Chapter 7 #2
“Sorry about the shock, dear,” Mal’s mum said.
“Are you feeling better? Mal said you had an accident.” While Mal had explained parts of the situation to his parents, he hoped he had explained enough that they wouldn’t probe Des for further information.
He had clearly overestimated their tact and underestimated their desire to snoop into his business.
“Yes, I’m feeling a bit better, thanks. Thank you for letting me stay here while I recover,” Des said, as Mal placed a freshly cooked pancake down in front of her. She tentatively took a bite. Mal had read that food should taste normal, but just a bit blander than before. He awaited her verdict.
“Pretty good,” Des said, smiling at Mal. “Do you have any honey?” Mal rooted around a cupboard and produced a small bottle, then watched as she squeezed honey onto the rest of it.
“So how long have you two been dating?” Mal’s mum said, shattering a silence that up until then hadn’t been awkward. Des nearly choked on her pancake.
“Mum?! No, we’re not …” Mal said, nearly dropping the frying pan.
“We’re not dating,” Des said, trying to breathe through the pancake. Mal got her some water to help it down.
“So how do you two know each other?” Mal’s mum said, undeterred.
“He’s helping me with my work,” Des said. “My boss brought him on.”
“Ohh, and what do you do?” Mal’s dad said, entering the dining room and swiping a pancake Mal had intended for himself.
“I’m with the police.”
“That’s got to be exciting,” Mal’s dad said.
“Not really. My first year on the beat was a bit more lively. It was mostly dealing with drunks and old people, both of which are a lot harder to help when they can shoot fireballs at you.”
“I bet. What do you need Mal’s help for? It’s not chasing down criminals, I’m guessing.” Mal tried not to groan at his dad’s comment and continued cooking.
“He’s helping us out with a murder investigation,” Des said.
Mal knew immediately that this small nugget of information wasn’t going to go down well.
He’d hoped that because they had a guest his parents might be better behaved, but that hope was short-lived.
He watched as his mum’s eyes grew wide and his dad turned to him with a stern look.
“You’re using your powers?”
“Dad, don’t start, we have company.”
“We told you not to use them under any circumstance. What if you run out? What are we meant to do?”
“That’s not how it works. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mal could feel his frustration boiling up. Des sat silently, chewing on her pancake.
“You don’t know that, son. You have to think about how it will affect the family.”
“I know more about it than you do. They’re my powers. I can use them how I want.” Mal watched as his mum prepared herself. Whenever his powers came up it was always the same fight. She hated him using his powers, but more than that, she wanted him to do something that he just couldn’t stomach.
“So you’ll defile corpses for them, but you won’t save your own family?” Mal’s mum said, snapping.
“Mum, I’m not having this conversation again. I keep you two going, that’s enough.” Mal put down the pan and went to leave.
“So you want us all to die then?” Mal’s mum said, standing up from the table and blocking his exit.
“You’re already dead,” Mal said. He knew that was a mistake.
“Don’t speak that way to your mother,” Mal’s dad said, standing up to comfort her.
“Oh, for crying out loud, why am I the only one who will acknowledge the fact you’re both dead? Am I living in ‘crazy world’?”
Mal’s mum walked out of the room crying. There were no tears, of course, because there were no tear ducts. Mal wished, just for once, that he could have a meal with his family in which no one walked out crying or yelling.
“We put clothes on your back, and food in your mouth, the least you can do is be a bit more grateful.” Mal wanted to yell “I LITERALLY brOUGHT YOU BACK TO LIFE,” but that was only going to make the situation worse.
He went back to the stove and put the now slightly burnt pancake onto a plate.
He mouthed the word “sorry” to Des as he sat down at the table and started eating it.
His dad sat down next to him to try to play good cop to his mum’s mental cop.
“She just wants us all to keep being a family once everyone’s passed on. What’s wrong with that?” his dad said, taking a bite of pancake.
“Everything. Everything’s wrong with that. People are supposed to die. Death is natural. This, this is something else.” Mal gestured with his fork at the house.
“If we’re unnatural, what does that make you?” Disgust filled his expression as he spoke.
“You’re getting pancake on the chair because you don’t have any organs.” Mal looked at the small puddle of syrup that had emerged where his Dad was sitting.
“Why must you always be so vile …” Mal’s dad said, then he stomped off.
Mal took a moment in the silence and sighed. He wondered how normal family meals were supposed to end. He lamented his normal. He looked up to Des, who was nearing the end of her pancake. Embarrassment and shame filled his stomach. He wasn’t all that hungry anyway.
“That was …” Des began.
“Yeah, it’s … a lot. Mum has this delusion that when everyone dies I’ll just keep them going and we can all play some undead happy family forever. I have four siblings. I can barely keep those two going … let alone what the Order would say.”
“Have you told them about all that?” Des said.
“I can’t, they’d just make things worse. They’d try and handle it; the Order wouldn’t let that happen. It would be a mess.”
“I have no words,” Des said. “Have you considered not-aliving them?”
“Trust me, I’ve thought about it. The rest of my family would kill me. And I do want them around, I just wish they weren’t like this. Do you have problems like this with your family?”
“No one has problems like this. Sorry to say my family is pretty great. Not sure how they’ll take my change, but they should be alright with it.”
“Sorry, dealing with my mess is the last thing you need. How are you feeling? You want any more?” Mal gestured to the plate.
“I’m okay, just glad I can still eat.” Des smiled and her eyes met with Mal’s. Everything seemed a little lighter for a moment.
Des and Mal spent the rest of the day in his room, hiding from his parents and going over the file on the USB.
After sunset they headed off together into Dunwich, Mal to his dorms and Des to her apartment.
He didn’t know how he’d explain the missing day to his professors or to Walters, but he was glad neither had chosen to hassle him.
He hadn’t given much mind to the case before that day; he didn’t want to bring back Murray and he’d tolerated interviewing Taran.
But now … now the only thing he wanted in this world was to catch whoever had almost killed Des and tried to kill him.
When he got to his tiny dorm room, he gathered his thoughts and his hard drive (this is not a euphemism) and spent the night detailing and storing everything he could remember about the case from Murray and Taran.
It was only after he’d stored everything that he realized he had absolutely no idea how to solve a murder.
Let alone four and a half. He would need Des’s help, and with her new condition, she might be needing his.