Eerie Read online

  “What did you hear?” he demanded.

  She peeked over her shoulder.

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Hailey shook her head. “Bits and pieces. It didn’t make any sense.” Fin relaxed his posture, looking curiously relieved.

  Sometime around 2am the brothers emerged from the back. Uncle Pix pulled Hailey aside as Fin closed up.

  “We’ll be out all night looking for your sister,” he told her. “Fin will walk you home and stay with you until we get back.”

  All night? Hailey frowned, but nodded obediently. They couldn’t know where Holly was then, but still she had a feeling her uncle knew a lot more than he was telling her.

  “I’m coming with you,” she said, her voice rising. Pix just sighed and shook his head. He hugged her tight, nodded to Fin, who nodded back, and he left the pub with his brothers. Hailey stared expressionless at the door as it closed behind them.

  Fin grabbed his coat from behind the bar and met Hailey by the exit.

  “Where’s your coat?” he asked her.

  “I didn’t wear one,” she said, still staring blankly at the door.

  Throwing his leather jacket over Hailey’s shoulders, Fin led her outside, hitting the lights as they left.

  Hailey stuck her arms through the sleeves, which were several inches too long. She let them swish at her side as she walked. It was a chilly night, and she shivered when the wind blew.

  “Zip your coat,” Fin said with a smile.

  Hailey lifted her arms repeatedly trying to get her hands out of the sleeves. Fin watched, chuckling.

  “Come here, chowder-head.” He pulled on her arm to break her stride, shook his head, and zipped his coat for her.

  “Do you think they’ll find her?” she asked him hopefully.

  Fin seemed to be in cahoots with her uncles. So did Frog. In fact everyone seemed to know more than they were saying. It was like they were intentionally keeping her in the dark about something, and it was scary.

  “I’m sorry, Hailey,” he said softly. “I don’t know.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it sounded honest.

  He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her next to him as they walked.

  “She’s coming home, I know it,” Hailey told him.

  “I hope so too,” he said, hugging her closer.

  Asher looked on from the shadows. Seeing a human—that human—touch his girl stirred within him a new uneasiness. Now she was leaning into him, and Asher’s hands tightened to fists. If she required comfort, Asher would provide it for her in the Aether—he’d instruct her to remember that.

  As for Pádraig, though loyal and inherently good, he would do well to leave this place. His presence here was pointless. He could never protect the girl from an Envoy, he’d be shredded. And his interference with Asher’s interest was troublesome. He had no idea the punishment Asher could inflict for his insolence. Perhaps he needed a reminder.

  And perhaps Hailey needed a demonstration of Envoy power. Here. On Earth.

  He’d rid her of Pádraig. And she’d look to Asher for comfort.

  Relaxing his fists, Asher disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Seven

  Mistaken Identity

  “Sorrow makes us all children again — destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing.”

  - Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Everything inside the townhouse sat exactly as Hailey had left it. Sadly, there was no sign Holly had come home.

  Hailey curled up in the chair, eyes fixed on the door while Fin made himself at home on the couch. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. A few times, he stirred, mumbling words that sounded German. At around 4am, after tossing and whimpering for several seconds, he bolted upright and yelled, “HAILEY!”

  Feigning sleep, Hailey never stirred, though he’d shouted loud enough to make her ears ring. She figured she’d allow him the dignity of nightmaring with privacy. It didn’t take long for him to settle back to sleep, and when his breathing fell into a regular rhythm, she got up to stretch her legs.

  While she was up, she noticed Fin had taken off his shirt and lost his blanket to the floor, so she threw it back over him. His tattoo did indeed stretch all the way up his arm and over his shoulder, but in the dim light, Hailey couldn’t make out the intricate shapes or intertwining letters, and she gently pulled the blanket over them.

  Except for Fin’s two bouts of sleep talk, it was another night spent staring at the door in silence until the coffee pot clicked on. Just as Hailey stood up, she heard some shuffling on the porch. Her heart swelled.

  It was Holly—she was sure of it.

  Hailey bolted down the hall and reached the entryway just as a key ground in the lock. She snatched the handle and flung open the door, smiling and thanking God, ready to hug her sister forever and ever and never let her go—

  Morning sun bulldozed into the house, and her hand shot up to shield her eyes. Squinting around her fingers, she saw four people standing on the doorstep. She craned her neck to find Holly among them.

  “Where’s Holly?” she asked Pix.

  He bowed his head.

  “Uncle Pix . . .?”

  “Oh, Jesus,” he said, letting out a sob.

  Wimp squeezed his shoulder and coaxed him inside.

  “Where’s Holly?” she asked again, more urgently.

  Uncle Pix grabbed her hands and looked at her sadly, his eyes swollen, pink, and misty.

  “Hailey, dear . . .” He cleared his throat and started again. “She’s with your mum, dear,” he said gently. “She’s in Heaven—”

  “No, she’s not!” Hailey yanked her hands away from her uncle. “She can’t be, she’s coming home . . .”

  It felt like someone was pulling her under water, and she stumbled back. Fin caught her just as her legs crumpled, and the world went dark.

  Hailey woke up on the couch, which smelled like Fin’s cologne. It was nauseating. With blood swishing in her ears, she desperately tried to blink away the blackness. Fin was sitting close and moved to steady her as she sat up.

  “Take it easy,” he said with a foreboding voice. “You look pretty pale.”

  “Where’s Holly?” A pit opened in her stomach.

  Wrapping his arms around her, Fin hugged her tight. “They found her last night,” he said softly, and he held her tighter.

  “Where is she?” She drew a sharp breath as her eyes welled.

  He didn’t answer, and Hailey pushed him away.

  “Tell me where she is!”

  Fin shook his head.

  “Hailey . . .” he sighed heavily. “They . . . found her inside a mausoleum.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Hailey, she’s—”

  “Is she dead?”

  Fin pressed his lips together and nodded, avoiding Hailey’s eyes.

  “Wha—” Hailey’s throat closed and she struggled to breathe.

  “I’m gonna be sick.” She tried to stand.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Fin said. He threw her arm over his shoulder, gently rushing her to the toilet as she tried not to heave. Kneeling next to her, he held her hair back while she cried, retched, and spit. When she was spent, he handed her a cold washcloth.

  “Where is everybody?” Hailey pressed it to her face and sunk to the floor.

  Fin sat next to her. “They’re at the police station. Left a couple hours ago. I’ll stay with you until they get back.” He patted her leg.

  “Thanks,” she said, staring at the floor. Tears were steadily dripping from her eyes, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop them.

  “What happened to her?”

  Fin pulled her into a hug. She rested her head against his chest and tried not to snot all over him.

/>   “Hailey, please don’t make me . . .”

  “Fin,” she begged. “Please tell me.”

  “They . . .” He shook his head. “They stabbed her.”

  Hailey tried to inhale properly. She just couldn’t suck in enough air. Every breath hurt, and she had to spit it out before it hit her lungs, because it was making her gut ache.

  “Oh no,” she panted as the room spun above her.

  Fin cradled her in his arms as she drifted into unconsciousness.

  “Hailey,” he said gently, and she refocused on him. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe with me,” he coached. “Slow breath in-one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight, and hold it.” He counted to four then told her to breathe out, and he counted for her again. Several times he did this until she sat up on her own. “There,” he said. “You’re color’s back. Come on, I’ll make you some tea.”

  Hailey shuffled into the living room, where she sat on the arm of the couch, clutching the cuffs of her sleeves in tight fists and staring at the floor. The morning sun had long gone and taken with it the bright stripes of sunflower yellow from the entryway rug. Only a diffused glow pushed through the windows now.

  Very carefully, Fin placed two cups of tea on the coffee table, and then he sat on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him, saying, “Decaf with a teaspoon of honey.”

  “Thanks,” she managed, staring at the cup. He knew how she liked her tea?

  Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she slid off the arm and joined him on the cushion, her shoulders drooped. Moving very slowly and watching the tea the whole way, Fin passed her a cup and scooted next to her on the edge of the couch.

  Hailey’s insides were heavy, the rest of her body numb, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the police had made a mistake. How were they so sure it was Holly they’d found? She could still be out there. And no one was looking for her. Without taking a sip, Hailey set her teacup down, stood suddenly, and walked briskly toward her bedroom.

  “Hailey!” Fin dropped his cup and chased after her.

  She had to get cleaned up and changed and go see this girl they’d found. She knew in her heart it wasn’t Holly. She had to go tell them.

  “What’s wrong?” Fin asked when she closed the door on him.

  “I have to change,” she called through the door.

  “Okay . . .”

  Hailey could feel him waiting just outside her room as she hurriedly undressed and threw on some fresh clothes. She whisked the door open and shot across the hallway to the bathroom, where she combed her fingers through her frizzies and gathered them into a hairband.

  “Where are we going?” he asked as Hailey quickly brushed her teeth.

  “Coroner’s office,” she answered after she spit. “We have to see the body.”

  She scurried across the hall again, squeezing past Fin to grab a pair of socks from her room, which she’d forgotten. She zipped past him once more and headed for the door, hopping on one foot then the other as she pulled on her socks.

  Fin followed.

  “Hailey?” he said as she tied her shoes.

  “Get your shoes on.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “You have a car, right?” Uncle Pix was out with the only car in the family.

  “Yes,” Fin said, stepping into his sneakers. “It’s at the pub . . .”

  “Why did we walk home last night?” she asked him, and he followed her out the door. “Why didn’t we take your car?”

  Fin changed the subject as he chased Hailey down the street. “Pix wanted you to stay home today.”

  “Guess you’ll be in trouble then. Where’s your car?”

  Brushing past her, Fin headed toward a black convertible with red racing stripes parked in a shady corner of the lot. Hailey had seen this car before. She thought it belonged to one of the regulars.

  “This is your car?” she asked when he opened the passenger door for her.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Hailey furrowed her brow.

  “Uncle Pix told us this car belonged to an old fart with a—” She clamped her lips together.

  “With a what?”

  She shook her head and tried to get in, but Fin threw the door shut. Then he leaned against it and crossed his arms.

  “With a what?” he repeated.

  “—with a small penis,” Hailey blurted, and she covered her face.

  She waited a few seconds then peeked through her fingers.

  His nostrils weren’t flaring. His face wasn’t pinched. In fact he didn’t look angry at all. Hailey’s hands were sweating, but Fin seemed amused. He bit his lip to hide a smile and shook his head. Then he opened her door again, waving her in. Hailey couldn’t look at him. She squeezed through and into the passenger seat with her head bowed, mentally berating herself for saying the word “penis” in front of him.

  He shut her door, confining his laugh to a snort, and Hailey watched him walk way too slowly to the driver’s side. Her leg started shaking when he got in the car. If he didn’t start moving a little faster, she was going to snap at him.

  “Fin,” she said annoyed that he’d taken an extra three seconds to buckle his seat belt, “could you please move a little faster?”

  “You got it.” He pursed his lips, threw the car in gear, and stomped on the gas. The engine roared, and Hailey fell back in her seat as they shot out of the parking lot. She floundered around for her seat belt then dug her nails into the seat as Fin ran two red lights and weaved in and out of traffic at Mach one.

  “Look out!” she shouted as he narrowly missed side-swiping a city bus.

  “It would really help me concentrate,” said Fin very calmly as he swerved into oncoming traffic again, “if you would please hold all yelling until the Shelby comes to a complete stop.”

  “Okay,” Hailey mouthed. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her hands. Being in his car felt like a roller coaster, aside from the traffic noise. She heard more than a few horns honking, some squealing tires, and part of an expletive someone yelled at Fin.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Was that fast enough for you?” Fin asked with more than a little hostility as he skidded to a stop next to the coroner’s office.

  They’d made it there in under five minutes.

  Hailey uncovered her eyes and un-cringed. Fin’s driving was . . .exhilarating.

  He got out of the car and trotted to the passenger side. But when he opened Hailey’s door, something in the alley next to the coroner’s office caught his attention.

  His smile vanished.

  “Wait here, Hailey,” he said in a voice so serious that Hailey actually did stay put . . .for a few seconds—long enough to see him disappear around a building. But, as soon as he was out of sight, she got out of the car, headed for the coroner’s office, and asked to see the body.

  An older lady with gray hair and shaky hands sat at the reception desk and answered Hailey in a painfully slow voice.

  “That was Dr. Grabstein’s autopsy,” she said. “I’ll see if he’s available.” She picked up her phone.

  “Oh, he’s expecting me,” Hailey lied.

  The old lady looked up at her, her hand hovering over the keypad, then the desk, then the keypad.

  Hailey didn’t have the patience to wait for this old dear. She needed to see Grabstein now.

  “He told me to meet him in his office.”

  “ . . .his office,” the receptionist snickered. “He thinks that’s so funny.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed with an uncertain laugh. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

  “Just push the ‘down’ button, and the elevator will do the rest.” She motioned to the hallway on the right. “Dr. Grabstein’s been at it all night. He should still be down there . . .”

  Hailey
pushed the button for the basement, which was very conclusively labeled, MORGUE. The doors clanged shut, shaking the entire platform, which dropped her off at the end of an underground hallway with harsh fluorescent lights and air that felt cool and heavy, smelled a bit metallic, slightly like bleach, and reeked of another pungent, synthetic yet rotting ick she couldn’t identify.

  Voices echoed in the hallway, and she made her way in their direction until she found a couple of men bent over a stainless steel gurney, each wearing scrubs under a black rubber apron.

  Hailey opened her mouth to announce her presence, but nothing came out, so she cleared her throat, and one of the men looked up.

  “Can I help you?” he said from behind a plastic face shield. He had a scalpel in one hand and a bloody glove covering the other.

  “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?”