Chapter 27 #2
I glance toward the balcony—its rail, the thicket below, the shadow of trees that’ll hide more than a body and a rug if I’m quick—and a stupid, dangerous plan stitches itself together. It’s the only thing my adrenaline can make sense of right now.
Bending down, I start to roll up the thick material. At least he died conveniently. Most of the mess will be gone just as soon as I toss this runner and his body over the railing.
You don’t need to do this. Wolf sighs, the sound heavy with something that might be shame, or maybe resignation, but I don’t pause to dissect it. I keep rolling.
I killed this guy on my own, and I can clean up the mess on my own.
Well, maybe my magical room can help, too, but I’ll figure that out once I get the dead guy out of here.
Thankful for my newly formed muscles, I wrestle the evidence across the room like I’m dragging a very uncooperative suitcase. He’s heavier than he looks. Either he ate an entire bakery, or he’s secretly dense as a boulder. Still, I get him to the balcony door without dropping him. Small victories.
Before I shove him over the edge, I go back inside because if someone wanders in and finds me gone, I’d like to be able to tell a semi-believable story that doesn’t include a murder scene.
The chair, however, is a problem. It glares at me with splinters and a missing leg like passive-aggressive furniture. But that’s for me to sort out later. The crimson streaks are a bigger issue.
I grab as many hand towels from the bathroom as I can find since there aren’t any full-size ones, and proceed to mop like an amateur crime-scene janitor.
They disintegrate into something that resembles a damp napkin by the time I’m done, but they do the job.
I wad the ruined cotton into the runner, rolled up like an ugly, bloodstained burrito.
If anyone asks, it was a crafting accident. Very messy crafting. Iris would believe that.
I request new scents in the room, lemon and lavender, and that takes care of the death smell. Once the room is as clean as it’s going to get without calling in a professional, it’s time for the next lovely task: dropping a body three stories and praying the bushes are soundproof.
I heave the rolled rug and the weight over the railing, bracing my feet and cursing the laws of gravity when I lose control.
He tips, slides, and then the bushes take him in with a muffled sound that, to my ears, is the sweetest thud I’ve ever heard.
The foliage may be ruined, but at least they softened the landing.
Nature: 1, My body disposal plan: 0, but an acceptable compromise.
Okay, next.
I eyeball the balcony and know I need to clean the railing. Oh, and a change of clothes to throw over, so I don’t walk back into the manor looking like I lost a fight with a tomato patch. With a frown, I register actual grief for the ruined outfit. It was one hell of a not-a-date night.
You wouldn’t have that problem if you just told the others that you did what you had to do in order to stay alive.
How is she not understanding that the risk is too great to tell anyone? The chance that even one of them will think worse of me is too strong.
More so, I don’t want to think worse of myself.
I want this part of the night to be a memory I let my brain suppress, never to be thought of again.
Knowing that, I do what needs to be done.
As soon as I’ve removed the last remnants of evidence in the room and exterior, then grab a change of clothes, I brace myself against the railing. I should be able to jump from this height with no difficulty thanks to my shifter genes, but having never done it, I’m not so sure I’ve been told right.
It’s not too late to ask for help, Wolf adds, and her insistence that I can’t do this on my own is all the encouragement I need.
I jump and cover my mouth because the desire to scream is strong as I plummet toward the ground, which arrives much sooner than I’m prepared for.
I don’t land on my feet. My left hip gets that prize and burns with an ache I’m sure will still be there tomorrow, but I don’t let it stop me.
This job will get done.
You might actually be insane, Wolf mutters.
Maybe, but at least I won’t get us burned at the stake or something like that.
She at least laughs this time. A human myth, I assure you.
That still doesn’t stop me.
Ignoring the fact that one of his legs is bent like a pretzel that lost a fight with physics, I clutch the rolled runner and point us toward the forest. It’s a hundred yards of late-evening sprints and bad decisions, but I can do this. I am, after all, apparently made of pure determination now.
I run with my head down, dragging him like a rug with bad intentions. Every step crunches, and each brush of a twig against my calves makes me want to sob and swat at it like a toddler, all while chanting in my head…
Please, nobody come outside right now.
It’s not exactly late. Maybe ten? So, it’s not like everyone is asleep, but I don’t let myself spiral over the risks. I can’t.
When I hit the tree line, I finally inhale a full, glorious breath. The air smells like pine and freedom and extremely questionable life choices. I made it. Now, I just have to hide the body.
What are you going to use to dig the hole? Wolf asks smugly.
Damn it! I didn’t think about a shovel.
The manor has a garden, so they should have tools for such things. I’ll just go find something.
Great idea, she adds. Go creep around outside, covered in blood, while everyone is on high alert.
You know, a little compassion would be appreciated, I tell her. Do you really not understand why I need to do this? Are you that certain everything will be okay if they know I killed another supernatural?
She’s quiet for a beat. Cade would understand.
Yeah, probably. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with murder, considering how he snapped Iris’s neck before.
But what about the others? I’ve just finally felt like this is where I belong, and while unconventional, Archie, Iris, and Liz are family.
I can’t lose them after everything. I can’t stand the thought of them looking at me with doubt.
I’m stomping my way toward the garden area before she can respond, and it isn’t until I spot an outbuilding that she stops me.
Shift and I’ll dig the hole.
Seriously? Now you’re on board? How do I know that you won’t howl and call attention to us?
Because you need me right now, and we need to be a team.
Well, that shocks me to my core. Thank you.
Heading back toward the woods, I decide to wait to call her forward until we’re under the canopy of the trees. The shadows there feel safer for this.
Only when I get back, confusion strikes me.
Where’s the body? I left him right here.
Fuck, Wolf. Where did he go?
Panic claws at me, but her presence pushes forward, offering a calm I don’t expect. A warmth settles over my skin like I’m going to shift, but the transformation doesn’t come.
Breathe, Rowan, she says, full of confidence I don’t possess. Maybe this is a good thing.
Right, because everything about a vanishing corpse is all sunshine and roses.
Someone knows I killed that guy. And whoever it is didn’t need a shovel to make the evidence disappear.