Grave Dealings

by R. R. Virdi

I sighed in relief, putting the phone back to my ear.

  “Vincent. Vincent! What the hell was that?”

  “Trouble. And I think it’s heading your way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Got it. We’re heading out now. Kelly, move!”

  “Keep your eyes open. Avoid any mirrors in the hospital. I don’t know how far and fast these things can move. Oh, and if you smell anything like orange cleaner, run faster.”

  “What?”

  “Just trust me.” I thumbed the phone off and stared at the broken mirror. There was no resurgence of the light or smell. I sure as hell didn’t hurt the creature, not like that.

  My fingers twitched and stung as I plucked bits of glass from them. The injury would heal soon enough.

  The door knob turned.

  I whipped around, stowing the phone in my pocket before cradling my wounded hand.

  The door opened. Eddie stood there, puzzled for a moment. He eyed my hand, then the mirror. “We...uh, heard shouting and then glass breaking.” His gaze drifted back to the mirror. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Part of me wanted to confront him with the truth. At this point, there wasn’t much hiding the fact that the group here had somehow landed a deal for success. They were all freelancers who blew up instantly. That could backfire, and I had a feeling it would.

  I was injured and didn’t know what their deals entailed. Could be they were nothing more than desperate people ready to deal at any cost. Could be they were all in on it. If that was the case, it was possible they could have killed Daniel together.

  I threw the notion away as quickly as I’d thought it up. None of them seemed freaked out by Daniel’s return. Everyday humans aren’t great at keeping cool when people return from the dead, or the river.

  Which means none of them know what happened to Daniel.

  Oh, hell. These poor bastards struck deals with that freak, and none of them knew that each other had. This monster was screwing them all. Set them up for success, then snatch it away from them.

  That wasn’t enough to put the nails in the coffin. Whatever favors the creature had asked for had to be temporary. There’s little point in asking for something and offing the person before you can collect.

  So, quick favors for quick success. An opportunity too good to be true. Which meant anyone else who’d signed on had a short timer. And that clock was going to be punched—fast.

  I stuffed the phone into a pocket and surged towards Eddie. My fingers closed around the front of his shirt, and I hauled. He spun with me as I pulled him into the bathroom, driving him against the wall.

  “Whoa, Dan, what the hell!”

  A quick kick with the side of my foot shut the door. I leaned closer, eyeing him with a hard look that could’ve sanded stone to dust. “What did you do?”

  He sputtered and looked to the door, likely dreaming of escape.

  I shook him. “What did you do? And don’t lie. I know what’s going on and how your little work-from-home business took off.”

  His eyes ballooned several times over.

  Homerun, Graves.

  “I don’t...” He cast another look at the door but made no effort to fight me off.

  “Tell me what I’m dealing with. What did you do, Eddie?”

  “I can’t. Man, that thing, that’s some El Diablo shit.” He made a series of quick gestures in the shape of a cross over his body. “I swear, if my mom knew the crap I was messin’ with—”

  “Your mom’s not here. And she sure as hell ain’t going to be here to save your ass when this goes sideways. And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s already getting messy. Or do you think Milo stuck a knife in a socket for kicks and giggles? What about his mother?”

  I didn’t think his eyes could widen any larger. I was wrong.

  Eddie’s feet beat and scrabbled against the wall as tried to backpedal. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  I snarled and shoved harder. “Don’t give me that. Milo’s dead!”

  The words had a sobering effect.

  His posture shrank, and the fight left his body. The wide-eyed look was replaced by one of frosted glass. Eddie’s face lost all expression. He looked hollow. “What?”

  “Milo’s dead. Understand? Our friend is dead.”

  The color left his face as it morphed into a mask of horror. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  “Then tell me, dammit. You made a dirty deal, fine. If you don’t want to get bitten in the ass for it, give me something to work with. Help me stop it.” I gave him another shake.

  “How the hell are you going to stop that thing?”

  “By you telling me the truth. What did you sign up for? What’d it cost you? Tell me everything—hell, anything.”

  He licked his lips and wore a look that said he wanted to be anywhere but here. “Alright. I don’t know what that thing was exactly, okay? It was like some giant bat-looking monster.”

  I took a breath, working not to interrupt him. I had no clue what that meant, and my mind ran away with ideas.

  “It had orange eyes, man, like fire. It got into my room one night. I don’t know how, man. Don’t ask. I freaked out, you know? It told me it could offer me anything I wanted. Anything. Who can do that for you? Man, I knew it was something dark, but...”

  I finished it for him. “You didn’t care. What have you got to lose, right?”

  “My soul.” His lips trembled with a shake that made its way through the rest of his body.

  That tremor found a way from his body into mine. My hands quivered as his shaking made its way through my muscles and into my bones. Taking a breath made a painfully cold ache lance the back of my throat like it was layered in cracked, frozen glass.

  “Come again? You offered this thing your what?” My hands moved from his collar to his shoulders. Every one of my fingers dug into the soft tissue with renewed vigor.

  He flinched from the pressure and had the grace not to look me in the eye. “My soul, man. That fiend asked for my soul. Said I’d have whatever I wanted for it. It’s crazy, right? I mean who believes that? I didn’t think it was a big deal. Next thing I know, I’m talking without thinking. I tell it that I want my career to take off, right? That’s not so crazy.”

  We had a different idea of what crazy was.

  “I didn’t think this thing could do it, you know? But...” Eddie licked his lips and swallowed. “Then, things got weird.”

  I blinked and shook him once. “Weirder than the devil in your room asking for your soul?”

  He bobbed his head frantically. “Fire just whoomph”—he mimed an explosion with his hands—“right into my room like fireworks went off or something. There’s a piece of paper in its claws, and it’s got smoke coming off it.”

  I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

  “It was a contract. A real thing. Paper, terms, and everything.”

  I kept staring.

  “Look, I didn’t know what to do. I figured what the hell, might as well.”

  “Right, because nothing bad would come from you striking a deal with a freaking monster that popped into your home and conjured a freaking contract out of fire.”

  He looked to the floor and shrugged. “A part of me thought it was still some crazy dream.”

  My eyes narrowed and I leaned closer. “But you signed anyway.”

  Eddie lowered his head further. “Yeah, man. Next day, my site traffic is through the roof. I’m making money, and it stays that way. I was making enough to quit my day job, man.”

  “And all it cost you was your soul. Good thing that’s not important, right?”

  He sulked further. “I don’t know what to say. I made my bones, alright? You don’t question things like that.”

  I released my hold on Eddie and shook my head. “Maybe you should.”

  The not-so-lucky man brushed himself off and turned towards the door. He stopped as his hand went to open it, looking o
ver his shoulder at me. “What’s it matter to you? You didn’t lose yours, did you?”

  Buddy, I wish I could tell you.

  “It matters because there’s some questions left unanswered. Questions like, when does this thing get your soul?”

  Eddie froze. “What?”

  “You heard me. When’s it due?”

  His face lost all expression, shifting into a frozen mask of horror. “I...”

  “You don’t know, do you?” I rubbed my face with a palm. “Did you even glance at the contract?”

  The look he flashed me answered my question.

  “Of course you didn’t.” I ground my palm against my face harder. “So, for all you know, there is no timeframe for when you’ve got to pay up and kiss your soul sayonara.”

  “I mean, no...”

  I exhaled. Wonderful. There was no telling when Eddie’s clock would be punched. Or anyone else’s for that matter.

  “Oh, shit. You think it could come after me?” Eddie’s skin paled, and sweat beaded his brow.

  “Yeah. I think whatever you dealt with is back and collecting its dues.” My stare hardened, shooting Eddie a silent message. “And I’m banking that this freak’s working on a sooner-rather-than-later idea.”

  Eddie swallowed and looked around the bathroom like he was seeking a bunker to hide in. “What do I do?”

  A chorus of screams and shouts filled the air.

  I hate it when I’m right.

  I forgot about Eddie and flung the door open, rushing towards the living room. A cold slurry filled my veins, pushing me to barrel into the room at full speed.

  The plump and haughty blonde lay on the floor. Her rosy coloring fled her face by the second.

  I scanned the room.

  A stream of scarlet peppered with bloody rivulets went from the entryway mirror to where she stood now. Pieces of apple lay on the floor. The mirror face was cracked, but not broken. Ariel stood by the projection screen, a hand over her mouth, rooted in place by shock. Caroline was nowhere in sight.

  I glanced back and rushed to the blonde’s side.

  Ashton’s phone lay on the floor by his side. The small mirror on the back was cracked, likely when he’d dropped it in response, and sported a small smear of blood. He pressed a compress to Renee’s throat. His composure was a working lesson in how to be an ice sculpture, cool and unflinching.

  Crimson splotched and bled through the towels. Blood pooled over the floor.

  Ashton was acting on instinct and nothing more. It wasn’t the sort of injury you could save someone from.

  “What happened?” I leaned over to get a better look, but Ashton gave me a cold glare that told me to back off.

  “Carotid’s been severed.” His voice was gravel and grit. The following look was enough to let me know what he was thinking.

  She wasn’t going to make it.

  “How’d it happen?”

  Ashton ignored me. “Renee, can you hear me?”

  Renee’s skin reminded me of bone. Her features were gaunt. An alarmingly small amount of blood seeped from the wound.

  “Renee?” Moisture welled under Ashton’s lids. A second later, beads collapsed and rolled down his cheeks. He held her in silence.

  “Oh, God,” said Eddie.

  I wanted to tell him God had nothing to do with this, but didn’t think it’d be a welcome comment at that moment.

  Ashton’s body quaked as he held onto Renee.

  I slipped my arms under his and helped him to his feet. A miniature balloon inflated inside my throat in tandem with my heartbeat. I exhaled and looked over my shoulder to Eddie.

  He caught my stare, his gaze going to Renee before he swallowed.

  I racked my throat for whatever moisture I could and looked to Ashton. “What happened?”

  He cleared his throat, blinking and struggling to speak. “Suicide, what else?”

  I didn’t buy it.

  “Why the hell would she...” I gestured to her throat.

  He shook his head, tears still lining his face. “I don’t know. What else could it be?”

  I had an idea. My gaze wandered over to the broken mirror before coming back to the grizzly scene.

  “You tell me, Ashton.”

  “I was on the couch with Ariel. Eddie went to see what the hell you were doing in my bathroom.” He gave me a cold, sideways look.

  I shied away from it.

  “There was a sound like glass breaking. Ariel turned around and started screaming. I go into work mode and clear the couch before making sense of it all. Renee’s dropped the knife and apple she was cutting. Her throat’s bleeding, and she’s not even trying to stop it. I’ve never seen anything like it. Self-preservation. Even with something like that, she should’ve tried to do something.” His eyes went back to the deceased woman.

  I cleared my throat but remained silent, unsure of what to say. It took me longer than I would have liked to work up the courage to speak again. “Where’s Caroline?”

  He shook his head like he didn’t know or care. “You all should go.” Ashton’s voice was harsh.

  “I’m sorry, but do you think that’s a good idea?”

  He flashed me a glare that said he wasn’t in a mood to argue.

  I bit my lower lip and nodded.

  “I phoned 911 the second it happened. Cops and medical services will be here any minute. I’ll talk to them. For now, everyone...please get out of my home.” His face twisted into a series of pained expressions.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I cleared my throat and eyed Eddie one last time before heading towards the door. My forearm itched. I rolled up my sleeve and glanced it, swallowing a curse.

  Thirty hours left.

  Great.

  At least I had an idea of what I was working with. I just needed a moment’s privacy to flip through my journals so I could figure this out.

  A part of me wanted to remain, despite Ashton’s wishes. Chances were any of them could be targeted next, but I couldn’t tail each person as they left. Not without knowing for certain what I was up against.

  My walk back to Daniel’s apartment consisted of racking my brain to piece everything together and spitting an endless string of profanity. I went inside, leaving the door unlocked for Ortiz’s arrival.

  My knees quaked, and the fatigued muscles in my legs threatened to give way. It wasn’t as easy as willing away the bone-deep tiredness at this point. I felt like I was made of wet cardboard about to collapse.

  I fished my journals out of the distended pockets, tucking them under an arm as I made my way to Daniel’s bedroom.

  His bedroom was refreshingly free of the orange scented odor I’d come to associate with the monster.

  I covered the distance to his bedside drawer in lengthy strides, grabbing the handle and pulling. The drawer slid out with enough force to leave it askew on its mountings. My fingers closed around a bundle of envelopes, tossing aside the earlier bills. All that remained were the letters of a personal nature. The letters, I assumed, were from Caroline.

  I fanned them out on Daniel’s bed, plucking one up. My index fingers parted the already opened seam and I pulled the first letter free. I scanned the letter.

  It was from Caroline as I had suspected.

  I thought handwriting had gone out of style in the modern age, especially for personal letters.

  Caroline must’ve found it romantic, the nature of the letter suggested as much. The following ones were of the same sort. Each was a pronouncement of how she felt about him. She wanted to be with him. They were both artists on the way to success.

  Given what I’d heard from her about her career, that wasn’t exactly true.

  I snatched up the final letter.

  Dark splotches marred the letter. Some of the ink had smeared in places. Tears, likely.

  The script was hastily scrawled, possibly in anger given the message. Caroline was furious with Daniel. So much so that she’d pulled her art from his gallery, even though the letter
indicated it had been selling well.

  Why ruin your big break because of a falling out?

  It went on to mention how she felt her feelings were reciprocated at first. That he cared. The letter quickly morphed into accusations of him leading her on and made it to the point where she hoped his gallery would fail.

  If that wasn’t hate mail, I didn’t know what was.

  I balled the paper in my hand as I thought about everything I knew. My gut, and the evidence—what little there was of it—told me she was involved in this somehow.

  The sound of a door slamming drew my attention.

  I hadn’t heard anyone open it. The final letter fell from my grip as I hustled to the living room, hoping I wasn’t about to have company of the monstrous sort.

  Ortiz stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips. She eyed me as I ran in. “Please tell me you’ve figured this out.”

  This mess bothered her as much as it did me.

  “I hope so.” I pulled Daniel’s drawings from my lore journal, presenting them to Ortiz. “Go through those. Tell me if anything makes sense. You knew the guy. Maybe his art has a hidden message?” I regretted saying it a second later.

  Ortiz’s hand trembled as she took the paper. Her gaze fell to the drawings, looking more like she was staring through them to the floor.

  “I’m sorry.” I reached towards her shoulder.

  She shook her head and waved me off.

  A change of subject seemed in order. I gestured to the nearby seating. “Where’s Kelly?”

  Ortiz took a seat, unfolding the various artwork over a knee-high coffee table. “Sent her home. There’s only so much we can drag her into. It’s safer for her.” She sounded distant, like she was only paying me half a mind.

  I couldn’t argue with her logic. “Isn’t that what I’ve told you before? This work’s dangerous. It’d be safer for you too if—” I stopped talking when she flashed me a look that said it was better for my health to remain quiet.

  They say silence is golden. I was learning why.

  I plopped down beside her, thumbing my journal open. Pages tumbled by as fast as I could glance at them.

  Ortiz took the occasional peek at the flipping pages.

  I returned the favor, glancing at the drawings.