Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

the door, squeezing the last of the light and casting Velvet and Nick into the darkest of shadows.

They bumped into each other, stumbling. Velvet replaced her pajamas with a pair of tights and her plaid skirt. She crammed her feet into her unlaced boots, while Nick buttoned his shirt and hurridly tucked it into the waistband of his pants. She wiped the ash from her hands and forearms onto the scratchy sheet. Then she held her hands before her like a pair of lanterns. Nick looked up from tying the laces on his wingtips and squinted.

“We gotta hurry,” Velvet said, pushing past him. “We might be able to catch Conroy in the act, bust this case wide open, and get out of this hellhole!”

But shortly after taking their first wobbly steps into the slender alley between the cottage rows, the shaking and darkness subsided. The inky tentacles that always accompanied shadowquakes receded into the dark corners of walls, into the eaves.

Velvet’s heart sank. Time was running out, they needed to cross over quickly.

The courtyard was a flurry of activity as they raced through it. Barker gathered the bulk of the temple’s residents under the pavilion. Charlie and a girl, Ho Min, flanked him.

“Is there anyone missing?” Velvet yelled in the man’s direction. “I haven’t seen Am—” he started.

“I’m here!” Amie yelled from the back of the crowd glowing bright and totally free of ash.

Velvet pulled Nick close. “You see that? Either she’s got a great skin care regimen, or she’s fresh from a trip through the crack.”

Nick nodded.

Velvet glared at the girl. Amie stared right back, a crooked smile curled onto her lip like it was caught on a fishhook.

“I’m going back. Stay here and watch her. I don’t trust her for a second, and something’s wrong.” Velvet raced off.

* * *

Velvet didn’t have to search for the source of the shadowquake after all.

She stumbled out of the crack and into a destroyed version of the busy kitchen they’d passed through earlier. Gas stove-top burners raged with flame, but their pots were overturned on the linoleum floor, crimson sauce splattered up the walls like blood spray on a forensics TV show. Knives and carving forks protruded from the ceiling and, as Velvet looked closer, she saw a carrot sticking out of the wall.

Pretty stereotypical haunting-type stuff, she thought. But it seemed a little over- the-top. Most hauntings didn’t show any outward signs, but rather were simple unwarranted possessions. This one seemed—she took another look around—amateurish.

On the far end of the kitchen, near the swinging doors, sat the waiter she’d assumed was being possessed by Conroy.

Approaching him, Velvet realized if this were the same guy, the undertaker had since disposed of his body. It was empty. The eyes were flat, dim—no ghost, no matter how skilled, was able to mask their glow through a body’s eyes. She glanced around the room for signs of another spirit lingering in the shadows, to no avail.

Just then, the swinging doors crashed open and a petite, young waitress with short-cropped brown hair like a pixie and a nose as narrow and blunt as a pencil eraser ran into the room.

“Emile, the police are here. They want to talk to you.”

The waiter’s face fell into his palms, and he shook his head, groaning.

Pixie Girl squatted beside him, concern spread across her features. She pulled a napkin from her apron pocket and dabbed at a trickle of blood trailing from the battered guy’s ear down his neck.

“Just tell them what we all know,” she whispered.

Velvet leaned in closer, intrigued.

Emile, as the waiter’s name apparently was, slapped his hands against his thighs and glared at the young woman, furiously. “They’re not going to believe that all this...” He flailed his arms about.

Pixie Girl’s eyes followed his. She chewed at her lip, discouraged.

“...That all this was done by some invisible entity. They just won’t.”

So they know, Velvet thought.

The amount of energy it took to do the kind of damage on display at Il Fortuna was definitely enough bad juju to cause a shadowquake but, clearly, from the looks of Emile, the kitchen hadn’t been the target. The haunting wasn’t about the restaurant at all. As though they’d heard Velvet’s epiphany, the two waiters continued:

“But it’s not been just this once,” Pixie Girl said. “And it’s always you that gets hurt. Look at you this time! Your black eyes were just beginning to fade, too.”

Emile nodded, clutching at his hair. “I know. I know. But it doesn’t matter. They’ll just think I’m crazy. Better just to lie and say it was a vagrant or something.”

“Maybe you should ask for some time off. Get out of here.”

“I need the cash. The tips. It’s not like there are jobs out there, you know.”

From the dining room, Velvet heard the sound of heavy boots stomping, getting louder as they approached; the cops coming with their questions.

Questions. She had some of her own. What did Abner have against this particular guy? Who was this waiter anyway—this Emile?

She listened through the police officer’s bland and patently uninteresting line of interrogation. When none of her questions were even remotely touched upon, and the restaurant had emptied out and darkened for the night, Velvet slipped back into the perplexing world of Vermillion. She was going to figure that place out, if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

The courtyard was quiet.

She didn’t notice a single ashen soul upon her return until Barker coughed from the shadows. A second later she saw a match flare and the wick of incense begin to glug its pungent smoke into the air.

“Come.” Barker beckoned, patting the cushion next to him. “What have you learned?”

She padded over and sank down. “A whole lot and not enough, I’m afraid. Abner apparently has a grudge against some guy named Emile, a waiter at a restaurant called Il Fortuna. He was beaten bloody tonight by an ‘invisible entity.’ His words, not mine. The place was a wreck, too. Abner is a pretty angry guy.”

The words felt false in her mouth. What had the little card shark said? Abner was an okay guy. It was like they didn’t even know him. Velvet and Nick were close friends with their poltergeists. They knew each other. These people seemed to be skirting around the issue. Hiding something.

“That’s unfortunate ... ironically.” Barker spun the stick of incense between his fingers until the smoke spiraled like a ribbon on a present.

“Do you know if Abner had any connections to that place?” Velvet asked.

“Not at all. But I’m certain you’ll find out.”

“I wish I was so certain.” She glanced around. The place was deserted. She didn’t notice even the creepiest resident of the temple complex lurking. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“I sent them to bed.” A glint from the nearby gaslight caught in Barker’s eye, as he stared at her, contemplating his next statement. “You know, Abner was very close to Amie.”

The tiny hairs on Velvet’s neck stood up at the mention of the girl’s name. “In what sense?”

“I think he had a crush on her. She, being Amie, had very little interest in him. In fact, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, our Body Thief can be a bit abrasive. I suspect,” he paused. “I suspect she has some unresolved issues from her death. She ‘struggles,’ if you know what I mean.”

“We all do. It’s no reason to be a...” Velvet was going to say ‘bitch,’ but thought better of it. “...mean person.”

Barker shrugged.

“So I guess I should talk to Amie.” Velvet sighed.

The man shrugged again and stubbed out the incense. “In the morning. It’s quiet now, and I don’t expect it’d stay that way if you confronted her this evening, considering the animosity I sense brewing.”

Velvet took that as a cue to head back to her bed. She thought about Barker’s final words. About the “animosity.” Why was Amie so hateful toward her?

The girl had made it perfectly clear that she was engaging their services under duress, but what was it