Death And Darkness

by E. A. Copen

I rang Emma’s doorbell, even though she’d told me last time I didn’t have to do that. I might’ve had a standing invitation to come on in, but it was still her house, and it felt weird. Remy fussed in the car seat, kicking and doing that hacking cry she only made when she was genuinely pissed. The daycare workers said she’d been that way all day. She even refused to take a nap. Maybe Emma could get her to sleep. Remy liked Emma.

  The door opened, and my heart jumped into my throat at the sight of her. Not that she was wearing anything special, just the normal post-work t-shirt and workout sweats. She’d let her hair down, but it was still full of curls from earlier in the day. It didn’t matter. There was something magical about seeing her for the first time each day that I’d never get tired of.

  She gripped the doorframe and leaned on it. “I told you that you didn’t have to ring the bell.”

  “I know.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and held out the chocolate bars. “I brought these, though. Does it win me any brownie points?”

  “Didn’t realize we’d switched to a points system.” She took the chocolate bars and stepped aside so I could come in.

  I used to think Emma’s place was immaculate, clean enough you could eat off any surface. Now that I’d been spending more time with her, I’d figured out her secret. She had no kids, no pets, and no messy hobbies other than her gardening. Her place never got messy because she had only herself to look after.

  Her living room was a big space with quaint décor. Sofa and matching love seat with afghans on the back of each, area rug, glass coffee table with the remotes neatly arranged in a row. She already had the TV on.

  I kicked off my shoes and went through the living room to the guest bedroom. I’d crashed in there a few times, though I usually used the sofa if I stayed over. That only happened if Remy was sick and I needed the extra hand, or if something was going on. Something supernatural.

  “Hopefully, daddy doesn’t have to deal with any of that tonight,” I said and unbuckled Remy for a quick change. “And you’d better go to sleep, or I swear I’m going to put the pink dress on you tomorrow. I mean it this time. Don’t make me do it. I know how much you hate that dress.”

  “There’s a new Thai place I thought we’d try,” Emma called from the kitchen.

  I made a face and whispered, “Please, God, no.” I’d have killed for something with zero nutritional value, but I knew better than to argue with Emma when she wanted something. “Sounds good!”

  After I got Remy changed, I brought her out into the living room with me to find Emma already on the phone. I just had her double whatever she was already ordering and sat down to feed Remy, but Remy didn’t want to eat either. All she wanted to do was fuss. I checked her head. She didn’t seem warm.

  “Is she sick again?” Emma asked once she hung up.

  “No, just not sleeping well.” I sighed and handed Remy off when Emma stretched her arms out. “She’s killing her old man. Haven’t been able to get more than four hours of sleep for the past week.”

  “If you’re tired, imagine how she feels.” Emma walked back and forth with Remy on her shoulder, patting her back. After a few minutes, she hummed Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Remy finally quit crying.

  I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head. If there were perfect moments in life, that had to be one of them.

  That meant I had to ruin it, of course. My brain drifted back to the prison, and I saw my dead father’s face. There must’ve been a time when he felt this way about me. Maybe when I was too small to be as much trouble as I turned out to be. He couldn’t have hated me from the moment I was born, right?

  What if what happened on the road earlier wasn’t some random ghost, but the ghost of my father back to fuck up my life one last time? That sounded like him. He was a vengeful bastard, wasn’t he? The one beating I’d taken in prison had been because I was Bill Kerrigan’s boy. My old man had shanked someone at Angola who had a relative in with me. Because of Bill’s connections with the Aryans, he was untouchable, but I wasn’t.

  “Laz?” Emma’s voice snapped me out of it. “Something wrong?”

  If I told her, it would ruin the night. No, I wasn’t letting Bill ruin this for me too. He’d already done enough.

  I smiled. “Nah, just thinking. How do you feel about a romantic comedy?”

  She got Remy into a nice, deep sleep about the time the Thai delivery guy rang the bell, which meant Remy woke right back up. Luckily, she was so tired she went right back down with another rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and didn’t even wake when Emma put her in the crib. The one good thing that came out of it was I got to cover dinner, even though she’d been planning to. I also had enough time to get out a couple of candles and light them for ambiance.

  By the time Emma came back from the guest bedroom, I had the takeout dumped onto plates waiting on the coffee table, the movie queued up, and the candles lit. She stopped and crossed her arms, taking in the scene. “I thought we agreed on a low-key night?”

  “This is low-key.” I popped the cork on the wine I’d found in the cabinet and poured some for both of us.

  She raised her eyebrows at the screen. “Army of Darkness? Since when is that a romantic comedy?”

  “Since February of 1993, when it was released.” I offered her one of the glasses. “What? It’s funny and has a romantic subplot.”

  She took the glass and sat on the sofa. “Next you’ll be telling me Star Wars is a period drama.”

  I shrugged. “Well, it did happen a long, long time ago.”

  We settled in with our drinks and food while the movie played in the background. As it played, I kept waiting for Remy to wake up and ruin things, but she stayed quiet as we got cozy. I tried to be smooth and slip my arm behind Emma, even though I was pretty sure she was onto me.

  Emma rolled her shoulders. I thought it might be a sign I should back off, but she reached up to grab my hand and planted it on her shoulder. “Do you mind?” she asked. “It’s a little stiff. Stressful day.”

  Oh, absolutely. Any excuse to cuddle closer. “Yeah, I heard you on the radio. Back just a few days and the chief’s got you doing press conferences already. Someone’s on the fast track.”

  She sighed. “Fast track to nowhere, maybe. There’re weeks of backlog in the department. No one even wants to look at these murder-suicides other than to tick a box and hand it over to the cleanup crews. I still can’t help but think they might be connected.”

  I shrugged. Her shoulders were getting tenser under my hands. Steer the conversation away from work, or this would be another early night. But don’t be too dismissive. “Maybe. Holidays are hard for some people, though. Speaking of, you have plans? I was thinking maybe we could do something together, seeing as how Remy and I are on our own this year.” Crap, I hadn’t meant to bring up something depressing. Quick, put a positive spin on it. “Remy’s first Thanksgiving, too.” There. I’d saved things, hadn’t I?

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head.

  Her hair brushed against my fingers and fell over her shoulders. There was no way to keep trying to rub the tension out of her shoulders with it in the way. Perfect excuse. I pushed the hair aside and kissed her shoulder. She leaned back against me, which I took to be a sign I was on the right track and moved up to kiss her neck. Emma turned her head toward me. Our lips brushed a moment before hers turned up in a smile.

  “Well?” she said. “You going to kiss me or what?”

  My lips buzzed just a little from the residual spices left from the Thai food left on hers. The kiss started soft, gentle, unsure and a little awkward, as all great kisses were. My heartbeat sounded in my ears, blocking out the sounds of Ash Williams fighting his evil self on the screen.

  Emma broke the kiss just as it was getting good and stood to grab the remote. She paused the movie just before one of my favorite lines in the film and dropped the remote back to the table. “That’s better.”

  “But—”

>   I couldn’t speak suddenly because she was climbing into my lap. Her hands wrapped around the back of my head and she pulled me back into another kiss, this one more urgent. Desire flooded my body in waves hot and hungry. I wanted—no, needed—this even more after the events earlier in the day. Needed to feel bare, warm flesh under my hands, feel the beating of another heart pounding against mine. And not just any heart; the heart of someone who genuinely cared that I was alive too. Someone who gave a damn. I wanted to feel wanted and needed her to feel the same.

  Emma was softer than I expected her to be, a fact that only made me need her more. My hands slid down her lower back. I couldn’t remember moving them there, nor could I recall how her hands had gotten under my shirt already. At the moment, I’d been too focused on the pace of her breathing, how she’d started making little breathless sounds in the back of her throat, the pressure and texture of her tongue against mine. Dammit, if she didn’t stop moving on top of me, making that the sound, I was going to lose control.

  Then, disaster struck. Remy let out another one of her angry, hacking cries from the back bedroom.

  Emma pulled away, sighed, and rested her forehead on my shoulder.

  “Let her cry it out,” I said and tried to kiss her again.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not even Remy. I just… I can’t get it out of my head. The scene, you know? There were kids.”

  I sighed and wrapped my arms around Emma, pulling her close. “It’s okay. If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

  Inside, I was gritting my teeth. Dammit, kid. I was this close! You are so wearing the pink dress tomorrow.

  “I’m really sorry, Laz. I don’t want you to think I don’t want to.” She rolled to the side and plopped onto the cushion next to me.

  “Em, it’s okay.” I lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “I better go check on Remy.”

  “No, stay.” She stood and adjusted her clothing, tugging down on her shirt. “I don’t mind. In a way, it helps.”

  I understood. Boy, did I ever. Sometimes when the world gets dark, you have to find your light in the little things.

  While Emma was gone, I groaned and stretched out on the sofa. Part of me wanted to try again when she came back. It was early enough that I didn’t have to leave, and we still had part of the movie left. Anything could still happen. Realistically, I knew I’d never had a chance in the first place, not with Remy refusing to sleep and Emma having caught a nasty case. The timing just wasn’t right. Didn’t stop my caveman brain from insisting on focusing on every detail of that kiss, right up until the moment it ended.

  “I think she’s having nightmares,” Emma said when she came back. “Guess that makes two of us.”

  I sat up to make room on the sofa for her. “Yours related to these murder-suicide cases?”

  She sat down next to me and leaned her head against my shoulder. “About Hell.”

  My heart sank into my gut. I’d hoped she wouldn’t remember the worst of it once she was back to normal. I’d even convinced her to let me try a mild form of hypnosis. When that didn’t work, we tried to enlist Paula’s help. Paula was fae and had the power to alter memories. Yet even she couldn’t erase what’d happened to Emma in Hell. I would’ve given my right arm to take away even part of the suffering she’d gone through.

  “I’m sorry.” An apology and a tight embrace were all I could offer. “Anything I can do?”

  She took in a breath. “Actually, I was hoping you could try putting up a circle?”

  I frowned. “Em, I told you that only works if I’m in proximity. It’ll just break down once I leave.”

  “Then don’t leave.” Emma shifted to look up at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

  She knew the circle wouldn’t work if I left it, not just if I left the house. The minute I crossed over it, the spell would break. Even if I somehow got the dream circle right—I had been practicing, but hadn’t managed it yet—then it’d be useless without a lot of heavy-duty prep. The only way to make it work otherwise would be to stay inside the circle with her.

  My throat was suddenly dry. “Um. Yeah. I guess. If that’s what you want me to do.”

  Emma rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want any of this. I just want my old life back, but that’s not going to happen. Best I can hope for is more than four hours of sleep. I thought maybe if there was a circle and I wasn’t alone, even if I had another nightmare, at least I’d be able to fall asleep.”

  I grabbed the controller and shut off the movie, even though we hadn’t gotten to the best parts. There’d be other nights. “Let’s put you to bed, young lady. You’ve got work in the morning.”

  Emma showed me her bedroom. It was the first time I’d ever been in there, and it was awkward as hell. I’d always imagined the first time I walked into Emma’s bedroom… Well, I wasn’t holding a salt shaker in that fantasy. Thanks to the carpet, chalk wouldn’t do, so I laid out the circle in salt. Even if I didn’t get it right, at least that would provide some protection from anything supernatural. I didn’t think the nightmares were anything paranormal, but you could never be too safe.

  While I did that, Emma slipped into the master bath attached to the bedroom and did whatever women did right before bed. She came back dressed in purple pajama pants and a tank top. I was momentarily distracted by how form-fitting the tank top was, and all the nice curves it highlighted… The salt shaker slipped out of my hand and dropped right on my bare foot. I cringed and bit my tongue to keep from shouting an exclamation that would’ve woken Remy.

  Emma smiled and shook her head. “You done?”

  I looked at the circle around the bed. It wasn’t perfect and probably wouldn’t work. I’d have to call Josiah again and see if he could help, but he hadn’t been answering the last few times I’d tried. Figures. “It’s as good as it’s going to get. No promises, though.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she said, pulling the covers back. “I’ll feel better just having you here. At least I won’t have to wake up and be alone again.” Emma sat on the edge of the bed. “You are okay with this, right?”

  I didn’t want to just lie in bed next to her. That’d probably make things worse for me. But I’d be an asshole to let a scared woman wake up alone when she asked for me to be there to comfort her.

  I picked up the salt shaker and put it on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. “Are you? It’s your bed. Not that I’m going to complain when a beautiful woman invites me to sleep with her.”

  She frowned. “We’re not doing anything, Laz. I’m dead on my feet as it is.”

  Ouch. Well, I’d figured, but to get shut down so firmly kinda sucked. Still, I shrugged like it was no big deal. “Of course.”

  “I’m pretty sure you want me awake for that, and that’s not going to happen tonight.” Emma yawned and patted the bed before shutting off the light.

  There was nothing left for me to do but climb in the bed with her.

  Emma’s bed had nice sheets, smooth and cool to the touch. She slept under a hand-stitched quilt that must’ve been a gift. Most quilts were in my experience. The pillow was too soft, though, and I sank into it with a sigh, folding my hands over my chest. Even though we weren’t touching, I was acutely aware of how little distance there was between us. Inches, and I hated every one.

  She shifted, putting her back to me and pulling another pillow down to squeeze against her chest. I stared over at her, wishing I could hold her. Lying so close together yet so far apart…and all I could think of was the void I’d felt while staring at my father’s body.

  Before Remy, I’d have crawled into a bottle and lived there for a few days whenever I felt like that. I just felt so incredibly alone, despite my proximity to Emma. Maybe I didn’t need to hold her so much as I needed her to hold me, but I didn’t know how to ask.

  Screw it, I thought finally and rolled toward her. I put an arm around her waist and pulled Emma against me. She made a small sound of surprise but didn’t pull away.
The void in my chest didn’t close, but it shrank just a little bit. I inhaled her scent, and a little giddy feeling settled in my stomach. I smiled and closed my eyes.

  Something tickled the back of my neck, and my eyes snapped open. How long had I been asleep? Emma was still there, her breathing slow and even. Remy was quiet. Why had I woken up?

  A rhythmic creaking sound started somewhere behind me. Slowly, I rolled over, careful not to wake Emma. Something was hanging from the ceiling fan over us. Something human-shaped. Fear stabbed me in the chest like ice as my eyes adjusted to the dark light and I met the bloodshot eyes of my father, hanging from a noose attached to the fan.

  Chapter Three

  My eyes snapped open and focused on the ceiling fan, slowly turning. I was awake, but I couldn’t move. In my chest, my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. When I tried to blink, my eyelids didn’t even twitch. Something pricked against my senses, a slight pressure on the edge of my consciousness. The hair on my arms stood on end.

  I was being watched.

  A dark shadow drifted into the edge of my vision. It was too big to be human and had arms that reminded me of a praying mantis, though they didn’t seem solid. An otherworldly clicking sound echoed through the bedroom as the shadow crept closer.

  Run, screamed my brain. Get up. Run. Go!

  But I couldn’t move. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, holding me down, making it feel impossible to breathe. Despite that, my breaths were coming quicker, raspier, panicked.

  The horrifying shadow loomed over me, still shrouded enough I couldn’t make out its features. A long, straw-like appendage uncurled from the center of the shadow’s face, black slime dripping down the spiny hairs on it. The straw stretched toward me. Long black fingers tugged the blanket down to my waist and pulled up my shirt, exposing skin.

  Lying with your stomach exposed to a predator in the animal world was akin to suicide. Even a rat knew better than to lie like that in front of a cat. Every instinct I had tugged at my body, willing it to roll away, for my mouth to scream, for anything to stop whatever was about to happen. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t do more than blink and watch in terror. The creature’s straw mouth scraped against my stomach, just below the ribcage.