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As I asked the question, awareness washed over me. I was no longer alone in the strand of trees - and the thick scent of warm spices mingled with sweat said it was Harris. I internally cursed my luck, and hoped like hell he let me finish questioning the dead man's soul.
Marcus. Marcus Landsbury.
Which wasn't a name that seemed even remotely familiar.
"How did you end up in this field, Marcus?"
I don't know. One moment I was walking home, the next I'm here, unable to move or talk, and some bastard is cutting my tackle off.
"So you saw him?"
No. He was wearing some sort of costume.
A sense of deja vu ran though me. I'd heard this before, even if I couldn't remember where.
"What sort of costume?"
A red devil mask. It had horns. He hesitated. I swear he had cloven hooves, as well.
Again that sense of familiarity. "Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Was he big? Small? Fat or thin?"
He was on the small side, but strong - really strong. He had to be, didn't he, because I'm not exactly small. He had broad shoulders and big arms, though. Moved efficiently, like it was a job, nothing more.
Meaning it could have been a professional hit. Especially given they'd probably used some form of immobilizer to take him down so quickly. Things like that weren't available over the counter - though easily enough gotten on the black market.
And just how would I know something like that?
I rubbed my left temple wearily. Energy continued to flow away from me, and the pain slithering through my brain was increasing. "And what did you do, Marcus, that warranted being slaughtered in such a fashion?"
I've done my time. It doesn't matter. The words were angry, ricocheting around my head as sharp as nails.
I winced, blinking back tears. "It obviously matters to someone, Marcus, or you wouldn't have been killed in the manner you were."
He was sucking at my energy like a man possessed, and my knees were threatening to buckle under the strain. I tried locking them, but knew I'd have to end this soon, answers or not.
It shouldn't matter. Damn it, it was a long time ago!
Well, someone obviously hadn't forgotten. "Tell me what you did."
Why? What fucking good does it do now?
"I guess that depends on whether you want to stay here haunting this scrawny patch of trees, or move on."
The energy was draining at a faster rate now, and my head was beginning to ache fiercely. My knees suddenly unlocked, and I hit the dirt.
I braced myself with one hand as Marcus said, I raped several women.
"Define 'women.'" Because the brutality of his murder suggested there was more than rape involved -
especially if he'd been put away for a while. The sad fact was, courts and judges didn't treat rape as seriously as they should.
Anger swirled, thick and sharp. The stabbing pain got worse, and suddenly I was struggling to breathe.
Okay, it was girls. Sixteen-year-olds. We held them for several days and did them over proper, like.
We. The word caught in my brain, but before I could question him more, my brain overloaded and all I felt was pain. Sheer, bloody, agonizing pain. I hugged myself for several seconds, rocking back and forth, then realized he was still there, still draining me.
"Go," I whispered. "Find whatever peace you damn well can."
