Grave Measures (The Grave Report, Book 2)

Home > Other > Grave Measures (The Grave Report, Book 2) > Page 24
Grave Measures (The Grave Report, Book 2) Page 24

by R. R. Virdi


  She arched a delicate eyebrow and shot me an oblique look. “I’m afraid that I’m more interested in another piece of wood at the moment. Or have you forgotten? Also, I’ve noted in my time that males of any species seem to have an overinflated opinion on the size of their”—she paused for a moment—“offerings. It’s rather a shame that that same inflation never seems to make its way farther south.” She gave me a rueful smile as her gaze fell on the area just below my waistline.

  Did Lyshae just make a joke? Did she just call my borrowed junk small?

  “Low blow,” I muttered.

  Lyshae let loose a torrent of uncharacteristic giggles. She actually giggled! “I think our meeting is concluded. Before I depart to fetch your weapon and whatever information I can glean, some advice.”

  “Oh?” I perked up.

  “Remember, Vincent, in this place, no matter what is felt, what is seen, nothing here is as it may seem. Phages prey on the minds of people. Many here who seem whole are broken. Many who seem broken are whole. Remember that fears can bind you, or they can set you free. And most of all, Vincent Graves, do not let the phage pull you into its domain within the Neravene. Do not die before I get back. It is rather a long trip. I’d hate for it to be a waste, especially as we have such a wonderful bargain now.” There was a smile on her lips that revealed a flash of white teeth.

  With a careless flick of her hand, Lyshae opened a Way. A strand of silver streaked through the air, parting it. She bounded backward with a singular step.

  Before she disappeared into the Neravene, I shouted, “How do I find this thing?”

  “Drink deeply,” she called back. Then Lyshae was gone, vanishing into the ribbon of silver.

  The instant she left, an odd rippling feeling went through my skin. It felt like the layer of oil-based lubricant that had coated me was dripping off. The pop associated with air-based travel went off in my ears. I had forgotten about Lyshae’s masterful veil. With her gone, it was lifting. Maybe there hadn’t been anything physical covering me, but I squirmed as the veil dissipated.

  “Whoa,” someone breathed.

  Ortiz stood within the row of trees that formed the clear circle Lyshae and I had been standing in. Lizzie was a step behind her with half her body obscured behind Ortiz’s.

  I waved. “Hey.” My voice was a bit drier than expected. Dealing with Lyshae can leave a guy with a sore throat and a bitter taste.

  “How’d you do that?” Ortiz motioned her arms in a wide and encompassing arc.

  I raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “We followed you,” she explained. That didn’t come as a surprise. Even though I told her to give Lyshae and me some privacy. I guess she couldn’t keep her inner Fed at bay. “We lost sight of you, and then we came here and...nothing. Now you just appeared out of nowhere. Explain.”

  So I told her. I described Lyshae’s veil and how it hid us from sight and masked our voices. Ortiz’s face tightened and she grimaced.

  Her gaze narrowed. “What did you talk about?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes tightening as I thought. I could tell her the truth, which would piss her off. I could lie, which would piss her off. Or I could say nothing, which would piss her off. “She agreed to help,” I answered.

  Ortiz tilted her head, eyes still narrowed as she surveyed me. “Why would she agree to that? She didn’t seem very willing before.” Ortiz continued her hawk-like appraisal of me as she waited for my response.

  I didn’t give one.

  “You made some sort of arrangement with her...a deal, didn’t you?” Comprehension dawned on her face. “You said something about owing her. I saw her face when you said that. She took it seriously, like you owing her a debt is a big deal.”

  It was, and I didn’t owe Lyshae one. I owed her three. But Ortiz didn’t ask, so I didn’t mention it.

  “Why did you do it? You know you can’t trust her, Charles.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice tight.

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  “People are dying.” I struggled to work some moisture into my mouth. The lining of my throat went dry. I felt stretched, hammered and compacted all at once. All the running, clawing, and lack of sleep was taking its toll.

  “Yes, yes they are,” Ortiz breathed. “But no more will.” She spoke in steely tones. “We’re going to find and stake it.” Her eyes glowed with determined heat.

  “Yeah we are,” I agreed.

  “How?” Lizzie chimed.

  Ortiz gave me a questioning look. “Did your friend tell you how to find this thing?”

  I shot her a knowing look. “We already knew how to find it.”

  Both her eyebrows shot up. “Oh.…”

  “What?” Lizzie inquired.

  “This is a terrible idea,” Ortiz said below her breath.

  “I’m going to need a drink. A big one.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The black number on my forearm read fourteen. Another hour had passed.

  “Did I say what a monumentally stupid idea this is?”

  “Yes, Ortiz, you did,” I sputtered between mouthfuls of water.

  I clung tight to the sides of the fountain to ensure I didn’t quit. My stomach cried out against the rush of liquid filling it. I ignored it, drinking to the point where I realized if I didn’t solve this case in time, I’d lose a kidney. Rubbing the back of my wrist across my mouth, I wiped my face clean.

  “Wanted it to be noted.”

  “Noted,” I said dryly.

  “I can help. It should be me,” protested Lizzie.

  “No.” I groaned and placed a hand over my stomach to settle it. It felt like I’d replaced the organ with a water balloon, one filled far beyond its capacity. The lining stretched as excess water sloshed inside. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

  Lizzie refused to relent on the matter. “You said children can see the monster.”

  “I did,” I managed to say between something that worked to be a belch but didn’t quite make it up.

  As right as Lizzie was, I didn’t want her being the one to look for it. She’d been roped too far into the paranormal world for my liking. She may not have had a choice as far as seeing ghosts were concerned. That was out of my hands. What I could control was ensuring this kid had a shot at a normal life. Well, as normal as it could get for a girl with her talents. She didn’t need the nightmares, the cynicism and the danger that came with my line of work.

  I gave her a stern look. “You’re staying here.”

  She looked like she was about to pout for a moment. Instead, she turned to Ortiz and flashed her a look for help. Ortiz didn’t come to her aid. She wouldn’t have anyways. She felt the same as I did. Neither of us were going to put this girl through anything she didn’t have to endure.

  Ortiz left Lizzie to stew in disappointment and turned to face me. “Someone should go with you.”

  “You’re right,” I admitted. “They should.”

  Ortiz stared at me, waiting for me to add that it should be her.

  I didn’t say that however.

  “You should stay with Lizzie.”

  “If this thing gets the drop on you—”

  “I’ll be screwed, the same as if you were to come with me. We have no way of fighting the phage yet.” I raised my voice to speak over her. “If you come along, we’ll both get hurt. That’s pointless. I’m just going to find out where this thing’s holed up and anything else I can while I’m about it. As for killing it, that’s what…my associate is for.” I worked to keep myself from sharing Lyshae’s name. “Stay with Lizzie, huh?”

  Ortiz’s lips pressed together tightly. “Sure.”

  Lizzie bristled. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can,” I agreed in a soft voice. “But still, I’m going to worry. It’s a grownup thing. She’s not staying so much for you as she is to give me peace of mind. Get it?”

  The kid was smarter than I gave her credit for.
She didn’t buy what I said in the slightest. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue any further.

  “Be careful,” Ortiz said as I turned to go. Lizzie remained silent but gave me a look carrying the same message.

  I grinned and headed down the hall, waiting for the hallucinations to start. I walked for ten minutes. Nothing. No horrifying visions, no flashes of random imagery—nothing. I wondered if the information from my journal was wrong. As much as I hated the notion, it was a possibility.

  But Lyshae had told me the same thing. She wasn’t the sort to get things wrong. Information brokers who spread misinformation don’t have lengthy careers—or life spans for that matter. The possibility that she had intentionally given me bad information crossed my mind. I quickly banished the thought. Lyshae and I had bargained. There’d be no reason for her to screw me over now. I was in her debt; there were no benefits to me failing this case or, worse, dying. If she pulled one over on me, she would incur a penalty upon herself at the cost of her powers. Not to mention the fact that she wanted me in her debt. That only worked if I made it out of this case intact.

  I paused as I came across a familiar room. The door was left open. I walked through the doorway and came to rest on Charles’ bed. My gaze transfixed on the mass of lines covering the far wall. The simplistic image of the Babylonian phage burned itself into my mind the longer I stared. I had to blink several times to verify that I was seeing what I thought I was. Charles’ wall had been drawn all over; the majority of the images were tendrils that spread over the white surface. Only now they weren’t behaving like scribbles of crayon.

  For one thing, crayon markings are inanimate, or they’re supposed to be. The ones before me swayed ever so gently. The writhing black lines seemed ominous. My right eye twitched and shut tight of its own accord. I knew why a second later.

  An area no larger than a dime, directly behind my right eye, erupted in agony. It was like an ice pick had been jammed into the tissue deep inside my forehead. The sharp throbbing caused my hands to fly up and press against the area in hopes of dulling the pain. The heel of my palm came away wet. My eye shuddered as I reeled from the horrible ache.

  My good eye watched the lengthy slender appendages waving over the wall. Trickles of what looked like molten wax dribbled downwards as the tentacles grew tired of being two-dimensional. They peeled themselves from the walls and worked their way across the room.

  “Shit!” I kicked myself back across the bed. Sheets fell and my head banged into the drywall behind. Both eyes shut as I worked through the jarring impact to my skull. My left eye opened in time to see the tendrils making it halfway across the room, hanging above empty space. I shook my head to the point where my neck ached. “I’m hallucinating. This isn’t real.”

  I ground the heels of both palms into my eyes as hard as possible, anything to numb the excruciating sensation. The muscles in my jaw strained as I clamped my teeth. I fought through the pain the best I could and reminded myself of what I had done. I recalled drinking ridiculous amounts of tainted water. I knew it would lead to something like this. My breathing slowed, becoming steadier as I repeated the mantra that this was an illusion. The stabbing needlelike pain abated.

  Once I was certain my eye hadn’t been impaled, I rubbed the back of my thumb underneath the lid, wiping away the tears. At first, I blinked to aid my eyes in readjusting to my surroundings. Then I blinked because of the stranger hovering an inch outside Charles’ bedroom.

  My palms found their way back to my eyes, exerting enough pressure to clear them up. When the man didn’t fade, I knew I was still under the effects of the toxic water. Real people don’t walk around an asylum clutching a rust-tinged cleaver. I shifted uncomfortably as I realized that it wasn’t rust on the blade. It was dried blood. The only thing that held me back from charging was his demeanor.

  The cleaver hung in a loose, relaxed grip. There was nothing threatening about his posture. Well, maybe his size. His girth took up the majority of the doorway, with shoulders broad enough that he’d have to pull them together if he planned on entering. He had the short beefy arms of competitive power lifters, and the belly to match. The man possessed the face of a flabby toad that had somehow learned to grimace. His skin was unnaturally pallid and greasy-looking. Meaty fingers scratched at several days’ worth of stubble. Other than that, he loomed there, staring harmlessly.

  A person I couldn’t make out passed by in the hall without pausing to regard the cleaver-wielding man.

  Yup, illusion.

  The apparition thrust his index finger at me, beckoning me closer.

  “Uh, no offense there, big guy, but most people aren’t keen on getting near somebody with a bloody cleaver in their hands. I mean, I’m sure you’re a nice fictional guy, but I’m going to stay right here.” I jabbed a finger to the bed.

  He raised his cleaver and I sprang from the bed. I paused when he brought it toward his chest. His lips came together as he frowned thoughtfully, eyes glancing down at his midsection. With his free hand, he pulled at the thick and grimy apron he wore. The next second he pinched the culinary garment over the sharp edge of the cleaver, running the blade through it several times until it came back clean. The weapon fell back to his side and once again he motioned for me to come closer.

  “Smartass,” I mumbled.

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and shuffled away.

  “Hey! If you think I’m going to follow you back to your van…” I trailed off as I lost sight of him. “Damnit,” I muttered, sprinting toward the doorway. I caught sight of him lumbering away down the hall. “Hey, wait, jerk off!” I tore after him, sidestepping awkwardly to avoid somebody as I did.

  The “Butcher,” as I dubbed him, did not give any indication he heard my calls. He plodded toward his unknown destination. I lagged far behind. Someone stepped in front of me. We collided and I threw a quick apology their way.

  “Charles?”

  It was Gus. “Can’t talk now. Chasing an illusion. My only clue.”

  His face sank deeper into confusion. I set off after the man with the cleaver before Gus could utter a word. The apparition turned a corner and I picked up my pace, hoping to keep him in sight. I was dimly aware of the odd glances I was getting as I barreled through the hall. I was getting close to shoving people out of my way. As I rounded the corner, I saw the butcher nearing the end of the hall. His body flickered from opaque to a vaporous translucent blue. That gave me pause. I wondered if he was an asylum ghost here to help. Or, was he truly an illusion? I hoped he didn’t have a more nefarious purpose, like leading me to the phage.

  Technically, that was what I wanted, but not this way. I would’ve preferred the element of surprise and a chance to plan. I spat a curse as I realized that regardless of his intentions, I didn’t have a choice. Without him, I’d be back to nothing.

  The notion spurred me to spring after him. I huffed random obscenities as I ran. Strangely enough, he paused at the end of the hall this time and turned to face me. He stood eerily motionless as he waited for me to catch up.

  I stopped a few feet from him and panted. “You’re in pretty good shape for a husky guy.”

  He stared.

  I sighed in exasperation. “You take lessons on communication from Church?”

  He disregarded me and swiveled his head to a hall on the right. He even went so far as raising a meaty hand to point to the way ahead. I followed his finger down the hall and had to squint. The end seemed miles off, obscured in the haziness that accompanies a mirage. What I could make out was a pool of tar like material spread across the floor. Noxious-looking vapor rose from it.

  I gave him a quizzical look. “What gives?”

  With a single finger, he pointed down, bobbing his arm to make sure I got the gist.

  “Hate to break it to ya, pal, but there’s marble tiling under that gook.” I stomped the floor to make my point. “I can’t go down.” As soon as I said it, the entire floor began exuding a black vapor. I s
hielded my mouth on instinct. The stuff ensconced me and I had to remember that I was hallucinating. I let my arm fall from its mask like position and inhaled. The black vapor refused to deviate from its course. It sailed up and past my nostrils, failing to enter. The dark steamy substance didn’t look to be a threat. “So what is this stuff?”

  The silent butcher breathed in, exaggerating the effort by wafting his free hand beneath his nose. His belly expanded to monstrous proportions as he continued to take in air. Just when I thought his illusory ass was about to go St. Helens, he exhaled. His frame started shrinking back to normal. After the display, he pointed a finger to his temple, sending it into a circular motion.

  “Ah. This stuff’s what’s driving people crazy…er. Wait, I thought it was the water?”

  He gave me a patient stare.

  Two fingers bounced off my skull as I tapped my forehead in realization. “Right. This is—what? A representation of the taint in the water.” I looked around at the rising charcoal mist. “It’s in the water and coming from below this place. What’s down there?”

  The butcher blinked, running his fingernails across his stubble in a soundless scratch.

  “Fine.” I sighed and pulled the muscles in my shoulders together as I stood up straighter. “Let’s go into the spooky dark below,” I said to the apparition. Since he wasn’t really there, I was actually talking to myself. I waved at the smoke-like vision, trying to clear the air as I walked down the hall. A slicing heat swept across the back of my hand. I pulled back. “What the hell?”

  The butcher stood at my side; his cleaver sported a thin stream of crimson.

  “The hell?” When he didn’t answer, I sent a fist hurtling toward his amphibious face. I winced as I became aware of the fact I was punching an apparition. My eyes shut tight in anticipation of colliding with the wall behind. Something connected with my knuckles. A brick coated in layers of putty. When I opened my eyes, my fist was lodged in the soft tissue of the butcher’s cheeks.

  “Holy shit! I hit you!” That shouldn’t have happened. I recoiled from the large man wielding one helluva of a culinary implement. “Uh.” I held up a pair of hands in an effort to calm him. “No hard feelings, right? I mean, you’re a big guy. You look like you can take a punch.”

 

‹ Prev