CHAPTER 26
The crime scene at the Dubois household took an afternoon to clear, and it was dinnertime when Will and I were finally released to clock out of our respective jobs and get something to eat.
“I never would have seen that,” Will admitted, when we’d settled into my favorite window booth at the Devere Diner. “Even with my vast experience in the treachery of the fairer sex.”
“Oh, is that so?” I said, taking a pull on my chocolate shake. I’d lost weight overseas and I could see all the bones in my hips and elbows and ribs. The skeletal look wasn’t real sexy as far as I was concerned, so I was trying to make up for lost time and keep my pants from falling off my ass. “Women are all treacherous bitches, are we?”
“I didn’t say it that way, but in certain cases, yes,” said Will. “The female is definitely the deadlier of the species. But I never pegged Petra Dubois as a gang leader.”
“Belikov is Russian,” I said. “She knew him, and they must have started their operation before she moved to the States and met up with her pack-leader husband slash cover story.”
Will drained half of his cherry Coke in one gulp. “I kinda feel sorry for the guy. But then again, how blind do you have to be to not notice your wife is a mob boss and a slave trader?”
“Pretty blind,” I agreed, playing with my bendy straw. “Or hopelessly in love.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You can’t expect me to believe that blinded-by-the-light story. I love you, and I’ve got my eyes wide open.”
Our waitress came and left our cheeseburgers—with generous sides of fries—in front of us, but suddenly I’d lost my appetite.
Will was blind, whether he admitted it or not. He couldn’t see the change in me, the cold spot in my heart where all of my remorse and desire to keep the monster at bay had vanished. I felt the were in me all the time now, the act of killing under its influence powerful and narcotic.
“You went quiet, doll,” Will said. “Something on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I need to pee.” I slid out of the booth and booked it to the ladies room at record speed.
Alone in the small space, the smell of mildew, bleach and old tile grout drove any romantic notions I might have had out of my head.
I couldn’t marry Will. He didn’t know what I was. He would be shocked, horrified, repulsed. He’d leave me.
I ran water into the stained basin and splashed it on my face in an attempt to get a hold on myself. I didn’t whine and pout and angst endlessly over men. That wasn’t me. But then again, up until a few weeks ago, snapping someone’s neck in cold blood and letting my monster rule me wasn’t me, either. Hadn’t been for fifteen years.
“Gods,” I muttered, massaging my temples. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Stop whining, for starters.”
Lily was in the mirror again, and when I spun around she was standing there, her legs trailing off into nothingness, her face pale and misty, shimmering.
“You’ve got some nerve,” I said. “You’re the cause of half of this angst and you tell me to quit being emo?”
“When your life is cut short at fourteen, chica, you learn to prioritize.” Lily sniffed.
“I don’t even know if I can stay with Will, or my job, never mind marry him and have a white-picket fucking fence,” I muttered. “And Hex it, why am I telling someone who isn’t even here these things?”
“’Cause I’m listening?” Lily suggested. She sighed, and drifted over to the mirror, running fingers through her hair, licking her pinkie finger and fixing her smeared eyeliner.
“Your mom is in jail,” I said. “For what she did to you.”
Lily nodded. “I know. Never figured she’d order my death, but there you go. Guess that’s why I couldn’t shake a leg to the afterlife.”
“You can go now. Why are you still here?”
“I’m not staying long,” Lily said. “I came to tell you that I wasn’t going to, like, haunt your dreams and stuff anymore, and there you are, moaning over some guy who totally won’t even care what screwed-up things you did.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But when you’re my age, it’s not that simple. I’m not the person Will thinks I am.”
“Then be that person starting now,” said Lily. “The guy wants to marry you, right? He’s got to have accepted that you’re weird.”
“Again,” I said with a growl, “thanks. Your dead sarcasm does wonders for my self-esteem.”
Lily shrugged and turned away from the mirror. “Whatever. I have to go. It’s been real, Lieutenant Wilder.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Although I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t glad to see the back of you. If I never meet another spirit again, it will be too soon.”
“Oh,” Lily said, as she faded to little more than a pair of eyes, a pair of hands and a ghostly smile, “I’m not the last you’ll meet. Not by a long shot. Not at all.”
She was gone before I could ask her what the hell she meant by that statement, and she probably would have just given me attitude, anyway.
Fucking ghosts.
I dried myself off and stepped back into the diner to a snap of dryer, warmer air. Lily tended to make things damp.
Will smiled over the remains of his cheeseburger. “There you are. I was about to send in a search party and some rescue dogs with brandy.”
“Sweetie?” I said, taking his free hand. The French fry grease warmed our grip. Will went serious.
“Uh-oh. I know that look. What’s gone wrong?”
I took in a deep breath. “I lied to you. There is something going on with me.”
Will’s gaze softened from panicked to concerned. For a minute, I pictured that I could tell him what had really happened in Kiev and he wouldn’t react with disgust or, worse, pity. It was the pity I really couldn’t deal with.
But the feeling
