Page 4 of A Wild Darkness

“I thought so.” River chuckles. “Well, let’s go.”

“Is he alone?”

“I don’t know, Sebastian. He’s just a stray cat, leave him be.”

Crouching down, I reach my hand out to pet him. He walks right up to me and head-butts my palm. Against my better judgment, I pick up the dirty feline. He sits comfortably on my bent knee. His feral amber eyes bored into mine. “Yeah. He’s coming home with us.”

“What?” River halts, his mouth hanging agape. “Absolutely not. We’ve never had a pet.”

“Well, we do now.”

River’s hand meets my shoulder, pressing it back. “Sebastian. You’re not serious, are you?”

“Look at him.” I smile. “It’s like he chose us.”

River’s eyes slide down to the kitten. “You’re a serial killer, Sebastian, and you want a kitten?”

“I kill for the good of mankind,” I argue. “And besides, he’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“Look at him,” I scratch the top of his head. “He’s all alone out here. And what if he’s like us and doesn’t have a mom or dad?”

“You can’t just pick up a stray cat. We come and go all the time. Cats are a responsibility. And besides, what ruthless serial killer do you know goes soft for a homeless kitten?”

“Eh.” I shrug my shoulders and lift the cat up as I stand. “I think work is better when I don’t have every detail planned out.”

He follows behind me as I bring the tiny kitten to my car. “And just because you say something is yours doesn’t make it automatically true.”

I let River think he has any say in this decision and allow his brief comment about my impulsivity to slide, because we all know he is not one to talk.

Now, if I can get this kitten to the vet to make sure he’s—or she’s—good to go, then I can get back to bringing down a secret society of serial killers.

CHAPTER TWO

STEVIE

Iced coffee in one hand and a bouquet of white roses in the other, my heels clack the black asphalt of the parking lot at Nevermore Mortuary and Funeral Home. I swing the front double doors open of the business I purchased from my former employers a little over a year ago.

The soft cream wall greets me as soon as I walk into the lobby. I flip on the lights with my elbow and glance into the display room before taking a left down the hall and past the arrangement room with the large open windows.

“Hello, office.” I rest the flowers and coffee on my desk. “Ready to take care of some wonderful families today?” I say to the open air, before grabbing a glass vase from a cabinet and filling it with water. Then I take a moment to arrange the white roses.

“Good morning, Stevie!” Kristine calls out from behind. I hired Kristine as my assistant three years ago when the previous owners still owned the business. She and I worked so well together that when I bought the funeral home, I promoted her to Mortuary Assistant Director.

“Morning!” I return cheerfully as she walks into her office directly across the hall from mine.

“Did you see your nine a.m. is here already? They’re waiting in the parking lot,” she says.

“The Branson family?”

Keith Branson was a fifty-nine-year-old heart attack victim. The family is well-known around Seattle and could have had a large memorial service for him, but came to Nevermore to keep the services intimate.

“Yep! Early. I like that,” Kristine comments under her breath.

I grab the vase with the white roses. “Thanks. I’ll head outside to greet them,” I toss over my shoulder, headed back to the arrangement room. “It’s a difficult time for them, and the last thing they need is me making them wait another fifteen minutes until we open.”

“Do you have something you need to finish up?” She pops her head out. “I can let them in for you.”