Authors: Multiple
Chapter Four
High Rise Grave
I slid my Bug between the
Explorer and Corvette with expert precision. Downtown Raleigh buzzed with lunch
traffic, executives in power suits brushing shoulders with students and the
homeless. The similarity to home made my heart throb with memories.
Right about now, I’d be on my
way to my favorite bagel stand on the way to the coffee shop, giving my dad a
peck on the cheek as he slid into a taxi that sat dutifully at the curb.
“Enough,” I scolded myself. I
came to North Carolina for a reason. Reminiscing didn’t change the fact that I
made choices…choices that led to my new zip code. Now I had to live with it.
I smoothed the front of my
oxford shirt and gave my hair a good shake which made my chocolate twists fall
in waves around my face.
I dished out a couple of
quarters for the toll and pushed inside the glass monstrosity. It climbed to
the sky, like those who had the fortune to work there wanted to take ownership
of the sun as well.
I pushed through the
revolving door. If I hadn’t grown up in the city, the opulence of the lobby
might have made me ooohh and ahhh, but I’d seen Trump Tower. Whoever designed
this place didn’t nearly have as big of an ego.
I flashed the security guard
at the front desk a disarming smile. “Hi!”
“What can I do for you,
sweetheart?” he said, peering at me over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses.
“I have a 1 PM with Kenny
Johnston,” I replied.
He turned to the computer,
typed a bit, then clucked his tongue with approval. “Gotcha right here. Johnston
and Associates is on the 21st floor,” he said, cocking his head toward the
elevator. He hit a button on the screen and a nametag was printed out. He
peeled it off and handed it to me. “Make sure you wear this…at all times.”
I rubbed the nametag on and
gave him a final smile. “Thanks.”
As the elevator doors closed
behind me, I felt pangs of nervousness bubbling in my gut. I saw this
conversation going a couple of different ways, but the end result was the same:
“Get the hell out of my office.” Heck, if I didn’t know the truth about the
supernatural world, I’d say the same thing.
The voice in the back of my
head planted seeds of doubt that didn’t even need water to bloom into a
screaming, “What the Heck Are You Doing Jade?!?” When the elevator stopped on
the 21st floor and the gates slid open, I considered just closing the door and
going back the way I came. The ghost would haunt him, sure, but eventually he
would find his way to us. Probably.
I let out a heavy sigh and
stepped out of the elevator while I still had it in me.
My black flats sank into the
plush carpeting as I breezed to where a receptionist sat behind a great oak
desk. She wore a white shift that cut dangerously low in the front and had gold
jewelry draped about her that accented her overall look. Silver snaked through
her mahogany hair, but age hadn’t touched her beauty. There were dozens of
secretaries just like her in the building…gorgeous women generally hired
because every woman that walked through the doors wanted to be her and every
man wanted to screw her.
The rest of the office was
quiet, most of the workers escaping their high-rise graves for lunch. As she
ran a blood red polished hand through her hair, it reminded me of a succubus I
met in Brooklyn years ago. Her touch was intoxicating ‘til one got to what lay
beneath.
When the receptionist saw me,
her brown eyes softened and her cherry lips parted slightly. “How can I help
you?” she purred.
“I have a 1 PM with Mr.
Johnston,” I answered smoothly.
Her eyes diverted to an
appointment book on the desk. “Mmm…Miss Murray?”
I inclined my head.
“I’ll let him know you’re
here.”
She slid from behind the desk
and strutted with model-like grace to the back office, knocking lightly before
sticking her head inside. After a moment, she motioned for me to come back and
join her.
She held open the door,
ushering me inside. The corner office fulfilled every stereotype in the book.
Overpriced art hung pretentiously on the walls. The furniture was all art-deco,
more for look than function. Kenny sat behind a metal monstrosity of a desk,
still chomping on a sandwich.
He was a weasel-like man, his
gray hair buzzed short. His nose was too long, his eyes dark and beady. The way
they sparkled mischievously made me wonder what skeletons HE had tucked away in
his closet.
“Thank you, Natasha,” Kenny
said, in between swallows of meat, lettuce, and a wheat panini.
“If you need anything else…”
Her voice trailed off lustily as she raised her swan-like neck a bit, a slight
smirk at her lips. Another stereotype checked off the list.
“That’s all for now,
sweetheart,” he said with a wink.
I walked over to a cube-like
chair and plopped down, flashing Kenny a smile. “Thanks for seeing me on such
short notice.”
He swiped a napkin and dabbed
at his mouth. “I’m always available for a pretty woman,” he said flirtatiously.
“And any friend of Brooks’ is more than welcome in my company.”
Yikes, I thought to myself.
Guys like
Brooks rarel
y shacked up
with just one woman, but the tone in Kenny’s voice made me wonder just how freely
he spread his seed.
Kenny took a long gulp from
his water bottle and let out a satisfied sigh. He flipped his tie back to the
front and gave me his undivided attention. “So what can I do for you, honey?”
“Well, uh, I’ve been just
devastated about Brooks’ death,” I said, trying to seem really bothered.
“He was a quite a man,” Kenny
responded cryptically.
“We were just really close,”
I continued.
He gave me the once over. “He
did love a beautiful face.” He paused, stroking his chin. “Though I never knew
he dabbled. He always seemed to have a thing for blondes.” Kenny leaned
forward, wiggling his caterpillar-like eyebrows at me. “I, on the other hand…”
I chuckled nervously, biting
my nail. There really was no gentle way to say, Ghosts are real. And I may have
told Brooks’ ghost that you stole his money. I’d suggest stocking up on salt. I
took a deep breath and got on with it.
“Do you believe in ghosts,
Kenny?”
His face scrunched in
confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Ghosts,” I repeated. “Like
when you die, you’re not dead kinda thing.”
His lips twitched like he was
still trying to figure out what I was playing at. “Uh, no. I guess I don’t.”
“Figures,” I mused, twirling
a strand of hair around my finger. “That kind of makes this next part
particularly hard to hear.”
“Oh?”
“Yep,” I said, cracking my
knuckles.
Before you brand me a
blabbermouth, The Watchers could care less about a couple of mortals running
off at the mouth about supernatural things. In the old days, they were called
heretics and burned at the stake or worst. Nowadays, they’re laughingstocks or
put on medication. Mortals rarely got close enough to the real truth to cause a
ruckus, and if they did, well, it was the last thing they ever did.
Kenny seemed like an average
kinda guy. He’d laugh me out of his office then think about it later over a
glass of scotch. When bizarre shit started to happen, like things moving
without him touching them, he’d enlist Google’s help and probably stumble upon
NACA’s website.
He crossed his arms, clearing
his throat. “Well, don’t leave me on the edge of my seat, sweetheart.”
“Ghosts are real,” I said
frankly.
“Are they now?”
“I communicate with them,” I
said nonchalantly.
“Heh,” he snorted. “Watching
a little too much Medium, are we?”
“That show gets a lot of
things right actually,” I said, reaching into my purse and pulling out a
cigarette from my silver case. It was a horrible habit, I know. But in my line
of work, something was needed to take the edge off. I’m not into hardcore
drugs, and alcohol just made it harder to make out the supernatural. “Mind if I
smoke?” Without waiting for a reply, I flipped my bic and pressed on. “I never
had dreams, thank God, but I’ve heard of some necromancers who dream shit that
would keep you up nights.”
The jovial smirk fell from
his face now. I’d gone from cute, quirky girl to certifiable. “I’m gonna have
to ask you to leave.”
“I figured as much,” I said,
rising to my feet. I pulled a business card from my bag and dropped it on his
desk. “I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Brooks and may have let
it slip that you pocketed his money.”
“W-wwhat?” he stammered, his
face turning red. He loosened his tie, his eyes darting around nervously. “Why
would you do that?”
“It’s my job,” I said
truthfully. “And with all the shit Melissa had to put up with over the years,
she deserved to get some sort of reward.”
His eyes went round. “I
wondered how that bitch got access to the funds!”
“Hey!” I said, blowing out a
plume of smoke. “Manners!”
He coughed, fanning the air
around his face furiously. “You can’t smoke in here!”
I grabbed his water bottle
and dropped the stub in. That was for the heavy-handed pass he made at me. “I
just wanted to give you a heads up. My work here is done.” Before I turned to
go, my eyes caught something bizarre. His wallet sat on his desk, but it seemed
to glow, drawing me to it. There was some sort of symbol carved into the
leather. I leaned in for a closer look.
“What did you do to your
wallet?” I asked, reaching for it.
He snatched it away,
stumbling to his feet. “If you want money-”
“Whatever,” I snapped. I was
probably just seeing things from lack of sleep and all. “I’m outta here.” I
walked briskly from his office, not bothering to shut the door behind me.
Natasha looked up from her
computer screen. “Have a good-”
“You too,” I said, breezing
past her. I punched the down button and slid inside the elevator. As I reached
for the lobby button, I stopped short. A buzz crept across my skin. It was
eerie…like someone invoked my name.
I gripped the pentacle at my
throat. “Incubo mihi,” I murmured. I instantly felt the quiet strength of the
words, a small protective spell wrapping me in a cocoon of safety. My heart
roared in my ears as I sucked in air and let it whoosh out. It was probably
nothing. As dumbfounded as Kenny looked a second ago, I doubted he could have
caused any disturbance. And I bet the closest Natasha got to spellworking was
watching Charmed.
“Coffee,” I said to no one in
particular. “What I need is coffee.” I reached out and punched the lobby key as
a blood-curdling scream echoed around me. I pried open the elevator doors and
bounded back into the office. Natasha wasn’t at her desk.
I ran to the back. Kenny’s
door was still open.
“Breathe,” I whispered, my
whole body quaking. Something bad had happened. I could feel it. “Just
breathe.”
Lying inches from where I sat
a few seconds ago was the body of Kenny Johnston.
Natasha stood above him, her
thin back heaving in terror.
“W-we were just talking,” she
stuttered. “W-wwhy would…he-w-why-“
I took a step forward and
looked down at the floor. Kenny’s face was drained of all color. His dark eyes
were staring at the ceiling, watching but seeing nothing. There was an abnormal
mass in his neck, square in shape. It was the size of his wallet.
Chapter Five
Worrywart
I sipped the dishwater
concoction that Raleigh PD passed as coffee, grimacing as the grit slid down my
throat.
The interrogation room was
bleach white, a blaring thing that made my head throb. There was one solitary
fluorescent light above the rickety old metal table that buzzed like an
incessant gnat, magnified in your eardrums until you wanted, needed blood.
There was one old manila folder in front of me, detailing my seemingly
non-existent criminal history. Another perk of working for NACA.
I eyed the detective that sat
across from me, his face all seriousness and no-nonsense lines. Detective Todd
Warren was the personification of a country boy. His weathered skin was a deep
brown – not a product of his heritage but explained away by thick, calloused
hands that drummed impatiently on the table. He had a gold cross necklace that
hung close to his chest, mostly hidden but still visible. He hadn’t looked at
my chest once; his evergreen eyes always locked on mine. He even called me
‘ma’am’.
“You know you’re not in
trouble,” Detective Warren said, stroking his mustache. “There’s no need to be
uncooperative and waste my time.”
“I’m cooperating fully,” I
said with a big smile, molars and all.
“Hmm,” he said, pushing from
his seat. He paced back and forth, trying to collect his thoughts. “So you went
to see Kenny Johnston to talk about ghosts.”
“Yep.”
“And you talk to ghosts?”
“I do.” I finished the rest
of my coffee with a gulp. “I’m a necromancer.”
“And that’s like what? A
witch?”
“A type of witch, yes.”
“And you’re not on any type
of medication?”
“Nope,” I clucked. “Fit as a
horse.”
“Hmm,” he said, picking up
the manila folder that sat at the middle of the table. He scribbled something
down, shaking his head. “I might have some more questions for you after I talk
with Ms. Rivers one more time. If you could just wait out in the lobby, I’d be
much obliged.”
I rolled my eyes, swinging my
purse over my shoulder. “I don’t get why I have to stay here. I’ve told you all
you need to know.”
“Ma’am,” Detective Warren
said, his olive eyes narrowing. “You just told me that you’re some sort of
witch. Do I look like I was born yesterday?” He held open the door. “Now if you
would please wait out in the lobby until I’m done with my interview?” It wasn’t
really a request.
I pushed past him, stalking
back into the grungy hallway.
“And there’s more coffee at
reception,” he said behind me.
“Better than Starbucks!” I
said sarcastically.
I stalked over to the waiting
room and dropped into the seat beside a bleary eyed Natasha. Whatever barracuda
qualities she oozed in the office were long gone. Her dark hair was pulled into
a messy chignon at the top of her head. Her face was swollen and blotchy from
crying. The crisp white shift she wore was now beige, caked with dirt and coffee
stains.
“I think you’re next,” I
said, checking my cell for any word from Jack. Nothing. Figures…I never asked
him to use his vampire-y powers, and the one time I needed him to work his
magic, he was MIA.
“Are we being incriminated in
some way?” she asked, her red eyes widening. “Should I call my lawyer?”
I shrugged. “Nah. They don’t
have anything. Your boss shoved his wallet down his throat. They’re just
spooked.”
She shuddered, covering her
eyes like the whole scenario was replaying right in front of her. “I just don’t
understand any of this,” she sniffed. “It was like one second he was fine, then
he said some sort of gibberish and-”
“Gibberish?”
She nodded. “Incanto
something or other. Like a made up language. It didn’t make any sense.”
I gulped, a chill spreading
across my body. “Latin?”
“I passed high school Spanish
by the skin of my teeth,” she laughed, blotting her nose. “I have no fucking
clue.”
I cradled my chin in my hand,
thinking it all over. It would explain the odd feeling that came over me. And
swallowing a wallet? Kenny was a lot of things, but mentally disturbed wasn’t
one of them. There was definitely something supernatural going on.
“H-here she is, sir,” a
glassy-eyed cop said, opening the gate a few feet away. Jack strode through,
white horse and all.
“Finally!” I said, looping my
purse over my shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Once Natasha got Jack in her
crosshairs, she started dabbing furiously at her face, swiping at flyaways.
“But the detective said he might have more questions for you, Jade.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Who’s
gonna stop me? You?”
“Now, now,” Jack began,
putting a strong arm around my shoulders. “There’s no need for rudeness.” His
eyes flashed hungrily as he focused on Natasha, who gobbled up the attention
willingly. “You are…?”
“Natasha Rivers,” she grinned
as she slid off the plastic chair like a serpent. She sashayed over to where we
stood and extended her hand.
Jack shook it eagerly. “I’m
Jack.”
“And we’re leaving,” I said,
steering him toward the exit.
His thoughts of hunger
screamed in my head – another gift I had as a necromancer. Vampires are
dead and as such, I don’t even have to work my mojo to pick up their frequency.
I could read Jack loud and clear. It was dinnertime.
“You don’t even have
clearance to feed on her,” I hissed angrily, wheeling him toward the exit.
“I’ve been stuck in this station for hours, a lawyer turned up dead mere
seconds after talking to me, I’m fucking exhausted, and-” My mouth snapped shut
as he pulled out his cellphone. Calling his handler to run a check on Natasha,
I’d wager.
I’m as much of a feminist as
the next woman – I don’t spend my time pining over a man, I work hard,
and I have my own house, bills, etcetera. I believe I have the right to all
those things. Unfortunately, feminists are exactly the kind of woman that
vampires live for when they impulse feed…women with little to no connections,
kids, and any other entanglements. Independent woman…no strings.
He pocketed his phone and
turned on the charm. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“You know, I think you’d look
really handsome with a black eye.”
“Too bad it would heal in
about five seconds,” he cracked. He cradled my face in his hands, his eyes
searching mine. “You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was really hungry, right? I
haven’t fed in days.”
I rolled my eyes, sticking
out my lip stubbornly. “I know.”
“I’m not talking about
shacking up with her and having vampire babies or anything,” he said with a
smirk as his soft hand brushed my cheek. “Just a quick drink and I’ll whisk you
away for a night of passion and excitement.”
“Ha,” I snorted, trying to
stop the smile that played on my lips. “You are so not getting lucky tonight.”
I let out a loud dramatic
sigh and looped my arm with his as we turned back to the waiting area. I stopped
in front of Natasha, giving her the sweetest smile I could muster. “It’s been a
long day for both of us. Why don’t you let Jack walk you out to your car? I’m
sure if they have anything else, they’ll call you.”
She practically squealed but
maintained her poise and grace. “You sure?”
I nodded. “I have to go in
and tell the detective something I forgot anyway. It should buy you a couple of
minutes.” I directed the last bit at Jack. No time to toy with his meal
tonight. I was ready to go home.
Natasha batted her eyes, her
lips moistening with anticipation. She placed a hand on Jack’s forearm. “That’s
so sweet of you.”
I felt Jack struggle at her
touch. He was fighting the urge to just throw her to the ground now and rip her
throat out.
“So um, go-” I said forcefully,
communicating to him with my eyes. “-and I’ll be out in a minute.”
Natasha smoothed the front of
her shift and addressed me. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You bet,” I said
sarcastically. I walked toward the interrogation room, my back stiff.