Page 149 of Dead Vengeance

Again, the hand releases. Again, he comes up with a protest. “I can’t believe this is happening. It can’t be real. It’s…”

The sharp point of a pen freezes midair, an inch from his eyeball. He stops dead.

“He probably won’t make it fast,” I suggest, enjoying the way the pen then swivels back and forth with theatrical menace. “He’s pretty pissed.”

“I’ll get it.” His voice, like his hands, is shaking. “Just… I need my keyboard. Just let me reach it.”

This is honestly so much fun. It’s a shame I have to wrap it up so quickly. “All right.” I smile into the air. “Please let him use his computer.”

The pen pulls back, waggles a little, as if it’s agreeing, then the lights switch back on, the computer allowed to return to life.

Marsden stares at his screen until I clear my throat. “He is in quite a hurry, actually.”

With no more than an anxious glance at me, Marsden gets to work on his computer. I wander around his side of the desk to watch, to make sure he doesn’t try to send a message for help. The pen finds a scrap of paper, and Marsden digs anxious fingers into the arms of his chair as it slowly spells out BLOOD FOR BLOOD, over and over. I do my best to stifle the laugh.

Marsden taps faster, and it’s not long before he’s found it. “That’s him there. UID number SC00175HYP.”

I snap a photo of the information with my phone. “UID as in…” I stare at it a moment longer in growing disbelief. “As in unidentified remains?”

Marsden eyes the pen, now running deep gashes into the paper. “He’s in a graveyard. H-his remains are all there, in one piece. Buried respectfully. Waiting for more information on the case.”

“More information,” I laugh out, but it’s utterly humourless. “This whole time, you’ve had him buried where no one could accidentally discover him. Hidden away perfectly. That’s planning. That’s fucking diabolical.”

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” he throws back at me, and the way he says it triggers something in my ghost friend. Marsden’s shirt compresses as the hand slams back into his neck, and he’s dragged, still in his chair, against the wall. The lights cut again, the room turns almost black. “It’s not my fault!” he cries. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t—”

But even then, he cuts off. Even believing that Jem Locke has his life in his hands, he refuses to give us more, still acting as though he had no choice in this matter.

I lean back on his desk, trying to keep myself calm enough to get this job done. I’ve been involved in so many horror stories, dragged out of the grave, ready to be cut open, rotten and festering. But there’s none like this. None where I’ve had to look into the eyes of a man I adore and see that pain. See what it’s taken from him. It’s one death, and then a thousand cuts, each one draining the life out of the people who remain. And it’s all this bastard’s fault. “What you’ve done is pure evil.”

“I didn’t kill him!”

“I don’t care!” I shout. “You may as well have. You haven’t even recorded him as dead! How were they supposed to grieve? How were they supposed to even start to heal? You fucking asshole!”

I walk across the room, trying to keep myself under control while he sputters out, “I said I’ll make the call.”

“No, you fucking won’t,” I round on him. “You’re not going to speak a word until I say you can.”

His eyes run over the door. “But he said—”

“Shut your stupid mouth. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to wait three days. Then, if I tell you to make the call, you’ll make the call. And as soon as you do, you’re going to resign.”

“I’m not going to fucking—” His chin snaps up so violently that just for a second I think he’s broken his neck, but his terrified eyes find mine a moment later, well aware it’s in his best interest to let me speak.

“You’re going to resign,” I continue. “And you’re never going to take a job in law enforcement again, or in any other field where you have a modicum of power over real people.”

“You’re trying to ruin me?” The narcissism, the coolness in that response, drives home how inhuman this man truly is.

“I could do so much more,” I tell him. “You see, Liam, he’s not used to dealing with people like you. He’s good, and he’s sweet, and he’s going to stay that way. But me… I’ve had a lifetime of seeing what men like you do to our world, to our society, to people like me, to people who came before me. You can count yourself lucky that I, by nature, am not a violent man. Because if I were, you wouldn’t be walking out of here in one piece.”

He tries to speak, but the lips slam closed.

“Jem can and will stop you doing any more harm to anyone else. You cannot imagine that this is going to stop. Everywhere you go, for the rest of your life, Jem is going to be watching you. He’s going to be following you. And if you slip up, even once, I’m not going to be there to stop him from getting his revenge.”

I stand to leave, only pausing at the door to warn him, “If anything happens to Liam, or to me, Jem’s going to make it hurt. For a very, very long time. Sit there, wait for my call, and while you do, get to work drafting your resignation.”

I stalk out through the office without another word from him, no one paying any attention to me, tapping at their power buttons, using the blackout as an excuse to have a chat.

Just as I get to the locked door, the electricity slams back on. I hit the release button, and I’m out. Out and walking down the street.