Seventh Grave and No Body

  The coolest thing about this bar was the old-fashioned ironwork laced in with the dark woods of the pub. The metalwork led to an ancient iron elevator no one actually used, because it was as slow as molasses in the Artic, but it looked awesome. I’d secretly wanted to live in this building for a long time. It was built by the same people who’d made our apartment complex. But that building had no elevator, iron or otherwise.

  I had to shift a bag or two so I could open the door, but I managed to get myself inside.

  “Honey, I’m home!” I called out to Cookie.

  She leaned forward to look at me from her desk in the next room. “What in God’s name are you carrying?”

  I put all the bags down but one and walked to stand in front of her desk. “This,” I said, pride swelling in my chest as I held up a clear bag filled mostly with water, “is Belvedere.”

  “You bought a goldfish?”

  “Yep.” I was putting the bag on a stack of papers, which Cookie whisked away before I set my goldfish down completely; then I went back for the other bags, one of which contained a round fishbowl. “I’m practicing.”

  She watched with mild curiosity as I walked into the restroom and filled the bowl with water.

  “I know I’ll regret this, but practicing for what?”

  “Motherhood.” I rubbed my belly to demonstrate. “I’m pregtastic.”

  “I know you’re pregtastic.”

  “I should hope so. Either that or your rubbing my belly is completely inappropriate.”

  “I just like saying hi to her,” she said defensively. “But what does a goldfish have to do with your condition?”

  “The way I see it, if I can keep Belvedere here alive, I can keep a kid alive. And that’s half the battle, right?” I untied the knot at the top of the clear bag and started to pour Belvedere into his new home. “Moving day!” I said happily.

  Cookie lunged across the desk – and caught the bag just in the nick of time, if her relieved expression was anything to go by. She cradled Belvedere and glanced at me accusingly. It was weird. I never thought she’d be so protective of a fish.

  “You’re still my number one,” I said, teasing.

  “First of all,” she volleyed, retying the knot, “you can’t just toss a goldfish into water that has not been treated and is not the same temperature as what the fish is already living in.”

  I blinked. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because. Our water has all kinds of crap in it that’s bad for him, and it’s a different temperature than what he’s in right now, so if you dump him into it, he’ll go into shock and die. Didn’t the clerk at the store tell you that?”

  “I’m not sure.” I thought back. “Reyes kissed my neck while she was talking. I was so enamored, I kind of tuned her out.”

  “Oh, okay. It’s so hard to concentrate with that man on the planet.”

  “Word.”

  “So, you think if you can keep a goldfish alive, you can keep a child alive?”

  I took out the fish food to examine it. “Sure. You have to feed both of them, right?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “And you have to take care of them both, right?”

  “You do, yes, but I think —”

  “Then surely if I can do one, I can do the other.”

  “I think you’re missing the point.”

  “And you’ve kept Amber alive for thirteen years, as of last week,” I added. “How hard can it be?”

  “I can’t believe I have a thirteen-year-old.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve kept her alive that long,” I said. “I mean, it’s so… daily. And kids are so needy. Like, you have to feed them every week. I couldn’t even remember to water my plants every week.”

  “Well,” she said, giving me her schoolteacher face, “there is one huge difference between a kid and a plant: Kids make noise when they’re hungry. Trust me when I say you will not forget.”

  “Sweet.”

  She snorted. “Tell me that in a year.”

  4

  I don’t think I get enough credit for the fact that I do all of this unmedicated.

  — T-SHIRT

  I was busy perusing the suicide notes and waiting for Belvedere’s water to finish its treatment when I heard a thud from Cookie’s office. Then a mousy squeak. Then a throaty moan.

  “Cookie,” I said, wiggling my fingers at Belvedere to get him acquainted with our strange ways, “are you masturbating?”

  “No. I got a paper cut.”

  Oh. I didn’t see that coming.

  “A bad one,” she added, her voice more whiny than usual.

  “Sucks to be you.” It was the best I could offer. I cared on the inside. Which was exactly where it would stay.

  She made a sucking sound and another squeak.

  “Are you sure you’re not mastur —?”

  “I had a thought,” she called out to me.

  “Okay.”

  “You know how you heal really fast?”

  I stood and walked to the doorway that separated our offices. “Yes,” I answered, wondering where she was going with this.

  She was sucking the side of her index finger. “Maybe if you lick my cut, your spit will heal me fast, too.”

  “Dude,” I said, tamping down a giggle, “I’m not licking your cut.”

  “Just lick me.” She held out her finger. “This is going to be tender for days.”

  “I’m not licking you.” A line I rarely said aloud.

  “Come on, Charley. Every time I file a document or type at the computer, it will hurt. Just lick me.”

  Reyes walked in behind me, but for once Cookie was too wrapped up in her own agony to give his majestic presence her full attention. She was much more concerned about her nigh-fatal injury.

  “Or at least spit on me.”

  “Cook,” I said, walking to her desk, “it’s not that the thought isn’t appealing, but my spit is not going to heal your cut.”

  She deflated. “How do you know until you try?”

  “Mr. Farrow heals faster than I do,” I continued, teasing him with a wink. “Let him lick you.”

  Her gaze landed on my affianced, hope and a spark of lust brightening the smoky depths of her blue irises.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the curious smirk he was wearing. “Paper cut,” I explained.

  “Ah,” he said. “Let me see.”

  I could tell by the way he said it – Let me see, his voice soft, his head lowered with one brow quirked – this was going to be interesting.

  He walked over to her, but she hesitated. “It’s okay. I’ll live.”

  She tried to laugh it off, but he caught her hand in his, turned it this way and that, tsked when he came upon the life-threatening cut. Paper cuts hurt like the dickens. I understood her agony all too well. I also understood the spike of adrenaline that shot through her when Reyes brought her finger to his mouth. Locking his gaze with hers, he kissed the injured extremity, and Cookie visibly melted in her chair, every muscle in her body turning to mush, but Reyes didn’t stop there. He parted his lips, pressing them into her skin as he suckled her injury. Cookie’s heartbeat skyrocketed. Her nerves leapt, probably with joy, and I could feel a hot rush of desire flood her body.

  I was right there with her. He had yet to release her gaze as his tongue slid along the cut, wetting it with what she believed was super-healing mojo. He placed one last kiss, a tiny peck, on the finger before releasing her hand with a soft wink.

  She pulled her hand back, cradled it to her chest, and while normally I’d chuckle at her reaction, I could only stare in fascination.

  I pointed to my shoulder. “I have a bruise.”

  He walked over to me, peeled my shirt back, and kissed my shoulder, the heat of his mouth scalding as that simple act sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.

  Just as I was about to drag him into my office by his shirt collar, Uncle Bob walked in. It was probably for the best. I had yet to
get it on with my affianced in my office, especially with Cookie in the next room, and now was hardly the time since, you know, Cookie was in the next room.

  She snapped to attention. Her face bloomed a bright pink as she busied herself, straightening papers.

  “Where you been?” I asked him, taking a second to draw in cool air as Reyes stared at me from underneath his thick lashes. His eyes glistened with intent. He knew exactly what I’d been thinking. The rake.

  Ubie nodded an acknowledgment. “Had to tie up a couple of things. But I’m starving. What’s for lunch?” he asked Reyes.

  The Cheshire smile Reyes gave him almost made me laugh. “It’s a surprise,” he said.

  Ubie frowned in suspicion before taking a good look at Cookie, his new flame. Cookie may have lusted after Reyes, but her feelings for Ubie were just as strong. Just as undeniable. The desire she felt toward Reyes wasn’t her fault. Pretty much everybody lusted after Reyes – a side effect of his supernatural heritage was my guess. But what she felt for my uncle was real. I felt a deep admiration for him every time she looked at him. An absolute trust. And, yes, an unmistakable attraction.

  I felt pretty much the same thing coming from Ubie, but with one addition: astonishment. He was still astonished that Cookie liked him. That she was dating him. That she wanted to be with him. Their mutual respect and admiration were what would see this relationship through. Unlike the last dozen or so women Ubie had dated, none of whom had gotten my approval.

  Cookie stood when he stepped to her desk, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek, unsure if she’d want him to display his affection in front of us. He was like the shy kid at school picking up his prom date, his nerves jumbled and his palms sweaty. I could hardly miss an opportunity like this.

  “So, are you two hitting it yet?”

  Ubie did his deadpan thing, the one that made me laugh inside.

  Cookie pressed her mouth closed, but the emotions that leapt inside her when I mentioned premarital sex told me everything I needed to know. Probably more than I needed to know.

  I gaped at her. “Cookie!” I shrieked just loud enough to make them both super-duper uncomfortable. Then I asked, “Are you being safe?”

  That time, Ubie clamped his teeth together.

  “Fine,” I said before he could reprimand me. “Whatever. Let’s eat.”

  My phone rang as Ubie waited for Cookie to round her desk so he could escort her downstairs. He treated her like a queen. He treated her exactly as she deserved to be treated. I loved it.

  There was already a crowd, the dull roar of conversation wafting up to us as I answered a call from Kit.

  “Hey, homey,” I said to her, hoping she felt the same way about me. I was busy watching Reyes’s ass as he took the lead, intrigued with the way his glutes flexed with each step.

  “So, that deputy you told me about —” She stopped talking a few seconds and I heard mumbling in the background.

  To bring her back to me, I said, “I’m not sure that was a complete sentence.”

  “Sorry. That deputy transferred to Alaska about nine years ago.”

  I stopped, bringing the whole procession to a halt. Cookie and Ubie stepped past me after I gestured for them to grab a table. Reyes had stopped, too, waiting for me to go in with them.

  I cupped my hand over the phone. “Reyes, they are not going to attack me between here and our table.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the banister, refusing to proceed without me. But I wouldn’t be able to hear Kit in the pub. The Calamity’s crew was a rowdy bunch, so I continued to stand on the stairs.

  “Do you think he’s still killing? Do you think it’s him?”

  “Hard to say. It seems they’ve had a lot of disappearances up there, but from all over the state.”

  “And Alaska is a big state.”

  “Damn right, it is. But we did find out something very interesting.”

  I leaned against the iron banister, too. “Yeah?”

  “He has a pilot’s license.”

  I stood up again. “Really? Do you think he’s been abducting girls from around the state and flying them out to a central location?”

  “That’s the working theory.”

  “Was he doing that here?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. The authorities in Juneau are very excited to work with us on this. They’re pulling up all his flight plans. We’re doing the same here and cross-checking them with missing persons cases. So far, we have two hits.”

  “What can I do?”

  “That’s my question. What can you do? How did you know all this?”

  “It’s just my thing,” I said, trying to play it off.

  “Can you do your thing with the missing girls in Alaska if it comes to that?”

  “I could try. I’d have to fly there. I’m totally in, though. You’re paying for that, right?”

  “Absolutely. How about we work on this end first – then if we need you in Alaska, I’ll get it approved. Somehow.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Reyes was glaring. I glared back. He was so not tagging along on our girls’ week out. It just wouldn’t be the same.

  “We have a team at the campgrounds now, searching for bodies. They found one set of remains already.”

  “There’s more.”

  “I understand. We’re on it.”

  We hung up and I offered Reyes another glare before stepping past him. The noise had subsided and I realized that the restaurant, filled mostly with women – as usual – could see us. Dozens of pairs of shadowed and mascaraed gazes flitted shyly toward him while others stared openly. Unapologetically. Brazen hussies. I needed to get a wedding band on this man, and fast, lest they try to seduce him behind my back. Then again, I thought, glancing around the crowd, some of these chicks would have few qualms about doing so right in front of my face.

  I decided to blame him.

  “You’re a ho,” I accused over my shoulder, a sly smile spreading across my face.

  “What does that mean? I haven’t slept with anyone besides —”

  “Look at this room.” I stepped off the staircase and started for the table Reyes had clearly reserved for us, because every other table in the joint was taken, and several other people waited up front. “They’re only here for you.”

  We wound past chairs full of women hungry for an item that was most definitely not on the menu, and men craving either the same or Reyes’s demise, many toxic to the core with jealousy. Reyes did bring out the emotions in people.

  He wrapped a hand around my arm from behind, and I turned, my brows drawn in curiosity. He pulled me close to talk soft, even though we were still in the middle of a crowded room. “It’s not me,” he said, and the sting I felt radiate off him sliced into me.

  I placed a hand possessively at his hips and stepped closer. “Reyes, what?” I asked.

  “I’m not – I don’t mean for this to happen.” He scanned the crowd, feeling the exact same emotions I was feeling, only they were all zeroed in on him. All focused directly at him like laser-guided missiles. “I never asked for this.”

  “I was just kidding,” I said, flexing my fingers against his hip. “I didn’t mean to imply that you do this on purpose.” I looked around helplessly. “I was just kidding.”

  I didn’t know what else to say. My remark had actually hurt him.

  He leaned in and confessed in my ear, his voice soft, hesitant. “It’s suffocating.”

  The possibility of his being hurt by the emotions of others had never occurred to me. Being able to feel others’ emotions was both a blessing and curse. At times like this, it leaned toward curse. For me, anyway. I’d never imagined it would bother him. Why should he care what others think?

  But he was right. Sometimes the emotions wafting off others were so powerful, so… well, suffocating, I had to block them, a trick I’d learned in high school. Up until that point, school could be utter agony. Sure, I k
new things others didn’t, but I also knew things I didn’t want to know. No one could “talk behind my back.” I always knew the truth about how they felt about me. It kept my friendships to a minimum. The bare essentials. And once I lost my BFF, Jessica, I really didn’t have another person I could call a best friend until I met Cookie a couple years ago.

  One thing I’d learned growing up: People were never, ever, ever 100 percent honest about their feelings.

  Never.

  But that was something I’d learned to live with a long time ago.

  This time, I wrapped my hand into his and led him to a small hall that accessed the restrooms and a storage closet. I held up an index finger to Cookie to let her know we’d be right back, then pulled him around a corner and into me. “I’m sorry, Reyes. I didn’t mean that. It was just a joke.”

  He kept his features schooled. “I was just kidding, too.”

  “No, you weren’t.” I lifted my hand and ran my fingertips along his lower lip.

  But just like every other time I’d tried to get him to open up, he grew resentful. He edged me against the wall, his hand placed lightly around my throat, his body pressed into mine, effectively changing the subject. He knew better than to order me to stop: To stop caring. To stop empathizing. To stop feeling. We’d been over it a hundred times. He couldn’t just order me not to care. But he could switch the focus off himself and onto me. And he was very, very good at that.

  He held me loosely against the wall, considered my mouth a long moment before I felt the tension ease out of him. This was his life. He could hardly run from it. People just… wanted him. He had a singular animalistic allure, a steely magnetism that anyone who looked at him had a hard time ignoring. He’d once told me that his attraction was so powerful, a girl he met in one of the plethora of apartment complexes Earl Walker had dragged him to throughout his childhood tried to kill herself when they’d moved out a month after unpacking. They moved out because their rent check had bounced, but Reyes was relieved. The girl’s desire had been so thick. So palpable.

  Then he began to tell me another story, one that involved a boy in the apartment building where I’d first seen Reyes, over a decade ago – the one where I watched Earl, the monster who’d raised him, beat him bloody. He’d dropped the anecdote abruptly and refused to elaborate on what happened, so I took it upon myself to look into the history of the building around the time he’d lived there. A thirteen-year-old boy hanged himself in his closet a couple of days after Earl had absconded into the night with Reyes and his nonbiological sister, Kim. According to the boy’s parents, he’d become very distraught after his best friend moved away, but the kid’s friends had said he was in love with a boy from the building who didn’t reciprocate. After the boy moved, the kid killed himself.