59. Paris Wrap
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
PARIS WRAP
P ercy and Joe used their shirts to wipe down the altar and the floor of the church. The blood stains were impossible to remove entirely from the stone flags, but they did a very fair job given the precious few minutes they had.
When they finally made it back to Percy’s apartment, it was to Leo’s immediate and horrified, “What the fuck happened to you two?”
“Were you in another fight? You look so…” Althea stopped right there.
Arguably, at first glance, Joe looked incredibly hot, wearing only Percy’s open vest over his bulging chest. But another moment’s observance brought the eyes to the dried blood, then to the rest of the oily, powdery mess that coated his skin. Percy was able to hide a little more than Joe with his suit jacket, but he, too, was covered in the telltale signs of their surprisingly holy tryst.
“Jesus Christ,” Giordano groaned, hiding his face in his hands.
Tareq, luminous in the morning light, right by Giordano’s side, took in the sight with an open mouth and blooming cheeks. And if Giordano was about to be a more abrupt sort of awakening, Percy and Joe were almost certainly the catalyst.
Waleed said, “I’d like to go home.”
Percy replied, “Sorry, no. We’ve got a lot to do, and no one’s to disturb me or Joe until four o’clock this afternoon. Leo, I assume you found those bodies?”
“I’d like some sleep too,” Leo offered.
“We’d all like things,” Percy dropped, leading Joe into their bedroom.
Molly sat at the foot of the bed with Cleo’s skull in her hands, having some sort of conversation with her. She’d long since finished making apologies, and was now doing her best to become personally acquainted with the woman she knew so well. Zombie Degas was in a chair in the corner, still looking like a desiccated corpse, but far more like a living human than he had before. And Moxie, a relatively normal kitten now, jumped up at the sight of Percy and leapt into his ready arms.
Percy kissed her little head, muttering, “Out. All of you.”
“And stay away from Althea,” Joe added.
Percy and Joe showered, climbed into bed, and with Moxie breathing softly on Percy’s chest, which Joe didn’t mind at all anymore, they slept the entire day.
Given the many hurdles Percy and Joe jumped daily, stealing a woman’s body from a morgue was a relatively simple feat. The one they chose was thirty-five years old, her name had been Ana?s, and she had died at her ex-partner’s hand. Her story had fleetingly made the papers that day, and knowing she left no family behind, and that she likely had a post-death vendetta, she was selected to be possessed.
There was no need for much of a ceremony. The body was laid out on Percy’s floor, Molly lying down next to it, the skull between them. Percy slit his own arm open to volunteer the blood that would give Molly the energy to complete the transfer, which she did willingly, easily, and a little too enthusiastically for Joe’s liking when she put her lips to Percy’s cut. But Joe only needed the consolation of a few knowing looks transferred between him and Althea before the wonder of the thing began to replace his animosity.
The eyes on Cleo’s body shut. The silence of death passed through the room. Then the corpse’s eyes opened. Then Cleo’s eyes opened once again, and both women sat up.
Percy dropped to his knee by her side. “Cleo?”
“Percy!” She immediately burst into tears, clasping her arms tight around his shoulders. He held onto her, ran his fingers over her hair, but it wasn’t long until she pulled back, searching over the group for the face that she guessed must have been Joe’s. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”
Joe was speechless. He could see she was a different woman. It was in the fluid movement of her limbs when Percy helped her to her feet. The way she held herself. Her relation to Percy. It was everything about her, her voice, her tone. “Don’t be,” he managed.
“Althea?” Cleo found her, her own face stricken, mortified and sympathetic, but Althea made no response, struck dumb.
Cleo, in the skull, had been carried in her arms. Althea had talked to her, she’d heard so many conversations. She knew what she was going to wake to, in theory, but as though her own ordeal wasn’t enough, the accusatory faces that rested on hers now, totally innocent, were a special horror.
Leo said, in a practised sort of way, “It’s good to have you back, Cleo.” Which got a thankful smile from both Percy and Cleo, before Percy’s arm sheltered her, and he led her away from everyone.
But Joe was in fast pursuit. He descended on the couch Percy brought her to, dropping to her side with, “I’m Joe. It’s good to meet you.”
Cleo laughed with a softness that was both kind and miserable as she studied him with her own eyes. “I think this is the worst way we could possibly have met.”
“Probably.” He also laughed, nervously. But he stayed there while Giordano brought her tea. He stayed while Althea circled around distantly, trying to get a feel for her. He stayed even longer than Percy, who was eventually pulled into an argument about whether it was okay for Molly to take out the body of the recently deceased woman and commit the murder of her ex.
Percy eventually overruled any arguments by pointing out how amusing the look on the killer’s face would be when she turned up at his door. And with that, he got his coat to accompany her. Joe was left little choice but to go along, and it was during this long walk that Molly, softened by the features of the dead woman, filled them both in on some of the blanks of Cleo’s past, and her relationship with her husband. And that set their next plan in motion.
The decision was made for the entire group, except for Tareq, Waleed, and Giordano, to return to Scotland.