Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

  My mouth spread wide almost on default. “’Course. I’ve got a good idea of where to start.”

  In truth, I had half a decent notion. Part of an idea is better than none at all.

  My fingers closed around the windbreaker. I tugged it free, slipping into it before patting the sides where my journals rested. Snagging the shotgun was tempting, but it would be more of a hindrance than anything else.

  Hospital employees frown upon people toting weapons in their workplace.

  I stepped away from the door, shoving it shut with the heel of my palm.

  Ortiz started the car, lowering the windows and turning on the headlights. “Get in.”

  My hand was on the handle when the muscles in my lower back knotted like a spasm. I shuddered through it and blinked.

  Time leaves an impression. Do something over and over at the same time of day, and it ends up ingrained in you. A part of you syncs up with that. Your body remembers.

  Something about that moment triggered a tug in the back of Daniel’s mind.

  “You going to stand there all night? Get in.” Ortiz leaned over and opened my door for me.

  The tug became a noose, pulling my attention to the building behind me. I looked up at the apartment complex. Pale yellow lights dotted the brick building.

  My fingers drummed against the car’s door panel. “You know what? Go on without me and keep an eye on Kelly.”

  A moment of quiet passed between us.

  “What are you going to do?”

  I turned back to face her. “I think it’s time I stopped by and checked out movie night.”

  “Be careful. So far everyone harmed or targeted has been a resident of this place. Daniel...” Ortiz stopped and vinyl squeaked as her fingers tightened against the wheel. “Milo. Whatever we’re dealing with has it out for people in Daniel’s life.”

  The lining of my throat felt like frozen flecks of glass. Swallowing hurt. I did it anyway and fixed Ortiz with a knowing look. “That means you too.”

  Her mouth pulled into a thin smile. “I know.”

  I sighed. There wasn’t much of a choice. Splitting up put all of us in danger, but if we didn’t cover enough ground and get answers fast enough, more people would die. There wasn’t any question about that.

  That didn’t make it any easier to swallow. If something happened to Ortiz again, it’d be on me. She was more than capable of handling herself. But the paranormal world had no guarantees. Even with my experience and knowledge, monsters still managed to get the drop on me at times. And it only takes that one creature to do it right.

  “You’ve got this look on your face.”

  I pulled out of my trance and stared at her.

  “I never saw it on Daniel’s face, but I’ve seen you pull it on the other guys before. You’re debating about letting me go it alone.” There was a hint of stone in her voice. She wasn’t angry, but something about my look had bothered her.

  “It crossed my mind. You made it clear it’s not my call and you’re right. Doesn’t mean it sits easy with me.”

  “Likewise. Think how I feel. You’re about to go into a room where there might be a monster. A monster that—for the record—killed my friend. It’s dangerous, Vincent. In my job, I don’t let people walk into danger. I’m supposed to keep them safe.” Something in her voice sent waves through my body. It was like hearing clear, ringing brass dull and lose its tone.

  Nobody walks in and out of this life without scars. Ortiz was earning hers. I hated that.

  I shut my eyes for a second and exhaled. “I hear you. So let’s do something about it? Get to the hospital. Check up on Milo and find out what you can. I’ll see what I can find here and we’ll meet back at Daniel’s place soon as possible.”

  She inclined her head in a silent yes.

  I stepped away from the car, waving as she put the car in drive and pulled out. Time may have been pressing, but I stood fixed to spot and watched the car until the taillights passed out of sight.

  Seeing the car vanish did something to the air. It wasn’t cold, but a wave rolled over my body that made me give the windbreaker a tight pull.

  Right. Nothing to it.

  I made my way into the complex and up the stairs. A mantra rang through my head reminding me that this was simple. All I had to do was pay a visit to some of Daniel’s neighbors. We’d do nothing more than enjoy a movie and some food in an enclosed space.

  It just so happened that any one of the guests could be a monster.

  I came to Ashton’s apartment door. One hand fell to the handle while the other tapped against the door just loud enough to be heard over a movie.

  The handle jostled and the door cracked open. White light flashed through, strobing in the dark room.

  Somebody screamed.

  I hate it when the monsters start the party without me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Years of monster-hunting took hold, and my leg came off the ground. I twisted and pistoned my heel into the door.

  It crashed back, meeting with resistance as it thunked against the person behind it.

  I barreled through the gap and came to an abrupt halt.

  A shrill scream cut through the room again.

  I turned to the flashing projector screen then to the group of people seated on the lengthy sofa who eyed me like I was there to rob them. My hands went into the air in a silent apology as I turned to the guy on the floor.

  Ashton lay on his side, clutching his left arm and staring at me like I was nuts. “What the hell?”

  I cast another look around the room. “Uh, sorry. Long day. Uh, lots of art stuff. Fumes. I heard screaming and panicked.”

  Ashton ran his hands over his chest, smoothing out the rumpled dark shirt. He scrambled to his feet and dusted off his gray sweatpants. “Were you making with the paint or sniffing it?” His face broke into a wide grin, and he ran a hand through his hair while extending the other.

  I took it and squeezed. “No hard feelings, right?”

  He shook his head and stepped towards a small kitchen island in the corner of the room.

  His apartment was the same size as Daniel’s and should’ve been crowded, but he made the lack of space work for him. The seating was broken into two long sofas large enough accommodate a decent gathering of friends. A pile of cushions lay scattered on the floor, some resting under the bottoms of other guests.

  Most of the remaining furniture was sleek, metal, and polished. Nearly everything was tucked away if not in use. A table sat folded in half to my left. It was an efficient setup.

  Ashton plucked a whiskey glass from the island and filled it with a fizzing orange soda. “You look beat, man. You okay?” He nodded to a spot over my shoulder.

  I followed his look and found myself staring at Daniel’s face. The skin under his eyes looked thin and darkened. His hair was disheveled. His mug looked peaky.

  My gaze stayed fixed on the mirror. A citrus scented candle burned on the board below it. Its waning fire cast a tint on the mirror’s reflection. A tint that worsened as Ashton came into view through it.

  His skin seemed to pull tight—gaunt—like it was nothing more than a flimsy mask. The whites of his eyes carried the fire’s glow.

  I sucked in a breath and pulled away from the mirror.

  Ashton nudged me with his elbow. “What’s up? Look like you saw a ghost.” He passed me the drink.

  I accepted it and took a swig. “I thought I did too.”

  His brows pulled together, and he looked at me like I wasn’t making sense. “Right, well, come on.” He led the way to the couch and bent to retrieve a thin remote sitting on the arm rest. With a push of his thumb, he paused the movie.

  I stopped a few feet from the sofa and took in all the faces I could.

  A woman sat at the end of the couch closest to Ashton. Her hair was the platinum blonde that pop stars went for and worn past her chin. She reminded me of plump, mother-like figures on cooking channels. The screen g
low cast enough light on her face to bring out some red in her pale cheeks. She looked closer to her forties if I had to guess.

  Ashton cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. “So, now that we’re almost all here.”

  Almost. Someone was missing.

  “I figure this might be the closest we get to a full party. With that, has everyone heard what happened to Milo?”

  The rest of the guests murmured in agreement.

  “Seems like a good time to wish him well and for a speedy recovery, right?” He looked around at everyone in the room.

  A chorus of well wishes filled the air, and I joined in.

  Ashton waved me over, and I heeded the summon. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve come to one of these, especially since the gallery’s been picking up in traffic and sales. You’re a busy man.”

  I guess I was.

  “Yeah.” I gave a mild shrug. There wasn’t much else to do.

  “There are some new faces, recent move-ins that you haven’t bumped into...or cared to.” There was a hint of accusation in his voice.

  “Like you said, I’m busy.”

  “Always make time for your friends. Come on.” He grabbed me by the elbow and led me closer to the group. Ashton prodded a young woman on the floor with the tip of his foot. “Get up. Say hi. It’s rude to chill on my floor and not introduce yourself.”

  The “rude” woman pulled her knees to her chest and bound to her feet in an impressive display of athleticism. She had dark hair pulled into a single tail. Her clothing was loose and functional but showed off her fit physique. She’d earned her tan naturally, no doubt, from spending time outdoors. She could have been featured on a fitness magazine.

  I held out my hand. “Daniel.”

  She gave me a smile that reached her brown eyes. “Ariel.”

  We traded grips.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m an artist, you?”

  “Fitness vlogger.”

  I blinked. Again with the internet things. “I get the first half of that.”

  Ariel laughed. “I run a web channel teaching healthy cooking and home workouts you can do on a budget to get in shape.”

  My mouth fell open, but I didn’t have a response.

  But someone else did.

  The perky, plump blonde on the couch snickered. She tilted her head, her lips pressing tight as she fixed Ariel with a look of contempt. “If you call that cooking, and I don’t.”

  You can feel it when there are two different temperature extremes. The blonde woman’s voice was hateful-cold, like being caught in a subzero winter in your undies. Her look was arctic daggers.

  Ariel cocked her head like she’d been slapped. “Whatever you say, fat ass.” Her tone was a hot fire poker pressed to flesh. Sizzling heat.

  The blonde placed her hands on the couch, shoving herself to a shaky stand. Pearls shook around her neck like glistening orbs caught in the screen’s glare. She jabbed a thick finger towards Ariel. “I’m sorry. Isn’t my show doing better than yours? Which one of us makes more money again?”

  Show? A countdown went off in my head. Milo ran a freelance repair center out of his home. Ariel was a one-woman health channel. And the snooty blonde sounded like she was in a similar business—likely cooking—given her jab at Ariel.

  Three for three in the same line of work. Kelly had said that everyone had filed as some form of freelancer. It didn’t mean much, but that didn’t mean it meant nothing either.

  Occam’s razor. I was overly complicating things. Everyone had one thing in common. A single thread. I just needed to pull on it and see what unraveled.

  Light flooded the room, and the women’s conversation paused.

  Ashton stood near the door, putting a hand to his mouth as he cleared his throat. “Alright, movie night’s on hold for obvious reasons. Things are getting a bit heated. Maybe we should take a break, chill, eat some food?”

  I had to give it to him; he was good at defusing situations. Likely a talent he’d acquired working at the hospital. Not an easy job.

  I thought on it and crossed him off my list of suspects. Daniel and Ashton were the only two who had jobs requiring them to leave their home. If anything, it made them easier targets—exposed. Not that the confines of an apartment made one safer. Milo was proof of that. One thing still nagged me. Daniel’s finances had turned around too fast for my liking. He’d gone from struggling entrepreneur to successful quick enough to be suspect. It seemed to be the trend.

  Something fit about that theory; I just wasn’t sure what yet.

  Instincts aren’t something to be discounted though. The brain’s an amazing machine, processing and filing away more than we could ever pay conscious attention to. There’s a part of us working away in the background, sorting through it and tossing us the bits we can use.

  I jumped in to make the best of the new situation. “You heard our host. Let’s break it up, ladies.” I flashed them the best smile I could and stepped between them.

  Both women exchanged a glare before stepping off to opposite corners of the room. A small relief.

  I turned my attention to a rake of a man sitting next to where the plump blonde had been. He had the look of a young Hispanic man somewhere in his twenties. His hair was a curly, dark mess that looked like it needed a salon-grade shampoo. A thin, wiry patch of hair made its way across his face and wasn’t filling in properly. It made him look younger than he actually was. More prepubescent than adult.

  He shifted uncomfortably on the cushions. The young man gave both women a squirrelly look of anxiety that they didn’t notice. He likely feared getting caught up in the drama.

  I moved over to the spot left open by the uppity blonde and plunked down. “Hey.”

  My new pal turned to me and thrust his chin up in a simple hello.

  Everything in sight slid away to be replaced by another scene.

  Sunlight came down in a pale glow too weak for it to be the afternoon. A small, white, round table stood outside an old brick building. Two men sat across from each other in cheap, plastic folding chairs. The man opposite me was the same sitting on Ashton’s couch. It looked like a nice lunch out between friends. A name came with the vision.

  So did a feeling like thumbtacks pressing into the space behind my eyes. I winced, and something wet rippled against the skin below my lids.

  “You okay, Dan?”

  I shook my head and rubbed my palms against my eyes. “Yeah, Eddie, I’m great. Bad headache. Too many hours working, you know?”

  He leaned back and nodded. “Tell me ‘bout it. The radio show and site are killing me. I’m spending more time in a chair than is good for me.” He shut his eyes and reached to massage his lower back. Eddie’s complaining intensified, making him sound like a caffeinated squirrel.

  I tuned most of it out. Another person made my list of freelancers.

  “Diagnosing and fixin’ cars over audio calls and comment posts ain’t easy. Half the time I’m puttin’ up preventive measures so I don’t have to bother so much with fixes.”

  I grunted in agreement. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Not anymore. When I started, yeah. I was working a day job as a simple lube tech. Oil changes all day. My business was shit. Luck’s a funny thing though. Boom”—a slap rang out as his fist struck an open palm—“my site exploded.”

  I stared. “Just like that? Overnight?”

  “Yeah, man. I know my stuff. Good stuff always finds a way to the top. Remember that.”

  I didn’t know much about making a living as a single-man business, but it didn’t seem that easy. Random strokes of luck resulting in overnight successes were rare. Too rare for it to be coincidence.

  Dammit, Graves.

  Favors. Lyshae hadn’t dragged me all the way to that ball for the power trip and trading me off. It was about everything happening there and here. While she was working her way up in the Neravene, something was work
ing their way up in the mortal world. That thought couldn’t have sat well with her. Not after she’d worked and risked her butt climbing up the ladder. Nothing sucks like getting promoted and finding out you’ve got competition.

  Lyshae wanted me to figure out my case, despite her nonchalant attitude. All the talk and hints about trading favors, costs, and power. The people here were doing a little quid pro quo for some kicks in their personal lives. And with those kinds of deals, the cost’s always high. People were paying with their lives.

  But what did the paranormal party get out of that? What favors could a bunch of mortals do for a monster?

  A lot of the paranormal crowd were bound by rules preventing them from directly interacting with the mortal world. Night Runners clearly weren’t on that list. But the higher ups fit the bill. They could use a mortal on a leash to interfere on their behalf. I didn’t see the endgame though.

  My fingers flexed and knuckles cracked.

  “Daniel.” The voice pulled me from my theoretical musing.

  I got to my feet without thinking.

  The woman couldn’t have been out of college long. Early twenties with a long, freckled face. Her hair was a mess of frizzy black springs that bounced with every shift of her head. She looked at me with a hint of hesitation.

  Another rush of images flooded my mind. It was like a carousel of washed-out pictures moving too fast to see. I focused on what I could.

  Daniel and the woman—Caroline—worked to hang a series of art on his gallery walls. Day turned to night on the streets of Queens, but the pair worked on. They sat cross-legged on wooden floors eating and laughing over what looked like Chinese takeout.

  The scene broke apart like a clump of sand in water. A familiar hallway replaced it. Just outside Daniel’s apartment.

  Caroline was dressed like you’d expect of an artist. Simple olive pants stained in pastels and oils like they were a canvas. She wore a gray half-sleeve tee that was dusted in charcoal from artist’s pencils, no doubt. The woman pressed herself against Daniel and leaned in.

  Daniel didn’t shy away. His hands slipped around her waist as he pulled her tight. Their lips brushed and stayed close. I felt my borrowed throat get warm. A cold rush of liquid menthol flooded Daniel’s body and numbed my mind. The Daniel in the vision snapped rigid and pushed Caroline away, staring at her like she was a ghost. He pressed a hand to his head and held his other out to stop her advance.