Page 14 of Dead Wrong

Lorelei watched me, her thin brows raised with a sort of bored curiosity. In the sunlight, her hair was golden thread, weaved into spiraling coils.

Pulling myself away from my re-acquaintance with the sun, I looked up at the iron gate across the sidewalk, wrapped in strangling ivy. Beyond the gates, rows of rosebushes bloomed in a cacophony of colors, the grounds sloping upward until they reached a beautiful structure of grey stone in the distance. A soft wind drifted over the wall, bringing with it a sweet, floral aroma that lifted memories to the surface of my mind, like buoys bobbing over waves.

“The Floating Gardens,” I answered, my voice almost swallowed by the breeze.

“That’s right,” Lorelei confirmed with a nod. “This is one of the last places your sister was seen before her disappearance. My reports say that the two of you left together. Now, I need you to walk me through what happened that night.”

I concentrated on the flashes of memory that came with the next breeze, but they were too sporadic to try and form a timeline—Lenny and I stood on a balcony, our mother beside us as she addressed the gathered crowd below. The next, I leaned against a bar, my glass filled with a swirling green concoction as I chatted with the handsome bartender. He gave me a wink, and I gave him a tip. Next, I was running my hands along the soft petals of red roses as I moved through the garden. In the golden light of dusk, the bushes came to life around me, rising into the air as their translucent roots dislodged themselves from the soft earth, drifting upward until a thin rope attached to their base pulled taut, keeping them from drifting too far. Then, there was a man before me with salt and pepper hair and a tie of glittering gold. He spoke of deals made behind closed doors, and his breath reeked of onions. Then, another face, another conversation of broken details, none of which seemed important. And more faces, each washed of detail until they were reduced to a parade of mannequins draped in finery, circling me in a carousel of silk and satin.

A steadying hand on the small of my back rocketed me back to the present moment. I shied away from Bastien’s touch, ignoring the traces of heat that it left on my skin. “It’s too jumbled,” I said through an exhale, my breathing shaky. “I can recall bits and pieces, but it’ll take me forever to sort it into anything coherent.”

“We don’t have the luxury of forever,” Lorelei said, pulling the small notebook from her vest pocket and flipping it open. “Every moment, Lynette’s fate grows grimmer. So, might I suggest you find a way to speed things along?”

“Are you not some grandiose detective?” I queried, a heated frustration rising in my gut. “My mother wouldn’t waste her time with someone who was inept. Surely, you’ve already parsed out the details of what happened that night. What do you need me for?”

Lorelei’s notebook snapped shut as she leveled a glare at me. “I have testimonies, yes. I know where the two of you went after the celebration. I know the food that was prepared. I know the family history of the woman who served Lynette dinner—they’ve got a nice farm not too far from here. What Ilack, Mr. Greene, iscontext.Those invisible threads that tie everything together. I need to know what Lynette was feeling leading up to the event. If she mentioned being worried about anything in particular, or if anyone from outside her usual cohorts was hanging around. Those are the details I’m interested in, so stop wasting my time and start talking.”

“Don’t push too hard,” Bastien interrupted, which did little to elevate my mood. “His mental state is still fragile. You don’t want him to fracture.”

“What in blazes does that mean?” I questioned, temper flaring. I was growing weary of the barrage of ominous afflictions I had acquired during my short second life. I’d been ill fewer times than I could count on one hand, yet now I was moments from falling apart at every turn.

Bastien sighed, thick fingers rubbing the slope of his brow. “It’s a complication from Death’s Touch. If you place too much stress on your psyche, it can fracture. You’ll end up losing yourself permanently.”

“Losing myself?” I repeated, a chill running up my spine. “What, like I go off my rocker?”

“Something like that,” Bastien replied, averting his eyes.

“Then what do you suggest we do, corpse peddler?” Lorelei asked with a huff, the toe of her shoe tapping against the sidewalk in an impatient staccato. “This is obviously a problem rooted in your expertise.”

“We can walk him through the space,” Bastien replied, moving toward the iron gates and pushing on them. They groaned in protest but swung open. “We’ll give his memories the opportunity to resurface naturally. It’s the best chance we have to avoid lasting damage.”

“Why bother?”

The question leaped from my mouth before I could stop it. The others turned to look at me, Lorelei grinning and Bastien looking like he was going to be sick. Overhead, the sun was obscured once more behind a wall of grey clouds, matching the shift in my mood.

“Why are you so hellbent on keeping me intact?” I continued, stretching out the collar of my shirt to poke at the sparkling gem protruding from my sternum. “I’m dead, Bast. What does it matter if I end up broken in the end? It won’t change anything.”

“See?” Lorelei positioned herself beside me, placing a dainty hand on my shoulder. “He’s willing to do whatever it takes. It is his sister we’re trying to find, after all.”

Bastien glowered, the darkness of his expression accentuating the growl in his voice. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Of course I don’t!” I shouted, arms flailing with frustration. “I’m only the one who was murdered, then dragged out of my cozy little grave and tossed into a clusterfuck of butchered memories and mind-numbing pain. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I’ve become a little disillusioned with this shitty second life. You can’t blame me for being interested in speeding up our hellish little field trip so I can get back to my dirt nap.”

Bastien blinked, the lines of his face smoothing. Lorelei grinned like a madwoman at my side, white teeth against crimson lips as if she’d been waiting for me to hit my breaking point.

“He’s willing to take the risk,” she said, pushing past the two of us and stepping through the open gate. “So, let’s get on with it, shall we?”

“Slow,” Bastien warned me as I trudged through, following Lorelei into the gardens.

The sun peeked through the clouds above, beams of golden light streaming down over the expanse of greenery. We were on the far side of the garden, the large building crafted from grey stone resting atop a verdant hill overlooking this place of beauty. Rows and rows of vibrant flora lined diverging paths of swirling design, intended to keep one wandering for hours. Another breeze kicked up, and I was wrapped in the honey-sweet aroma of roses.

It was peaceful here in the waning sunlight. The soft sounds of the branches swaying in the wind, the chittering of tiny animals that dashed under bush and trees, the thousands of blooms, each facing the bashful sun, the entity that brought them life.

I couldn’t help but feel the same way. Except, it wasn’t the sun’s warm rays that brought me back. No, it was the handsome man standing six feet away, watching my movements like a hawk. I was fully aware of it, the distance between us. Almost as if there was an invisible cord tethering me to Bastien. And perhaps there was. I knew little about the ways of the Reviled’s magic. Did it make sense that I would feel drawn to the man whose magic brought me back to the world of the living? Whose magic quite literally ran through my veins?

It made all the sense in the world to me at the moment.

“Anything?” Lorelei stood under the shade of a fir tree, arms crossed and looking at me expectantly. The chill from her icy blue eyes set the hair on the back of my neck standing. She could freeze a sweltering afternoon with that stare.

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