This was his way of making sure no one ever had proof that so many missing women were not only dead, but connected to him. Here, they would never be found and he was safe—unless some fool betrayed him!
“She must be there,” the other one said. “I check the cooling systems regularly.”
“You have not checked regularly enough.” He had come himself until every move he made became a decision. How long ago could that have been? Six months, seven—while the Lower Place had kept demanding his return? Then came the final desperate order and still he had ignored it—he had been so sure he could make it back at the very final moment. “When was the last time you opened this to make sure of the body’s condition?”
A blank expression met him and rapidly turned to horror.
“You have not been checking the body,” he whispered.
He leaned over and scrabbled to pick up a folded piece of paper on the bottom of the casket. Once unfolded, the paper revealed familiar flamboyant handwriting:
So now you know, husband. Did you forget the truth about me? I could always choose when I wanted to use my body. You should have made sure I was in my human form when you tried to kill me, old fool. I could not die if I wasn’t there.
I have taken my body with me this time, After all, at last I can dance whenever and for whomever I please. You can’t stop me now. So you are welcome to sleep where you intended me to sleep forever. After all, you will need to keep as cold as possible—for as long as possible.
But in the end you will give up and be gone forever.
Your flesh will rot from your bones first—can you smell it decaying already? Then your organs will slough away. Your foul carcass will trap you long past the moment when you beg for death. Your loving wife celebrates your hell, Belle
He screamed. Such a short time ago his frailty had forced him to leave that plantation house on River Road, and to leave Marley, who must know where Belle was. Belle knew too much, could make too much trouble. She could not be allowed to exist, but his only connection to her now was through Marley Millet.
If only he was as he should be, he could have made her take him to the chinoiserie house.
He must find a way back to her and force her to help him return to the Safehold in the Lower Place. Better yet, he would bring her to him here and get the information he needed. Dealing with Belle could wait.
Slumped against the casket, he renewed his personal promise: a woman who displayed herself in lewd dance while men watched had not deserved to live, not if she had the honor of being his wife. Belle’s days were numbered.
But it was the jazz singers who were his ongoing mission. Even he protected his own and one of his own had suffered through the arrogance of one of those singers. Somehow he would hang on until he had the revenge he had promised himself.
He smiled. There he was making progress. Fear soaked the city. With each singer’s disappearance, others had become too afraid and given up. The most annoying were gone or ruined. Dealing with them had become an unexpected thrill beyond compare.
His hide contracted painfully over his flesh and he stifled a howl.
When he was renewed and returned with the use of a powerful young human body, he would be showered with the female attention he deserved, and this time he would be single-minded in his purpose—apart from allowing himself some small diversions to boost his powers. When he came back to this great city it would be to finish his work for the Embran and eliminate the rest of the Millets from the face of the earth.
He struck his pathetic offspring who had let him down. “Worthless,” he told him. “You could not even make sure your mother was dead.”
Chapter 38
Gray reached Marley and bent over her. He found a pulse in her neck. With his heart pounding, he turned her onto her back.
Relief was short-lived. She looked bloodless and her flesh felt so cold it was hard. Her fisted hands pressed into her chest.
“Nat,” he yelled, struggling out of his jacket. “I need the blanket from your kit. And anything else warm.”
In seconds Nat skidded into the room. He looked from Gray to Marley and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He tossed it at Gray and ran out.
Gray pulled his own shirt over Marley’s head, drew Nat’s on top and wrapped his jacket over everything. Marley’s eyelids flickered. She looked at him, but her eyes rolled to one side.
“Don’t you die on me,” he said, shaking her. “I won’t let you die. Don’t try it.” He grabbed and held her against him, sat on the edge of the couch and chafed her back hard. He pulled the T-shirts down as far as they would go which, given her size, was knee-level. Wrapped against his naked chest she sent a deep chill all the way to his heart.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured. To warm her hands he forced her fists beneath his arms. “Stay awake. Nat’s gone for a blanket. I’ll get you thawed out and you’ll feel better.”
Her lips moved, but she didn’t speak.
Nat pounded in and skidded to a halt beside Gray and Marley. He threw down an old plaid blanket, then snapped open the silver sheet from his kit. The thing wanted to float rather than be wrapped around her.
“Rub her arms and legs,” Gray said, and they worked, side-by-side, pulling first one, then another limb free of the cocoon they had wrapped her in.
She began to shake, a steady, rhythmic shuddering from head to foot. Her eyes were wide-open now.
“You’re going to be okay,” Nat said. “We’d better call 911.”
“No.” Marley croaked out the word. “I can’t do that. Don’t try to make me.”
Gray could feel her panic. “Okay, okay. Calm down.”
“I won’t go,” Marley said.
“You don’t have to,” Gray said. He had been warned to take care of her himself and he wouldn’t fail.
Nat kept rubbing an arm. “Let’s get her home, then,” he said. “She’d be better off in bed. It wouldn’t take too long to get her there.”
Marley shook her head, no. She pulled away and sat on the couch with her hands clasped between her knees. “I can’t go there.” She hung her head forward.
“Just let us get you home,” Gray said. He massaged her shoulders and held her face in his hands. “Being in your own bed will feel good, Marley.”
“No,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’ve got things to do. I can’t go home.”
She extended one fist and unfurled the fingers. A scrap of torn black fabric lay bunched in her palm.
Nat moved closer to look. “Is it from someone’s clothing?”
“Mine. In the warehouse…that thing, the creature tore my sleeve and he must have kept this. Tonight…here, he gave it back. He was letting me know he’s the one who took Pearl Brite.”
“He was letting you know he can find you, too,” Gray murmured.
Nat opened the space blanket bag and held it out. “Drop that in here,” he said.
Marley did as he asked and turned her face into Gray’s shoulder.
He met Nat’s eyes and the other man made a motion with his head, offering to leave. Gray nodded.
“I’d better get back,” Nat said. “But I need to know where you’ll be.”
“We can’t stay here,” Gray said. Marley still seemed as cold as ever.
“My family would try to stop me,” she said and Gray knew what she meant. “Only because they love me and want to look after me,” she added quickly.
“I’ll take you to my place,” he told her. He wanted time alone with her to go over not just the case, but what was happening to him. While he had waited for her outside this room—after the voices had faded, he had felt and visualized things he must understand and he needed to talk to Marley about them. “Gus will get the wrong idea when he sees you, but why not give him that pleasure?”