AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chase looked more confused than ever. "But the King agreed. Isn't he also the Crown?" I almost wanted to pat him on the head.
"Yeah, it's confusing. Look at it this way: the King belongs to the Queen. Yes, he's one of our sovereigns, but he doesn't take a piss without Lethesanar's permission."
Chase coughed. "Your society isn't exactly male-oriented, huh?"
"Not so much. The throne passes from mother to daughter. The Queen picks her consort from her cousins—there must always be a blood link—and any children born from a tryst that doesn't involve the King are automatically out of contention for the crown."
"Huh. What if the Queen doesn't have a daughter?"
"Then her sister or her sister's daughter will ascend to the throne. All women in the royal family who stand even within an arm's reach of the throne are required to bear children. At least two, but preferably three if one of the two happens to be a boy. The King has his power, but the Queen is sovereign. Since she chooses whom she will marry, he's subject to her and considered an extension of her. By screwing the King without the Queen's permission, Rina—in essence—raped the Queen."
As I finished explaining, the door swung open, and the OIA medical team burst through, followed by their Earthside OIA counterparts. A short figure in a long, dark shroud led the group, gliding across the floor as if floating. An indigo glow emanated from the chiffon veils that covered both body and face hidden within the multitude of layers.
I took a step back. Corpse Talkers made me nervous, not because they spoke with the dead, but because they were dark, misshapen Faerie who came up to the surface from deep under the ground. Banned from the city of Y'Elestrial except upon summons, their race had no name that we knew of, and no one ever saw their faces. The males remained hidden in the depths of their underground city, and only their women could become Corpse Talkers. Most lived by a set of bound rules and regulations, but a few had gone rogue and were considered wild and dangerous.
The Corpse Talker knelt by Rina's side. "Has anyone touched her since her death?" Her voice was hollow, almost cavernous from within the folds of the hooded cloak.
Taking a deep breath, I knelt near her, taking care to not even so much as brush my aura against hers. There were stories of very nasty explosions that had happened when the energy of a witch and a Corpse Talker collided, and I had no intention of finding out if they were old wives' tales or true.
"I tested her pulse to see if she was still alive. Otherwise, I don't think anybody but the killer touched her." I held up the feather. "I found this on the ground next to her and picked it up before I thought about it."
The darksome hood turned toward me, and I thought I caught sight of a pair of steel eyes staring out at me, luminous and cold. "Harpy," was all she said, but that was enough to verify what we'd been thinking.
Over the years, I'd seen Corpse Talkers at work, and their dedication and icy passion for their work unnerved me, but I was inexorably fascinated by them. Delilah, on the other hand, watched from beside Chase. She looked nervous; he was totally freaked. Luckily for us, he was enough of a professional to know when to keep his mouth shut.
The shrouded figure bent over Rina's body and slowly pressed her face to Rina's bloody face. Lips to lips, the Corpse Talker kissed Rina deeply, sucking the remnants of the fallen soul out of the body into her own. I knew the drill.
Lips to lips, mouth to mouth,
Comes the speaker of the shrouds.
Suck in the spirit, speak the words,
Let secrets of the dead be heard.
The rhyme echoed in my head; a ditty sung by children hoping to keep the bogeys at bay. But bogeys were child's play compared to these creatures—whatever they were—and bogeys didn't demand flesh as payment for their services. Rina's remains would lie with her ancestors, except for her heart.
We waited in silence, the air growing thick as the Corpse Talker hovered over the body. I glanced up at Chase. He looked faint, and Delilah—who had apparently noticed his expression—silently reached for his hand. Startled, he gave her a quick look and accepted, her touch giving him the strength to straighten his shoulders, though I still heard him gulp down what was likely his breakfast. The scent of his fear mingled with the scent of blood, and I was grateful Menolly wasn't here; she was still so young at the vamp business, and young vamps grew ravenous at the smell of a pricked finger.
After a moment, the Corpse Talker stood, silent as before. I stepped forward. Time to find out if we'd hit the target.
"Rina, can you hear me?"
In a voice that was Rina's and yet not Rina's, the Corpse Talker breathed a soft, "Yes."
We only had a few minutes before the residue from Rina's soul departed, just enough for a couple of quick questions, and then we were out of luck. In some cases, Corpse Talkers weren't able to grab hold of the soul's cord for even that long.
"Who killed you?"
A pause, then again the whisper. "Harpy."
"Do you know why?" I watched the shrouded figure as she swayed, struggling to keep hold of Rina's soul.
"No."
Nice. Short, but sweet. The dead weren't always talkative, which was understandable. We had to make every question count. I thought hard. We had one, perhaps two more chances. What else could I ask that might be of value? And then, I knew. More questions about Rina's death would be a waste of time, but maybe, just maybe I could gain some insight on what we'd come to learn.
"How can I find Tom Lane?"
