Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

I nodded in respect. That was fair enough.

  “So, can we be serious for a minute, as hard as that is for you?”

  I gestured with a hand as a yes.

  “What else do I need to know? I can’t help but feel I’m missing something.”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth, wondering what to say. “Trust me, I feel the same way. I’m not sure. A lot is going on, and honestly, I don’t think we’ve seen the whole picture yet.”

  She swore again and jerked the wheel. “I swear, every time you come into my life, I’m plagued with bad luck.”

  “I’m getting that embroidered on a pair of oven mitts.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched, and her eyes narrowed.

  I raised my hands in defeat. “Alright, alright.” I exhaled and shrugged. “You know as much as I do right now.”

  “Which isn’t much.”

  I grunted in agreement.

  “Do you have any idea on how to narrow down the search for this thing?” There was something in her voice that wasn’t quite a plea, but it was close.

  I wished I had a good answer. The monster responsible for these deaths had robbed Ortiz of someone close. If we didn’t find it soon, it would take many more. That wasn’t something either of us could live with. Or would allow. I decided to change the subject.

  It took some effort though. I didn’t want to sound like I was burying the topic. “How’s work?”

  Ortiz stiffened. “You mean before today, my one day off since I’ve gotten back?”

  I winced. Oops. It’s not as if I’d intentionally dragged her into this. “Um, yeah.”

  “It’s been fine.”

  I eyed her. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  The car screeched to a halt.

  I tightened and squirmed. “Holy crap, Ortiz! Warn a guy before any and all sudden stops in the middle of the street. I don’t know if you remember, but the last time we came to a shuddering halt, we were chased by elves.”

  Ortiz ignored everything I said. “Do you want to know how my work’s been?” She didn’t give me a chance to respond. “It’s been hell, Vincent, and I’m not using the word lightly. Do you know what it’s like to go out, sometimes on raids, and—” She exhaled, breaking eye contact. “It’s like you said, those things we’ve gone through don’t leave you alone. They’re in the back of my head. I’m terrified they’ll pop out right when something bad is going to happen here.” She jabbed a finger out the window. “The real world.”

  My fingers tapped against my thigh. I wanted to reach out, take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. I didn’t feel it’d be welcome at the moment.

  “There are moments when people are counting on me, and I’m not sure if they should be. I can’t trust myself at times. What if one of those memories comes back? Those things that no one else believes in and knows about but me? What if I choke when someone needs me, and because of it, I lose them? My job requires me to be there—one hundred percent—no excuses.” She pressed her lips together before licking them.

  A hollow silence filled the car. I rushed to fill it. “And you’re worried that you can’t be that person? You think that because of what you’ve gone through and are carrying...that you can’t be there for others?”

  She looked at me; her eyes seemed unfocused. Ortiz chewed her bottom lip. It was something she did when she was anxious, deep in thought or confused.

  I aimed to clear it all up for her. “Bullshit.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Look, I may not know you like your friends or the people you’ve worked with for years, but you know what, I’ve fought with you!” I held up two fingers. “Twice, Ortiz. Twice. Remember that. You and I have stopped two monsters that were hurting people. Some innocent, some not so much. We’ve saved lives together. That’s no easy thing. And that ain’t nothing to scoff at either. We did it even though it was hard. We did it not always at our best—compromised, unsure of ourselves. But we did it. No one’s expecting you to be there one hundred percent. How can you be?”

  She shook slightly. Ortiz lifted her foot from the brake, letting the car trundle forwards before accelerating.

  It seemed like the right time now. I reached out and cupped her hand, squeezing tight. “You’re human, and I’m, well, I’d like to think I’m as close as I can be to one.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Look, I get it, trust me. The nightmares don’t stop. I told you that once before. But you learn to fight ‘em, just like you do the monsters. Here’s what I know. You can, and you’ve been there when it counts.”

  She sniffed. It was light, almost unnoticeable, and I acted like it was exactly that. She didn’t need to know I heard it.

  “You were there when I needed you back in Manhattan. You helped me solve Norman’s murder. We prevented a whole mess of horrible things from happening, Ortiz. You were there for me, and Lizzie, not to mention her sister, when we all needed you. How many people were in that asylum?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know—lots.”

  “Lots, yeah. That freak was going to kill them all in the end. You and I stopped that, together. You know what? You can’t forget? Good. Don’t. The bad stuff never leaves, but don’t let it hold onto you without remembering the good you did. That’s not the way it works. Otherwise, it’ll eat you up like you’re made of wet cardboard. You’ll fall to pieces. And if that happens, you can’t help anybody.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “Honestly?”

  She locked eyes with me. “Honestly.”

  “I’m afraid of what happens if I don’t. It’s like I told you back in the asylum. Someone’s got to carry all of this so others don’t. And...I don’t have a choice.” I gave her the goofiest grin I could.

  Ortiz shook, pressing a hand to her sides. Seconds later, the inevitable. She burst into a torrent of laughter. “And I thought my job’s work hours sucked.”

  “Tell me about it. You know I don’t even get a pension plan?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What a shame.” Ortiz opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as we turned onto the street where Daniel lived.

  “Yeah...” I trailed off when I saw what Ortiz had seen. “That’s never a good sign.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A pair of ambulances were parked against the curb closest to the apartment complex. The sidewalk thronged with people I assumed were tenants. I lurched against the seat as Ortiz gunned her hobbled car down the road. My shoulder throbbed as I crashed into the door from the sudden turn.

  Ortiz twisted the wheel, pulling the car into an empty spot on the curb a bit too fast. The vehicle juddered as the passenger side wheel impacted the curb. She wasted no time in turning off the ignition and flinging the door open.

  I followed her lead. Well, I tried to. My door protested granting me freedom. I leaned into it. Nothing. A string of obscenities left my mouth as my heel crashed into the door. It opened, but not without a low groan of metal I hoped went unheard by Ortiz. She was going to need to replace some door hinges. I leapt out and sprinted after her.

  Ortiz muscled her way past the first few people before pulling out that special little badge that gave her a great deal of power. People pulled away from her like she were radioactive.

  The doors of the complex opened. A familiar man was bound to a stretcher. He had dark skin and was dressed similarly to Church—nerd chic. He was out cold, and that wasn’t the worst of it.

  My vision blurred, replaced by something that looked like flickering screens. Every interaction Daniel had with the man of late strobed by. I exhaled when the vision faded. I hadn’t gotten his name before. It’d taken all of this to be able to address him properly. And now it looked like he wouldn’t be able to hear me say his name. I pushed my way through the crowd, reaching out with a hand. “Milo!”

  The EMT warned me back.

  Ortiz pulled up alongside the first responder without impeding her. “What happened?”

  The EMT gestured to the man’s hands.
/>   Ortiz arched a brow. “Are those burns?”

  “Yes, we’ve got another coming down. Same thing. Electrocution.”

  I tried to break free of the front line of the crowd, but the EMT wasn’t wasting time. She brought the stretcher to the edge of the ambulance, getting another responder to help her load it. The doors shut.

  Another stretcher followed in its wake, heading towards the other vehicle. The woman on it looked like she was in her late fifties. Her hair looked like strands of fine steel wool. She had the same complexion as Milo and enough of his features for me to hazard a guess that she was related—his mother, I assumed. I wished those were the only similarities. She sported the same patterns of burns to her hands and face.

  I didn’t know what to make of it. They were both alive but needed medical attention—fast. I swore under my breath and stayed out of the way. If all went well, I’d likely be able to pay a visit later and get some answers. I shut my eyes and inhaled.

  It’s never easy looking at people when they go through something like that. Never. But it’s part of the job—the part you learn to balance. Distance yourself too much, and you grow numb. The cases are easy, but it becomes a cold, mechanical process. I know it all too well. I was like that before meeting Ortiz. You have to feel, no matter how hard it is, no matter how much you don’t want to. It’s like letting yourself be open to everything that happens to others. If you don’t do it, you can’t help. Not really, anyway. Sometimes the hardest thing you can do is let yourself care.

  It’s like inviting a hurricane of shrapnel into your heart and mind. But if you don’t, you lose out on a lot that can help you. Like anger. We’re taught to bury it. It’s bad. It’s distracting. It’s the path to the dark side—whatever. People forget this. It works. There’s a hot clarity that comes with it, as well as the renewal of purpose. Whatever works.

  I exhaled and made a fist. My fingers dug into the soft meat of my palm, eliciting an acute row of pressure until the area grew numb. It looked like I had a lot of people to settle scores for. I gritted my teeth and made a silent affirmation I was going to give this thing hell.

  Ortiz put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a shake. “You alright? You look... I’ve seen that before.”

  I eyed her, trying to let the heat leave my stare.

  The edge of her mouth quirked like she was trying not to smile. “That’s the look you give when you’re angry, which usually means you’re going to do something impulsive, and stupid.” She smirked.

  I scowled and nodded towards the building. “Let’s go and check it out.”

  “Check what out?” She arched a brow.

  “His place, or do you think people getting zapped like that is normal?”

  Ortiz’s eyebrows knitted together, and teeth flashed as she chewed on her lower lip for a second. “You’re right. It’s fishy.” She waved her badge at me. “Me first. At least I have a reason to be looking around.” Ortiz moved past me and headed towards the apartment.

  I took a step after her, and the right sleeve of my shirt tightened around my arm. I glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, great, you.” I could have sounded more enthused. It would have been polite.

  Kelly stared at me like I hadn’t said a word. She slid her thumb underneath the strap of her bag, adjusting it with a tug. “I got here as fast as I could. I’m sorry about...” She gestured to the ambulance. “I can help.”

  “How?”

  She gave me a lopsided smile. “Um, I figured you out, didn’t I? I’m also a genius.”

  I snorted. “Modest much?”

  Kelly’s face remained neutral.

  “Wait, you’re serious?”

  She nodded.

  Oh. A genius on your team never hurts, and I’m not one to push away talent. I just hoped I could keep her from falling too far down the rabbit hole. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, come on.” I followed Ortiz, motioning with a hand for Kelly to tag along.

  We moved up the stairs in silence. Ortiz leaned against the wall, waiting by the door for Milo’s place. Her hand fell to the handle, jostling it. “It’s open.” She gave me a knowing look.

  I pursed my lips.

  Kelly looked between us. “What’s that mean?”

  I looked at her. “Medical responders don’t pick locks. Normally when they’re called to a scene, they have some measure of access to the person in need. A family member unlocks the door usually.”

  She stared at me, waiting for me to make it clear.

  “So, here’s the thing. Both Milo and the woman were hurt...in the exact same way. Keep that in mind.”

  She nodded.

  “If both people in the apartment were out cold, who called for the ambulances? Who unlocked the place?”

  Kelly’s face scrunched before she went wide-eyed. “This wasn’t an accident.”

  “Bingo, welcome to the world of—”

  “Aliens. Thank you for explaining all of that. I have a lot to learn.” She patted me on the shoulder and moved towards the door.

  My mouth froze half-open. I glanced at Ortiz, whose face was a tight mask of resistance. She was struggling not to burst into a fit of laughter. I scowled.

  Ortiz lost it.

  My scowl deepened. “It’s not funny.”

  She kept laughing.

  Kelly stared at the both of us. “Are we going inside?”

  Ortiz’s body shook when she stopped. A glimmer hung in her eyes. “Yeah, shall we?” She gave me a look.

  I let out a low, animalistic growl and made my way to the door. Brushing aside Ortiz’s hand, I took the knob, flinging the door open. I took several steps into Milo’s apartment before a familiar smell stopped me. Burning hair and skin have a unique stench. It isn’t pleasant. My nose twitched, and I winced as I tried to push the sulfurous odor from my mind. It’s never that simple.

  Ortiz mirrored me. Her nose wriggled, and she huffed a few light breaths through her mouth. The smell, tinged with the knowledge of what happened to Milo, didn’t make it easy to ignore the stink. But we could work through it.

  A black leather sofa took up most of the living room. The standard dresser, no higher than my waist, stood against the right-side wall. An impressive flat screen television hung from the wall. It was paired with a sound system that would make any technology buff drool. The place was filled with the sort of technology you’d find on the cover of a geek magazine.

  Kelly whistled and brushed past us. She moved towards a wooden workbench in the far corner of the room. It was littered with battered laptops and computers parts like it was a recycling dump for components. A small, rectangular mirror hung on the wall. She bent at the waist, eyeing the table and its contents with interest.

  Ortiz followed her lead, nudging me with an elbow.

  I grunted.

  She pointed to a deformed box of black composite material. A frayed and mangled cord ran from the back of it into an outlet.

  “Kelly, what’s that?” I pointed to what Ortiz was looking at.

  The young genius spotted the device, and her lips pressed together. “It’s a power supply.”

  Ortiz and I exchanged puzzled looks.

  “Uh, it’s a pa-what?” I glanced from the box to Kelly, waiting for an explanation.

  She rolled her shoulder and let the bag slip from her arm to the ground. “It’s what powers something like a desktop computer. It plugs into a wall outlet for constant power unlike a laptop that has a charger but also an internal battery. Something’s wrong.” She bent over the device, sniffing it before recoiling.

  Ortiz and I leaned forwards. I gave Kelly a light prod. “What’s up?”

  “It’s been fried. Hard to tell from the smell though.” Kelly wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. “The mirror’s giving off a smell like orange-scented glass cleaner. It’s overpowering the burn.”

  “How often do these things fry out?”

  She turned and gave me a look that answered my question.

  “Oh. So, freak accident, huh?�
�� We all knew it was anything but that.

  “They burn out on occasion but this looks like someone started a campfire inside it and I don’t know...” She trailed off and pointed to a section of the workbench.

  I don’t know how I missed it at first. Black lines raced across the wood like vines. “Are those burn marks?”

  Ortiz moved to Kelly’s side, scanning the table. “That’s exactly what they are.”

  We both turned to Kelly.

  “So, what are the odds of one of these things blowing up and electrocuting someone? Because from where I’m standing, I don’t see how anything else in here could’ve fried two people.”

  Both women looked at me like I was screwy.

  Ortiz pouted and shifted her posture like she was uncertain. “I don’t know; that’s a stretch—a long one. We don’t know for sure what caused them to be hurt. Filling in that gap with anything else is just looking for answers. That won’t make them the right ones.”

  Kelly nodded.

  I stared at Ortiz. “You’re looking for logical arguments. Need I remind you we’re hunting a monster? Remember Manhattan? Filling in gaps is what I do. The paranormal don’t play by reason and logic.”

  Ortiz’s eyes narrowed.

  I blinked and licked my lips. “But I don’t think it’d hurt having a look around the place. Think you can work your magic, Geek Squad, and figure anything else out about Milo?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Easy.” Kelly moved over to the sofa, scooping her bag up on the way. The girl plunked on a cushion and removed her laptop. She went to work fast.

  A dull pressure filled my forearm. I turned to Ortiz, arching a brow. “What gives?”

  “Vincent, I know your job’s not easy, but if we jump to conclusions we could miss out on something important. It leads to chasing ghosts and bad leads. Someone else could get hurt while we do that.”

  She had a point, but so did I. “I know. But, and this is going to sound asinine, you’ve done this with me before. How many times have my crazy leads been not-so-crazy?”

  Ortiz frowned, balling a fist and putting it on her hip. “You’re right. That did sound asinine. Last name, Right. First name, Always.”