Of A Darker Nature (2 page)

“I am not a monster.”

Emily huddled on the floor and snuck covert glances at him. He sure didn’t look like a monster. He looked like a cover model for a skin magazine.

The dead man crossed the room to the sink where he bent to wash the blood from his face and hands. There was a black pattern that covered his entire back, but from her vantage point, Emily couldn’t discern what it was. It started at his shoulder blades and ended just above the curve of his well-formed ass. She had no time to contemplate it though because he turned to cast another glance in her direction. Pink droplets dripped off his chin and ran down his chest.

He took an unsteady step in Emily’s direction.

She scrambled to her feet and wished she’d grabbed the sheet to cover her lower half.

“Are you okay?” It sounded stupid, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was dead one minute, then he wasn’t. What the fuck was she supposed to say?

A smile or maybe a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. He took another step and his right hand raised toward her. Their fingers clasped, and the breath stilled in her lungs.

Emily’s feet moved with purpose, even though she didn’t fully comprehend what she was doing. He pulled her closer, or maybe it was she who closed the gap between them. She stared up at him with eyes full of awe and wonder. His free hand rose to her throat, but she didn’t flinch away. Cool fingertips cupped the back of her neck. They stood so close their bodies almost touched. His head lowered and her eyes closed. Her senses came alive and she even rose on tiptoes to reach him.

Voices at the front of the mortuary forced him to pull away. Their gazes met for the briefest moment. Disappointment or maybe annoyance flitted across his perfect features. 

He turned away.

“Wait.” She reached for him, unsure why she was doing so. He was a stranger, a once dead stranger.

He darted out of the workroom without so much as a backward glance. Everything that had happened crashed over Emily with terrifying intensity.

The toe tag lay forgotten beneath the table. Emily snatched it up and pressed it against her heart. She didn’t know how her John Doe had come to be at the mortuary, but she owed him a debt of gratitude. Maybe one day she’d be able to thank him for saving her life.

Although he had a lump the size of a Buick on the back of his head, Scott declined medical attention. He returned from the upstairs living quarters with a pair of black scrub bottoms. “Do you want me to call your sister?”

Emily dropped the sheet she’d grabbed to cover her underwear-clad bottom. She stepped into the too large scrubs and cinched them tight. They bunched around her ankles and dragged on the floor. “No way. If Liz hears about this, I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Good. I didn’t want to talk to her.” His pinched features melted into relief. 

Scott and her sister had dated their senior year of high school and the following year. He’d asked her to marry him and she’d agreed. A week before the wedding, Liz came home upset and claimed she never wanted to see Scott again. “He isn’t the man I thought he was,” she’d said, but wouldn’t elaborate. Emily was eleven at the time, but Scott still treated her like a kid sister to this day.

They waited in Scott’s office while the police searched the mortuary and the alley behind it.

Emily grabbed Scott’s hand. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go get checked out.”

“I should have protected you. You could have been killed,” he whispered.

Detective Denise Hahm returned from her inspection of the alley. With notebook in hand, she nodded toward Scott’s office. “Mind if we finish?”

Scott ran through his story once more for Hahm. “I received the body of a man who should have been sent to the city morgue. There was some kind of mix-up with the paperwork.”

“And you didn’t see your attackers?” Hahm scanned the notes she’d taken. 

Scott shook his head and appeared troubled. “I came into the workroom and didn’t even have time to turn on the light. They overpowered me. I never even smell— er, saw them.”

Hahm looked at Emily with a skeptical raise of the eyebrow. “You say the body got up and fought them?”

Emily offered a solemn nod. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s what happened.”

Scott’s gaze slid in her direction. He looked like he was holding back words.

“We’ll check the ER for the one who got his throat cut.” Hahm scribbled a quick memo in the notebook.

Scott touched the bump on the back of his head and winced. “How did the police know we were in trouble?”

“An officer was on patrol in the neighborhood and heard someone scream.” Hahm's smile was patient. “So that’s all you can tell me?”

“That’s it,” Emily agreed, though she hadn’t been forthright with the details. Hahm would think her even battier if she admitted the attackers were vampire wannabes. Her rescuer might be one too. Or maybe he was a zombie? He hadn’t shuffled around the room like a clumsy oaf or moaned for brains though. She wished she’d told Hahm that the others had taken his body. It would’ve been easier to believe.

Corpses weren’t supposed to get up or walk and talk.

After a few more questions, Hahm rose from the chair. “I’ll be in touch.”

Scott waited for the detective to leave. “I wish you hadn’t told her the dead guy ran off. She probably thinks you’re a nut job.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She cast a lopsided grin at him and shrugged.

“I know that look. You’re hiding something.”

“They pretended to be vampires. Only it was too real, you know? And the guy on the table really was dead as a doornail.”

Scott’s voice was calm and measured, “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “They all wore pretty convincing fangs. They looked real.”

“I recognized the scent, but didn’t have time to react.”

“What? The one smelled like he’d stood too close to a barbecue. And the other one…”

“Never mind.” Scott forced a laugh. “What matters is that you’re okay.”

“I want to find John Doe,” Emily said, even surprising herself.

Scott walked with her to her car and opened the door. He waited until she dropped inside to speak again. “That’s a bad idea, Em. You’re just going to scare up more trouble. Just leave it alone.”

The drive from Oklahoma City to Witcher Springs took about fifteen minutes. Each car and shadow she passed seemed sinister in the predawn darkness. She turned off the main road onto the county loop and drove up the secluded dirt driveway.

The single-story ranch home sat atop a hill at the end of the road. The porch light’s yellow beacon was a welcome sight. Honeysuckle vines wound around the trellises on either side of the steps. Their sweet perfume wafted on the night air and mingled with the scent of rain.

Bill Duncan, the old man she and Brenda rented from, was the closest neighbor. He retired last June and traveled most of the time. When he wasn’t on the road, he lived at the back of the property in an ancient RV. He’d been gone for about two months and was due back any time.

Emily rushed into the house, wary of the shadows just beyond the porch light’s glow. She sank onto the lumpy old couch and breathed a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” Brenda’s voice from the back hallway startled her. “Is that blood in your hair?”

Emily touched the stiff strands and grimaced.
Yeah, it was blood and probably some of John Doe’s brain matter.

Brenda moved to the couch and sat on the frayed arm. Her dark hair was frizzy and plastered to her head from sleep. “What happened, sweetie?”

Emily considered what to say. Brenda was her best friend and she deserved the truth – or at least a very close imitation of it. “A couple whack-jobs broke into the mortuary. They hit Scott over the head and attacked me.”

“Why? What were they after?”

“One of the bodies.” She allowed her head to fall back and stared at the ceiling. “I think it was the one who saved me.”

Brenda’s dark eyes were pinched at the corners. She nodded a couple times as Emily provided a brief summation of the night’s events. “I told you there were some sick people out there, Em. Damned freaks come into the club all the time. We call them nosferatu, vampire wannabes.”

Emily had once visited the goth club where Brenda worked. Not only had people dressed like they were from a dreary gothic novel, but some even pretended to be vampires or other preternatural creatures. Their fangs weren’t as realistic as her attackers, but the idea of them biting and sucking on each other freaked her out.

“Maybe it was just a stupid prank that got out of hand?” Brenda struggled to help her make sense out of it.

Emily fidgeted with the heart charm at her throat. She hadn’t told anyone about her ability to experience what the dead underwent, not even Brenda. Thus far, she’d only ever admitted to seeing what they glimpsed. She saw no reason to confess to it now. “His head was bashed in. I fell across him and saw what happened. He was dead one moment and then he wasn’t.”

A car door slammed, followed by feet thundering across the porch.

The door banged open and her sister’s shrill voice echoed throughout the house. “Emily?”

“Shit.” Emily held her head and groaned. Liz’s high and mighty opinions were just what she needed after everything that had happened tonight.

Brenda laughed at the discouraged expression on Emily's face.

“News travels fast around here. I’ll be in my room if you need me. I don’t want any part of your sister’s drama.”

Liz bustled into the house. A frown pinched her features. At thirty, she was five years Emily’s senior. They were about as different as sisters could get. Her cropped brown hair was wavy while Emily’s was shoulder length, straight and dark red. Liz had ruddy skin like their father and was the spitting image of their mother. Emily, on the other hand, was pale and freckled. Her body was lanky compared to Liz’s shorter stature. She looked nothing like either parent. When they were just girls, Liz had teased that they’d found Emily under a rock. Right about now, she wished she could crawl back under it.

Liz ran a hand through her hair. “Well?”

Emily touched the tiny gold heart again. It was a miracle it hadn’t broken. “Well, what?”

“Denise called to tell me you were in an altercation.” Liz sank onto the couch beside her.

“And you drove all the way over instead of calling? That’s real nice of you.” She offered a saccharine sweet smile.

“Yes, so you can’t hang up on me.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

“You know I hate that you work at a funeral parlor. It’s so macabre and gross. You’re around dead people all day, for god’s sake.” Liz looked at her expectantly. 

“I enjoy what I do.”

“Then why not get a booth at a salon?” 

“Have you seen Scott’s makeup skills?” It was useless to explain that mortuary cosmetology was very different than that of the haute salons where Liz believed she should be employed.

Liz's face scrunched. “That’s not what this is about.”

Emily decided to hit below the belt. “Then it must be about Scott. Are you jealous that I get to spend all day with him, and you don’t?”

Liz stood and crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the jab. “I thought you were done with this reading the dead mumbo jumbo.”

The conversation dipped into territory Emily hadn’t expected. 

“It’s not like I can turn it off, Liz.”

“Why can’t I have a normal sister?”

“I am normal.” Emily rubbed at her temples. “Do you think I want to relive whatever death has occurred?”

Liz snorted. “Normal isn’t getting handsy with a corpse or claiming to read their memories. You have no respect for the dead.”

Emily got to her feet and mirrored her sister’s stance. “I’ve learned to accept it, why can’t you?”

“Stop it.” 

Emily lowered her voice to a growl. “How does it affect you?”

With sudden clarity, Emily understood what this was really about. “Don’t you think I miss them too? I know it’s my fault our parents were killed in that accident. You couldn’t possibly hate me more than I hate myself for it.” 

“They’d still be alive if you had just stayed away.” Liz didn’t meet Emily’s gaze and her voice had lowered to a near whisper.

“I’d trade places with them if it would bring them back!” Liz opened her mouth to argue, but Emily cut her off. “Go home.”

They stared at each other in strained silence. Just once, Emily wished Liz would take on the role of sister instead of the persecutor.

“Fine. You don’t need me. You’ve got Brenda and all your buddies at that freak show.”

“They’re good people,” Emily defended. “The funeral home isn’t a freak show!”

Liz made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “They’re as crazy as you are! Seriously, a cleaning lady who reads tarot cards? Scott’s assistant is weird too. And your roommate? She works at an alternate lifestyle bar, for cripes sake.”

“It’s one thing to attack me, but leave my friends out of it.”

Liz’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You act like you have a rewarding career. It’s a joke, Emily. You’re a joke.”

“I’ve been through enough tonight. If you could see yourself out, I’d like to wash the blood from my hair.”

“I know what you were doing in Arizona. I chose not to say anything to Mom and Dad because it would’ve broken their hearts.” Liz stopped in the doorway with a self-satisfied smirk and a hand on her hip.

“I guess that makes you a saint.”

Liz shook her head. “I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you. I hoped you would do more with your life.”

Emily’s throat burned and her eyes welled with tears. Liz sounded just like their dad. He’d even said those same words, just before he and their mom died.

Liz tilted her head back and peered at her through lowered lashes. “You told Denise that a dead body got up and walked away. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“He did.” Emily stared at her in defiance. “They were about to kill me. He stopped them.”

Liz blanched. “You watch too many movies, little sister.” 

“How would you explain a cadaver running out the back door under its own power?” 

“There must have been a mistake,” Liz argued.

“Sure. The trained professionals who announced him dead on the scene were mistaken. Never mind his head was hamburger one moment and fully healed the next. It was probably just a trick of the light.”