When a thumping noise comes from inside the closet, I’m ready. I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do to stop the dead girl, but I’m ready to try. Screaming probably won’t work, probably a good idea not to scream when the closet door cracks open and the dead girl’s body flops to the floor.
“Motherfucker,” the body groans.
Definitely Cain, even in such a trembling, whiny high-pitched voice. He pushes from the floor with thin, shaking arms. Even from the corner I can hear his ragged breaths. Cain claws at the door knob to gain his feet. I’m already on my feet, upright and staring rather than staring while sitting.
Cain glances over and yelps sharply, a bitten-off shriek of surprise. I guess he wasn’t expecting to find me watching him so attentively.
“Goddamn, Abel. You, uh…” Cain gestures, but I’m not sure what he means. He follows it up with a forced-casual, “Hey.”
He rolls his neck, twists at the waist, Cain shifts and stirs like adjusting an ill-fitted suit. I suppose given how he ditched the corpse and then returned to it, that’s accurate. Even with Cain back inside her, the dead girl looks dead. Maybe it’s because I saw her empty and exceptionally corpse-like, but I can’t look at Cain and see anything other than a dead thing. A waxy-skinned, hollow-eyed, sunken-cheeked dead thing walking toward me.
Cain hesitates halfway to me, in the passage of space between the foot of the bed and the television cabinet. I’m cowering behind the armchair, wide-eyed and tensed to run away except there’s nowhere to go. I don’t really want to run from Cain. I know Cain’s inside the dead girl. I should probably convey that to Cain, rather than shove myself into the corner like I might disappear through the wall if I try hard enough.
“Okay,” Cain drawls warily. He doesn’t try to get closer. Nothing’s different since he was here last except for the television playing, but he checks anyway. Cain drags his gaze over the screen briefly before glancing at the locked and chained door. He’s looking for what else in the room could terrify me besides him.
I should explain I know it’s him. Cain looks so unsure of this situation that I hate it, I hate everything about Cain standing there looking lost. I’m sure he hates just as much the way I look, how I’m head-to-toe shaking at the idea of the dead girl getting any closer to me.
“H-hi.” I sound ridiculous, squeaky with fear and trembling. What I’m stammering is equally ridiculous. “Hi, Cain.”
A relieved grin cracks the dead girl’s glazed expression. “Hey, sweetheart. Ready to go swimming?”
I can’t believe Cain was serious about that. I shake my head. I don’t have a swimsuit. I don’t want to go swimming. An indoor pool does sound nice, but I don’t want to leave the room. I want Cain to go away again and come back in his own body, that punk rock idol body of his that I pulled from a lake. Surely he can find it for me, bring it here. I don’t want Cain inside a corpse anymore.
“Yeah?” Cain tips his head to the side. “Sure you do. Indoor pool, heated and everything.”
I shake my head. I don’t care if it’s a heated pool, I don’t want to go swimming. I don’t even have a swimsuit. I’m not skinny dipping with a corpse either, no thank you, that does not sound fun.
A hint of annoyance pulls the corner of Cain’s mouth. “Sweetheart,” he growls. He stops himself, grits a terse smile at me instead. He forces brittle-soprano niceness past a clenched jaw. “I wrecked this body getting you out, it’s not lasting me much longer. I need another one. Got it?”
Slowly I nod. I understand Cain needs a body to use. What I don’t understand is what swimming has to do with getting Cain a new body. Are we going to drown someone at the pool? I’m not sure I’m really prepared to assist Cain in a homicide. It seems excessive.
Cain matches my slow nod. “Okay,” he says. “We agree I’m getting a new body. Great. And, I’m guessing, Princess Abel doesn’t want me hitting up the bar to hunt fresh meat. Not that you’d stop me. Much fun as that idea is, I’m not listening to you bitch about it later.”
I’m not sure I like the patronizing tone, but I understand why he’s upset with me. I actually don’t think he sounds that angry. Desperate maybe. I wonder if he’s hurt, if he’s going to start coughing blood. I look at the carpet. The dead girl’s wearing plush house slippers, not even real shoes.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cain gripes. “Easy way or hard way, Abel, and I guarantee you’re not going to like the easy way this time. No matter what we’re getting me a new body right the fuck now. Got it?”
Okay, now he’s just being rude. It’s not my fault I’m useless right now. I did my best, I tried, but I’m only seventeen years old. I’m a minor for another two months. In my world, that means my parents have every right to lock me up somewhere against my will. I know I’m a necromancer, but I can’t kill people. I don’t even like horror movies. I couldn’t kill a cat, despite having the neighbor’s cat and my mom’s kitchen knife and no one around for hours. I’m squeamish trying to kill spiders, I usually just let them go outside. There are no such things as necromancers or demons, from any perspective besides mine. In my world, I’m crazy, no matter how many dead things try telling me otherwise.
“ Ethan .”
Cain snaps his fingers, even as the dead girl’s stringy sweetness pleads. My gaze skips from house slippered feet to a narrow freckled face that’s all wrong. Busted capillaries form a gruesome crimson pool in one of the corpse’s milky brown eyes. Cain points at the door without taking his gaze off me.
“Summoning time, sweetheart. Please tell me you know what the fuck that means.”
I’m not sure I do, but I nod anyway. When Cain takes a step toward the door, I take a matched step from the corner. He retreats as far as the door itself without turning to watch where he’s going. That’s fairly impressive to me, because I have to look at the armchair and bed both to avoid tripping over them.
“Okay,” Cain says. He slides the chain from the lock. “Get towels.”
Even without his head nodding at the bathroom I know where to go. He doesn’t need to be that patronizing, I’m aware of how a hotel room functions. I understand the concept of swimming, I know what we’re doing, I’m just murky on the specifics of why. Cain should understand that, he thought the plastic card went into a slot to open the door, like a key, only he didn’t realize it worked on a sensor. I bet he still doesn’t fully understand how it works. It must seem a bit like magic to him.
I’m holding an armful of towels when Cain calls, “Sweetheart, you look fine. Let’s go.”
I’m not looking in the mirror, no way, I know I look completely crazy in these stupid elastic-waist sweatpants and zoned out blank nothing on my face.
Soon as I’m back in the entry, Cain pulls the door open. I shuffle sideways to avoid touching any part of the dead girl, Cain possessing her or not. I can barely look at this walking, talking, animated corpse. The cat at least did look kind of cute, for a dead thing. The dark fur hid all the wrong, broken ruin much better than the dead girl’s devastated wreck of bloodshot eyes and chalky complexion. Marcia would serve as a great anti-drug poster child right now. We both would, I guess.
In the elevator, Cain stands by the panel. I stand in the corner. I’m not sure if the silence is awkward for me, but it might be for Cain. The sideways cut of his gaze stays sharply focused on me. Obviously the air’s not really as thick as the bundle of towels I’m holding, it just seems that way. I look anywhere that’s not at the dead thing.
Cain checks the quiet hotel lobby from the elevator landing. I stay in one place for him, so he doesn’t have to take his eyes off me long. I should probably let him know that I won’t run, that I’m okay going for a swim. I’ll cooperate with Cain. I’ll help him.
I have no idea what time it is, how long I spent waiting for Cain in the room. The time might have been on the television at some point, but I wasn’t looking. I’m looking now for a clock and don’t see one, but it’s dark outside and a late, lonely kind of quiet throughout the hotel. Brass placards on the wall tell Cain where to go, he just has to read and follow the arrows to navigate without me.
Through the glass door, I can see the kidney-bean shaped pool. There’s a hot tub, too, which seems nice until I remember I don’t have a swimsuit and Cain’s wearing a corpse like a suit. We’re alone at least. A posted sign warns us about the lack of a lifeguard on duty.
As I stand hugging the towels, Cain circles the pool area. The rippling turquoise waters seem bright and welcoming, but there’s something dark and foreboding about what we’re doing. Cain looks so serious, he’s concentrating intently on checking every hatch, panel, and door for whatever reason. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but I might have an idea. I think he’s making sure we’re alone. He doesn’t want any witnesses for what we’re about to do.
That thought’s confirmed by the sudden plunge of darkness. Cain’s found the breaker. The red glow of the exit sign and scant pour of hall light from the glass door cast the water into nightmarish gleaming. Cain returns to where I’m standing but stays well out of arm’s reach. Considering how I turn shivery and terrified when the walking corpse gets near me, that’s nice of him.
“Drop to your skivvies, Abel.”
I am not taking off my clothes, that is ridiculous. I glance at the swimming pool.
“Abel, sweetheart, clothes off,” Cain says. A note of warning carries in the saccharin tone. When I still don’t listen, when I just stare at the pool, Cain snaps his fingers and voice alike. “Clothes, now.”
I guess I don’t want my clothes wet, if I have to get in the water, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice about that. I guess going for a swim in my underwear will be okay, boxer shorts are kinda similar to swim trunks. I put the towels down on one of plastic lounge chairs. I slip the t-shirt over my head, nudge out of my shoes, create a neat and tidy pile of shapeless, bland grey clothing.
Cain leads me to the ladder. Under his supervision I descend into the warm, pleasant water. The heavy smell of chlorine hangs in the air. “Okay,” he says, once I’m in the pool. He walks along the edge to the deep end and motions me to follow. I feel a bit like a trained dolphin swimming to where he points me. Once I’m in place and treading water, he nods. “Okay,” he says again. “Start summoning. I’m ready.”
The corpse stands there staring at me. I lazily stroke my arms through the water and stare somewhere just to the left of the dead girl’s face. “What?”
“Oh, goddammit.” Cain’s mouth flattens, he crosses his arms. “Abel, you stupid motherfucker. Do you know what the fuck’s happening?”
It’s probably frustrating for him that my head shakes. I’m with it enough to know how out of it I am, but that’s not helping me with anything. I’m in the swimming pool like he wanted, but I’m not sure why. I wish I did. Maybe Cain should try explaining it to me. I’ll do my best to listen and understand him.
Instead Cain takes off his shirt. He slips out of the yoga pants. The dead girl strips to her bra and underwear, her clothes and slippers go beside mine and the towels. Cain’s coming into the pool after me, why is he doing that? I drift backward through the water, slow at first, and then with urgency.
“Abel,” he groans. “Get over here. I’m not chasing you all over the fucking pool, you dumbass piece of shit. D’you know how much easier it’d be for me just to kill some loser, rather than jump through fucking hoops like this? Immensely fucking easier. I should have let your ass rot in kiddie mind prison, to hell with your whispery little bullshit.”
The rant leaves him breathless and shaking, chest heaving like he might collapse. The tight clench of his jaw makes every forced sound pained. He’s probably hurt, I bet it hurts him to make the corpse move around and talk.
Cain’s tone turns wheeling, desperate. He’s braced on the bottom rung of the ladder, halfway into the pool. “This will take five goddamn minutes if you cooperate, princess. I’ll take you back to the room and leave you alone the whole rest of the night, if you just fucking cooperate for the next few minutes. Okay?”
Yeah, I guess that’s okay. I guess I can close my eyes and pretend Cain’s not a corpse long enough for whatever he needs. I paddle through the water to get closer but stay just out of reach.
Cain keeps a tight-knuckle grip on the ladder with one hand. He gestures with the other. “Come here, sweetheart. Little closer.”
I kick closer and close my eyes, rather than watch the half-submerged corpse. A cold, thin hand encloses my arm, once I’m in range. Cain slips the rest of the way into the water. I let him pull me away from the ladder. It’s much easier with my eyes closed. I should have thought to do that earlier. The feel of Cain’s hand is all wrong, his voice is all wrong, but it’s so much nicer not having to look at the dead girl for this.
“Okay,” says Cain. “I’m going to hold you under the water, and you’re going to stay there until I pull you out. Sound good?”
No. No, it does not. That is a horrible plan, and I’m already shaking my head and trying to pull away when Cain shoves me under. I flail, kick and thrash, it shouldn’t be possible for this suicidal anorexic dead girl to hold me under the water, but Cain’s strong. He’s impossibly strong.
Cain yanks me out almost immediately. The iron band of his grip is firm yet thin, skeletal, and I won’t open my eyes to see the reality of a dead thing trying to kill me.
“Abel. Abel, goddammit.”
He’s snapping at me even as I’m still choking on pool water. Sharp and repulsive chlorine taste clings to my tongue. My eyes are stinging from the brief flicker of dark, wet terror.
“This won’t work if you fight me,” Cain says. He’s breathing hard like it’s a struggle, we both might drown in this pool. “Calm the fuck down, sweetheart. Didn’t I just say I’d pull you out? You’re fine.”
Nothing about this is fine. Cain’s trying to kill me.
“Five minutes, max. Close your eyes, relax, think nice thoughts of putting that fluffy bed upstairs to use. I’m not going to let you drown, Abel. Trust me.”
I cautiously open my eyes, but there’s nothing nice about a corpse swimming, no matter how gently the dead girl’s voice pleads with me. I flinch my eyes shut with a quick nod.
This time I don’t resist when Cain guides me under the water. I’m not sure I can hold my breath for five minutes, but I’ll try. Five minutes seems excessive, I’m not sure I can even hold my breath for more than a minute. Maybe forty seconds at best. I should keep count, how long has it been?
I squirm against Cain’s hold as the first bubbles escape. Five minutes is much too long to wait, I’m not even sure how many seconds that is off the top of my head. If I wasn’t drugged, maybe I’d know it, same as I’d know how me drowning is going summon Cain a new body.
My lungs burn and strain for air. I twist and whine a stream of bubbles. I try to ignore the uncomfortable drive of panic. Cain said he wouldn’t let me drown. He sounded like he meant it. I suppose Cain doesn’t want me dead — I’d be dead already several times over if that was all he wanted from me. He never would have saved my life in the first place, after Aidan hit me with his car.
Desperation claws at my throat with the need for air. My eyes flash open, but the dark sting of water forces them shut again. Three hundred seconds, that’s how long five minutes is. I definitely can’t hold my breath for three hundred seconds, I can’t even hold it for however long it’s been already. I’m gulping and choking on pool water like that’s the solution to the bursting crush of suffocation. I really hope Cain wasn’t lying to me. Cain said he’d pull me out of the pool, that he wouldn’t let me drown. I trust Cain meant that. I trust Cain knows what he’s doing. I just wish I did.