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“Time’s up.” He almost missed her whisper.
Three arms reached up for the large blob, locking on to it so tightly the soul burst into pieces as it slid down into the hole. Two heads popped up; the back of the skulls merged as they swiveled on a single braided neck. The heads were featureless except for the wide black eyes staring at her and Mel before its claws pulled in the shadows around it as if burying itself in them the way children bury themselves in the sand at the beach.
“They seem to be interested in you,” Anastacia said calmly and went back to people watching.
“What are they?”
“I don’t know what they’re called, but I call them ‘Gatekeepers.’ They take care of the dark souls who have outstayed their welcome. All souls have a chance to accept their death and move on if there is no unfinished business. If they choose to remain, the Gatekeepers find them. Truthfully, I don’t know if it’s the same being who takes different forms, or if there are hundreds.”
“Are they demons?”
“No, demons are much worse.” Anastacia shook her head as if to erase an emerging memory. With a glance up toward the church and the sky beyond it, she stood and stretched. “Let’s see if they got your murder scene cleaned up yet.”
“Now there's a pleasant thought.”
Anastacialookedatthenow broken tape from across the street and didn’t spot the squad cars, or any cars at all parked on the street. Not much foot traffic, either. No wonder someone picked this as a prime murder location.
“You’re quiet,” Mel whispered next to her.
“You’re not,” she quipped back. “And why are you whispering? I'm the only one who can hear you around here.”
“So you think. How many other legitimate psychics have you met?”
“One. We don’t talk anymore.”
Anastacia marched across the street and stepped over the broken police tape and into the scene, tiptoeing close to where the blood dried in the spaces between cobblestones. Her eyes followed where the street sloped just enough to turn the blood into a short stream away from the body to the edge of the alleyway. Careful not to disturb the stain of blood across the cobblestone, she straddled the puddle. Squatting down, she put her hand over the rocks and closed her eyes to concentrate.
“I was there. I can tell you what happened.” Mel stood awkwardly to the side.
“Shh!”
“Did you just shush me?”
“And yet you keep talking.”
A tingle prickled at her fingertips, shooting up her arm to settle in her chest. Her eyes closed from the sensation as something played out in her third eye. A bright blast in the dark projected behind her eyelids. Struggling pants for breath still held the humid night air. Fear, so much fear and regret of things not finished. It was his death, but it was familiar.
She knew it wasn’t a dream.
“You said your memory was shoddy. I had to have more to go off of. What exactly do you remember?” Sheopened her eyes again to take in the wall nearby. It was clean, no blood splatter, no tool marks, and no spare bullet holes. Standing up, she dusted her hands of anything she may have picked up from the read.
“Going through a door and a heavy pressure in my stomach. It made me trip back and knocked me down. I rolled out of the door into the alley. A muffled voice above and behind me. Another shot and then nothing.”
“Anything catch your attention before the first shot?” She pointed at the middle door, a silent guess it was the one he had mentioned.
“I can’t remember too much.” Mel frowned, nodding at her guess at the door. “There was the smell of cigar smoke. Expensive cigars like the ones my dad’s business colleagues would smoke. I think they smoked one before I got here.”
Anastacia looked up and down the alleyway and tried to measure the distance. The alleyway was tight, too tight to miss an incapacitated target. She looked back at the door, examining the outer hinges and the frame. She followed it down and noticed drops of blood along the side of the door frame.
“I thought you said you weren’t a detective. You a cop or something?”
“Almost. Couldn’t pass the academy. It’s stressful enough to pass the tests, physical and mental. Now add on the sight of traumatized spirits at crime scenes who would follow me home. It was all just a little too much. Besides, it’s way too much running.”
He huffed out a short laugh. “You are a mixed bag of surprises, Stacia.”
“Anastacia,” she reminded him and dug through her satchel at her side. “I think I may have something that won’t disturb any prints. I wonder if the door’s still open. There could be more leads inside. Despite the blood on the ground, there’s none on the wall, which means more evidence may be inside. Not to mention, if the gunman was a smoker, maybe they’re clumsy enough for a cigar butt?”
“You’re getting too excited about all this.” Mel paced the alley as if he had something to be nervous about. It’s not like he could be killed twice. Well, not by humans anyway. “I’m not keen on you opening it. You still got a heartbeat and I’d like you to keep it.”
