Dearly Departed Page 3

  I heard typing in the background. “Most people would call the police.”

  “We are not most people.”

  “Good thing you know me. I can run this faster for you. Also, you going to Thanksgiving?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He sighed and I heard more keystrokes. “I know you’re morally against Thanksgiving, and that’s fair, but you know I can’t come this year and Mom and Dad—”

  “Want you there.”

  “Need you there. And since you’re going, you need to talk to Mom about food.”

  I shrugged. “Why bother? She’s just going to make the recipes the way she always does, I won’t be able to eat anything, she’ll get offended and cry in the bathroom, I’ll do the dishes, then come home and drink a bottle of wine by myself.”

  “Liar. You don’t drink.”

  “Why don’t you have any food intolerances or allergies? This is bullshit.” I wasn’t someone who could “cheat” on their diet and only get a stomachache. Eating something on my “don’t consume” list could cause anything from hives to vomiting, an altered mental state, or even a trip to the hospital. It took years of elimination diets to feel normal, and I didn’t want to—and frankly couldn’t—risk the reactions getting worse.

  “It is bullshit you got all the allergies,” he replied. “I’m not jealous though. Keep that shit to yourself or I’ll return your Christmas present.”

  “You wouldn’t go through the hassle. What is it?”

  He chuckled. “It’s good.”

  “You say that every year.”

  “Am I ever wrong? I know my baby sis.”

  “Six minutes, Dal. I’m only six minutes younger.”

  He sucked in a breath. His chair squeaked as he shifted. “Paris,” he whispered, all teasing gone. My grip on the phone tightened. He never used my full name unless it was something serious. “Holy shit. Where’d you get this print?”

  “I told you, a friend’s house. Why?”

  “Which friend?”

  I didn’t respond. I trusted Dallas, but I didn’t always trust secure phone lines.

  “You can’t run this again, okay? I can cover it up from here. If someone else had—shit—wipe the frame. Reset your handheld, okay? Forget this existed.”

  “I can’t if she’s in danger! Who is it?”

  “She—Eliza?”

  I was silent.

  “What the hell, P? I thought you were going to stay away.”

  “We’re working a case together. And you know I will always protect her.”

  “You need to stay away from her in case whoever was after Ben comes after her. You’d be at risk if whoever killed Ben connects him back—”

  “I KNOW!” I shouted. I never raised my voice, and Dallas’s sharp inhale proved I’d shocked him. “That’s why I’m keeping an eye on her, okay? Now, whose print?”

  He didn’t respond for a beat, then two. “I’ll handle it. Won’t happen again.”

  “Dallas—”

  “It’s a ghost. It’s from a ghost.”

  “A dead person left this print?” I frowned. “Impossible.”

  “For certain ghosts, it’s possible. I don’t know why they were in her house, but they won’t be back. Okay?”

  I threw my hand in the air. “What am I supposed to tell Eliza?”

  “Tell her you couldn’t find a print.”

  “I don’t want to lie.”

  He sighed. “P, this print is from my active case. It was just a ghost passing through. I’ll handle it. They won’t touch you or Eliza.”

  That took the wind out of my sails. “You better be safe. You’re my only twin.”

  “Promise. Just make it disappear on your end, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  I hung up and tossed my phone next to my cold toast. I’d lost my appetite anyway. I unplugged the handheld as if it were a bomb, all soft touches and shallow breathing. I reset the device and turned it off. Then, I cleaned the frame until it was spotless.

  My chest was hot with worry and indignation. Whose print was on the frame? How was Dallas connected? What was my brother into? What mess had found its way to Eliza? If someone had gotten to her, it meant I was failing at keeping her safe.

  When everything was put away, I stared at the photo for one more moment before flipping it over on the desk.

  Me: Sorry, no unfamiliar prints on frame

  Eliza: Thanks for checking

  My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, debating asking her how the rest of her night went. We’re done. I locked the screen and set my phone upside down next to the photo. I needed to get out of this apartment.

  I slipped my feet into sneakers and grabbed a hoodie, then walked to the building’s foyer. My favorite ghosts sat around a group of tables pretending to play board games, but in reality, they were just gossiping.

  “Ah, there she is!” Clint called, waving me over. Clint, a former rock star with dark hair and colorful tattoos covering his fair skin, was locked in a chess match with his boyfriend, Reggie. “Amber just made cookies.”

  “You look like you could use one,” Amber said, pushing a plate of cookies toward me. “Dark chocolate caramel.” Amber wasn’t a ghost, rather an elderly neighbor who adopted everyone who needed someone to love them, including a demon named Belphegor and all of the building’s dead. She resettled her glasses perched on her tiny nose, her earpiece chain tinkling. Her tight gray curls were pulled back in a claw clip so tight, I had a headache looking at her.

  “Thanks, but I can’t.” I was allergic to dairy and intolerant to gluten, which meant the cookies were off-limits.

  Amber clucked her tongue. “That’s right dear, I forgot. I’ll make you a special batch soon.”

  I waved her off. “I don’t need cookies, just company.”

  Belphegor, a graphite-colored demon with a nose as long as his horns, giant caterpillar eyebrows, and a thin tail, grunted. He was hard to look at, as if he were just a little out of focus. “Shit day?”

  I plopped into a chair opposite him as he carefully shifted his hands, which were wrapped in yarn that Amber was using to make a sweater. “Yeah. A lot of family drama.”

  Belphegor made a face. “I have eighty-four siblings. Been fucking there.”

  I cringed. I had enough trouble with one sibling. I squeezed his arm, then turned to Clint. “Hey, do ghosts have fingerprints?”

  Clint lifted his hand to inspect it. He leaned forward, huffed a breath on the table, then pressed his fingers down. Him and Reggie surveyed at the dark wood from every angle. Clint studied his hand again. “Maybe if I were having a more solid day? It looks kinda smooth to me.”

  “Hmm.” Interesting.

  “What?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Work stuff.” I turned back to Belphegor. “You hear about any venom on the streets?”

  Amber pursed her lips and shot me a look over her reading glasses. “What’d we say about shop talk during off hours?”

  I lifted my hands. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just not really off ever, at least until we close this case.”

  She looked at me over her glasses. “Well then, let’s hope you finish it quickly.”

  I blew out a long breath and rested my head on the back of my chair. “Yeah.”

  Amber looked at Belphegor then back at me. “There was a lot of emotion in that one word.”

  I waved away her observation. “It’s just…”

  Belphegor leaned forward, his tail twitching in curiosity. “Just?”

  “It’s just that I’m partnered with someone whom I care…a lot about. And this will likely be the last chance I get to be an active part of her life. So while I want to rush it, I also don’t.”

  “Was this the girl you were in love with?” Clint asked.

  All eyes—human and supernatural alike—paused then turned to face me. My cheeks burned and I bet I glowed red. “Why do you know that?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Because I may have seen you holding hands with someone, and I may have been curious.”

  “You followed us.”

  Reggie put his hand over Clint’s mouth. “Callate, mi amor. You’re incriminating yourself.” Reggie was a Guatemalan-American man in his thirties with dark hair and light brown skin with no tattoos. He was wearing light colored dress pants and a polo shirt, the opposite style of Clint’s torn jeans and ratty band shirt.

  “What happened?” Belphegor asked, leaning toward me, listening intently.

  I pressed my lips together and looked down at my worn shoes. “She discovered something in my past that she—rightfully—couldn’t get past.”

  I shoved my fingers through my hair and blew out a breath. “She went out of her way to avoid me for five months and now—” I laughed without humor and picked at my thumbnail. “We are trapped together in a tiny office. It hurts so bad, but at least I get to be around her. Which, I know, is not healthy.”

  Cold radiated across my left arm and I looked over to find Sebastian in his full Victorian-evening-wear glory. He removed his top hat. “Remember that you deserve as much love as you give to other people. If another person can’t see your worth, that’s on them. Not you.”

  The entire room turned to look at him.

  “Seb,” Reggie prompted, “Is it time for another one of your ‘do as I say not as I do’ stories?” He leaned his chin on his hand and smiled. Sebastian and Reggie had become best friends after Reggie forgot to change the batteries in his carbon monoxide detector nearly a year and a half ago. Sebastian was known for his deeply annoying, yet often right advice.

  I held Sebastian’s gaze. “Did that happen to you?”

  He flashed a quick, self-deprecating smile, then s
tared down at the brim of his hat. “No. I did that to someone else.”

  Reggie gasped and Clint reached out and grabbed his free hand.

  “Who?” I asked.

  He was silent for a long moment, staring out the window, even though it was dark as ink. He ran a hand along the front of his throat. I didn’t know much about his death, but I knew he had broken his neck in an accident. Sebastian, while being a fountain of wisdom, was always closed off.

  He looked back over at me. “Her name was Evie.”

  I took a breath, tempering my reaction so I didn’t chase him away. “That’s a beautiful name.”

  “And she was even more so.” The corner of his lip lifted. “She was my best friend’s younger sister and he doted on her. We’d let her tag along, getting her into trouble by teaching her how to play cards or going swimming when we she was supposed to be with her governess.”

  “You cared for her?”

  He nodded once. “Not as more than a sibling at first. Hell, I barely noticed that she was out of braids and short dresses. Then at her coming out ball…she was…” he looked down and laughed once, touching the brim of his hat, “incandescent.”

  No one moved. The only sound was the patter of rain outside and an analog clock over the building’s main entrance. I held my breath, not daring to speak.

  “It was as if her dress was made of starlight. She was draped in sparkling jewels, even in her hair,” he waved a hand over his own head. “I was unable take my eyes off of her.” He was looking at me, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing me. He was back in that ballroom, staring at Evie. “I stopped speaking midsentence and practically jogged over to ask her for a dance.”

  “And?” Belphegor prompted.

  “I was an unconscionable villain. I was mocked by the people I’d mistakenly called friends. We’d always proclaimed we’d never get married. Balls were for assignations in the garden with bored widows. Maybe if her brother had heard, he would have said something.”

  “Oh no,” I breathed, unable to stop myself.

  “When the dance began, I could hear them laughing at me. So, I enticed her out of the ballroom, took a few liberties—enough to ruin her—and left her in the middle of the garden crying. She’d told me she loved me and I…I ran, despite feeling the same way. I knew her brother would challenge me to a duel the moment he learned the truth, so instead I challenged him to a race to distract him. And I paid the ultimate price.”

  He looked over at me. “I should have danced, should have protected her, should have shoved my so-called friends into a bush. Instead, I ruined her, hurt my best friend, and destroyed my family. I would do anything to take back that night.”

  He set his hat back on his head. “Do not leave your heart in the care of someone who is unable or unwilling to treat it with care.”

  I nodded.

  He disappeared.

  Belphegor leaned back on the couch. “Well, goddamn.”

  Clint studied me. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Hopefully, figure out how to get through it while keeping my heart safe.”

  Chapter Three

  Eliza

  I glanced at my watch for the fourth time in five minutes. Paris shot me a look, but I ignored her. If our boss, Jim, wanted to call a lunch meeting and make me late to Daisy’s doctor appointment, I expected not to be kept waiting while he took a call. Thankfully, Jake was able to take Daisy, but I needed to be there. She’d been struggling to get out of bed the last two weeks, even after going to sleep early.

  I cleared my throat, crossed my arms, and straightened my shoulders. My boss could force me to sit here, he could make me work with Paris, but I didn’t have to pretend to be happy about it.

  Jim hung up and glanced at me. “Am I keeping you from something, Eliza?”

  “Yes, an appointment which I scheduled for my lunch break.” I didn’t need to look at Paris to know she just full-body cringed. She was never one for confrontation. I missed my former partner back in the Dead Letter Office, who’d never heard the word meek in her life.

  “My apologies,” he offered, without sounding sorry in the least. “My friend at the DEA wanted an update.” He eyed both of us. “It’s imperative the vixen case is closed by the end of the month.”

  “That’s only sixteen days away,” Paris gasped. “Sir, even if Eliza and I were both seasoned agents, that’s unlikely to happen. We haven’t finished interviewing SHAP registered vampires and hybrids, we haven’t gotten the approval for Eliza to write the letters to the vixen victims, and we’re spending most of the day digitizing old case files. If we had help with the case files, maybe we’d have a chance.”

  Jim folded his hands on his desk and glared at Paris. “Let me be clear: The case will be closed by November 30th at end of day. This agent is former SHAP and is up for a promotion. The connection is crucial. Make a good faith effort to confirm vixen is off the streets permanently. Write up your report. Send me the case file.” He turned to me, “Then you get to go back to your offices and lives.”

  “And the leak?” Paris asked.

  “There’s been no vixen activity since Fletcher blew up the warehouse and then died shortly after,” he explained. “Looks like the leak problem solved itself.”

  I forced myself to unclench my jaw. “Let me get this straight. You force me to work with someone who had a hand in my late fiancé’s murder—”

  Paris stiffened.

  “She was cleared of all charges,” Jim interrupted.

  “Yeah, I’m sure there was a very thorough investigation,” I shot back. “And now you won’t even let us do our job because you want a connection higher up the DEA food chain?”

  He waved away my concern. “This is how the game is played. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to find a new job. Of course, then you’ll have to pay for Daisy’s SHAP lessons, mentor, and clinic visits out of your own pocket.”

  He knew I couldn’t pay for the lessons and for Jake to be her mentor. My brother would do it for free, but he’d need a new day job and then I’d have to pay for childcare. I wasn’t even going to think about the cost of having access to a medical facility that knew how to handle an eight-year-old with powers most humans didn’t know about.

  On top of everything, I got paid more at SHAP than I would at comparable human jobs. I was effectively trapped, and he knew it. Rage filled my chest.

  Paris grabbed my wrist and squeezed before I could open my mouth. Her hand was so warm, so soft. Sparks of awareness shot up my arm and I yanked myself free. I hadn’t been touched by a non-related person in so long I nearly forgot how much I despised her.

  I leaned forward. “Grant me approval to write to the vixen victims, and we’ll close your case by the week’s end.”

  “You’ll finish the case with or without the approval. I’ll review the request after I see your weekly report.” He removed his glasses and folded them on his desk. “You’re dismissed.”

  I stood and opened the door carefully, resisting the urge to slam it against the wall, and walked out of the office. Sienna, Jim’s assistant, studied me with her yellow werewolf eyes as I walked past her desk. “I know that look all too well.”

  “He’s infuriating,” I mumbled.

  She nodded. Paris brushed by me with her head down, dark hair hiding her face.

  “She is, too,” I added.

  Sienna looked between us. “I’ll see if I can find any files that might actually be useful.”

  *

  Me: On my way

  Jake: With doc now

  I took the stairs two at a time to make it up four floors to Daisy’s pediatrician’s office. SHAP took care of all her medical needs for as long as I worked for them, deducting an annual fee from my paycheck pre-tax. I was breathing heavy with sweat beading at my temples as I leaned on the reception desk.

  “Eliza Robinson. Dr. Marback.” I swallowed, trying to moisten my tongue. “Sorry I’m late. Meeting with Jim.”

  The assistant made an understanding face. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  Before I had the chance to sit down, Jake and Daisy walked out of the patient area and into the waiting room. I crouched and gave Daisy a hug and kiss, much to her dismay, then straightened.

  “We need to talk later,” Jake ordered, his face betraying the seriousness his light tone tried to cover. He pulled his dark hair back into a low bun, revealing the deep lines of his frown.