Page 2 of The Hangman's Rope

Grim and I both stood up at once, his chair rolling back and hitting the wall behind the desk, mine falling to the floor and tripping me up as the folders fell from my nerveless fingers, and the adrenaline surged. I made it out the door before Grim but fell back and let him take point. He spent far more time in the building than I did, and thus was the man to lead.

I slipped my firearm out from the holster at the small of my back, tucked up under my flannel over shirt that was honestly too fucking hot to wear over the white tee and under tank I wore under it, but was wholly necessary to conceal the gun I carried on me at all times.

We went further back, away from the front of the mortuary, down a short flight of four or five steps, and down a short, linoleum hall, past the service elevator for the bodies.

We were heading into Reaper’s lair. Where the bodies were brought, stored, and prepared.

I hated it back here. The smell of formaldehyde and the other artificial chemical cloying tang that liked to hang out in my nose and mouth and gave me the urge to spit rather than swallow any accumulated saliva my body produced.

There was a ruckus on the other side of the twin swinging doors, the clatter of metal instruments and the sound of someone falling or fighting… something. Grim went through and I followed up, gun pointed skyward until I had something to actually shoot at – let alone the need.

Reaper was on the floor, hands under his thick rubber apron, clutching himself. The embalming table in front of him knockedaskew, the gleaming stainless-steel surface empty. The tools of his trade were scattered in a gleaming chaotic array across the speckled linoleum floor as he writhed like a turtle on its back, holding himself like he’d taken a swift kick to his junk.

“What the fuck is going on?” Grim demanded. “What happened?”

A startled squeak had me aiming off to our right, gun pointed, before my brain fully registered what I was seeing.

There, tucked halfway under the counter by the bank of stainless-steel body chillers set in the back wall, was a pair of nude and shapely legs drawn up tight into the shadows, a pair of long and lovely arms wrapped around them, as the woman the limbs belonged to hugged them to her chest. Her head was turned away from me, the impossibly long sweep of auburn hair hiding her face from me.

“What the fuck?” I heard myself mutter as I put up my gun.

Grim’s gaze followed mine and I saw him perk up out of the corner of my eye with surprise.

“She’s alive,” he said, confusion and disbelief tinging the words.

“Yeah,” Reaper grunted, sitting up.

I looked from her to Reap and back again, then glanced back at Reap as my brain made the connection and I blinked at my brother stupidly. An uncomfortableness crept into my chest, creeping out from my spine in thin worm-like tendrils of horror as I realized what may or may not have been going down back here. A startled and strangled gasp came from the girl and I turned my head back to her.

Silvery eyes, the color of storm clouds penetrated by moonlight, met mine, her gaze dazed and confused, her shell-pink bottom lip trembling, her mouth open in a tiny sliver of surprise, as though she didn’t know how to pick her jaw up.

I thought fast, the chill back here affecting me even through my layers. Concealment be damned, I pulled my flannel off and strode quickly in the girl’s direction.

She bit off a short cry of fear and flinched back away from me, tucking further under the cabinets as I dropped to one knee in front of her, less than a foot away.

“It’s okay,” I said, and tried to sound conciliatory, afraid I just sounded gruff in the moment. I mean, gentle wasn’t my usual forte, if you know what I mean.

“What’s your name?” I asked, and she opened those eyes and looked at me. They were wide, too wide, showing a lot of white around them, like a spooked horse.

“Lorelai,” she answered automatically and her voice was breathy, strained. She started to pant, to panic, her chest heaving behind her knees even as she hugged them harder and harder. Her eyes became unfocused and she asked, “What’s happened to me? Where am I?”

“Easy,” I tried to sooth. “Take it easy.” I held open my flannel and advanced slowly, unsure what I was doing, let alone what she wasgoingto do if I moved too quickly.

I could hear the buzz of Grim’s voice behind me as he handed Reaper his ass, but I wasn’t focused on what he was saying. I was just focused on her…Lorelai.

It was an enchanting name for an alluring woman, but I quickly pushed that last thought out of my mind as clearly Reaper hadn’t. I would rather get her off the cold linoleum floor with God knows what on it.

I know Reaper kept it spotless back here, but goddamn, it still had to be invisibly nasty if you know what I mean.

Countless bodies in all form and condition rolled through here with fuck knows what, in various stages of decay and rot and that sometimes-included liquefaction. I didn’t wantsomeone as pretty and as vulnerable as her sitting in the germ-warfare human soup of this place any longer than she needed to.

“I’m Hangman,” I said and inched closer. Her eyes had left mine to travel over my right shoulder out into the big room, drawn by Grim’s angry voice, dressing Reaper down. They flicked back to mine and she flinched back again at realizing I was closer, holding my shirt open like I was trying to catch a wounded bird or other animal and scoop it up – which was laughable in its own way, considering she was a whole-ass human being.

“Shhh, easy,” I soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Get away from me, then!” she cried and her voice was high and thin with fright.

“I’m not going to do that,” I told her.

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