Hoarfrost (Blood of Cain Book 2)

by J. L. Murray

  "I didn't have a choice," I said, my voice a whisper.

  "Everyone has a choice," she said. "You chose to murder thirty-two people in 48 hours."

  "I didn't murder them," I said. "I was trying to save them."

  "You did a cracker jack job."

  I blinked back tears as I looked at the pictures. I couldn't help but look. The parking lot of the Pinecrest, the asphalt wrenched apart, deep chasms between the cracks. That's where the dark things under the earth had wriggled up. Bodies lined up in a temporary morgue, completely filling the room, some of the corpses on the floor. I made out people I knew. People that hadn't been themselves in the end. People I'd killed to protect myself and others mingled with people killed by the monsters that had possessed their bodies.

  "I didn't fail," I said. "Everyone that survived in Helmsville is alive because of what I did."

  "And what did you do?"

  I shrugged. No point in lying. Why stop telling the truth now?

  "I died."

  Detective Morley blinked at me, surprised, but I didn't look away. I kept on looking her right in the eye, and for a moment she looked scared. Then she stood up and yanked at a cord connected to the camera recording us, the small blinking light going out.

  "What the fuck is going on?" she said. "These aren't murders. The fucking ocean is freezing. People are going batshit crazy, normal people, and killing for no reason."

  "The ocean isn't going to freeze again," I said.

  She shook her head, knitting her eyebrows. "Why not?"

  "I took care of it." I looked away then, because I saw Becky's face, her bloodless lips, her unseeing eyes. Faintly, I felt the throbbing in my chest come back, and for once I was glad.

  "And you," said Morley, still staring at me. "Somehow, you seem to be right in the middle of all of this. So you're going to tell me who you really are. What you really are."

  "You don't understand, Detective." My voice was so steady it surprised me.

  "That's the understatement of the century," she said, and breaking character, Detective Morley started to laugh. She couldn't seem to stop herself. "I mean, what the fuck is going on here? What the fucking shit is all this? Are you identical twins? Did you pick up where your sister left off? Are you a clone with the same fingerprints? Did they fake your execution, your autopsy? Because I understand there are things I don't understand. But a body disappearing from the morgue – after being autopsied, no less – and showing up all across the country, killing sick fucks that the world is better without, a body that was dead just walking out of the fucking medical examiner's office? I sure as fuck do not understand what the hell is going on. I don't believe in ghosts."

  "Boo."

  "Cut the shit, Frankie," she said in a desperate whisper. "Just tell me what's going on. Please."

  "I have to go, Detective. If I don't get out of here, things are going to get a whole lot fucking worse."

  "Why?" she said. "Why you? What happened out there tonight, on the ice? What happened to that officer?"

  "I didn't kill him," I said. "But I did what needed to be done. I did everything I had to do, no matter how much it hurt. I did what no one else could do and Esme is still alive. Dekker is alive. And no one else is going to freeze. I fixed it, and no one will ever know, and I want it that way. I'm not a good person, Detective Morley." I rested my elbows on the crime scene photos now piled on the table between us. "I'm a monster, if we're being honest. But the world is going to hell right now. It's falling apart, even though no one knows it. And as it happens, it's going to take a monster to save it."

  "You're going to save the world," she said, cynicism dripping from her words.

  "What's left of it."

  "Why? What's anyone in this world ever done for you?" she said. "We know you were abused by your family. The local police in Helmsville are under investigation, did you know that?"

  "No," I said. "I didn't know."

  "One of the reasons for the investigation involved the death of your father."

  I froze. For a moment I couldn't even blink. "What?"

  "His death was claimed to be an accident, as you know. His body was exhumed by the FBI – the real FBI. It's being examined as we speak. Justice is happening, Frankie. Sometimes it just takes a little time."

  "So, what, I'm supposed to cry and say I'll never hurt anyone ever again because I'm so fucking grateful? I already have justice, Detective."

  "You can't be a vigilante," she said. "There are rules. Laws. You can't be an outlaw and expect to live a normal life."

  "Everyone keeps reminding me I'm never going to live a normal life," I said.

  "Your partner, what do you know about him?"

  "Ask him," I said, and it hurt. I leaned back in my chair, the handcuffs clinking. "He knows more than I do about who he is."

  "Did you know his name wasn't Tucker?" she said. "Did you know it wasn't Thomas Dekker?"

  "Yeah," I said. "I knew."

  "Did you know he killed his own partner while a detective under an assumed name? Did you know he killed a lot of other people, too?"

  "Look," I said. "You got me. Great job, let's throw you a fucking parade. Now lock me up and throw away the key, Detective. Send me down to Death Row and stick a needle in my arm. I don't care. Do whatever you have to do, but stop talking. I don't want to hear any more of this shit."

  The sound of the ravens grew louder from outside, muted by the walls of the station and the thick glass of the interrogation room. Detective Morley frowned and rose from her seat, crossing the room in long strides, and pulled the string attached to the window shade. At first all I saw was black. Then the color moved and I realized the window was crowded with black birds, all squeezing their way in. I could see a dozen yellow eyes blinking in at me, and after a moment, the ravens began to scream.

  "What the fuck...?" said Morley, and with a crash the Venetian blind dislodged from the window and fell to the floor. The ravens pecked hard at the glass with their beaks. Detective Morley backed away, staring at the window, her hand going to her neck. It used to scare me, too, the ravens. But now as I listened to them it struck me that they weren't screaming. They were singing.

  I smiled as Detective Morley turned slowly and rested her eyes uneasily on me.

  "They're so impatient," I said.

  "What..." the Detective started, then took a shaky breath. I could see that her hands were shaking. "What the fuck is this?" she managed in a whisper.

  "Something is coming, Detective," I said. "And I am the only one who can stop it. I know. It sounds crazy to me, too. And yet, here we are."

  Detective Morley stared at me. The ravens continued to thrash at the glass outside.

  Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

  "Here's my prediction," I said. "There is a monster here, in Westport. He appears to be someone you know. Someone you love deeply, maybe. Someone you would do anything to see again. I know this because when I saw him, he looked like my father."

  "Your father is dead," she said in a croak. She seemed to lose the strength to stand and let herself fold into the chair next to her, not taking her eyes from me.

  "Yes, he is," I said. "But this monster that looked like my father touched my sister and she broke inside. Her mind shattered. Think about Abby and Jerry. Abby was seen in church with her dead mother. Right before she walked into the diner and killed that poor waitress. And Jerry saw his wife before he walked into the Bayside Pub and tried to kill everyone, starting with Chief Petrussi."

  "This is impossible," Detective Morley said with a weak, humorless laugh. "A monster? You can't expect me to believe that."

  She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She shook her head. "None of this makes sense."

  "Welcome to my life," I said. "Now, here's what is about to happen. Someone is going to walk into this police station, someone completely sane the last time you saw them. And they're going to start killing people."

  Detective Morley shook her head, frowning.
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  "And when it's all over," I continued, "people are going to be dead. I won’t be a target, though. And then, this person you trust, maybe someone you love, someone who was completely fine an hour ago? They're going to put a gun to their temple and pull the trigger."

  "That's insane."

  "It is insane,” I said. “Doesn’t make it untrue.”

  "Why aren’t you a target?" she said. "In your fantasy, are you so important that a killer wouldn't dare kill you?"

  "It's not that they don't want to kill me," I said. "They just have a better use for me."

  "And what's that?"

  "You wouldn't believe me."

  Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

  "Try me, Ms. Mourning."

  I shrugged. "They want something that I have."

  "And what would that be?"

  "The Mother of Hearts wants to eat my heart," I said. "And then she wants to destroy the world."

  Tap tap tap, tap tap tap.

  Detective Morley stared at me. Then she turned to look at the mirror behind her, then turned back to me.

  "My partner is interrogating your boyfriend as we speak," she said.

  "He won't say anything," I said.

  "Why do you think that?"

  You're the sun, Frankie. And fuck the world...

  "Because he's mine," I said.

  "He's yours. What the hell does that mean?"

  "Just something someone told me," I said. "Has there been a fire at the hospital yet? That's where you took Esme, isn't it?"

  "Are you insinuating that Chief Petrussi is an arsonist?"

  "Of course not," I said. "She can't help it. She's a victim."

  "Why was she with you?" said Detective Morley. "What happened to her clothes? Was she assaulted?"

  "Isn't it your job to know that?" I said. "Is she awake? Has she been examined?"

  "She won't let anyone near her. She says she'll only speak to Ronald Weiss. I wonder if you can tell me why."

  "She didn't do anything wrong," I said.

  "Oh, I believe you," said the Detective. "So it would be a shame to ruin her stellar reputation, wouldn't it? She just lost her husband under suspicious circumstances and now this. Her friend and fellow officer seems to be complicit. Hank Willard is dead. Frozen, like the others."

  "I told you, I fixed all that," I sighed.

  "How?"

  "I had to die. Again."

  Morley's eyes went wide as the first gunshot sounded in the station. There was another shot, then another. I counted six. And then Morley was on her feet and running through the door. I sighed and looked at the ravens in the window, shrugging.

  "I tried to warn her," I said.

  The ravens screamed in reply.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Morley returned, kicking at the door, her eyes scared, her mouth carved into a scowl. She slammed her hands on the metal table in front of me.

  "What have you done?" she screamed.

  "Nothing yet," I said.

  "Where is he? How did you tell Solomon what to say? Was this premeditated?"

  "Who the hell is Solomon?"

  "Jacob Solomon. Tucker. Dekker, how did you tell him?"

  "Oh, right. I’m still getting used to that name. Tell him what?"

  "You almost had me," she said, smiling maliciously. "You planned this. Did you plan to get caught tonight, too? You must have!"

  "Why would I plan to get caught?" I said. "I didn't even want to pretend to be FBI."

  "So it was all his idea, is that it? It was Solomon's plan, Solomon the mastermind?"

  "I don't know what the fuck you're on about."

  "He's gone, Frankie. And you'd better start talking. No more crazy nonsense." She pushed her wrinkled blazer back off her hip and unhooked her gun from her holster, slipped it easily into her right hand, bracing it with her left. She leveled it straight at me, the muzzle an inch from my forehead. I tried to raise my hands, but I was still handcuffed, the chains clinking delicately.

  "Dekker's gone?" I said.

  "His name is Solomon, you piece of trash."

  "Calm the fuck down!" I shouted, as Morley leaned forward and placed the cold muzzle of the gun against my skin.

  "Tell me where my partner is," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

  Tap tap tap tap tap.

  "You're going to want to put that fucking gun away," I said. "I can't control it."

  "Control what? Are you really crazy, Frankie? Or was that part of the act? Get me to let down my guard, get me talking, give your henchman a chance to do something to my partner?" She pressed harder against my forehead, but I refused to flinch. Could I come back from my head exploding?

  "Henchman?" I said.

  "Jacob Solomon is going down for this," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Where is he?"

  "What?"

  "They're dead, Frankie," she said. "All of them. Every police officer in this building is fucking dead. But you know that, don't you? He made them look like suicides, how did he do that? How did he get out so quickly? An entire station of cops committing suicide? Who are you working for?"

  "No one," I said calmly. But I didn't feel calm. I could feel the darkness inside me tilting, swirling like a cyclone, turning my stomach. I felt it under my skin, ready to erupt. I looked Morley in the eye. She was terrified. I could smell the fear coming off her. And though the muzzle of the gun was braced against my forehead, I could feel her hands shaking.

  "You're lying!" she shouted. "Tell me what's going on!"

  "Is there a tape?" I said.

  "What?"

  "Calm down, Detective," I said. "Is there a video? Jesus, you're a cop, aren't you? Is there a fucking video feed? They have cameras all over this place." The gun eased just a little, but I felt a warm trickle of blood run down, trailing the bridge of my nose and falling down my cheek like a single tear. I already knew what was going on, of course. The shapeshifter had been here. I thought of Abby in the cafe, Jerry in the bar. I remembered the thing with my father's face, and Becky gone insane on the island, covered in hoarfrost. Morley was scared shitless and, to be honest, I was afraid she would kill me. If Dekker was in trouble, I couldn't help him from the other side, and I didn’t know how long it would take me to wake up.

  "Is Dekker dead?" I said, with a lump in my throat. Had my last words to Dekker been terrible? Would the last thing I ever said to him be filled with pain and regret? But then I closed my eyes and remembered.

  Just lie beside me, Dekker. Hold me close and pretend everything is perfect.

  I swallowed hard. Nothing would ever be perfect. If he was dead, I would never forgive myself. He hadn't acted maliciously, he'd done what he thought was right. And then he'd been afraid to tell me, and with good reason. When I found out, I was just as hurt as he knew I'd be. I could forgive him, I knew now. I could forgive him, a thousand times over. I'd forgive him. Just let him be okay. Just let him be alive.

  "Tell me he's not dead. Please. Did they kill him?" I could feel the darkness in me churning, and I was on the verge of tears. "Just tell me if he's fucking dead!" I was trying to stay calm, but it wasn't working anymore. I didn't want to accidentally kill this woman, even if she did have a literal gun to my head. But I didn't know what I was capable of.

  "No," she said, surprised. "He's gone." The gun wasn't touching my skin any longer, and Morley looked at the Glock in her hand as if she didn't know how it had gotten there. She stepped away, shaking all over now. Her eyes found me, her lip trembling. She shook her head. "Is this a dream?" she whispered.

  Tap tap tap.

  "No, it's real," I said. "Gone where?"

  "What? Oh," Morley said, looking down at the gun again. Letting out a shaky breath, she put it back in the holster, missing twice before she slid it home. She leaned against the wall like she didn't have the energy to stand on her own. She was muttering to herself, scratching her head, visibly sweating. Taking her jacket off, she wiped her shining face with it before throwing it on the floor.
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  "No," she said finally. She focused on me, suspicion written all over her face. "You're not going to play us, Frankie. You tell me where the fuck your boyfriend is or you're going away for the rest of your life."

  "He's alive," I said, a lump in my throat.

  Everything's perfect. Try to be gentle, Frankie.

  "Yes," she said woodenly. "I called for backup but there's no one left. There's no one fucking left to help me. No one was on the radio. I have to call Salem. My partner is gone. He's fucking gone." She was speaking in a rhythm now, and I was pretty sure she didn't even know what she was saying. She was cracking and I didn't blame her. "I don't understand anything."

  I breathed out, relieved. I nodded. Everything's perfect. "We need to leave," I said.

  Tap tap tap tap.

  "He's coming back? Solomon, he's going to come back to get you, isn't he?"

  "No. You have no idea what’s happening.”

  "Then what the fuck is going on?" She was glaring at me now, and her shaking had subsided.

  Everything's perfect.

  "Nothing good," I said, but I had to fight down a smile. Dekker was right, this was as perfect as we were going to get. Everything was perfect, because Dekker was alive. Dekker was alive and I was done running from the asshole Mother of Hearts and her creepy sidekick.

  Try to be gentle, Frankie.

  I looked at Morley, so terrified and trying not to show it. I realized I really was smiling and I made my face serious again. That seemed to make the detective even angrier.

  "You're going to talk to me, Mourning. If I have to beat it out of you, I will. I was above it before, but there's a detective missing, along with a psychopath, and a lot of cops are dead. I'm not fucking around anymore."

  "He's not a psychopath," I said. "It's all just as I said, Detective. I'm not lying and I'm not crazy. Now I'm going to need you to give me your keys. I'm in love with a man and I'm pretty sure I need to save his life."

  "Abso-fucking-lutely not," she said, straightening. Then she looked at me, really looked. Her eyes went wide. The tendrils of darkness were fanning out, spreading across the room, and I could feel it all—the coolness of the walls and the dull tile floor. I felt the warmth as it wrapped around Morley's ankle. She shouted, kicking at it, and I pulled it back. She retreated, walking backwards, the gun out again, her hands shaking more than before. "I'm not releasing you. You're a criminal!"