Page 20 of Melancholia

“Why are you here?” I demand at last. It’s too much work trying to hold myself upright, calm down, and stop my shaking, so I lean against the wall by the open door. “What do you want? Are you looking for Cecil?” I cast about wildly in my head, looking for answers and coming up with nothing.

“I’m here to see you, Nell,” Amir replies in the silky, controlled voice that makes it hard not to listen to him.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He straightens a little, relaxing his folded arms. “I’m here so that you can tell me about two nights ago. Because I know his body got here. And I know you’re the one who called the cops.”

“No, I don’t⁠—”

“And now I need to decide what that means for you.”

8

My eyes hold steady on the dog between Amir and me, watching as the Shepherd lies down and flops onto its side with a little huff. Its tail thumps the floor again as it looks at me, jaws open as it pants.

“What?” I ask finally, my brain working overtime to catch up. “W-what are you talking about? How did you get in here?” Okay, well, that’s a stupid question, I realize. I must’ve left the doors unlocked like I always do. There’s no reason not to when no one comes in here that doesn’t belong.

But maybe I’m just getting too used to the safety of a small town. Clearly, that’s come back to bite me in the ass if tonight is any indicator.

Amir just looks at me, almost disappointed, as if he’s offended on my behalf at my stupid questions. At his low noise, the dog in front of him gets up to stretch before walking to join him near the incinerator. “Are you afraid of them now?”

My eyes move between the dogs; taking in their gorgeous coats and the way they look at me with nothing but relaxed interest on their faces.

“No,” I say finally, hand shaking at my side where I grip the trocar. “It’s pretty clear they’re not the ones here to be afraid of.” With that, I look at him pointedly. “Why do you want to know about Andrew?”

A possibility goes through my head, though I don’t want to entertain it. Not unless I have to. I push the suspicion away, trying not to look at Amir with anything other than curiosity and just a little bit of suspicion.

Would he really have let his dog kill me?

Amir doesn’t answer right away. He leans against the incinerator and reaches down to tug on the dog’s collar affectionately before smoothing a hand over its ears. I still have no idea whether it’s Noctis or Umbra. Without the two dogs side by side, I can’t tell which is bigger, and back here in the dim light, they look exactly the same. “How did they determine Andrew was murdered?” he murmurs finally.

“Why?”

He fixes me with a look, his head tilting so he can survey me like I’m an oddity he can’t quite figure out. I tense up, suddenly worried he’s going to sic his dog on me again, but Amir just straightens to cross his arms loosely once more over his fitted dress shirt. “Is it not enough that I ask? Is there some reason you won’t tell me?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t really seem to be your business—” Movement from the corner of my eye makes me jerk before I can think about it, and I angrily try to shove my fucked up hallucinations of the dead back into a little box in my head.

“Someone else is here.” It’s not a question. It’s simply a statement that has me looking up at him again.

“What?”

“You’re seeing someone. Like you did the other night. Like you did earlier tonight,” Amir adds. “Tell me, who do you see, Nell? Do you see Andrew? Is that who told you he was murdered?”

All I can do is stare at him, the point of the trocar tilting downward as my grip on it loosens. I look at Amir with the most confusion I’ve ever felt in my life because I know he isn’t asking me about the ghosts I see as if he believes they tell me something of value.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply finally. Slowly. That seems to be the safest option, though I glance down at the dogs and take a step toward the door to the hall and, ultimately, the embalming room. There’s no exit from the body storage room. And my phone is back on the desk, next to the speaker playing “Devil Devil.” From here it sounds almost muffled, thanks to the old speaker and the hall’s shitty acoustics, but the slightly eerie tone does nothing to help my fears.

“Really? That’s how you want to do this?” He drops his arms and takes a step forward, prompting me to stiffen. But Amir doesn’t look mad, exactly. He just seems…curious. “Then let’s get a few things out of the way, shall we?”

Before I can blink or even lift the trocar, Amir is right in front of me. He grabs my hand holding the tool, his grip somehow forces my hand to relax so my fingers spasm. The metallic instrument hits the floor and rolls away, shining in the light from the hall before vanishing into the shadows.

Once I’m disarmed, Amir grabs my chin, dragging my chin up so I’m forced to meet his gaze. “Tell me how they know, Eleanor,” he breathes softly. “Or the next body going into the incinerator is yours.”

A shiver goes up my spine, and I reach up to grip his wrist, digging my nails into his skin in an attempt to get him to let go. But Amir just looks at me like he doesn’t notice, even though I scrape and scrabble at his fingers.

“Stop it.” He shifts his grip to my throat instead, forcing me to inhale a gasp of surprise when his fingers dig in just enough to make breathing an effort. “You want me to let go? I’m just asking for an answer to a question that really shouldn’t matter to you. So⁠—”

“His tongue,” I gasp at last, deciding that I’d rather spill the information that doesn’t mean much to me anyway than die here and get thrown into the incinerator if I can help it. “I-I was about to work on wiring his jaw shut. There was a bite on his tongue.”