Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Channing and I walked through the gates, and we took the winding path towards the rather obnoxiously ornate grave of Henry Raikes, where I’d asked to meet my sometimes confidential informant (CI), Lance Biggins.
The drone of traffic buzzed softly in my ears, with the occasional warble of a nearby bird superseding it.
I instinctively looked for Loki, but he wasn’t here; he was still at home, resting.
I was looking forward to checking on him.
I had enough on my plate right now without worrying about my feathered friend.
I was done pussyfooting around; it wasn’t my style.
I was going to push him tonight, I decided.
I needed to know what was wrong with him so that I could help.
If he was sick, I’d take him to Amber DeLea and force her to heal him, bird or not.
I’d empty my meagre savings if I needed to.
That damned caladrius wasn’t dying on my watch.
Biggins stepped out of the dappled forest, halting my downward spiral.
The dark-haired ghoul moved with a shambling lurch that reminded me all too much of the juddering movements of his zombie cousins.
His clothing, as always, left much to be desired.
He was dressed in what was once a high-end tracksuit, but was now worn, stained and giving off a foul odour that was less about his species and more about his poor hygiene practices.
‘Breathe through your mouth,’ I murmured to Channing hastily as a small gagging noise emanated from my partner.
Ghouls have to consume dead flesh to survive, which frankly is better than requiring the living kind.
They exist on a tipping point: the fresher the death, the better the flesh is for them.
In the UK’s soil—cool, moist, and oxygen-poor—most bodies keep their flesh for a year or two at most before they desiccate, but if ghouls leave a corpse too long, they risk finding nothing but the equivalent of human jerky.
Luckily, they don’t have to eat often.
As for Biggins, I could tell he had fed not too long ago since he looked almost human. His flesh was grey, and yes, thanks to his diet he smelled terrible, but at a glance, he could pass as nothing more than a man with terrible hygiene.
‘Biggins,’ I called to him. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m awright, mate. Tickin’ over. You know how it goes.’ The Cockney accent came out thick and broad. ‘Everything tickety-boo with you, sweetheart?’
‘I’ve told you not to call me that,’ I groused.
‘Don’t mean nothin’ by it, luv.’
I sighed and let it go. ‘Did you hear about Lord Marlow’s recent death?’
‘Can’t say as I have. Who was ’e?’
‘An air elemental and a Symposium member.’
Biggins snorted. ‘Ain’t exactly on first-name terms with the nobility, me. For some reason, me invites for tea at the manor seem to go astray.’
‘Right. We found some dead flesh on the body. Old dead flesh, not fresh flesh.’
‘Say that five times quick!’ He laughed.
I levelled him with a look.
He cleared his throat. ‘Ah, you’re thinkin’ one o’ my lot did a bit o’ nibblin’, are ya?’
‘There were no signs of the flesh being consumed,’ I admitted.
He gave a loose jerk of his shoulder that continued for a little too long. ‘Well then darlin’, not sure wot I can do for ya.’
‘Ask some questions. Someone wanted him dead, wanted to make a scene of it. Send a message, I think. I need you to tap into the criminal underbelly, see if anyone’s bragging.’
‘I’ll put me ear to the ground – but that kind o’ listenin’ don’t come cheap,’ he warned.
I made a show of sighing. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I dug into my pocket and pulled out a few notes.
He took them, and they disappeared instantly into a pocket I couldn’t see, a hidden one sewn in a seam somewhere.
‘I’ll give you a call, matey, when I ’ear what’s what.’
‘Appreciate that. Same again if you get me something I can use.’
Biggins gave me a broad grin, showing teeth that hadn’t been brushed in a decade or more. ‘What’s his deal?’ he asked, jerking a head at Channing. ‘Ee the strong silent type, is ee?’
‘You’re his first ghoul.’
‘Ah, popped yer cherry did I? Good thing I was gentle.’ He winked at Channing.
‘Us ghouls are a potent bunch, I give ya that. Useful, though – no one pays us dossers no mind. We ’ear a lot.
Some of it’s even worth listenin’ to.’ He turned back to me.
‘Be in touch,’ he promised as he melted into the trees once more.
Once the ghoul was out of sight, Channing let out a sharp breath. ‘Bloody hell, they stink.’
‘Yeah, but don’t comment on it within earshot. They’re touchy about their aroma.’
‘He admitted they were potent.’
‘Yeah, but it’s like how a ginger can call another ginger a ginger, but the rest of us should use the word redhead.’
‘Right. No commenting on their particular … scent. Got it.’
I checked the time. ‘You head off home,’ I suggested. ‘Clock off. I’m going to visit my dad’s grave while I’m here.’
Channing’s eyes softened. ‘Sure thing, boss. You sure you don’t want me to wait, give you a lift home?’
‘No thanks, Channing. I’m good with the walk home. It helps me think.’
‘Sure. Okay. Well, see you tomorrow, Wise.’
I watched him amble out of the cemetery, making sure he got to his car safely – ghouls weren’t the only things lurking around here – and then I went to visit Dad.
A slate headstone, free of lichen, marked his grave. Marcus Wise, devoted husband and father. No mention was made of the occupation that had ultimately killed him. Mum wouldn’t have it.
I gathered my intention and raised it so that if anyone crept up on me, I could blast them off their feet before they could say ‘shitstorm.’ Even here – especially here – I couldn’t relax, not totally.
Graveyards had a way of poking at the bruised places inside me, and today each one of them felt tender.
‘Hey Dad,’ I said as I sat on the grass beside his final resting place.
‘Sorry it’s been a while. It’s hard coming here, but I was in the area, so it seemed rude not to pop by.
’ Even to my own ears that sounded unbelievably lame.
The truth was I’d put this off for weeks because every visit cracked something open in me that I wasn’t ready – or able – to deal with.
‘Mum’s good. Keeping busy hosting us all as often as she can.
You know how she is. An empty house is her worst nightmare.
It’s why Rupe’s still there. I’m not sure how long for though, because he and Ava seem tight.
And she seems … nice. I had reservations at first. I judged her because she is so obviously concerned with her looks, and I thought she must be vapid, but there’s more to her than meets the eye, even if what meets the eye is something quite stunning.
She has a backbone – I didn’t expect that.
Stuck with Rupe through some pretty grim times.
He was getting framed for murder, and she didn’t flinch.
I thought she would. But she stuck, and that’s something. It matters.’
Talking filled the silence and kept my mind from circling the same dark places it always did when I sat here.
I idly plucked a weed growing over him and tossed it aside.
‘Julian and Grant have begun the process of adoption, and that’s pretty damn exciting.
I didn’t realise how hard it is though. Lots of hoops.
Fingers crossed they jump through them all.
I see the way Grant looks at kids, with such a wistful, hopeful look.
You can see him hoping that one day, one of his children will be on the swings instead of a stranger’s. ’
I wet my lips and cleared my throat for the worst confession to come.
‘And I’m seeing someone, actually. An ogre.
I know you probably wouldn’t approve. You weren’t the biggest fan of ogres.
But … Robbie is special. And the more I learn of him, the more I begin to think we know very little about ogres in general.
Like most Other realmers, they keep things private.
Secret. God forbid this realm ever has any damned transparency.
I like him. A lot. So, well, there’s that. ’
My chest tightened at the thought of Dad’s raised eyebrow, his dry disapproval, and the stupid, impossible wish that he could have met Robbie and seen what I saw. Robbie was many things, but at the core of it all, underneath the politics and BS, he was a good man.
Blowing out a breath, I voiced the real reason I was here.
‘You must have known about Jude Jingo, even back in the day. He’s the worst type of criminal: an organised one.
He brought me a picture from your crime scene, with you clutching some sort of medallion.
I’ve scoured those photos a million times and I’ve never seen that before.
I don’t know if it’s real. Jingo refused to confirm who he got it from or where he found it.
I’m not sure what his skin in the game is.
I think he wants my trust – which will never happen – but damned if I know what he’s playing at.
’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know what it means, the necklace, the symbol on it.
But if it is real – and that’s a huge if – then someone went to quite some trouble to steal it from the evidence locker and wipe the pendant out of the crime scene photographs. ’
My voice wavered despite my best efforts. After all this time, his case still tore me up like no other. I supposed that made sense – the case wasn’t just his but mine. It had destroyed my family as I’d known it. Dad dying had changed everything, changed the course of my life.
Before that, I’d wanted to be a lawyer, like Rupe.
I couldn’t imagine it now, stuck behind a desk, arguing over garden boundaries and poorly done cavity wall insulation.
Now my arguments were with criminals and they were far more important.
Mostly because a misstep in my job could land me in a grave like the one I sat next to.
A light summer wind surged, blowing my hair back.
I tucked it behind my ears and continued.
‘I’ve made some discreet enquiries about the medallion, but perhaps it’s time to make some indiscreet ones.
Anyway, I’m still on it. I haven’t forgotten you, Dad.
I won’t ever forget you. One day, I’ll get you the justice you deserve.
One way or another. I promise.’ I’d said the words often enough.
It was the kind of vow that lived under my ribs and never let me sleep easy.
It itched away at me, the unfulfilled oath, the unanswered questions.
I stood, kissed two fingers, and touched them to the gravestone. ‘I’ll come back sooner next time,’ I promised loosely. ‘Rest easy, Dad.’
I turned and walked away from my father’s grave. He might be gone, but the indelible mark he’d made on my soul was one that I’d carry for the rest of my life.
Our loved ones may be absent, but they never truly leave us, no matter how achingly alone we can feel. They live on in our hearts and memories – gone, sorely missed, yet never forgotten.