by Eli Constant
“I’m sorry, but we can’t right now. It’s still...” Doug struggles for words, “the clothes are still frozen to his body.”
“Then thaw him and take them off. For fuck’s sake, he’s a man. We can’t leave him like this.” Darnell is still holding onto Mr. Barrington, but he’s half-turned to look at Terrance and Doug. “This isn’t right. This isn’t who he is and it’s not right.”
“I’m sorry.” Doug mutters the words, shuffling his feet. He’s awake now, though, no longer suppressing yawns.
Terrance takes a step towards the duo, his hand out placating. “Look, if you want us to find out who did this, we have to go about thawing the body in the right way. We’ve already explained this. It’s going to take at least a week before we can even attempt an autopsy. And, I’m not trying to be unsympathetic here, but we’ve got to get the body back into the fridge. We took it out for identification and to give you some closure.”
All the fight dies out of Darnell. “This just isn’t right.” He turns back to look at Timothy.
I’m close enough that I can see now the lines of stitching running up his arms to disappear under the blue cloth of the dresses’ sleeves. His legs bear the same suturing. Just like the others. Another murder victim-turned-doll. Another doll that looks like Mei. I feel cold at the thought, colder than Timothy’s body that’s beginning to sweat against the temperature of the room that’s warmer than his corpse.
“We have to let them put him back now.” Mr. Barrington whispers. It’s such a defeated sound. “They need to find out who did this. We need to let them do their job.”
Darnell hugs Mr. Barrington tighter around the shoulders. Mr. Barrington raises his right hand to pat Darnell’s arm softly. There is an intimacy hanging in the air. A father embracing the man who’d loved his son in equal measure.
It’s then that I walk forward. Then that I feel I can give them peace. “Can I walk you out?”
Mr. Barrington turns his head to look at me and he blinks rapidly. His face brightens a faction when he recognizes me.
“Oh, Miss Cage, so nice of you to come.” He offers his hand to me and I take it. We don’t shake, I just hold his warm, calloused hand and I smile softly until he’s ready to move. Darnell says nothing, but when Mr. Barrington moves, he moves also. We make our way out of the morgue slowly. I can feel the ghosts above my head undulating against the ceiling. Darnell shivers, as if he can sense them too. Maybe he can; maybe he’s a sensitive. A lot of people have some small degree of the gift.
When we get outside, the brisk air hits us all in the face and seems to breathe life back into our lungs. “You need your coat.” Darnell is rubbing his own bare arms, but he’s looking at Mr. Barrington with concern. “I’ll go get it.”
The older man barely nods. He’s staring up at the sky, at the heavy clouds that are just beginning to let loose snowflakes. “My Timothy loved the snow, Miss Cage. I think I was still holding a little grain of hope, tucked in my heart where I could ignore it. I think I thought he’d come back one day, looking as handsome as ever with a bright smile ready to tell me about his adventures and why he’d been away so long. It feels now like my insides are broken.”
“He loved you, Allen. And,” I swallow, this is always the tricky part, but I can’t not tell him what Timothy said, “he was sorry for whatever happened between you recently. He wanted you to know that you’re not like your ex-wife. You never made him feel less-than for being who he was.”
Tears are strolling down Mr. Barrington’s cheeks. Little sentinels of grief carrying rifles that will shoot into his heart as they fall from his chin to soak into his shirt. “We had a fight. Fathers and sons fight. He doesn’t have to be sorry for that.”
“But he was.” I put my hand on his shoulder and I squeeze. He looks at me, his eyes glistening and understanding swimming in the salty water.
“You talked to him, didn’t you?”
I swallow again, the lump not wanting to move from the middle of my throat, and I nod. “Yes.”
“Thank God for you, Miss Cage. Thank God for you.” He moves to me and kisses me on the forehead. “Darnell is a sensitive. He couldn’t feel Timothy around the body so we knew he’d moved on.”
I risk a glance past Mr. Barrington to where Darnell is; he’s walking away from their white van with a worn-out looking pea coat thrown over one arm. We lock eyes and his face registers shock. He can feel the death on me. Most sensitives can, although those who do not understand that they have a touch of the gift will only shiver and walk away. Sometimes they’ll give me a dirty look. Like I have personally assaulted them.
“Don’t say anything to the boy.” Mr. Barrington sees me looking at Darnell. “He’s embarrassed of his gift and he doesn’t want people to know.”
“I don’t blame him.” I yank my gaze away from the man who is studying me with a keener eye than I like. “Even a sensitive can be tried for necromancy nowadays.”
Mr. Barrington looks startled. “Goodness. He’s not afflicted like that. Sensitives are not necromancers. You are not a necromancer. You are a gift.”
I smile, realizing that Mr. Barrington only believes me to be a sensitive like Darnell. A lesser evil, so to speak. “I appreciate that, but a lot of people don’t make that distinction.”
He nods. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
It’s probably for the best that Mr. Barrington doesn’t know what I am. I already have Terrance, Kyle, and Liam to juggle. How did my life go from hidden and only somewhat complicated to a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle with no picture for a guide?
When Darnell is back, he helps the older man into his jacket. I love how tender and gentle he is with his boyfriend’s father. He doesn’t have to be. Their connection to one another is gone—lying dead in the Morgue only a few feet away. Yet, their humanity is keeping them tethered. These are the moments when I love humans.
“I suppose this means we’ll have to delay the funeral?” Darnell is looking back at the doors that lead to the hall that leads to Timothy.
“Yes. We should wait until the body can be properly processed. We can’t hurry that, not if we want the police to get whatever information the coroner can garner from the body. And I have to be honest with you—I’ve never worked with a body that’s been frozen. I’m not sure how embalming will go. I’ll call around to colleagues though and keep you informed about what to expect. We might have to do a closed casket. I don’t want you to be upset by that.”
The two men nod. “I still want Rosemary involved. I want her to be with him.” Mr. Barrington’s voice shakes as he speaks. “And the right clothes. He needs to look like himself, even if it is a closed casket.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem, Allen.” Darnell hugs an arm around his would-be father-in-law.
“No, that won’t be a problem at all.” I confirm, tears threatening.
The morgue door opens and Terrance walks out. He waves a hand, beckoning me over.
“Let’s go, Allen. There’s nothing else we can do today.” Darnell slowly steers the older man away from me.
I call after them. “I’ll call you as soon as I know when we can set a new date for the service.”
Neither of the men respond. I watch them get into the van, looking broken, and drive off into the snow that is now falling in great powdery chunks.
I enjoy the feel of it hitting my face as I move to Terrance. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before they arrived.”
“Honestly, Tori, I don’t see how anything would have helped them. As soon as they saw that girl’s body, they both broke down.”
“Boy’s body, Terrance.”
He shakes his head. “Shit, I know, Tori. His file says ‘female’ though and we don’t have any other documentation that labels him otherwise.”
“He’s not a label or a document, Terrance. He was a man who was murdered and dehumanized. This fucker stole his identity in the worst damn way possible.”
“I know.”
We stand in silence for a few minutes, watching the snow begin to block out the black road again. They’ll be salting and plowing again soon. I didn’t know the forecast called for more snow. But it doesn’t matter. That’s Bonneau. When it’s not freaking raining, it’s freaking snowing.
Dammit.
“Do you have anything new for me, Tori?” Terrance breaks the silence and looks hopeful.
“No. God, I wish I did.” I hug myself tightly. I hate feelings.
“Any chance you want to tag along tomorrow to check out Mordecai? Maybe you can pick up some ghostly voodoo vibes or something.”
“Terrance, if I can’t speak cop then you can’t speak necromancer.”
He smiles. I smile.
“Deal.” Terrance says and he zips his coat from midway up to just under the chin. “Want to meet at the station around ten?”
“Sure...” I trail off. “Shit, no. I can’t. I’ve got a funeral tomorrow.”
“After then.”
I nod. “Yes. But you’ll have to pick me up. I’m sans a vehicle right now.”
“What the hell’s that then.” Terrance points and I turn to look at my black sedan. And the empty passenger seat.
“That is a work vehicle. I don’t want to run up the miles on it and get past my warranty.” Where the hell is Liam?
Not far. His voice whispers through my mind and makes my insides squirm... just a little.
“Fine. I’ll pick you up. On the way to his place anyways.”
“Great. I can be free by three. Dean and Max can do the clean-up and such.”
Terrance doesn’t even say goodbye. He just walks away back towards the morgue, bending over a little to keep the snow from going into the fur-trimmed hood of his black jacket. He looks like a tall, dark mountain pushing through the whiteness.
When he’s disappeared back into the building, I turn to walk to my car. And Liam is magically back in his seat, staring at me with what can only be described as bedroom eyes.
This whole not-leading-him-on thing isn’t going to well... especially since my inner voice won’t shut up about his dreamy, come-hither eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
I think about Mei as Liam and I drive back home.
I just can’t stop seeing her as one of the puppeteer’s victims. They all look so much like her. Too damn much like her. Seeing Timothy’s body, freed from the block of ice, has sent my paranoia into overdrive. I know, rationally, that Mei has absolutely no connection to any of the victims. You don’t get killed just for looking like someone.
But... I mean... you do. When a serial killer has a favored victim type, looking the way you do is exactly why you get killed. I need to make sure Mei’s safe. I reach over and dig in my purse which is on the arm rest between me and Liam.
“You really care about her?” Liam’s voice makes me jump.
“Jesus, Liam. Can you listen in even when I’m not directly speaking to you?” A seed of uneasiness in my stomach is telling me that I don’t want to know the answer.
“Yes.”
Well, at least he’s honest and to the point. “That’s just great.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
“Oh, shut up. You know I was being sarcastic.” I grip the steering wheel so hard that my fingers hurt. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t be around you if you’re just going to go into my private thoughts anytime you damn well please.”
I glance over and am glad that Liam at least has the courtesy to look a little ashamed. “It is a reflex, Victoria. I was born with this gift and it’s hard to shut it down.”
Sighing, I loosen my grip on the wheel and my hands thank me. “I guess I know what that’s like. But if you can control it, even a little bit, this thing between us could be a lot easier.”
“What thing?” I can feel his teasing. It’s palpable.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Exasperated, I lift and slam my hands against the steering wheel. I almost run us off the road. “Come on, Liam. I’m with Kyle. I love Kyle. You were the one who said you couldn’t be with me like that and you are the one who disappeared without a word. Don’t push your feelings on me now.”
We fall into silence again. Vocal silence. Inside my mind, I’m speaking volumes. It’s unfair that Liam can read my thoughts when I’m blind to his unless he allows me in.
The Thunderbird is parked where my Bronco normally goes when I pull into my driveway. I’m not sure how Kyle’s going to feel about me arriving with Liam.
“I won’t come in.”
“Stop reading my mind, Liam.”
“Doesn’t it make things a little easier, me knowing what you want?” He’s not teasing now. He’s hurt. Shit, I don’t know which is worse. The teasing lover boy or the wounded reject.
“You can come in, Liam. Kyle knows we’re friends. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine.”
I slow to a stop behind Kyle’s car and I shift into park. I’ll move the sedan into the garage later. “Please don’t be hurt, Liam.” I’m avoiding looking at him, gripping the steering wheel again so hard that it hurts. I force my head to turn. I’m such a mixed up jumble when it comes to Liam. There’s so much I still don’t understand about him. And now he’s here, basically a fugitive from his people, because he was made to admit his feelings for me. I was messing up his life without even trying.
When my eyes find his face, his expression is soft and kind. I want him to stop delving into my mind. I don’t like not being able to hide from him. I’ve spent my life hiding and with him, I can’t even so much as hide the briefest passing thought.
He lifts his hand and moves his outstretched fingers towards me. They stop just short of my cheek. He lets his touch hover just above the skin before his hand falls back down to rest in his lap, cradled by his other hand that has not moved. “I know you’re worried for your friend. You’re a necromancer and the Blood Queen. You have the power to taste a person’s blood and keep track of them. You’ll know if they’re in danger.”
I drop my hands from the steering wheel and I clamp my mouth shut when I realize it’s fallen open with shock. “So, what... One of my new powers is human GPS?”
“Not a bad comparison.” Liam opens his door and a rush of cold wind slams into the heat pushing out of the interior vents. “It doesn’t take much, just a drop. Then you’ll know if your friend is ever in trouble.”
Before I can ask him more questions, Liam gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. He turns into the fading, wispy specter. So very pale that the snow instantly swallows him up.
The sight of him disappearing leaves me feeling strange. Empty.
How can I love Kyle and also have feelings for Liam? When I was with Adam, no one could have turned my heart.
When I open the lower door to the Victorian, I hear laughter coming from inside the parlor. I long to go upstairs, kick off my shoes, and sink onto the couch with a cup of coffee, but obviously there’s a party going on in a place that’s usually quiet and somber.
Leaving my purse on the first step of the stairs, I pull up my big girl panties, open the door into the first floor of the Victorian and I follow the voices. I find them in the furthest room off the foyer. It’s small and intimate with a burgundy velour couch and wingback chair. I call it the mourning room, where people can go when they want to grieve in private.
There’s no grieving going on tonight though. Mei and Dean are sitting on the sofa holding hands and Kyle’s large frame is tucked into the wingback chair. There’s a pizza box on the coffee table between them all. It’s empty. The smell of sausage and olives reaches my nose and my stomach rumbles. “I see that I don’t even warrant a single slice.”
“Tori, hey!” Mei hops up like a jackrabbit and skips around the table to hug me around the neck.
“Hey.” I wrap my arms around her and then let go. “Get away, you smell like pizza and I’m starving.”
Mei la
ughs. I love the sound. I love having a friend. I won’t let anything happen to her.
Liam’s words ring in my mind.
“Hey, do you want to spend the night? We haven’t had a girls’ get-together in forever. Not now that you’re dating Dean.” I look behind Mei to Dean still sitting on the couch. He smiles, going a little red in the cheeks. It’s a nice color against his moderately-tan skin. His deep brown eyes smile right along with his mouth.
“Sure. I’m not working a shift today. Oh,” she turns away from me, “Do you mind, babe? I know we were going to see that movie you’ve been talking about for weeks.”
Dean stands, laughing. “You mean the one that you’re only going to to make me happy, because you have absolutely no interest in shoot-’em-up action flicks?”
“Yes, that one.” Mei breaches the small distance between her and Dean and the two snuggle against one another. It’s enough to make someone turn away embarrassed. Of course, when I turn away, Kyle’s face greets me. If Liam had bedroom eyes earlier, Kyle’s eyes were a secret sex room tucked in the basement of a closet nympho. I feel fire in my cheeks. My blushing only makes Kyle’s smolder go volcanic.
“Nah, you stay and hang with Tori. I don’t mind going to see it alone.”
“I guess that means we don’t have plans for tonight then.” Kyle walks over, but he doesn’t embrace me. I think Dean and Mei’s show of affection was enough lovey-dovey-ness in the room without us adding to it.
“Did you want to have plans?”
“Always.”
“Why aren’t you still at the bar?”
“I left Mikey in charge. And Cherry seems to have gotten on board with what I need from her.”
I snort. “That girls not interested in what you need from her. She’s only interested in what you can give her.” I flick my gaze down South to where his jeans are a little too filled then I find his eyes again, quirking my eyebrow knowingly.
“And I’ve made it perfectly, perfectly clear that the only thing I’m offering her is a paycheck.”