Storykiller (30 page)

Tessa nodded. “Sure. I mean, yeah, of course.”

“It’s no different for Stories. Story has all your same Mortal problems. Where do we come from? What are we, really? Why do we exist? Why are we created? Why don’t we die? Who was the first? Why can’t we have children? How did the Scion line come to be? Where do we go if a Scion does manage to kill us? And for all the answers that we come up with, just like Mortals, we don’t all agree.”

“God.”

“Exactly. And just like for you Mortals, it’s caused war. A very old one.”

“Is it, is it something I need to worry about? Something I need to do something about?” Tessa stared at him, floored. She hadn’t even imagined such complications. She wished she’d never asked him anything at all.

Fenris began walking again, and Tessa noticed it was a casual way of avoiding her gaze. “If you live long enough, I suppose you should worry about it very much, yes.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Tessa said, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. “So, who is the war between? Like good guys and bad guys or something?”

“No such thing,” Fenris said, a sharpness edging into his tone.

“Huh?” Tessa asked.

Fenris looked at her, his dark gaze piercing through her, and she could tell something was dancing on the tip of his tongue, just aching to be said. Instead he looked away, dismissing her. “It’s a bit above your pay-grade, Scion.”

“C’mon. You started this.”

“The lines are not so clearly defined as you would like to believe, luv. There is no black and white, it’s all rather muddy and mostly grey. In the simplest of terms, I would say that some of us believe in fighting our Fiction and some of us believe in accepting it.”

Tessa blinked twice. It was the exact same phrasing Robin had used.
Fighting our Fiction
. She shook her head. “You were right, it’s complicated and I don’t understand.” After a moment, she looked back at him, trying to catch his eyes again. “Which side are you on?”

He didn’t hesitate. “You don’t know me well enough to ask that question.”

And it was as if a metal curtain had been drawn between them. So abrupt and absolute was his tone that Tessa could almost hear the clang that separated them, perhaps permanently, drawing lines she didn’t yet understand.

The funeral, which should have been a grim affair, was unbearably sunny.

A small crowd,
‘just enough’
Tessa thought to herself and then quickly wondered what that meant, had come to Bishop’s graveside ceremony. Tessa had noticed police tape roping off the northern quadrant of the cemetery when she’d come in, and at least a dozen emergency vehicles were parked along the winding road, checking out the empty graves she and Fenris had discovered the night before. She hoped she didn’t leave any more hair at the new crime scene. That was the last thing she needed.

Fortunately, Bishop’s ceremony was well away from the chaos, situated on a slight bluff at the western edge of the cemetery. Lush grass surrounded his site and a large old tree sat not far away, casting deep shadows across the lawn. It was the kind of gravesite Tessa had thought existed only in Stories. It must have been a family plot, for the headstones all around his read Bishop as well. Snow had not come, which Tessa was grateful for. The crowd was a strange mix of what looked like students and teachers, some of them surely friends and family, and of course Detectives Wade and Ripley. Tessa wondered if they’d planned to come all along or if they’d been here for the empty graves and decided to stop by anyway. She hoped it was the former. It seemed less crass.

Tessa didn’t listen to the words very closely. She was too tired and sad and worried about everything. She thought a lot about how wasteful Bishop’s death had been, how useless she’d felt having it happen while she was right there, how she should have been able to stop it, and now he was just gone. And she barely knew him. How many words had they said to one another? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough. She could count the number of minutes they’d spent together on one hand. Micah linked her fingers through Tessa’s. It relaxed her, but only a little.

When the ceremony was over, it started to rain a little, which Tessa appreciated. It should have been raining all along.

People scattered in the rain. Micah pulled on the arm of Tessa’s jacket and Tessa resisted. “Go ahead, I want to stay for a bit.”

Micah hesitated and then thought better of it. “We’ll wait for you by the entrance,” she said. Tessa nodded. Detectives Wade and Ripley had watched her intently during the ceremony. Tessa had tried to ignore them, but it had been difficult. Now they hung around like vultures, and she ached to shake her fist at them, to scare them away.

Tessa bowed her head and closed her eyes. She tried to picture Bishop’s face before he had died. It was his face after death that haunted her, and she wanted to remember the man, what little she knew of him, not the empty body. When she opened her eyes she was alone at the grave save a handsome older man in a sharp dark suit standing next her in the rain, covering them both with his excessively large umbrella.

“Well, you don’t look like a murderer,” he said, almost jovially, and not even looking at her.

Tessa squinted up at him and clenched her fist unconsciously. “Excuse me?”

“Captain West,” he said, and they turned to face one another. “My detectives, or at least Detective Wade, likes you for murder in this unsavory business, Miss Battle,”

“Yeah, well, she’s not real bright,” Tessa said, running a hand through her wet hair and flinging the excess water on the ground.

West smiled a charming, irresistible smile. “Actually, she’s one of my best.” He stared at Tessa a moment and then added, “But I think she may be wrong about you.”

“Can you get her to back off then?” Tessa said, more than asked.

“Ohhhhnoooo. I’ve never been able to get Wade to do much of anything.”

“You’re a Captain, doesn’t that make you her boss? Isn’t that, like, your
job
?” Tessa wanted to be annoyed with him, but something in his demeanor put her at ease. He was an imposing figure at six foot two and broad shouldered. He should have been intimidating but he was also kind of devastatingly handsome and absurdly charismatic, even at a funeral, which made him imminently likable at the same time.

“A good detective follows her instincts, regardless of what the brass says. Wade would be a better employee if she did what I said, but a lesser detective. Besides, sometimes being a good leader is knowing when to get out of the way, let others lead, do what they’re best at. Wade can close a case like nobody’s business. I’d be a fool to get in her way.” He paused and smiled at Tessa. “Still, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Tessa squinted up at West, trying to figure him out. “Why? I mean, you don’t know me, so why would you do that?”

“I was once a detective myself. I’ve got plenty of instincts left, or at least a few, and mine say that you’re no murderer. But you’re clearly a girl with serious secrets, I suspect that’s what’s tripping up Wade.”

“Everyone has secrets,” Tessa said defensively.

“Indeed. But I wouldn’t bet on holding onto them, Miss Battle.”

“Great,” Tessa muttered miserably.

“You hiding something I should know?”

“Just because I didn’t kill Mr. Bishop doesn’t mean I have nothing to hide. Just because I’m innocent doesn’t mean I want her rooting around and messing up my life.”

“Well, I’d learn to live with disappointment, Miss Battle. Secrets have a way of unraveling when people start digging. You’re in a tough spot.”

Tessa met his eyes. “You have no idea, Captain.”

He was taken aback by her directness and his playful smile faded. “Do you need help, Miss Battle?”

Now it was Tessa’s turn to be taken aback. “Yes, I mean, no, no, I’m fine, Captain. But thank you for asking. Been a while since anyone offered me help without strings. It’s nice.”

“Well, the offer stands.” West reached into his pocket and drew out a business card. He handed it to Tessa. “Here’s my card if you want to talk. And please, call me West.”

He turned to go and when he was a few feet away Tessa called after him. “You should still be a detective,” she said, “If I
was
guilty I’d confess to you before either of them.”

West turned back to face her and gave her a slight bow. Tessa laughed a little. She liked West, he had a charm to him that set her at ease. She wished she could trade him for Wade.

When Tessa looked again, there was a tiny old woman, shrunken and pruned but with sharp eyes like tacks, standing not far from where West had been, dwarfed by another massive, black umbrella. Where did people get these huge umbrellas?

“You’re Battle,” she said, and it was not a question so much as a statement. Tessa looked up, her eyes a bit wide.

“Yes ma’am,” she said.

“I recognize you,” the woman said, squinting at her.

Tessa shook her head, confused. “How’s that, ma’am?”

The woman examined her across the grave. “You have the look of all Battles,” she said, doing a fine impression of a wise sage, and then added, “Also he told me you had very weird hair in your passport photo.” The woman cackled aloud. Tessa smiled briefly before it all fell away.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right,” the woman said. Tessa shook her head and looked down, she was too embarrassed to even look her in the eye now that the woman knew who she was.

“It’s really not,” Tessa said. “It’s my fault he got killed.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s dangerous work, things happen. Benjamin knew that since he was a small boy. He never feared the risk and always loved the job, or at least the idea that he might someday get to actually do the job.”

“Benjamin,” Tessa murmured to herself. She hadn’t heard anyone except Bishop actually say his first name until now. The woman reached out to take her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you ma’am,” Tessa said, shaking her small hand carefully.

“Call me Maeve, dear. I was once an Advocate myself and hearing you call me ma’am makes that feel like a dozen lifetimes ago, instead of just the one.”

Tessa nodded but she wasn’t sure she could use her first name. “I’m sorry,” was all she managed a second time. Maeve tsked her.

“Battle, the day he finally found you, was the happiest day of his life. He had almost given up hope that a Scion would be called in his lifetime, and to find out that it was you, that it was ‘The Last’…well, when he called to tell me, it was pure joy I heard and nothing more.” Tessa choked out a thank you, and Maeve nodded. She then reached into her coat pocket, drawing out a silver chain with a charm at the end and holding it out to Tessa.

Tessa fingered the charm, drew in a surprised breath. It was a modified tree of life. Tessa had a version of one tattooed on her shoulder.

“You know what that is?” Maeve asked.

Tessa nodded. “It’s a tree of life,” she said staring at the charm, which sparked a feeling of memory though she was sure she had never seen one exactly like this before.

Maeve nodded, “It is based on that, yes, but it’s the mark of the Advocate.” Tessa looked up from the charm to meet Maeve’s eyes.
“It’s been with Benjamin since he was a child, but you should give it to your new Advocate, when you find them.”

Tessa examined the charm. It had a solid silver center resembling a tree, intricate silver
branches bending off of it, above and below, so that all the branches connected together into an endless circle around the tree. However, in this
version, one of the branches was a vibrant green. It edged out of the tree at the center and wound its way around the tree and back again, creating its own distinct circle within all the silver ones. Tessa assumed it was meant to represent The Advocate line, or perhaps The Scion line. It was wholly unique and precious. Tessa blinked back some tears threatening her.

“Thank you ma’am. It, it means a lot.” Maeve nodded at Tessa and a sharp clap of thunder rang out followed almost immediately by a bright flash of lightning. The raindrops became bigger suddenly and fell faster. The sky darkened dramatically all around them. Maeve squeezed Tessa’s arm and then began shuffling down the wet hillside. Before she had gone too far, she turned to look back at Tessa. “Be careful, dear. If you really are The Last then you’re more important than any of them have been. And that is a thing,
indeed.”

Tessa watched her go. By the time she was a little black dot in the distance, the rain had soaked Tessa through and the sky was brutally dark, almost like night. Lightning and thunder came more and more frequently, as if stacking on top of one another. Tessa turned to leave, but as she did something caught her eye in the woods. Something big and brownish green.

“No…” she breathed, and froze, narrowing her eyes, trying to be sure that what she saw was not what she feared. That the shape was
not
the Troll.

But of course it was.

It was because Tessa’s life was 100% suck.

“Dammit,” she cursed under her breath before running toward the woods where the shadow moved almost elegantly through the thick trees. As she ran, she crested a small hill, and from there she could see the entrance to the cemetery. Brand and Micah were standing there, huddled under a tree, and she saw Brand notice her running toward the woods. They didn’t even seem to think about it, let alone discuss it, before coming after her. Tessa cussed again. They were too good of friends, and it was going to get them killed.