Love, Blood, and Sanctuary

by Brenda Murphy

  “Do you know about what happened?” Yael’s voice cracked.

  The cop nodded. “Heard about it, yeah. Hard to prove someone’s a murderer when the body of the person she’s supposed to have killed is up and walking around. Heard, too, that you’d run off from her. You’re not bound to her anymore?”

  “No,” Yael said.

  “Good.” They studied each other for a moment or so. The cop opened the door to the cruiser, tossing her next words over her shoulder. “Stay out of trouble. The body you’re in didn’t belong to the most upstanding of citizens. You can do better than that.”

  “I’m trying.” Yael watched the car drive away.

  Her heart still pounded fiercely. Her heart, she thought. It had once belonged to someone else, but no more. Now, it was hers, and her responsibility, for as long as she kept it.

  So, how long would that be?

  Chapter Twenty

  “What do you want?” The witch peered suspiciously from the crack in her barely opened door. “If you’ve come to kill me, you can just forget it. I’ve got this place warded—”

  “I haven’t come to kill you. I want some information.” Yael pressed the toe of her boot into the crack to prevent the witch from closing it. “Let me in.”

  The witch frowned. “Why should I?”

  “Because you owe me that. You owe her that,” Yael added.

  The witch waited another few moments before pulling the door open. She looked smaller than Yael remembered. Somehow more frail. Her hair unkempt, her clothes too loose-fitting. She smelled, too, of illness and neglect. It might have been enough to elicit pity, if Yael could have found some for her, but everything the woman had done had erased any hope of that.

  “Should I offer you a drink? Something to eat? Is this a social call? I know,” the witch said with a familiar, wicked smile. “You missed me. Welcome home.”

  Home. One syllable. A simple word that invoked complex feelings.

  “This,” Yael said, “has never been my home.”

  For the first time since Yael had been yanked from the demon realm by this woman’s narcissism, the witch looked…not ashamed. But at least she looked aware.

  “Nobody told me, Yael. What it would really be like. All the texts, all the stories. None of them said you’d be like you are.” The witch gestured toward Yael with both hands as she shook her head.

  Yael’s chin tipped up. “I am what I was made to be. If you were not aware of it before you summoned me, that’s not my fault.”

  “Well, it isn’t mine either. It just is what it is!”

  They stared at each other. Deep inside Yael’s chest, a quivering curl of emotion stirred. Pity? Or at least a feeling as close to that as the witch’s shame.

  “We could start over,” the witch said.

  Yael put her hands on her hips. “No.”

  “Why did you come back here, then? Just to throw it in my face? I know you didn’t come back to kill me,” the witch said.

  “I want you to send me back. I don’t belong here.”

  The witch’s expression twisted. She backed away, turning around so she didn’t have to look at Yael. She went to the bottle of wine, open on the coffee table, and poured herself a glass. She didn’t offer one to Yael, but she sipped from it for several long, silent moments before speaking.

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to. You brought me here, you need to—”

  “I can’t,” the witch snapped. “Don’t you get it? It’s not even that I don’t know how. I just can’t do it. I’m not…strong enough. I never was.”

  Desperately, Yael pivoted on her heel, but stopped herself from beginning to pace. She held her ground, facing the woman who’d caused all this trouble. “Who can, then? You have to know someone. A colleague. A mentor.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately for us both, it seems I’ve burned more bridges than I’ve crossed.”

  “Nobody wants to help you,” Yael said.

  The witch laughed without humor. “Even if they did, they can’t. I brought you in, so only I can send you back. Nobody else can do it. I’m sorry.” She said the final word as though it tasted bitter, like poison.

  Yael did not believe her. “You wouldn’t send me back, even if you could.”

  “That might be true, but I guess we’ll never know, will we? Cheers. Welcome to the world.” The witch raised her glass.

  The gesture reminded Yael of Hadassah and the first time they’d met. That anything about this woman should remind her of the other unsettled Yael’s stomach. There was no comparison. The witch was selfish, greedy, weak…

  And Hadassah was the opposite of all those things.

  “A hemomancer and a blood demon. It certainly makes sense. I’m sure she’s been happy to use you for your extra powers,” the witch said.

  Yael turned away, her arms crossed over her belly. “She had no idea about that. Anyway, in this body, I’m not…I can’t…”

  The witch made a tut-tut noise and moved closer. “Well, you can blame yourself for that. I never asked you to put yourself inside a body.”

  “You never warned me!”

  “Would you have listened?” the witch shot back. “You were so damned eager to just get away from me, you didn’t care! So now, you’re stuck where you are until that body dies. I’d get used to it if I were you. The longer you stay, the more human you’ll become. Eventually, that’s all that will be left, until you die.”

  Yael’s fingers curled into a semblance of claws, but she didn’t lash out at the woman who’d so wronged her. The witch took a step back, anyway, her wine splashing out of the glass. Her fear rose between them, palpable as a fistful of silk.

  “And then what?” Yael demanded.

  The witch shrugged. “No idea. Not my wheelhouse.”

  Yael growled.

  “Changed your mind, then? Going to kill me, after all?” The witch grinned.

  “I already told you, I’m not.” Yael forced her mouth to stop its sneer. Her fists to loosen. “I don’t want to kill anyone ever again. But I do need you to tell me something.”

  “Why should I do anything at all to help you?”

  Yael’s gaze pierced the witch’s. “I don’t have to kill you to bring you harm, Mary. And you know it.”

  It was the first time Yael had ever referred to the witch by name. It shook her, Yael could see that by the way Mary shivered. Mary gulped down the rest of her wine, but her hand trembled, and some of the crimson fluid spilled down her chin. It stained the front of her white blouse. She didn’t even swipe at the mark.

  “Fine. What do you want?”

  “Who owned this body before me?”

  Mary’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

  “If I’m going to live in this body until it dies, I need to know who it belonged to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because people loved her,” Yael said.

  “That doesn’t mean they’ll love you,” Mary said coldly.

  Yael didn’t flinch. “I don’t need them to love me. But if I’m going to live in this body, I need to be able to live in it.”

  “You’d be better off pretending to be someone else forever. She was a thieving drug addict who couldn’t get her shit together.”

  “If I am going to live in this body,” Yael repeated, “then I will try to be better to it than she was.”

  “You’re going to be disappointed a lot in life if that’s how you go about it. Why not use up that body and take another one? It should be easy enough for you. That’s what I’d do,” Mary said, “if I were you.”

  Yael said nothing. After a moment, Mary sighed. She tipped the bottle of wine over her glass, but it was empty. She sighed deeply and looked at Yael.

  “I did care for you, you know. You think I didn’t, but I did.”

  Again, Yael said nothing. Mary’s frown deepened. She set the bottle on the table with a thunk.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you who she was, but you should
know something, Yael. It would be better for anyone who loved her to think she’s dead than for them to know it’s you inside there. Death is better than believing someone you loved has abandoned you.”

  Again, an image of Hadassah rose in Yale’s mind. It stung. How would she make amends? Could she ever?

  “You don’t know anything about how to love,” she told Mary.

  “Oh,” Mary scoffed. “And you do? I guess you think that hemomancer loves you, and you love her back?”

  “I know she does. And I feel the same.”

  “You’re a demon,” Mary said with a sneer. “Demons can’t love.”

  “This body can love,” Yael replied. “So, I can too. It’s just not you. Tell me who I have become.”

  So, Mary did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hemomancy was strong magic, but it wasn’t lasting. The images faded, leaving Hadassah shivering in the aftermath—much the way her clients sometimes felt, she realized. She’d have more compassion for them in the future. For herself right now, she made a mug of steaming tea, simmered with restorative herbs. She let the steam bathe her face as she cupped the mug. She hadn’t yet started crying, but she was going to, eventually.

  Yael had gone back to Mary. What Hadassah had seen felt like a confrontation, not a reunion, but it was not the purpose of Yael’s actions that had put Hadassah to her knees. It had been the fact she could see what was happening at all.

  Her future had no Yael in it.

  It hadn’t been long enough for love, she told herself. She would get over it. Move on. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a relationship end before she was ready, and it probably would not be the last. She’d let herself cry for a bit, maybe indulge in some junk food and junk TV; maybe she would drink a little too much and gain some weight or take up a hobby or fuck a stranger, now and then…

  Hadassah burst into racking, wrenching sobs. She put a hand over her heart, which still insisted on beating as steadily as ever, even though it was most definitely torn to shreds. Knowing she shouldn’t be feeling this did nothing to stop the waves of sorrow flooding her.

  “I love her,” Hadassah said aloud, her voice as torn and tattered as her heart felt.

  She swiped at her face and forced herself to take deep breaths. The future was not set, and Hadassah knew that better than anyone else. Her choices and actions changed her future second by second. The question now was simple: What did she have to do to change it?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jackie Pence. That was who this body had been. The question was, who would Yael become?

  With her new phone, Yael did not have access to Jackie Pence’s social media accounts, but Mary was able to pull up her Connex account. It had been set to public view, and although she hadn’t been particularly gracious about it, Mary had shown Yael how to search the dead woman’s connexions for information about her life and family. It had been frighteningly easy to discover the name and location of Jackie’s grandmother—the old woman who’d met Yael in the grocery store.

  It took over an hour for Yael to get to the woman’s house on foot. She had to knock loudly three or four times before she heard any motion from inside, and even then, the door only cracked open enough to reveal a suspicious set of eyes peering out.

  “What do you want?”

  “We saw each other in the grocery store,” Yael said gently. “You thought I was your granddaughter.”

  The door shut quickly. Yael raised her hand to try again, but it opened before she could. The old woman stepped aside to let her in.

  “You’d better come inside.”

  Yael stepped into a dimly lit living room that smelled thickly of dust and cat fur but was otherwise immaculate. The old woman bustled toward the kitchen, gesturing for Yael to follow. In the much brighter room, she pointed at the kitchen table.

  “Sit. I’ll make tea.”

  Yael did not want any tea, but she accepted a mug without arguing. The old woman scraped her chair legs along the floor, patterned with once-vibrant green and yellow daisies that had faded to soft grays.

  “You are not Jackie,” she said. “You look like her, but you ain’t her. So, what are you?”

  “I…” Yael hesitated.

  “Never mind,” the old woman said brusquely. “You’ve got her on like a borrowed dress, huh? I told my sister about seeing you, and she said I was losing my marbles. So did my grandson. I suppose that might be true, but it doesn’t feel true.”

  “It’s not true. I am inhabiting Jackie’s body.”

  “So, she’s dead.”

  “She’s dead,” Yael told her. “I came here to give you some measure of peace about it though. She died without pain.”

  That was a small lie. Jackie had died quickly, but in terror. Still, Yael was here to comfort, not to cause more grief.

  “She got mixed up in a lot of bad things. I warned her she’d come to a bad end. I guess she did.” The old woman peered at Yael. “I told you before. You look like you used to look like her, but you don’t look like her now.”

  “Anyone else who knew her would not think so, perhaps,” Yael said. “They would still believe I am her.”

  The old woman tipped her head to look Yael up and down. “She didn’t have many who cared about her if you want to know the truth. But for your sake, I’m glad whatever trouble she got herself into, it likely wasn’t enough that you’ll need to worry about it. Maybe you’ll do better than she did, with this life.”

  “I’m going to try,” Yael promised.

  The old woman sipped her tea, holding the mug with both hands to keep it steady. She set it down carefully on the table and looked at Yael. “I know what you are, by the way. You didn’t have to tell me. There’s only one thing that possesses folks.”

  There were more than that, Yael thought, but she didn’t contradict Jackie’s grandmother.

  “I supposed I ought to be afraid or something,” the old woman said, “but I’ve lived as good as I could, and if that doesn’t count for anything, then I guess nothing does. Anyway, Lucifer himself was an angel, wasn’t he?”

  “I’m no Lucifer,” Yael said.

  The old woman shook her head. “I don’t suppose anyone else could ever be. You’re just you then. That’s all anyone of us can ever be. Will you come to see me again?”

  “I don’t think so,” Yael said gently. “It could lead to questions and trouble, don’t you think?”

  The old woman nodded with a sigh. “That’s the truth, all right. People can’t seem to mind their own business. But before you go, would you listen to me talk about her, just a bit? About what she was like before she went the wrong way. Nobody wants to remember her that way, they talk bad about her because of the trouble she got herself into, and I guess that sort of trouble is probably what led her to end up where she went. But she wasn’t always like that. I’d like you to know about her, before.”

  “I would love to know,” Yael said. “Please tell me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time night fell, Hadassah had finished cleaning and rearranging her bookshelves and display cases. It had been a task she’d long put off in favor of doing just about anything else, but now her living room was not only organized and tidy, she’d been able to find and sort items that had been missing amongst the clutter for years. She’d done something similar in the half bath, the kitchen, the guest room.

  She’d baked a cake.

  She’d cleaned out her freezer.

  She’d deep-cleaned her pores and used a facial mask.

  In short, she’d spent hours focusing her attentions on tasks with lots of detail, so she’d be able to keep her mind off trying to find out more about where Yael had gone. She’d refused to allow herself a glass of wine until the final tasks had been completed, and now, although she’d been generous with the pour, Hadassah could only look at the glass in her hand. She had no appetite for it.

  If not even wine could bring her out of her slump, she really mu
st be wrecked.

  The thought was enough to push a small laugh up her throat and out, but it sounded more like a sob. Hadassah put the glass on the spotless coffee table and let her smooth, fresh face fall into her hands. What was she going to do when she ran out of things to clean?

  The sound of her front door opening startled her into looking up. Yael stood there, looking solemn and yet excited too. She moved from foot to foot.

  “Hadassah,” she said when Hadassah didn’t speak. “Is it all right if I came home?”

  She was up and off the couch with Yael in her embrace within seconds. No words would come out. All Hadassah could manage was a series of small, gasping sob-laughs. She hugged Yael harder, pressing their cheeks together. Then, their mouths.

  Yael took Hadassah by the upper arms and separated their bodies. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes. Definitely a yes,” Hadassah said.

  “You’re crying!”

  “No,” she denied, although she tasted the salt of her tears.

  Yael shook her head and gathered Hadassah closer. “Please don’t cry. I love you.”

  Hadassah shivered at the words. She closed her eyes. Hugged harder. Tighter. She buried her face against Yael’s neck.

  They stayed that way for some long moments, neither speaking. After a bit, Hadassah noticed that their breathing had synced. She slipped a hand between them to put over Yael’s heart. It beat beneath her palm, a steady, comforting throb.

  “I thought you were going back to her,” she said finally.

  Yael’s hand rubbed her back. “I wanted to ask her some questions. That’s all.”

  “Did you get the answers you wanted?” Hadassah pulled away to look Yael in the face.

  “I got the answers I asked for,” Yael said. “Even if some of them were not the ones I was hoping to hear.”

  Hadassah chuckled, the sound raspy and hoarse, but somehow still light. “That sounds familiar.”

  “Hadassah. I don’t know what it will mean, exactly, for me to stay. I only know that I can’t go back to where I came from, and I have no idea where I’ll end up after I die.”