Hauling a dead body was a lot harder than you might think. Especially a large, six-foot male, who looked like he ate his wife—and possibly his children.
Even with Iris’s help, it took us at least a half-hour just to lift Bernard and drag his body over the gurney I’d acquired from the Hollow Cove Security Agency. Thank the cauldron it was one of those gurneys with a lift mechanism already built in it, otherwise we couldn’t have rolled Bernard out, let alone made it to the morgue.
Grace, Marcus’s administrative assistant, wasn’t too pleased at the sight of me, nor was she very optimistic about lending me the gurney so I could bring poor Bernard to the morgue. I guess she was still harboring some ill will from my ambush into Marcus’s office a few months back.
“Where’s your Merlin ID card?” Grace had asked, a winning smile wrinkling over her face, framed with short white hair. “Word is… you’re not a Merlin anymore. Without proper ID, I can’t authorize this.” She’d given me a pointed look from behind the front desk.
“How about I authorize you with my foot up your ass,” I’d snapped. Iris had applauded. I’d been so filled with anger and dread about my poor Aunt Ruth that my temper was off the charts.
“Tell me where to find the damned gurney, or you’ll just have to go get Bernard’s body yourself,” I’d screamed at her. There might have been a little spit.
Meanwhile, Iris, my loyal sidekick, had been giving her the stink eye while pointing two fingers and throwing make-believe curses at Grace, though she didn’t know that.
Grace’s face had turned an ugly red, nearly purple. “I don’t care who you are, or what surname you share. You can’t speak to me like that.”
“I already have,” I told her. “He’s starting to smell. In a few minutes, the entire town is going to smell like a giant sewer.”
Apparently, that had been the right thing to say, as Grace finally agreed to tell us where to find a gurney.
Together, Iris and I pushed the sheet-draped gurney with Bernard’s body on it down a hallway in the basement level of the Hollow Cove Security Agency and through a pair of double doors with the word MORGUE painted in large, black letters on the right one.
Cool air hit me as we entered a large lab-like room. It stank of disinfectant and the sweetish odor of dead flesh.
“Smells like roses,” I choked, trying to breathe through my mouth and finding it harder than I thought.
Iris took in a deep breath. “Nothing like the smell of bleach to clear out your nasal passages. Am I right?”
Yup, Iris was a strange one.
Plain white walls with matching boring white tiles surrounded us, all lit with fluorescent lights from above. The morgue was equipped with stainless counters topped with medical tools and devices. It had a cold, dreary feeling, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out.
Heart thumping, we pushed the gurney to the middle of the room, next to a stainless-steel autopsy table. A rolling medical cart stood beside it, covered with gleaming, sharp medical tools that looked like they belonged to a butcher.
I swept my gaze across the room, to the metal refrigerator doors on the opposite wall, wondering how many more cadavers were still in there. I did not want to know.
Though I’d never been in a morgue before, it looked exactly how I imagined it would—thanks to all the police dramas I’d watched over the years.
Yanking my bag around to my front, I flipped the flap open and pulled out two Ziploc bags. One had Bernard’s empty cup, and the other had the vial that contained Ruth’s gingerweed tonic. Her fingerprints were probably all over it too, but it didn’t matter. My aunt had nothing to hide.
I dropped the bags on the stainless-steel autopsy table, with a slip of paper stating Bernard’s name and next of kin, wanting nothing more than to leave.
Iris inhaled deeply, looking around the room. “God I love the smell of morgues. All that death and missing souls gives me goosebumps. You know what I mean?”
“You’re insane. You know that?” I laughed, staring at the pretty, pixie-like witch who’d crossed the room and was now pulling out one of the refrigerator doors.
“Uh… should you be doing that?”
Iris shrugged. “I don’t know why people are so afraid of dying. It’s just a transition to another place.” Disappointment flashed across her face at the empty slab of stainless steel.
I eyed the Dark witch. “You believe there’s an afterlife? A place where we all go after our batteries run out? Up or down… the light or the darkness?” I’d never given it much thought. I knew angels and demons existed, so why not a heaven and hell? Or a Horizon and Netherworld as we paranormals liked to call them. Same difference.
Iris shut the door, her eyes widening. “Of course, I do. Don’t you? I’m not saying if you lived a good life you go to some version of Horizon and if you cheated on your wife you’ll end up in the Netherworld to be tortured for eternity by demons… because the Netherworld is a realm of demons and devils. Did you know human soul trafficking is huge in the Netherworld? I mean big, really big.”
I stared at her. “I had no idea.” Again, I was happy to have Iris around. She was a walking Netherworld Wikipedia.
“Well,” continued the Dark witch, happy to have an audience. “I believe souls go somewhere after we die. And it’s not so black and white either.” Iris walked over and pulled the sheet off of Bernard’s face. “Take him. Where do you think Bernard is now? His soul? His body is dead, but his soul… I’d like to think his soul is somewhere safe.”
I looked at the dead witch’s face. “I don’t know. I’ve never died and come back—but if I ever do, I’ll let you know. Promise,” I said with a smile. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe his soul is somewhere safe.”
I felt bad for Bernard, and knowing he had a wife made me feel terrible. He probably had kids too, and grandkids. But seeing as Ruth believed she had something to do with his death made me feel worse. No. Not Ruth. Never Ruth.
But what if I was wrong…
“Now what?” Iris stood with her hands on her hips, looking at ease and in her element in the cold, stale morgue.
“I’ll make the arrangements and call the medical examiner.” I didn’t think Grace would be as helpful as my Aunt Dolores had thought. “Let him know there’s a body here. He’ll need to know what to look for.” I swallowed hard. “You know… see if Ruth’s potion really did cause his death.” My words choked off. My gut twisted until I thought I might puke.
Forget about celebrating Samhain tonight. I had to help Ruth. I had to help clear her name and make her realize she had nothing to do with this.
I looked at Iris. “Ruth didn’t do this.”
Iris squeezed my arm. “I know she didn’t. He probably just died of natural causes, like Dolores said.”
My lips curved down into a frown. “I wish Marcus was here. Not because of me… but because he would know how to do all this,” I stammered, feeling like an idiot.
Iris eyed me from under her thick lashes. “No word yet? No sexy texts? No naked pictures?” She moved her eyebrows suggestively.
I laughed. “No. None of those. Nothing. I think… I think he ghosted me. Or maybe during our time apart, he realized I wasn’t dateable.”
“Not dateable?” Iris moved so fast I barely had time to register her movement as she appeared in front of me, a finger pointing to my face. “Don’t even go there,” she threatened. “You are so dateable. You are date-e-licious.”
“How’d you do that?” She’d moved like a vamp. Maybe all that time she spent with Ronin was rubbing off of her—literally.
“Marcus is really into you,” she continued as though she didn’t hear me. “I saw how he looks at you. Like he wants to rip off all your clothes.”
“Well, if it’s just sex he wants, he’s wasting his time.”
Iris sighed. “He is really into you, Tessa. If he hasn’t called or texted, I’m sure he has a pretty good reason. He’s a mature, very virile dude. Anymore virile, and he’d be a caveman. He’s going to call. Trust me.”
I gave a silent nod. I couldn’t think of all the reasons why Marcus hadn’t called yet. I had to focus on my Aunt Ruth. Just the memory of the fear on her face had my stomach twisting again.
“Well,” I exhaled, “we won’t know for sure until the doctor runs his tests.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll all get resolved.” Iris pulled the sheet over Bernard’s head and turned to face me. “What we need is to haul our butts to Wicked Witch & Handsome Devil Pub and get some alcohol in us. I want details on your first day. What d’you say?”
“Sure. Why the hell not. Let’s get out of here.” Telling Iris about my disaster was a hell of a lot less painful than telling my aunts.
We left Bernard and took the stairs back up to the first floor. I did not want to be here when Bernard’s wife showed up. Knowing Martha, that witch blabbed. By now the entire town knew Ruth thought she’d killed the town baker. Wonderful.
With that in mind, I hurried up the stairs. When we reached the platform, I could make out voices through the door. One was Grace’s, but I didn’t recognize the other.
“What now?” came Iris’s voice next to me on the platform.
“No idea.”
I pulled open the door and we both hit the hallway, marching back towards the front desk.
Next to Grace stood a fit, leggy and lean woman dressed in black with flat boots. Reddish hair curled down past her mid-back in a riotous cascade, complementing her flawless skin, high cheekbones, and lush lips. She didn’t have much makeup on, but she didn’t need it. Her face held an ageless beauty, her large green eyes framed with black lashes. I’d never seen her before.
“You think that’s his wife?” whispered Iris.
“If she is, he’s a lucky man,” I whispered back, making her laugh.
At the sound of our approach, the woman turned and looked at us. She wasn’t just pretty. She was freaking gorgeous. Eyes alight, she stared at us for a few seconds, enough to satisfy her curiosity, and then turned her attention back to Grace.
“Where’s the suspect now…” said the stranger as she glanced down at a piece of paper. “… uh… a Ruth Davenport? Do you know where I can find her?”
I jerked as my heart sped. “Excuse me. What the hell is going on here?” I demanded, my voice dangerously loud and dripping with angst as I stomped my way over, actually stomped.
The stranger eyed me for a long moment. “Ruth Davenport. You know her?”
“Yeah. She’s my aunt.” I glared at Grace who sat back and crossed her arms, a stupid, knowing look on her stupid face.
The stranger blinked at me. “Then you can tell me where she lives,” she commanded, her voice like a whip but not giving me a clue as to who she was.
“Why?” I crossed my arms over my chest just as Iris brushed up against me. “What do you want from her?”
The woman stared at me without blinking, which was really creepy. “She killed someone,” she answered, her voice coated with amusement. “She’s a murderer.”
My heart pounded, and I felt as if I was at a cliff’s edge ready to fall. “What? Wait just a minute here.” I put myself in front of this woman with my hands on my hips. “My aunt didn’t do this. You’ve got it all wrong.” I had no idea who this stranger was, but I hated her already.
She looked at me, her eyebrows high on her face as though somehow she was superior. “I’ve already gotten a confession.”
“She’s confused.” I was going to slap her. I just knew it. “Gossip about what happened isn’t going to help anyone or this town. Leave this alone and stay away from my family. It’s none of your business.” That’s it. I was going to kick her in the throat.
Her face was expressionless. “I don’t do gossip. I stick to facts.”
“Here’s a fact,” I growled, seeing Iris rock forward on her feet close enough to the strange woman, take a sniff, and rock back. “There’s no way my aunt would do something like that. Tell her, Grace,” I said, looking at the vile woman behind the desk.
Grace pursed her lips. “Ruth is a kind soul and a friend. She wouldn’t poison Bernard on purpose.”
The stranger snapped the folder she was holding. “Well, that’s really not up to you to decide.”
My brows fell around the bridge of my nose. “Who the hell are you?”
She met my gaze and gave me an icy smile. “I’m the new chief.”