of leaving this world alone. She’d also dragged another person into it now.

  Don’t forget what the Night Runner and troll said. Someone was testing me, and it had nothing to do with the case at hand. Speaking of which, I had very little in the way of information. My only real lead was a puck that managed to escape. Daniel’s gallery was likely a crime scene by now, so that was out.

  I shut my eyes until the muscles around them ached and quivered. My palms ground against the sockets in an effort to dull the throbbing in my skull. This case was a nightmare. I needed more answers, and the best way to get them was to ask.

  “Ortiz.”

  She looked at me. “Hmm?”

  “How’d you and Ancient Aliens over here find me? Not the me-me. How did you know that something was going on in Daniel’s life?”

  Ortiz’s cheeks flushed and a light touched her eyes. They faded quickly, but I made note of them.

  Was she embarrassed?

  “I called his cell the day before. He didn’t answer. It’s not the first time. He’s usually busy with his gallery, the clients—he’s got a busy life.” She spoke rapid fire, rambling. I’d never seen Camilla Ortiz be anything but concise and to the point. “I tried again a few times over the day and into the night. When I didn’t even get a text reply, I got worried.” She shrugged.

  “And that’s when you got to work. It wasn’t about me. You were worried about Daniel.”

  She inclined her head. “Yeah. He’s—he was—a scatterbrain, but he always made time for his friends.” There was a certain inflection that filled that word. She didn’t mean it to, but the way she said it left me wondering.

  They were more than friends. I felt like a cheap aluminum can, one that had just been stepped on. Ortiz cared a helluva lot more for Daniel than was obvious. As good as she was at masking it, this hurt. And I was about to hurt her some more.

  I sighed and took a deep breath, not wanting to continue the conversation. “I think I can put the rest together. You got a tip-off about his gallery?”

  “Yeah. The alarm went off, sent out a distress to local PD. I was keeping an eye out for obvious reasons. After that, I came back here.”

  Back? I didn’t know anyone else had been here at all. “You were in his place, how?”

  Ortiz looked away.

  “Oh my God. Do you have a key?”

  “No, no, I took a page from your book. Your horrible, above-the-law book.”

  It was my turn to look away. I don’t always have the option of getting into places with just a knock or a key. Breaking in is sometimes the way of things. Especially if there’s a lot at stake. I flashed a weak smile.

  “I picked the lock and checked out the place.”

  I arched a brow. “And?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. It was his usual mess.”

  That was something. It’d been a disaster when I’d first come in. So sometime between her visit and mine, the puck had sabotaged the scene. Not much of a timeframe. I couldn’t do much with it either, not until I found that freak. I needed something though.

  “How well did you know Daniel’s life, Ortiz?”

  “Pretty well. Why, you know something?” She gave me a look.

  I sunk my head. “No, I don’t. That’s the problem. I wish I did. I’m lost here.” I fished out his phone, holding the damaged piece up. “I was going to comb through this, see what I could find but—” I waggled the device to make my point.

  Kelly leapt to her feet like she was a coiled spring. In a smooth move, she snatched the phone, plunked down on the couch, and stuffed her hand into her bag.

  It took me a ten count to register what had happened. “Uh, what are you doing?”

  She ignored me. Kelly retrieved a slender cable and inserted one end into the phone. The other end plugged into her laptop. Her fingers clicked away. “The phone’s fine.” She didn’t look at us, remaining fixed on her screen. “It works. Screen’s damaged. Keep quiet while I work.”

  Ortiz and I exchanged puzzled glances. Kelly’s tone and movements were robotic as she did whatever the hell she was doing. I pointed to the hall where Daniel’s bedroom and art studio were. Ortiz eyed me as I moved towards it. I didn’t look back, but I heard her footsteps as she followed behind. I stopped outside the studio door, pushing it open and gesturing with a hand.

  Ortiz passed me, stepping into it.

  I followed her in and kicked the door shut.

  “What’s going on, Vincent?”

  My fingers brushed against the side of my neck until I reached my hair. I dug in and scratched, unsure of what to say. “How are you—really?”

  She froze.

  “I know you. I know the badass parts of you, and I’ve seen the cracks, Ortiz. How are you? You’re shaken, but you’re not upset. You’re not in tears. I know what Daniel meant to you.” I turned my back to her and exhaled as I reached into the windbreaker and pulled my journal free.

  Ortiz watched in silence.

  I opened the journal and flipped through the pages with my index finger. I stopped when thick, quality paper brushed against my fingertip. I plucked the first piece of artwork free and unfolded it.

  Ortiz’s gaze went over it like a trained investigator. She took it all in and raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  I pointed to the couple on the street, particularly the woman who possessed a fierce beauty. “Look at the woman.” I tapped the sheet. “Long hair, full lips, enough detail to be compared to someone.” I fixed her with a knowing look. “Someone we know.”

  Ortiz’s eyes widened.

  “So, you and Daniel were close.” I tapped the tips of my index fingers together.

  Her eyes grew larger than before. “Oh my God, no, nothing like that!”

  Oops. “Oh, so close, but not that close.”

  She inclined her head. “Our jobs got in the way. He was struggling to get his gallery off of the ground for a while. I had a rough year.” She stared at me.

  Heh. Yeah, we both did.

  “Things got in the way. We had something but...” She inhaled, licking her lips. “I’m not good. I’m not, Vincent. But I’m going to have to be until this is over. I can’t grieve until the thing that killed Daniel is dust. I’m not upset. I’m angry, and I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t have somewhere to point that.” Her hands balled into fists and shook.

  I grabbed her wrists until the shaking stopped. I looked her in the eyes. “I know. And you know for damned sure that we will find this freak and gank it. We’ve done it before. We have a bit of a record now.” I smiled.

  She returned it. “Yeah, we do.”

  I folded the piece back into my journal, stowing the book. “Ortiz, I’m lost here. I’m clutching at straws, and I don’t know where to go. You know anything that might help?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t even have a chance to talk to his neighbors. I was going to ask Ashton—”

  “Ashton?”

  Ortiz paused. “Yes, that’s what I said. Why?”

  “Someone else mentioned him. The guy opposite here.” I pointed straight ahead, gesturing to where the apartment across
from Daniel’s would be.

  “Ashton is the oldest of the newer tenants.”

  I quirked a brow. “New?”

  “Daniel’s lived here for years. The rent’s cheap, and the place is friendly to artists. More of them moved in recently. Ashton was the only one I ever met. I think he moved in about two weeks ago. Nice kid, works at the hospital ten blocks down.”

  And now I had someone to talk to. I’d have to dig up what I could on his neighbors. Anyone new was suspect to me. But Ashton might have lived here long enough to recognize anything strange in Daniel’s life. He was the best bet to finding out what was happening.

  “You got an address for this hospital?”

  Ortiz told me then stared hard at me. “You planning on going alone?”

  I nodded.

  “Every time you go out looking for something, something usually finds you first.” She tilted her head and kept up the stare.

  Ortiz had a point, but I had to make mine. “I know what you’re going to say, and no.”

  She glared.

  “Look.” I nodded towards the living room. “Something’s already after me. I need to hit the hospital—alone. You need to get Kelly to a safe place. She knows a fair bit, so let’s keep it there, nothing more.” I gave her a knowing nod.

  She returned it.

  There was a knock at the door before it was pushed open. Kelly stood there, leaning against the doorframe. She waggled the cracked phone. “Pulled a lot off this. Contacts list, text messages, but it’s not useful. I can compile a list for your quest.”

  I blinked. “Quest?”

  She nodded. “Whatever it is you aliens are really here for.”

  I took three breaths before I could to think clearly. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, kid.”

  Kelly jiggled the phone again. “I’ll see what else I can recover, but I dug up the profiles of your neighbors.”

  Ortiz and I glanced at each other.

  “Uh, can she do that?”

  Ortiz’s jaw tightened. “You mean, should she?”

  “Yeah, sure that, and what I asked.”

  “No.” Ortiz glared at Kelly. “She shouldn’t be pulling up people’s personal information. But, yes, apparently, she can.”

  Kelly wasn’t the least bit perturbed by Ortiz’s chastisement.

  I threw my hands in the air. “Okay, Ortiz, get her somewhere safe.”

  Miss Conspiracy Theory did a double take between Ortiz and I. “Wait, where are you going? Can I come? I’ve never been with an—”

  I waved her off as I headed to leave the room. “I’ve got a hospital to visit.” And hopefully a solid lead. But first, I had to swing by a church. There were an awful lot of coincidences happening on this case.

  That’s fine, except I don’t believe in those.

  Church had some explaining to do.

  Chapter Nine

  I hit the streets, pulling the windbreaker around me for no other reason than comfort. I normally had something on a case by now. All I had at the moment were a dozen unconnected strings. I could only hope the one I was going to pull would lead me to something larger.

  But, first, I needed to pull on a nagging suspicion involving Church. If I was right, he had a larger hand in everything going on. Something he’d likely deny. I didn’t need the truth from him. I just needed an answer, any answer. Even a lie. So long as I could spot it for what it was. One way or another, I was going to figure this out.

  I doubled my pace and almost broke into a run. The cathedral was far enough away to be an axe to my timeline. I hoped it wouldn’t be too much of one.

  Unless you get ambushed again.

  I squinted and imagined my evil inner voice. “Quiet, you.” That shut it up. There was enough going on. I didn’t need extra distractions.

  That’s the thing about doubts and fears. They’re webs ready to ensnare your mind in dozens of clinging strands. You tug and tear yourself free of some only to have the rest wrap tightly around you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t fight—you do. And sometimes you needed to know when to run from them. So I did.

  I broke into a full sprint, maintaining the speed until I reached the cathedral. It came into view not long after, and I slowed. My pace morphed into a jog that shifted to a brisk walk as I made my way to the door. I didn’t stop, extending my arms and ramming them into the doors. The place was empty.

  Another coincidence.

  “Church!” Echoes greeted me, but nothing else. “Church, get your manipulative, scheming Blondielocks butt down here right—”

  “Vincent.”

  A lance of electricity shot up my body. I leapt, spinning around to face the source of the voice. “Holy-shits-of-whoziwhatsit?” My fists came up in defense, and I took a breath to calm myself. I let my hands fall to my sides as I composed myself. “Church, could you for once be normal and—I don’t know—knock?”

  He stared at me, unblinking, like I was speaking a foreign language.

  Guess not.

  “You have something on your mind, Vincent?” He gave me a look that made it clear he knew the answer.

  “Yeah, lots of somethings. You already knew that though, didn’t you? You seem to know and set up a lot, Church.”

  He moved to the closest pew and put a hand against the wooden back, gesturing to me. “Sit?”

  I nodded and waved a hand. “After you.” I followed him and sat down as he lowered himself to sit a foot away from me.

  “I sense a great deal going on within you, Vincent. I’m worried.”

  Worried? That was new. Church was never the hug-it-out, feely type. With everything he’s thrown me into over the years, it never seemed like he was ever worried. I frowned and thought it over for a moment and reconsidered. He had saved my ass many times and pointed me in the right direction when I needed it. I crossed a pair of mental fingers in my head, hoping he was willing to do it again. “Yeah, there’s a lot going on.”

  He clasped his hands, resting them atop his knees, and stared. Church was the definition of a patient listener. Sometimes I wish he wasn’t.

  I ran a hand through my hair, pumping a fist several times. “I don’t know. How about with this. We’ve established that you pick my cases, right?”

  He said nothing. Not that he needed to.

  “So why this one?” I held up a hand the instant he opened his mouth. “Not done. I need to say it. I know you know what I’m going to say, but I need to say it.”

  Church closed his mouth and inclined his head.

  “Ortiz.” I let her name hang in the air.

  “I suppose this was going to happen.” Church seemed to be talking more to himself than me. He turned his head a fraction and stared over the top of his glasses. “I once said that I hoped for you two to meet.”

  I remembered that. I took it on faith that’s all he meant.

  “I did, Vincent. I know you believe I’m manipulating your life—”

  “And reading my mind.” I flashed him a scowl.

  He sighed. “I am not. It’s complicated.” Church waved a dismissive hand. A sign to bury that part of the conversation for the moment. “Yes, I choose your cases. Yes, Vincent, I need your help on this particular one. And yes, it is no coincidence this case has you possessing the body of someone close to Camilla Ortiz.”

  My eyes were like a high-speed camera shutter. Everything flickered for uncountable seconds. Church had been straight with me. No riddles. It wasn’t the first time, but it was rare. “Um, okay. Thanks.”

  He bowed his head. “Of course. You deserve as much, Vincent.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Church?”

  A light huff of air left his mouth in what I assumed was the most minor of laughs. As far as expressions from Church went, I counted it as a laugh. “You have more questions, Vincent.”

  “Why?”

  He pursed his lips. “I suppose that is the one that matters most, isn’t it?”

  “It’s one of t
he ones, but not the only one that’s important.” I gave him a long, hard stare. There was still the matter of my missing body and my real name. But I’ve learned to stop pressing that. I wouldn’t forget, but there was something out there killing people. My identity was further down on the list of priorities for the moment.

  “I know. As to the why, why do you think?”

  It was like an invisible hand had slapped me. “What? Aren’t you supposed to answer the question? What’s with giving me one back?”

  “The best way to get an answer, Vincent, is by asking a question.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Did you just quote Gnosis to me?”

  Church’s face was carved from stone. An inner light radiated within his eyes, making them more blue than gray. He made no comment on what he’d said.

  I stared him down, hoping to make him budge. No luck. Church gave statues lessons on how to be stone-cold and unmoving. I cradled my forehead in my hand and sighed. “Alright, fine, I’ll play along.”

  He moved a tad as he repositioned himself. Church hooked a finger around the frame of his glasses and pulled them free. His fingers slipped into the pocket in his shirt, plucking a thin cloth from it. He watched me out of the corners of his eyes as he cleaned the lenses. For a guy who kept his trap shut, he sure had a way of saying a lot.

  I brushed a hand against my lips and cheeks, thinking. “You want Ortiz involved.” It was rather a simple statement. It was right though. Don’t discount something simply because it isn’t complicated. Sometimes the simple stuff’s the right stuff.

  Church gave me a look that said I could do better.

  And sometimes the simple answers don’t placate everyone. I sighed. “You feel she’s important—to the case—or something else that I don’t know about.”

  The left edge of his mouth twitched.

  “I’ll take that as warmer.”

  Church said nothing.

  “Okay, she’s really important to things, maybe even beyond this case. I mean, she’s certainly showing up in a lot of them.” I stopped as a cold wave rocketed from one side of my skull to the other. “Not a lot.” I blinked. “She’s showed up every time I’ve had a case in New York since I was in Norman’s body.”