Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“When He finds her body, He will remember his own. The bride is the signal. The bride is the bell. Ring her until the veil tears and brings forth the new world.”
—Sacred Text of the Hollow Bridegroom
The sound of a cupboard opening stirred her.
Lenoria sat up slowly, the blanket pooling in her lap as she stretched her shoulders, the jacket falling behind her.
It took her only a moment to see that Isaac was making breakfast, his broad back framed by warm kitchen light as he stood over the stove, frying something in a pan.
Eggs, maybe. She didn’t say anything. Just watched the way his hands moved, and the sun made light streaks dance across the small kitchen’s mahogany cabinets.
Isaac must have felt the energy change in the room because he didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“Are you hungry?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think I can eat. But, I want to be near you while you eat.”
That made him glance over his shoulder. His expression was guarded and unreadable, but the circles under his eyes showed he hadn’t slept.
“That’s not creepy at all.”
She smiled and ignored his side comment, like she had been known to do, now. “You liked being near me last night.”
He shrugged as he turned back to the stove, careful not to show how much that comment affected him, because it was true. There was a certain calm that she brought to him, even while electrifying his nervous system, that he didn’t understand at all.
“Yeah,” he muttered, and rubbed tiredly at his left eye while releasing a yawn. “I guess I did.”
When the food had been cooked, he set a plate in front of her just in case she changed her mind, but she just stared down at the food like it was a task she no longer had any interest in.
Isaac sat opposite her at the little two-person table, and for a long moment, the only sound was the scrape of his fork on ceramic.
“What were you reading?” she asked.
“One of my dad’s journals, from before I got here.”
Her brows shot up, and she leaned forward, both forearms resting on the table. How her lips were still painted red after literally clawing her way out of a grave was short-circuiting his brain.“Is he the one who embalmed the others?”
“Yeah.”
“And now it’s your job?”
He set his fork down because his appetite was fading now, too, and met her eyes. Why were her eyes so clear? The gray had specks of blue woven in it like the glitter his mom used to let him play with as a boy when they made crafts.
“It’s supposed to be. Clearly, I’m not doing such a bang-up job if you’re here.”
“Were you trying to understand what went wrong with me?”
He looked like he was trying to decide whether he wanted to tell her yes, or just keep his mouth shut. Eventually, he nodded. “Or, what went right, I guess.”
Lenoria leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Do you want me to tell you my experience?”
Isaac braved a sip of his coffee and was thankful it was still hot and he didn’t immediately cough it back up from the stressful situation he’d found himself in.
He needed to buy himself a minute to think because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what she had gone through.
The whole thing was absurd, but it was happening.
“Okay,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he settled in for her recounting. “Sure, yeah.”
“Dying was a lot like dreaming,” she began, closing her eyes as she remembered. “I was floating, but I wasn’t afraid. It felt like I had been waiting my whole life to fall that far.”
“Did you see anything?” he asked.
Lenoria smiled, and the look she gave him had his chest tightening. “Your face.”
“I always dreamed of you,” she continued. “But before, your face was blank. Just a shape in the dark recesses of my mind when I was asleep. I knew your name before I knew how to tie my shoes. I think I must have loved you even before I was born.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Neither is walking out of a grave.” The grin on her face helped Isaac relax a bit, because she seemed to be less under the spell of her ‘calling’ and more human.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.
“Maybe the… higher powers were wrong, or maybe you just passed out for a minute and didn’t actually die. Maybe that’s why you didn’t finish crossing—”
Three sharp knocks on the front door interrupted the conversation and brought a round of panic with them. They both froze and looked at one another from across the table.
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ll hide.”
He rose fast as he made his way to the front door. “Wait! Don’t go outside. Don’t go near the windows. Just—just stay in the back room. And do not touch anything.”
She nodded once and moved quickly toward the back while Isaac crossed the living room, tucking her discarded dress behind a throw pillow, and cracked open the front door.
Sheriff Holloway stood on the porch, chewing on a toothpick that contrasted wildly with his dark skin. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept either. The wrinkles from seventy years of age probably didn’t help, come to think of it.
“Mornin’, Harrow,” the sheriff said. “Old man Nicholas finally passed.”
Isaac’s stomach dropped. Great. Another body to take care of. At least this one was actually dead. “I thought he was doing better after his back surgery.”
“Well, he ain’t as young as he used to be. Turns out he got an infection. Nasty to look at, but at least you won’t have to deal with it.”
Isaac folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe, trying to look casual and praying that the girl would stay put. “Does the family want to do a full service, or…”
He trailed off, and the sheriff shook his head.
“Nah, just a cremation will do. His wife wants the ashes, but only so she can dump them in the cat’s litter box.”
Jesus.
“All right, then. That’s easy enough. Can you give me five minutes to prepare the table, and I can let you in?”
“Already taken care of,” Holloway said with a tilt of his head. “My guys are bringing her ‘round the back now.”
“Wait—what?”
Isaac left him standing on the porch as he shut the door in his face and bolted through the house, racing down the hall and through the embalming room door just as two of the deputy’s men were wheeling in a body bag. His gaze was drawn immediately to the prep table.
And there she was.
Lying on her back, naked and still. Appearing to everyone as a beauty frozen in death. Covered only by a thin white sheet.
His pulse thundered in his ears as the men addressed him, and one of the deputies smirked. “It gets creepy, huh? Didn’t know you already had one in here. Looks like you stay busy, Harrow.”
Isaac forced himself to breathe before answering with a forced laugh. “Yeah. I guess. Set him in storage for now. I’ll handle it this afternoon.”
The men nodded, wheeled the fresh corpse into cold storage, and left without another word, but not without a few glances at the pretty form on display. Fucking vultures.
When Isaac went to close the door, he could see the sheriff in the distance watching him from where he now stood by their transport vehicle. And he certainly looked like he knew he was hiding something after his reaction. Or rather, someone.
Isaac really wished at that moment his father hadn’t been such good friends with the sheriff… and that he’d never given him a set of keys to the morgue.