What Remains

by Bailey Bradford

  He wasn’t surprised to see Miriam and Chris both waiting for him once he found a place to park around the tents. Unless he was mistaken, there were more now than there had been the last time he’d stopped by. Made him wonder just how big the blessing ceremony for Hawkins’ Senior and Youth Center was going to be. If it went by participant body count, it ought to be the most blessed place in the world.

  “Come on inside before the tea gets cold,” Miriam called out to him as Laine strode toward them.

  That wasn’t really an incentive for him to hurry. He liked his tea iced and sweet enough to cause cavities.

  “It’s a special mix I made just for you,” Miriam crooned. Laine was pretty sure she was teasing him, what with the way she waggled her eyebrows and such. He hadn’t had a problem with Miriam—she seemed like a decent person, and just because Laine didn’t share her religious beliefs didn’t mean she was weird.

  For all he knew, Wicca could be The Way. If so, he’d just stay off trail. Religion wasn’t his thing, although he couldn’t say whether or not there was some sort of god. Laine didn’t dwell on it much, choosing to believe each person was responsible for their own lives for the most part.

  The bangles on Miriam’s wrists jangled as she gestured at him to hurry up. She was grinning, obviously enjoying poking at him. He gave her a narrow-eyed look because he knew she’d get a kick out of it. Miriam laughed and tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Oh, come on, I know you’re happy to see me.”

  Laine glanced at Chris, who shook his head. The man hadn’t filled his mother in on the reason for Laine’s visit. Did he wait so Laine could see Miriam’s reaction?

  “Quit thinking so hard,” Chris told him when Laine stopped in front of them. “I figured you should explain everything to Miriam, since you’re involved.”

  Miriam’s smile dimmed as she looked at Laine. “What’s going on? Is someone protesting the blessing? I know how people can be about Wicca. They think we’re all witches brewing cauldrons of cute little animals or casting evil spells. Ignorant idiots.”

  Laine had kind of thought that way himself until he’d met Miriam and started doing a little research. “There might be some people who aren’t happy with it, but in general, the people of McKinton aren’t ignorant idiots.”

  Miriam looked contrite. “Oh. Well, I shouldn’t generalize like that. Sorry. That made me the ignorant one.” She rolled her eyes then turned and started walking to the front door. “You’d think I’d have learned to be more tolerant and less judgmental…”

  Laine greeted Chris, his eyes drawn, as usual, to the labret piercing on the man’s chin. Every time he saw the dangling silver jewelry, he thought of Sev mentioning he’d like a Prince Albert piercing. Laine thought that had to hurt like hell, but he’d told Sev if he really wanted one to go for it. The fact that Sev hadn’t yet gotten his dick pierced made Laine think Sev had decided against it after all. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  Once inside the house, they sat in the living room, Laine in a leather recliner and Chris and Miriam across from him on the couch. Laine ignored the steaming cup of tea as he explained to Miriam why he was here. Miriam was silent except for an occasional hum here and there, and the clanking of her bracelets when she took a drink of her tea.

  “You think I did this, sent them away?” Miriam asked, giving Laine a hard look. Laine felt about an inch tall under that look. “You do. Why would I do something like that? They weren’t hurting anything. It was obvious they were loved.”

  “I’m sorry,” Laine said, “it’s just…the timing of it coincides with your arrival. I don’t have any other ideas, and…it just feels wrong, having Conner and the others gone. It’s like a part of me is missing, and it’s even worse for Sev. He used to be able to interact with Conner and the other missing spirits. I know he has to feel like a vital part of himself is missing along with them.”

  Miriam seemed mollified as she leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees. “I can understand that, and I agree the timing probably isn’t coincidental. Maybe the spirits weren’t happy with us arriving. I won’t lie, there’s more than me here who could cast a spell to vanquish them.”

  Laine shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I don’t know how to describe it except to say I can feel that they’re gone. Not hiding out somewhere, but gone.” He was close to begging but his pride was nothing compared to the weight of his loss. Not only his, but Sev and everyone else who had a deceased loved one they were used to having in their lives.

  “Miriam, please, is there anything you can do to fix this? Conner, Stefan, Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Matthers—they’re all part of our lives. We love them just as much now as we did when they were alive—maybe even more, since they did whatever they had to in order to remain here. Losing them again like this…” Laine’s voice hitched as a hot ball of grief burned in his belly. “I can’t tell you how much it hurts. Conner was my lover when he was alive, and I didn’t, I didn’t love him enough to let anyone know about him. Now in death he’s one of the dearest people, to me and Sev both, and neither of us will let him be taken from us without a fight. And we won’t stop fighting.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Miriam told him. “You carry your guilt over his death with you, you know. It wasn’t your fault. Coming out and showing the world he was your lover wouldn’t have saved him. James McAlister still would have taken him from you.”

  So Conner had been destined to die simply for being Laine’s lover. How the hell was he not supposed to feel guilty for that?

  “Laine, Conner made the choice to be with you,” Chris pointed out. “I doubt you twisted his arm. The blame for his death is and will always be on James McAlister’s soul, not yours, not Conner’s, only McAlister’s. You have to learn to let the guilt go.”

  “What the fuck do you know about it?” Laine snapped in a rare fit of temper. These past few days had worn him down to a nub. Laine regretted the outburst even as it left his lips. He sagged into the chair and dropped his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Chris, Miriam. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, but getting nasty with either of you isn’t it. I’m sorry. There was no excuse for that.”

  “It’s all right,” Chris said from beside him. Laine peeked out through his fingers. He hadn’t even heard the big guy move. The chair groaned as Chris sat on the padded armrest and slung an arm over Laine’s shoulders. “You’re right, to a point. I don’t know much about it, except what I see in your aura. Guilt. See that a lot, but the rest of it’s all good, dude. And I kind of know you. You wouldn’t have done anything to endanger anyone, much less someone you loved. So, I know you didn’t—endanger Conner, that is. And I know James McAlister was a psychopathic bastard who killed several gay men besides Conner. Would you blame the lovers of his other victims for their deaths?”

  “No,” Laine drew the word out as what Chris said penetrated through the hard shell of guilt he’d carried for years. “No, I wouldn’t, but…”

  But why was he fighting letting that guilt go? Laine dropped his hands to his lap and looked up at Chris. Damn guy was huge. Chris looked at him expectantly. “No. It wasn’t their fault any more than it was the victims’.”

  A weight Laine had carried around inside since Conner’s death began to lessen.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Chris murmured. “What happened to Zeke wasn’t your fault either, neither was McAlister’s spirit tormenting Rich.”

  That was a bit much, Laine thought. If he had only kept Zeke’s sister locked up, she wouldn’t have nearly killed him out on Main Street. He didn’t know what he could have done to protect Rich, short of never calling the man and asking him for information on Sev when he first came to town. But still—

  “Eva would have found a way to hurt Zeke,” Chris continued, bulldozing over Laine’s internal arguments. “Her husband was in that car. It’s likely he would have gone after Zeke. And you don’t have the ability to control
spirits, you couldn’t have stopped McAlister from going after Rich. Even Miriam didn’t know it was possible for a spirit to latch on to someone and inhabit part of their soul. That’s some scary shit, Laine. How could you have stopped that?”

  “You couldn’t have,” Miriam said.

  God, he was being tag-teamed by a pair of people determined to make him see past his failures, or what he’d thought of as his failures. Laine couldn’t even be mad about it because, for whatever reason, what they were saying was actually getting through to him.

  This wasn’t the first time someone had told him he wasn’t responsible for Conner’s death or any of the other horrible things that had happened since then. But this was the first time he was actually beginning to believe it. He wished like hell Sev was here, though. Laine could have used those strong lean arms around him.

  It might have been better that Sev wasn’t there. Laine was afraid he’d have completely broken down in the man’s arms. Sev seeing him so vulnerable was one thing—Laine didn’t want there to be anyone other than his partner around to witness it if it did happen. He concentrated on calming his breathing, which had become shaky and harsh. His shoulders relaxed under Chris’ arms, and as Laine exhaled slowly, he realized he felt less burdened than he could remember feeling in years.

  Sure, he was still worried about Conner as well as the other spirits—that concern hadn’t lessened. But the sometimes almost overwhelming feelings of guilt and failure, those weren’t nearly as strong as they had been. They weren’t gone entirely, but Laine thought they might just be easier to bear now. And maybe, eventually, he could learn to let the rest of it go. He was almost feeling like he had himself pulled together when Miriam spoke.

  “I’m going to make you some more tea, and this time I want you to drink it.”

  Laine couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at her. “Do I have to?”

  Miriam nodded. “Yup, you sure do, but I’ll be nice and add some sugar and milk, will that make it more palatable?”

  “I have no idea.” Laine always avoided hot teas except when not drinking it would hurt someone’s feelings. “Guess I’ll try it and find out.”

  “Good.” Miriam patted his hand. “I’ll fix your tea then we’ll figure out a plan for finding out what’s happened to the spirits of McKinton.”

  * * * *

  The plan, as it turned out, wasn’t all that complicated—not the first part, anyway. Miriam called her coven together then told them what had been done to the spirits. From their higher positions on the porch, they had a good view of the coven.

  As Miriam talked, Chris studied auras and Laine studied faces. When he looked at the High Priest, he didn’t need Chris’ ability. He could easily see the desire in the man’s expression as he watched Miriam. Wonder what Miriam thinks about it? As sharp as the woman is, she has to be aware of it.

  Laine muttered to Chris, “You know, I never thought about using you as a human lie detector before.”

  “It doesn’t exactly work that way,” Chris murmured back, “not everyone feels like they’re lying when they are. It’s all in how they perceive themselves and their truths—”

  “Guys, I’m talking here,” Miriam scolded.

  Laine and Chris obediently shut up. By the time Miriam finished, Laine had studied each of the twenty-two people gathered in front of them. He hadn’t seen anyone wearing a sign that said ‘I did it’, not that he’d expected to, but he also hadn’t seen anyone who looked nervous or guilty.

  “Anything?” he asked Chris, who was still studying the crowd.

  “No, but like I said, that doesn’t mean anything. Someone could have done something and really not think there was anything wrong with it.” He shrugged. “I wish I could have been more helpful.”

  Vincent, the High Priest, came up onto the porch and offered Laine his hand. “Sheriff, we’ll do what we can to fix this. I have no doubt we can make it right, we just need a little time. We’ll have to make sure, of course, that it was a spell that banished the spirits and it wasn’t simply their time to pass on.”

  “It wasn’t,” Laine bit out. He refused to believe otherwise. “Surely you see how suspicious it is that every single spirit in this town is gone, not just the ones people are familiar with, but all of them. Sev even went to the hospital, a place he usually can’t stand for long because of all the spirit activity, and he didn’t find a single presence there. Are you really going to tell me that’s a natural occurrence?”

  “N-no,” Vincent sputtered, backing away from a finger Laine hadn’t even known he was jabbing at the man. It was like his body had a mind of its own. “No, of course not. I just mean we have to make sure it was an act of magic, n-not some…something else.”

  “What else would it be?” Laine snapped. “You think they all went to the Bahamas together?”

  “I’m sure that’s not what Vincent thinks,” Miriam said from behind Laine. “Quit scaring the poor man, would you, before he falls off the porch.”

  Laine glared at Vincent but stepped back. Then he glared at Chris since the man was snickering. “I fail to see anything amusing about any of this.” Laine winced at sounding like an uptight prick, but damn it, he wanted all of the spirits back where they belonged.

  Chris quit snickering. “The only thing amusing was watching Vincent here try not to piss his pants. Sorry.”

  Vincent sputtered for a few seconds until Miriam sent him inside. She turned to Laine and pointed one red-tipped finger at him even though her lips were twitching against a smile. “It’s not going to help at all if you scare off my High Priest. We need him to help us, not pack up and head for the hill ’cause he’s scared you’re going to bite his head off, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Laine knew better than to let his temper get the best of him, yet twice in as many hours he’d lost it. He’d better get his shit together before he did anything else stupid. “I’ll apologize—”

  Miriam waved off the offer. “Nah, just let him be. He was kind of a twit about it. Of course it’s magic, we just need to find out what kind, and whether it was someone from this coven or not. As Chris said, he could have missed something, or there could be people missing. I didn’t check to see who all arrived today or how many there were now total.”

  “Twenty-two,” Chris answered before Laine could. “I don’t know how many there’s supposed to be, but that’s how many were here.”

  Miriam nodded. She frowned as she looked out at the tents. “I’ll have Vincent go around and do a head count in a few minutes. After that, he and I will start doing our thing to find out what kind of magic was used, white, black, something else entirely…”

  And why that sent a chill down Laine’s spine, he didn’t know. It lodged there at the base, though, and stayed with him the entire drive home.

  Chapter Seven

  “…and this one, what’d you do on it?”

  Sev looked at the inch-and-a-half-long article in Rogelio’s album and wished he could groan without hurting the kid’s feelings. Rogelio really did have an album that contained, as far as Sev could tell, every single mention of Sev on the Internet—which wasn’t much—as well as the cases where he’d been able to fly under the media’s radar.

  He figured Alma must have helped Rogelio even though she hadn’t said so. She knew what cases he’d worked on because he’d always called to let her and his other siblings know where he was.

  “Rogelio, stop pestering Severo. I’m sure he doesn’t want to go over all that horrible stuff,” Alma scolded as she walked into the living room.

  Alma was right—he hated going over ‘all that horrible stuff’. Murders were not something he cared to recount. It was bad enough he could still remember clearly the faces of each victim he’d ever seen a photo of. Talking about their deaths was well beyond unpleasant.

  “Sorry, Uncle Sev,” Rogelio mumbled. “You could have told me to stop. I wouldn’t have gotten mad.”

  Sev smiled at his nephew. Rogelio looked enough like
him that he could easily pass for Sev’s little brother. Rogelio had the same shaped face, right down to the pointy chin. The only glaring difference was his eyes, which were brown like his father’s rather than the pale green of Sev and Alma’s.

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind…”

  Rogelio arched one fine black eyebrow.

  “Much,” Sev added. “I don’t like talking about the crimes, the victims, but I have enjoyed spending time with you.”

  Rogelio’s grin about melted Sev’s heart. “Cool. We can do something else, maybe—”

  Alma brushed her hand over her son’s head. “Maybe you should let your Uncle Sev spend some time with Adela and Martin, too.”

  The younger two kids looked up at him from where they were sitting on the floor playing their handheld games. Sev didn’t think either of them looked eager to spend time with him.

  “Grandpa says he’s a bad man,” Martin said, glaring at Sev. “He said you’re going to—”

  “Martin Eduardo Martinez! You watch your mouth, young man!”

  Martin cringed at his mother’s reprimand but he didn’t look any less angry to Sev. “But Grandpa says—”

  “Your grandpa says a lot of mean things that aren’t true,” Roger said as he got up from his chair. He walked over and sat on the floor between his youngest children. “You heard him say I wasn’t good enough for your mom. Do you believe that, too?”

  Martin looked at his dad and shook his head so hard Sev was surprised it didn’t come right off his thin little neck. “No, but—”

  “No ‘buts’,” Roger said gently, “Grandpa is a bitter, angry man. Your grandma is a bitter, angry woman. They say a lot of mean things, but you need to get to know your uncle on your own and form your own opinions, you and Adela both. Do you think your mom and I would hang around with bad people?”

  “Y’all hung around Grandma and Grandpa,” Rogelio said bitterly.

  Sev leaned over and whispered, “You’re not helping!”