Propped against the uneven brick was a body, head covered with a potato sack. Lux raised her eyebrow in a silent question.
“I can’t look at him.”
The derisive huff died before leaving her lips as the sudden memory of her own unavoidable response to a certain liquid she would-not-think-about pushed into her mind. She said nothing. Instead, she gripped the brown boots laying before her own feet—and pulled.
The girl bolted forward, probably not wishing for her brother’s head to collide with the cobblestones as he was yanked unceremoniously from his upright position. Glowering at Lux, she gently lowered him to the ground.
“Don’t glare at me, child. It’s not like he can feel it.”
“Child? I’m twelve!”
“Really?” Lux couldn’t prevent the vein of incredulity from entering the question. She’d have guessed nine, and that would have been generous.
“Yes. And you don’t look much older.”
Lux wasn’t. Not really. She’d just celebrated her seventeenth birthday with a small, frosted cake and a lone, drippy candle a month ago.
Another unhappy memory to add to the treasure trove. Lux’s mouth pinched. “Enough of this. Take the feet, girl. I’ll get his shoulders.”
Huffing, arms aching, and much, much too warm, Lux heaved the stiff body onto the table. This usually wasn’t a part of her job. She wiped her forehead.
“I’m Aline by the way.” The girl leaned against the table, breathing heavily.
“Lovely.” She whipped the sack from the body’s head, inspecting the grey skin and fixed pupils. “When did he die?”
Aline had backed away, avoiding her brother’s unseeing gaze. “Eleven hours ago.”
Lux sucked in through her teeth. “Devil’s tits. Why’d you wait so long?” She would have to work quickly. Without a care for Aline’s sensitive disposition, she stripped the body, covering it immediately after. Spinning, she dumped her purse on the counter, thwacking at the greeting tendrils.
“Getoff, you blasted plants!”
The howler’s tooth felt like it took an age to grind, but she had the potion ready minutes later, swirling thickly in the bowl.
“That stinks something awful.”
“The living stink worse.”
Aline curled her lip at the comment, though her eyes hinted toward interest when Lux dipped her fingers into the bowl. “You paint…bodies?” Aline stepped closer and didn’t back away even as the mutilated chest and abdomen were revealed.
Lux’s heart began to pound at the extent of the stab wounds. She kept painting on the paste regardless. Dried blood didn’t bother her so much. It wasn’t wet. It wasn’t warm, and she inspected the wounds as she worked, looking from them to Aline and back again.
“Yes, it’s my favorite pastime. How did he get these?”
Aline had gone a sickly green. She covered her mouth with her hand, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I heard a loud noise, and when I opened the door, he was lying there. Blood everywhere...” The girl stopped talking, focused now on steadying her breaths.
“Turn around.” Aline obeyed and Lux swept the rest of the concoction onto his hips. “Did you hear about the two people who were murdered last night?”
Aline turned back, mouth a perfect circle. “No.”
“Stabbed. Apparently, the assailant was as well…” She let the sentence hang.
Aline’s face darkened, staring at her brother’s mangled chest. “He would never! He’s the kindest person I know.” With snapping, deep brown eyes, she flung her defiant gaze to Lux’s.
“If you say so. But if I’m bringing back a killer, don’t think you won’t be staying here until he answers my questions.”
Aline squared her shoulders. “You aren’t the Shield. You can’t force us to do anything.”
Lux stepped back, palms up. “Then dead he’ll stay. I wonder how hungry the trees grow?”
