Eerie (5 page)

“Yes. Could you tell me where I might find Dr. Grabstein?”

“You're looking at him.” He held his arms out and smiled. “Please, step into my office.” He bowed and still smiling, looked like he was waiting to see if she'd laugh. He really did think that was funny.

“Dr. Grabstein,” she said using her most mature voice, “I'm here to see Holly Hartley.”

Grabstein looked at her expectantly, and Hailey figured he needed more information.

“She came in last night . . . Detective Toll's case . . . A knife wound?”

“Knife wound?” he scoffed. “They took her head clean off, but not with any knife.” He put his scalpel down and picked up a folder.

Hailey reminded herself it wasn't Holly.

He scanned one of the pages inside.

“Most of her injuries were consistent with tearing, except for the foot, which was removed with a large blade  . . .”

Hailey froze, but she clung to her theory: this was not Holly.

“Never seen anything like it, actually. Were it not for the spatter inside the mausoleum, I would have said she was drawn and quartered by a team of horses. I did find a couple of stab wounds, but they were mostly superficial . . .some defensive wounds on her hands . . .

“It was difficult to determine an exact cause of death with the body so heavily damaged, although I can tell you she was burned postmortem. You'll read all of this in my report, of course—should be ready this evening—eh—you did say you were with Detective Toll?”

“Yes,”  . . .
in a manner of speaking
 . . . “Could I see the body?”

“'fraid not. Mortician was here not half an hour ago to collect the remains. Not much to see anyway . . .just pieces really.” He picked up his scalpel again. “And you'll have to wait until morning for an ID on these other two that came in with her.”

Hailey sneaked a peek at them, but the pile on the gurney didn't even resemble a human. It looked more like mashed and chunky meat.

“Of course,” Hailey said graciously. She didn't care about this crime, because it had nothing to do with Holly. She just needed to see the body to prove it.

“Which mortician, then?”

“Who was it that came for the female dismemberment?” he asked his colleague.

“Eh . . .Rising Sun, wasn't it?”

“That's right. On the South Side.” Dr. Grabstein returned to his work, humming.

“Thanks!” Hailey hurried down the hall and inside the elevator, the stench of chlorine and death, sticking to her, making her nauseous. Rushing outside, she shook out her shirt, letting the sweet smell of city traffic and river water wash over her.

Fin's car sat empty in the parking lot.

When Fin rounded the corner into the alley, the cat with purple eyes, which he'd glimpsed from the parking lot, strutted next to a dumpster and sat itself down.

“Asher?” Fin said cautiously. “This is a new look for you.”

The cat faded into the shadows and a tall, gaunt man emerged.

“Pádraig O'Shea,” he said, and he bowed.

“Cobon,” Fin replied coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same,” said Cobon.

Fin weighed his answer. The Envoy would know if he lied.

“Research. And you?”

“I hit a snag,” Cobon replied, baring his rotting teeth and looking suddenly . . .amused.

Fin made a choking noise in his throat. “You . . .you got a little . . .” He curled his lip and pointed to Cobon's mouth. “I know a good dentist,” he said, leaning back, wrinkling his nose.

Cobon's smile snapped into a grimace. “Mind your manners, slave,” Cobon said slowly.

“Forgive me, your highness.” Fin swung his arm with a flourish as he bowed mockingly in front of the Envoy.

Cobon drew a sharp breath as his violet eyes ping-ponged around the alley. “You were sent to protect her,” he said in a high voice, “weren't you?”

Fin's cocky smile melted, and Cobon exchanged with him a knowing look.

“Don't make me laugh, Pádraig,” Cobon jeered. “You? A Guardian?” Cobon put his face next to Fin's. “You would have ripped her apart if I'd asked you to, don't deny it.”

“That's where you're wrong, Cobon,” said Fin stepping back. “You're incapable of laughing—first of all.” Fin rolled his eyes. “And second, you don't control me. Those days are over. I'm a free man.”

“Are you so sure?” Cobon chuckled, and that chuckle morphed into a cackle, which turned into a maniacal belly laugh.

Fin eyed him cautiously. Cobon was clearly mad, and that was dangerous.

“Why didn't you ask me, then?” Fin said backing away slowly, and the Envoy straightened up.

“Asher's favorite pet?” he spat. “You would've run straight to him, and Asher . . .Asher the Benevolent!” Cobon raised his arms dramatically. “He still thinks he's so just. So . . .righteous. He objects to my . . .” He stifled a laugh. “ . . .my . . .methods.”

Fin took a few more steps away.

“So Asher made you a Guardian,” Cobon taunted, and Fin wasn't about to correct him. “You're not a very good one. And now that you've failed in your duty, do watch your own back, Guardian. Asher does not very happily tolerate failure, and I find you insufferably annoying.”

He turned toward the shadows, but then pivoted and lunged at Fin, thrusting his hand through his chest. Cobon wrapped his fingers around Fin's soul and tugged it just a little. He stared into Fin's wide open eyes.

“I would do it, you know,” he whispered, “but why ruin a perfectly good servant?”

“You'd be doing me a favor,” Fin grunted.

Cobon slammed him against the brick alley wall and vanished. Fin fell like a rag doll to the pavement and rolled onto his back, clutching his chest.

Hailey was calling for him.

He let out a moan as he hobbled to his feet. Leaning against the alley wall for support, he lumbered toward her voice.

Chapter Eight

Rising Sun

“The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.”

– William James

“Fin!”

Hailey was close to panic when he didn't answer straight away.

“Fin!” she hollered again as she stood next to his car. The whole block felt eerily quiet, and a lot like déjà vu. The last thing Hailey wanted was to walk around a corner in a parking lot, looking for someone who wasn't answering, see a dumpster, and pass out.

“FIN!” Her throat ached.

There was movement in the alleyway.
Someone dragging their feet, maybe
? Hailey lifted her shoulders, cringing away slightly, her heart pounding.

“Hailey . . .” a weak voice called out. It was Fin's. She sighed heavily and jogged toward the alley, rounding the corner just as Fin emerged.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?”

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she examined the broken man in front of her. Fin's eyes were bruised and bloodshot. In fact, his whole face looked bloodshot. A spider web of capillaries stretched across his cheeks; his nose was busted, and blood was leaking from his right ear.

Hailey looked over his shoulder for the gang of thugs that had done this to him, but the alley was empty.

“Nothing,” he said shaking his head.

“Well,
nothing
sure packs one heck of a wallop. You look like you just expelled a demon.” She hovered her hand over his cheek, afraid it would hurt if she touched him, but he tilted his head into her fingertips and closed his eyes.

“I'll survive.” He turned his head so her fingers stroked his hair.

Reaching up, he took her hand and held against his cheek for a moment before he kissed it gently and returned it her.

Hailey didn't want her hand back. She looked up at him and then quickly away, weighing whether she'd tell Holly about this.

“Come on,” he said. “I'll go inside with you.”

“Oh, I already talked to the coroner.”

“I told you to wait by the car,” he said stiffly.

“I did.” She shrugged.
For a good few seconds
 . . .

Fin lowered his chin, looking very seriously at her.

“I couldn't wait any longer,” she told him.

He placed a bruised hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she answered, and Fin looked at her sideways. “The body they found isn't here anymore,” she explained. “The mortician has it, so that's our next stop.”

“Huh-uh.” Fin shook his head decisively as he led her back to the car.

“What?” She searched his swollen eyes for some flicker of reason or at least an iota of loyalty as he opened the car door and motioned her in.

“The stakes just got a little higher, and I'm taking you home. Now, get in.”

Hailey bowed her head and sat herself in the passenger seat without a word. She stared at her feet while Fin started the car.

“You smell like a corpse.” He rolled down all the windows.

“You
look
like a corpse,” she fired back.

Fin pressed his fattened lips together and threw the car in gear.

Hailey crossed her arms over her belly and stared out the window. She didn't need Fin or his stupid, fast car. She'd walk to the funeral home. She squeezed her teeth together with angry resolve.

“Don't even think about it!” Fin warned.

“What?”

“No funeral home is open this late. And you're exhausted.” He fanned the air with his hand. “And you need a shower.”

Hailey couldn't imagine confronting another night without proving Holly was still out there. Her stomach rolling, she slouched in her seat.

Fin patted her leg. “I'll take you first thing in the morning, okay?”

“What if she's still out there?” Her eyes flooded over.

Fin jerked the wheel and skidded to a stop. He threw his door open, slid across the hood and appeared at Hailey's side.

She was sniffling into her hands when he pulled her out of the car and hugged her tight. For several minutes he held her against him, rocking her gently, while she shook and sobbed with her hands over her face, and he never said a word.

Uncle Pix still wasn't home when Fin walked Hailey to the door. The windows on the house were dark, and Hailey hesitated before she put the key in the lock. There was a heaviness in the air.

“What's wrong?” Fin asked her.

“I don't . . .” Hailey felt a dozen daddy-long-legs crawling up her back. “I think there's someone inside,” she whispered, backing away.

Fin checked the door then stepped back to survey the windows, his eyes studying one then another until something at one of the windows held his attention, and he squinted in the darkness. “Come on,” he said, lazily pulling her to the door. “I think it's safe.”

“How do you know?”

“No sign of forced entry.” He yawned, pointing to the door and around to all of the windows. “I'll check the house before I leave.”

“You're leaving?” Hailey didn't want to be alone in a big, dark house.

Fin stood, looking sleepy, his eyes glazed over.

“Fin!”

“Hm?” He blinked a couple times then furrowed his brow. “You want me to stay here again?”

“Yes!” She looked him up and down.
How could he even think of abandoning her?

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Alright, I'll stay until your uncles get back, but . . .”

“But what?”

“You really need a shower.” He wrinkled his nose.

Fin led the way inside, turning on every light, clearing each room with her, as they went, looking under the beds, in the closets, behind the curtains and doors and in the shadows. She even made him open the kitchen cupboards before she felt safe enough to leave his side.

“Happy now?”

Hailey shook her head, but, noticing something odd, she looked at him more closely. The wounds on his face were . . .gone.

“Your face is . . .is . . . It's all better . . .” she marveled, leaning close to study him. There wasn't even a scab.

Fin seemed to enjoy her new proximity and let her examine him for several seconds before he leaned even closer.

“I'm a fast healer,” he said softly. He looked at her lips briefly then smiled proudly as he straightened up.

“Oh,” she breathed. But then she blinked. “Wait, how is that possible? You had—”

“It was nothing, now go on.” His tone was stern, but then his face softened. He patted her bum and pointed at the bathroom.

She opened her mouth to protest, but the fight in her was long gone. And seeing the patience evaporate from his face again, she bowed her head, ambled down the hall, and hopped in the shower. He obviously wasn't in the mood for questions, and she wasn't about to push it. The last thing she wanted was for him to get annoyed and leave. She'd just ask him later.

The blast of hot water beating against her head felt divine, and she felt safe closing her eyes and letting the shower's thunder fill her ears, knowing Fin was standing guard.

Steam was a funny thing. It had a way of evaporating all of her worries. As long as she escaped the shower before the steam re-settled, she could leave those worries to condense on the walls and trickle down the drain. That's why she always got out of the shower before she turned it off, which made a mess of the floor. It drove Holly insane, because she always seemed to find a puddle of water—and with a socked foot.

Hailey smiled, thinking of all the soggy socks she'd seen Holly peel off while barking Hailey's name out in two curt syllables. Wrapping her arms across her stomach, she pushed the ache from her belly. Oh, how she missed her big sister!

A door slammed inside the townhouse, and Hailey jumped. She cut the water off and stood soaked and slightly soapy inside the tub as she pulled the curtain back, listening.

“Fin?” she called, trying to hear over the drip, drip, drip of the shower head.

Dammit. Answer me. She shuddered as chilliness crept into the shower and chased her steam away, leaving her worries to settle on her back, two heavy, hairy-legged tarantulas creeping across her shoulders.

“Fin!” she called again. “Uncle Pix?”

Hailey grabbed Holly's towel from the rack, swatted her shoulders with it then wrapped it under her arms, tip-toed to the door, and cracked it open.

“Fin?” He should have heard that.

Opening the door enough to poke her head out, she looked down the hall, but all she saw was stillness. All she heard was silence. No kettle noise from the stove. No shadows moving on the wall. The house seemed hollow.

He went outside to get something from his car
, she decided, and she traded her towel for her fluffy pink robe, tying it around her waist as she jogged into the entryway and peeked out the front window.

His car was gone! He'd left her!

Heading for the phone, she found two teacups on the kitchen counter, but the kettle sat half empty under the faucet in the sink. Obviously, he'd meant to stay and must've left in a hurry to move his car or fetch something quick. He must've figured he'd be back before Hailey was out of the shower. That was the only explanation for leaving without a word, and she could watch for him from the balcony on the second floor, which was precisely what she intended to do.

She'd give him three kinds of hell when he got back, she thought as she climbed the stairs and headed to the balcony.

Echoing her frustration, the neighbor's dog snarled then barked, just as the air on the balcony grew cold. Like icy fingers, the night air weaved through her hair, sending a chill straight to her core. But it wasn't uncomfortable enough to chase her back inside. She knelt in front of the railing, sat on her feet, and pressed her forehead against the bars, watching the road in both directions. Several minutes passed, and Hailey's exhaustion betrayed her resilience, squeezing her throat and hollowing out her stomach.

Just let go
, she heard herself think.
Just let go, and let the darkness come. Why stay here when they've all gone? Holly is dead. Pádraig is gone. Nobody cares . . .

Pádraig. She never called Fin by his real name . . .never called him “Pádraig.” Clenching the iron bars of the railing in tight fists, she sobbed hard, throat aching as the image of a noose flipped through her mind like a cartoon, complete with instructions on how to tie one.

These thoughts weren't hers—

Subtle
, she fired back at it in her head, but despair washed over her anyway.

“Holly,” she sobbed, and she folded her hands, praying to God for strength but hoping for a miracle.

Just as she squeezed her eyes shut, she felt the air grow dense. She felt
him
approach—the kind Envoy, the one she trusted. He chased the intruder out of her mind, and Hailey's thoughts were once again all her own.

The kind Envoy stood on the balcony behind her— his proximity raising the hair on her back. But she couldn't bear to look at him. She re-gripped the iron rails, staring defiantly at the road, which looked distorted through her tears.

“Is Holly okay?” she squeaked.

“No,” he said stoically.

“Did
you
—kill her?” Her sobs broke her accusation in half.

“No.”

“Is she—dead?”

“Yes,” he answered, again devoid of compassion.

“How do you know?”

His silence widened the gap between them, and Hailey squeezed her eyes shut. “Did an Envoy kill her?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't—you stop him?” she sobbed, enraged and still staring at the street, with no idea who “him” was.

The Envoy placed his hand on her shoulder and like a blanket, hot from the dryer, it chased her shivers away. She should have shrugged him off, but instead she raised her shoulder, tilting her head until his hand brushed her face.

“I could not stop him,” he said, and he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Couldn't? Or wouldn't?” she demanded, shivering again and still refusing to look at him. She could feel him standing very still behind her, and when he didn't answer she fired another, equally wrenching question at him.

“Did she suffer?”

Silence.

And then he abandoned her too.

Hailey slid to the floor and curled into a ball, resting her head against the gritty concrete as she cried and ached and seethed.

An engine rumbled in the distance, growing steadily louder for a time, and Hailey recognized it immediately. Fin's car screeched to a halt in front of the townhouse, causing the neighbor's dog to go bananas. Bursting out of his Shelby, Fin sprinted toward the house, stopping midway when he heard Hailey sniffling on the balcony.

“Hailey!” he called to her.

She didn't answer. She didn't even look.

“Come and open the door, Hailey!”