Worth His Salt (Tattooed Corpse Stories #2)

by Ofelia Grand

  “What’s going on?”

  “No time, we have no time! You might be in danger.” He mumbled a short prayer of guidance and protection for his own sake; then he took off the protective amulet Mother had placed on him the day he and Lachtin had been born and hung it around Mo’s neck. “When did you first see it?”

  “When I got home after having dropped you off.”

  Shit.

  Through the Red Light

  As they exited the cottage, Mo handed the car keys to Eldred. He was in no condition to drive.

  They’d only walked a couple of steps when he heard a loud bang from inside. “What was that?” He turned to go and check.

  “Leave it.” Eldred tugged at his sleeve and gave him a pleading look. “We can’t go back in there now.”

  “Why not?” Unease coiled in his gut. “What’s going on?”

  “You might be in danger, we have no time to stand around and talk.” Eldred tugged at his arm again.

  “Yes, you said that, but how? Is it something you did?” It all started after he’d met Eldred.

  “Something I did? No. It’s a spirit, a ghost.”

  A ghost looking exactly like me? Mo wasn’t sure he believed it, but he was seeing something and if Eldred was too then they at least could join together in their craziness.

  “I need a few things…and Lachtin. We can’t risk coming face to face with it at this point. I might have to talk to Mother too.”

  Mo drew in a breath and followed Eldred to the car. At this point, he was happy just to be out of the cabin. The lighthouse was looming over them; the grey sky appeared darker around it. He shuddered and looked away.

  Climbing inside the car, Eldred reached over and placed his hand on Mo’s thigh. “Relax, I’ll fix this…somehow.” The heat of the touch filled Mo with a sense of belonging, which was strange because right now he wasn’t sure he belonged in this world.

  “You don’t have to worry; you will live long past this day.”

  His words chilled Mo. Of course he would live. Why wouldn’t he live?

  “And then you can thank me by taking me out on a date.” Eldred winked, but his expression was troubled.

  “What’s going on?” He wished he hadn’t poured all that whiskey down his gullet—there was something he wasn’t getting.

  “I’m not sure, but I think we’re dealing with a Fetch gone mad.” He turned the key, got the car to start moving only to splutter and die. “Sorry, I don’t drive very often.”

  He tried again, and this time they got a little farther before the car died. It continued like that, by every crossroad and traffic light the car would die, Eldred would grin, and start over.

  “You do have a driver’s license, right?” Mo had stopped trying to duck to avoid everyone looking at them by the time they were in the middle of the city.

  “I…erm…”

  “Please tell me you have a license.”

  “Not really, no. I took some driving lessons but the bus works fine for me, you know.”

  Mo rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Stop the car.”

  “I will, soon. We needed to get out of there.” A traffic light came up, and Mo prepared for the usual splutter and stop. The light turned red, but Eldred didn’t slow down. Frowning, he stared ahead with unseeing eyes. “Mother is calling.”

  The drivers around them blared their horns as Eldred drove through the red light.

  “For the love of—stop the car.” Mo clung to the door handle.

  “Oh, sorry, I got distracted. I need to find a phone; Mother is calling me.”

  Eldred parked along the side of the street, smiled at Mo, and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Hey, it all went well. Come on now.”

  Mo shook his head but followed Eldred out of the car and across the street. They stopped by a seedy tattoo parlour with a flickering neon sign stating it was opened 24-Hours.

  “This will only take a second…or five.” Eldred shrugged and opened the door. Inside another Eldred popped up behind a scarred black front desk. They looked the same apart from the new one having his hair dyed black, being wholly dressed in black, and having his arms completely covered in black tattoos.

  “Found me a customer?”

  “No, hands off, you slut, he’s mine.” Eldred strode in behind the desk, grabbed a phone, and slipped into a room in the back. Mo watched him go in confusion.

  “So…” The man stretched, yawned, and showed off a barbell in his tongue, only to then smile exactly as Eldred did.

  “So?”

  “You like tattoos?”

  All Mo could see was the snake tattoo on the forearm of the dark-hair guy he’d watched himself kill dozens of times already today. “No, can’t say I do.”

  The young man pouted. “I’m sure I can change your mind.”

  Mo narrowed his eyes. “You’re brothers, right?”

  “You into that sort of thing? Cause I’m in…don’t think you’d get Eldred to do it, though. Sorry, bud.”

  “No, I’m not into that sort of thing.”

  “Leave him be, Lachtin.” Eldred stomped into the room and slammed the phone on the desk.

  Lachtin grinned. “What did mummy dearest have to say?”

  Eldred shook his head. “I don’t have the energy for this shit.” Then he grinned. “You’re to go there next Sunday.”

  “The fuck?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I have a thing.”

  “A thing?”

  Mo watched them bickering, his eyes jumping from one to the other until he got dizzy. They looked the same apart from Lachtin having different colours.

  “Yeah, Mo here is taking me on a date, sorry.”

  “What?” Mo stared at Eldred, not understanding what was going on.

  Silence spread in the parlour and the chill Mo had managed to outrun slowly crept up his legs and into his core.

  “Oh, shit…it’s here.”

  “What? Not inside.” Lachtin stared at Mo then Eldred. “I don’t want this fucking shit near my shop, Eldred. Keep your fucking spirits away from here.”

  “I need your help, Latch. Please.”

  Lachtin crossed his arms over his chest and the chill intensified. “What is it?”

  Eldred glanced at Mo. “A Fetch…I think. It’s—something has gone wrong.”

  Lachtin sighed and came out from behind the desk. Stopping next to Mo, he put a hand on his arm. The intense warmth that came with Eldred’s touch wasn’t there, but a calmness spread through his body. “I’m sorry, Mo, but the date?”

  Mo nodded, not that he knew anything about the date he’d apparently be taking Eldred on.

  “You’ll have to visit our mother on it.”

  “Why?” Mo didn’t know if he was ready to meet the woman who’d given birth to these two.

  “Because the only way I’ll help Eldred to banish this poltergeist thing is if the two of you go to have dinner with her in my place. And if he’s right, it’s either that or you’ll die.”

  Mo’s gut knotted—he’d rather endure an awkward dinner than dying…right?

  Closing the Circle

  “Don’t scare him!” Eldred wanted to strangle Lachtin almost as much as he wanted to reach out and touch him. As fucked up as it was, he was envying Mo for the hand resting on his arm. He needed it; he needed Lachtin.

  The energy inside of him was flying in every direction, and while he could sense the possible Fetch, he couldn’t point out the exact place. His heart was banging in his ribcage; cold tremors overtook his body.

  “He needs to know what’s going on.” Lachtin was far more annoyed than he let on, it was a silent blazing strong enough to leave Eldred breathless.

  “What is going on?” Mo shifted his weight, and for the first time today he reminded Eldred of the man he’d been when they’d first met—big and reliable.

  “I told you I’m a witch, didn’t I?” Eldred had mentioned it but probably not in a way to make Mo realise he actually was one.

  Mo narrow
ed his eyes and hopelessness washed over Eldred—there was no time to convince a sceptic, and he needed Mo if this was going to work. He needed both of them. He might be the one doing the banishing, but he couldn’t do it without grounding and joined faith.

  “You might have…”

  Lachtin sighed dramatically. “I’m sorry, Mo darling, but you’ve stepped into some craziness. You see, we’re from a magical family.” He rolled his eyes and Eldred wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but perhaps it was best Mo heard it from him. “You could probably tell the moment he introduced himself.”

  “Erm…no?” Mo shot him a look with raised eyebrows.

  “No? You think normal people name their kids Eldred?”

  “I…erm…I don’t know. He was mocking my name so…”

  “It’s a defence mechanism of his.”

  “Oh, come on, Latch!” Eldred took a step closer, needing to be in his energy field as the air around them continued to grow chillier.

  “Names have powers. Henstare is a powerful family. Eldred means wise red-haired man—I guess Mother had some hopes of it helping with his intelligence.”

  “Yeah, well, Lachtin means milk coloured—I wonder what her hopes were there.” Eldred took another step closer to Lachtin and looked around the dimly lit shop—he couldn’t see anything.

  “Could you…” Mo looked between them. “Could you cut the brotherly banter and get to the point?”

  “Rightio.” Lachtin reached out and touched Eldred, the energy washing over him like a warm summer wind. He could feel the sun shining on his face, could hear the leaves rustling, and the ground firmly under his feet.

  Lachtin peered at Mo while continuing to flood Eldred with grounding energy. “Do you sense anything strange?”

  “Sense how?” Mo’s voice had grown a little tight.

  “Hot or cold, hairs standing on end, perhaps you can see something?”

  Mo turned pale and stared out the window. “What if I do?”

  Without thinking Eldred reached out and touched the arm Lachtin wasn’t touching, closing them in a circle. Energy shot up from the middle and for a second Eldred’s knees threatened to fold underneath him.

  “W-What does it look like?” Eldred could smell rotting flesh and forced himself not to gag. Spirits shouldn’t smell.

  “It…it’s me. Only, I don’t think it’s me. I mean, it kills a man, over and over, and I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Is it a Fetch then?” Lachtin blew a tress of black hair out of his eye without letting go of either Mo or Eldred.

  Was it? Eldred had no idea. Mother had said he needed to find the place the spectre was linked to and banish it there. A Fetch was tied to a person. If anyone glimpsed a Fetch, the person it was a doppelgänger of would die soon or had already done so, but never had he heard of a Fetch killing anyone. And he suspected it was the Fetch killing the man the police had asked him about, but it couldn’t be. A Fetch didn’t take a physical form. “Whatever it is, we need it gone.”

  ***

  Mo watched as Eldred and Lachtin went around the tattoo parlour collecting candles and some other stuff that didn’t make sense to him. It was as if he was watching something intimate between the two—they didn’t talk, didn’t look at each other, and yet it was as if they were communicating. He didn’t know if it was envy bubbling in his chest, maybe more a sense of loss—he’d never had anyone to be close to, had never been connected to anyone on a deeper level.

  He glanced at the display pictures of tattoos, but they only reminded him of the snakes on the victim’s forearm.

  “What’s a Fetch?” His voice bounced off the dark walls.

  Eldred smiled at him, and his heart might have skipped a beat despite Eldred being way too young and…magical. “It’s a doppelgänger.”

  “One that will be following me around forever?” Mo couldn’t live like that; he couldn’t watch himself kill people every day.

  “No, it appears when someone is about to die. Usually, it shows itself to relatives right around the time of death. It’s right when the soul goes…it lingers for a bit to say goodbye…sort of.”

  “So…” Mo swallowed. “I’m about to die?” It didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  “Erm…not for sure. First I believed it was a Fetch, but it doesn’t make sense. A Fetch doesn’t show itself to the one who is dying; it doesn’t do anything, simply shows itself so a relative or close one gets a glimpse of it. There is so much about the dead guy outside your cottage that doesn’t make sense. I mean, he was stabbed, wasn’t he?”

  Mo nodded, though he wanted to say he was drowned.

  “I think the spirit, poltergeist, Fetch or whatever we’re dealing with did it.”

  Lachtin came to stand next to them. “Only a spirit shouldn’t be able to kill anyone. I hate this shit. How many times have I told you I don’t want to be a part of this, Eldred?”

  Mo looked between the brothers and was sure it was a discussion they’d had several times.

  “I need you. Mother has left this city to us—”

  “To you.” Lachtin’s tone hardened.

  “All right, to me, but I can’t help anyone without you. It’s our purpose, our mission.”

  Mo still didn’t understand half of what was going on. “What’s your mission?”

  “Keep track of the city, help spirits cross over, that sort of thing. But I need Lachtin to do it.”

  “I don’t think you do.” Eldred opened his mouth to protest, but Lachtin carried on. “Mo could ground you. He’s solid.”

  He could? Mo didn’t think so. “What would I need to do?”

  “Pull Eldred back down once he’s let himself go.”

  What?

  “I don’t know, Latch. I’m sorry for dragging you into this every time, but I don’t think I can do it without you.”

  “You can. I’ll go this time, but next time you and Mo do it.” The pleading look Lachtin gave them had Mo actually considering it. How bad could it be?

  Murderous Ghosts

  The door to the tattoo shop opened and in walked the two officers who had arrived at Eldred’s flat. “No, come on. I was allowed to go.” They didn’t have time for any of this shit.

  “Take it easy, Mr Henstare, we’re not here for you…erm…I think.” The meanest rubbed his forehead. “We’re here to ask the other Mr Henstare if he recognises this tattoo.”

  He held up the same picture the investigator had shown Eldred at the police station, but he looked at it as if he was seeing it for the first time.

  Lachtin shook his head. “Can’t say I do, it’s not my work.”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” The police needed to leave; they needed to leave. The waves of chills grew in intensity, and they needed to find the right place to cast a circle before Eldred went mad.

  The not so mean officer shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” Then he turned to Eldred. “The stabbing will most likely be ruled suicide; we’re only doing one last look around while we wait for the final call to close the case.”

  “Suicide?” Eldred shuddered. The spectre must’ve driven the man to it. Could a spectre do that? What if it was killing someone else right this moment? Every second mattered.

  “Yeah, I’ve never heard of someone stabbing themselves seven times in the chest, but it’s what the autopsy report suggests.” The officer rubbed his forehead and blew out a breath.

  “What about the witness placing me there?”

  “What witness?”

  Eldred squinted at them. “The investigator said there was a witness. You came to get me in my flat.” Had he made that up? He’d wasted hours at the police station while the spirit had been at Mo’s.

  “Yeah…” The meanest of the two gave the other a confused look. “I—I…”

  “We were following orders…I think.” The not so mean one was frowning.

  �
�Okay then, gentlemen. Please come back if I can help you with anything.” Lachtin ushered them towards the door, and as soon as it closed behind them, he turned to Eldred. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I don’t know. Is this place warded?”

  “Of course,” Lachtin huffed. “I don’t want that shit in here.”

  “So their confusion could be because in here no one could get into their heads?” They needed to get rid of this ghost. If it was controlling the police, there was no end to how bad this could turn out.

  “Yeah…maybe.” Lachtin bit his lip. “We need to be quick. If the spirit is working that hard to keep you out of its way, it means it is planning something.”

  Mo frowned. “Why doesn’t it want Eldred around?”

  Lachtin rubbed his arms. “He’s the only one who can banish it…unless we bring in Mother, of course.”

  “We’re not calling Mother.” Eldred threw one last thing into the bag.

  “Let’s do it then. Whatever it is we’re doing.” Mo went towards the door, his body language determined but his eyes worried.

  Eldred grinned. “Just do what Lachtin tells you to, and we’ll be fine…hopefully.”

  Mo raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

  “Before we rush out of here, though, we need a plan.” Eldred clutched the bag with the candles, the sage, and the salt to his chest. He hoped this night wouldn’t scare Mo away, because perhaps Lachtin was right—perhaps he could form that kind of connection with Mo…if Mo would be sticking around after this night.

  ***

  The dark was thick around them, and Mo’s heart was thudding in his throat. The sound of the waves crashing against the stony shore heightened his awareness. Never before had he been afraid to approach his own home, but as he looked at the lone cottage next to the old lighthouse, he didn’t want to go there.

  “Is the lighthouse unlocked?” Eldred came to stand next to him, and Mo relaxed a fraction.