“He killed her?” she asked, running a finger along Heather’s cheek.
We really had to do something with the body. I never would have guessed I’d ever be too busy to deal with the dead body of a new friend, but there we were, scrambling to keep everyone else still alive while a corpse grew cold on the table. How long till it started to rot?
“Sort of,” I answered.
“He definitely killed me, though.” Isola walked into the room. “And he killed two of my friends. To bring you back.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I . . . didn’t know.”
I couldn’t get a good read on whether or not she was lying.
“What’s your story?” I asked. “For real. What happened to you?”
“I died of cancer. I remember dying. It was peaceful—a sharp end to pain. Like falling asleep, but simpler, better. I was in the hospital, in Billings, and there were flowers everywhere, and he was next to me, holding my hand. He was crying. We never had children, him and me. I never wanted them. Just for a second, I wished I’d had kids. Someone else for him to love. He’s never been good at not having someone to love, and I worried about him. I wanted to tell him it was fine. I wanted to tell him I was going to a better place, that he could still love me, or love someone else too, and that I’d see him again. But I didn’t say anything. It was all too complicated, I didn’t know how to say it. I just let myself die.”
I nodded.
“Then I woke up in our bed, here in town. I’d died with snow out the window; I woke up to the sound of summer birds. Six months had gone by. He told me what he’d done . . . a bit of it. Only part of it, I’m guessing. He told me he’d brought me back to be with him. He told me he couldn’t live without me.”
“And you left him?” I asked.
“I didn’t say anything at all for a whole day. I laid in bed, thinking about everything. He was respectful; he noticed I wasn’t feeling right and he slept on a cot next to our bed. He only left my side to bring me food and water. He just sat there, reading books, while I laid there, thinking it over.”
There are so many sides to every person.
“After I stayed up through the night, when the sun rose again, I looked at him, and the first words I said were ‘Till death do we part.’ Then I told him it’s not right, what he did. I told him the dead are supposed to stay dead and what he’d done wasn’t right by God. I’d always known and loved God more than my husband did, and my husband had always loved me more than he’d loved God. So I moved out, simple as that. That was the last I’d ever wanted to think about any of it. Then your friends show up tonight, tell me he’s liable to kill me. Part of me thinks he’d be right to do it. Most of me, though, is just damn scared.”
Vulture put his arm around Gertrude, and she hugged him.
I decided I believed her. Not completely, but you don’t need to believe someone completely to choose to believe them enough that you can act on their words.
“One of the books is missing,” Doomsday said, crouched next to the stack of books on the floor. “Small one. Gold spine, black cover. It’s where I learned about witch’s fire.” She looked up toward the window, where she’d been sitting earlier. “Fucking gun is gone too. Getting fucking sick of people stealing my gun.”
“Vasilis went to the gift shop, I bet,” I said. “He’s trying to get into the basement, trying to get the book without waiting for us.”
I thought that through for another moment.
“He wants the book because he’s going to try to resurrect Heather. I bet he’ll kill Mr. Miller to do it.”
“He seemed desperate,” Doomsday said. “But I didn’t realize he was both desperate and stupid.”
“Men will do anything if they think it’s in the best interest of some woman they love,” Gertrude said. “Whether or not the woman agrees.”
Thursday rushed back up the stairs, slamming open the apartment door. “He’s not in the library. I checked everywhere.”
“He probably went after Sebastian,” I said.
“Okay,” Thursday said. “Vulture, Brynn, Danielle, we’ll go after him? Doom, you stay here, guard these two?”
* * *
The town was just starting to rise as we tore down the main road on bikes, and people came out of stores on the main strip to stand on the boardwalk and stare.
Crows and magpies sat on the power lines, watching us too.
We hit the one traffic light on a red and waited, though there were no cars coming in any direction.
Thursday pulled up beside me. “Feel like it’s high noon or something.” He laughed.
I heard shouting up ahead and ran the light.
Vasilis and Sebastian stood in the shadow of the tyrannosaur, not ten feet distant from each other, weapons leveled. Vasilis held Doomsday’s pistol in a one-handed, amateur grip. Sebastian held a bolt-action hunting rifle, shouldered.
“Cis men,” Brynn said, shaking her head. She dropped her bike on the street and flicked open her baton, walking toward the pair.
“Hey!” I shouted.
If the two exchanged fire, it wouldn’t work out well for either of them. Vasilis didn’t know what he was doing, but he had a semiautomatic pistol and likely a full magazine. Sebastian had probably brought down an animal or two in his day, but a bolt-action rifle ain’t the tool for the job of close combat.
They both turned to look at me.
“Who in God’s name are you people?” Sebastian asked.
“I’m Danielle,” I said. I knew what he meant, but I didn’t feel like answering his implicit question.
“I caught this man trying to break
