“Come on, Jessie, breathe. In. Out. Through your nose—goddamn it.” He hauled her around as her body spasmed, jerked her into the dim light of her fallen flashlight and caught her face between his hands.
He glowered down at her. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth set into a hard line. “Breathe through your nose,” he said again, resolutely maintaining eye contact. “It’ll kill off your sense of smell. Focus on me.” She did. In. Out. Just like he said. “Keep doing it. You’ll get used to it, just breathe.”
Get used to it?
Didn’t it bother him at all?
She clenched her teeth. Inhaled. Slowly, inch by inch, the world righted itself around her.
Jessie’s jaw ached, her throat ached. God, her soul ached. “I can’t tell,” she whispered, her eyes burning. “I can’t tell. Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” He smoothed back her hair. “If you can stay here, I’ll—”
“No.” Jessie sucked in a breath, held it until her lungs screamed for air. She let it out angrily. “I can do this.”
“Damn it, Jessie, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, pulled his hands from her face. “I have to.”
His eyes hardened. More stone than ice. She met them, stared into them, and mentally clung. But she had to let go. She stepped back.
“Okay.” His agreement was reluctant at best. Angry and unsure. “Stay close to me, and if you have to get out, you say so.”
“I will.” This time, she wasn’t sure it was the lie she wanted it to be. God, if that was Caleb in there. If that was her baby brother, she had to know.
Tears gathered in her eyes as she picked up the flashlight and followed Silas back into the tiny room. Everything blurred, but she didn’t have to see it to feel the gooey, gelatinous squelch of the carpet beneath her boots. She circled around the edge, wiped her face as surreptitiously as she could.
“Jessie?”
“What?”
Silas crouched by the body, the thing bloated and splayed. He stared at it, studied it, so calmly, so impassively, that Jessie’s heart went out to a man whose life had become so hard that he could look at something like this without screaming. Calm, unflinching.
She scraped shaking hands through her hair. Tightened the knot of it in place because, damn it, she didn’t know what else to do. “I don’t see anything . . .” Out of place sounded horribly wrong. She shook her head. “I guess it just—”
“It’s not your brother,” he said flatly. “It’s a woman.”
Relief warred with pure terror. Utter guilt. “How long?”
“Don’t know.” He grimaced. “Can you collect samples?”
Her mind balked. Jessie stiffened, raised her chin. “Of what?”
“Blood.” Silas reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small plastic cylinder. “One from each end of a circle around the body. I’ll cover it.”
He tossed her the cylinder. It rattled as she caught it in her free hand. That. It. Not a her, not a name, just an it.
She stared at the cylinder, more than a little dazed.
“Pop the top,” he explained. His voice was calm. Patient. “There should be four swabs capped by sealable plastic. Collect a gob of blood, cap it.”
“Right.” Sure. She could do that. She could pretend to be efficient and composed. Jessie turned and picked her way across the floor, trying not to think about how much blood she walked through. The body—the woman had to have died from blood loss.
She couldn’t imagine anyone losing this much blood and surviving for very long.
Jessie knelt, dug out the first swab.
Where are you, Caleb?
Why did the magic direct her here? The corpse wasn’t her brother, and she was relieved beyond all reason to know that, but why here?
She swirled the swab in the crusted, terrifying ooze and sealed it before a spine-deep shudder could cause her to fling the bloody thing away in a fit of hysteria. “One down,” she said, proud when her voice trembled only a little.
“Good,”
He glowered down at her. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth set into a hard line. “Breathe through your nose,” he said again, resolutely maintaining eye contact. “It’ll kill off your sense of smell. Focus on me.” She did. In. Out. Just like he said. “Keep doing it. You’ll get used to it, just breathe.”
Get used to it?
Didn’t it bother him at all?
She clenched her teeth. Inhaled. Slowly, inch by inch, the world righted itself around her.
Jessie’s jaw ached, her throat ached. God, her soul ached. “I can’t tell,” she whispered, her eyes burning. “I can’t tell. Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” He smoothed back her hair. “If you can stay here, I’ll—”
“No.” Jessie sucked in a breath, held it until her lungs screamed for air. She let it out angrily. “I can do this.”
“Damn it, Jessie, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, pulled his hands from her face. “I have to.”
His eyes hardened. More stone than ice. She met them, stared into them, and mentally clung. But she had to let go. She stepped back.
“Okay.” His agreement was reluctant at best. Angry and unsure. “Stay close to me, and if you have to get out, you say so.”
“I will.” This time, she wasn’t sure it was the lie she wanted it to be. God, if that was Caleb in there. If that was her baby brother, she had to know.
Tears gathered in her eyes as she picked up the flashlight and followed Silas back into the tiny room. Everything blurred, but she didn’t have to see it to feel the gooey, gelatinous squelch of the carpet beneath her boots. She circled around the edge, wiped her face as surreptitiously as she could.
“Jessie?”
“What?”
Silas crouched by the body, the thing bloated and splayed. He stared at it, studied it, so calmly, so impassively, that Jessie’s heart went out to a man whose life had become so hard that he could look at something like this without screaming. Calm, unflinching.
She scraped shaking hands through her hair. Tightened the knot of it in place because, damn it, she didn’t know what else to do. “I don’t see anything . . .” Out of place sounded horribly wrong. She shook her head. “I guess it just—”
“It’s not your brother,” he said flatly. “It’s a woman.”
Relief warred with pure terror. Utter guilt. “How long?”
“Don’t know.” He grimaced. “Can you collect samples?”
Her mind balked. Jessie stiffened, raised her chin. “Of what?”
“Blood.” Silas reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small plastic cylinder. “One from each end of a circle around the body. I’ll cover it.”
He tossed her the cylinder. It rattled as she caught it in her free hand. That. It. Not a her, not a name, just an it.
She stared at the cylinder, more than a little dazed.
“Pop the top,” he explained. His voice was calm. Patient. “There should be four swabs capped by sealable plastic. Collect a gob of blood, cap it.”
“Right.” Sure. She could do that. She could pretend to be efficient and composed. Jessie turned and picked her way across the floor, trying not to think about how much blood she walked through. The body—the woman had to have died from blood loss.
She couldn’t imagine anyone losing this much blood and surviving for very long.
Jessie knelt, dug out the first swab.
Where are you, Caleb?
Why did the magic direct her here? The corpse wasn’t her brother, and she was relieved beyond all reason to know that, but why here?
She swirled the swab in the crusted, terrifying ooze and sealed it before a spine-deep shudder could cause her to fling the bloody thing away in a fit of hysteria. “One down,” she said, proud when her voice trembled only a little.
“Good,”
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