Pale Immortal (33 page)

She rolled to her back and smiled up at him, twirling a piece of grass in her hand. "I can't believe you didn't see through me. I listened to that CD every night when I went to bed. I still listen to it."

He nodded, trying not to smile. "Oh."

The band was doing a sound check, and the kid behind the movie projector was making sure everything was set up right.

Graham felt better. "Have you ever crocheted?" he asked. "Because I was thinking I'd really like to learn to crochet."

Evan swept from the house and charged down the dark, steep hillside. He hadn't completely recovered from his injuries, but he moved quickly, ducking under low limbs and sliding on soft, muddy soil.

When he reached level ground he walked with long strides. Near the bluff, then down across the railroad tracks and beside the river. From there he took the decayed steps up through a maze of vines and bowed branches heavy with dew and summer leaves, winding to the street where Rachel lived.

He looked up to see a light glowing faintly through the turret window.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. He smelled the scent of sage and the sweet smell of her skin. An image flashed into his brain of her lying in the zinc tub. So close to death.

He needed to talk to her, but the more time that passed, the harder it got. Soon it wouldn't matter. Soon she would hate him.

He climbed the hill to the morgue.

Rachel rolled the coffin and cart from the autopsy suite and down the hallway, parking it near the door.

She missed her father. Sometimes she got confused and forgot he was dead. There were times when she heard his voice, and times when she thought she saw him. Just a glimpse from the corner of her eye. But whenever she turned, he wasn't there.

She wanted him to be there. Ghost. Illusion. She would take whatever she could get.

So far Victoria hadn't reappeared. And as time passed, Rachel began to think she hadn't really been a ghost at all, but a premonition, a warning she'd failed to heed.

Rachel had worked hard to convince the city they should buy back Old Tuonela, bulldoze the buildings, secure the fences, and let nature take care of what was left. The city council had almost agreed to the plan, only to discover that some unknown person had bought the property from the Alba family before they'd put in an offer.

Who would want it?

Travis had confessed that he and some of the others had broken into Evan's house, looking for evidence that would prove once and for all that he was a vampire. They'd hoped to find Evan himself, asleep in a coffin in the basement, or at least asleep in the middle of the day so they could steal his heart. When they hadn't found him at home, they'd taken personal items that had contained Evan's DNA. Chelsea Gerber's body had been transported in the trunk of Craig Johnson's car, where it had come in contact with that DNA.

The March girl had finally recalled being "rescued" from Evan by Alba and the Pale Immortals. They'd taken her to OT, where she would have died if she hadn't escaped. Travis's fate hadn't yet been determined, but many were hoping he'd be tried as an adult. He'd implicated Rachel's assistant, Dan, in the mess. They'd found the body of the missing Summit Lake woman jammed into a crevice in Old Tuonela. Apparently she'd been Alba's first kill.

Someone knocked on the delivery door. Rachel opened it to find Evan standing there. He slipped inside, smelling like night air—kind of damp and boggy. He unbuttoned his coat, jamming his hands in his pockets.

She'd seen him only a couple of times since the events in Old Tuonela. She knew he'd found her in Alba's house, but she had only a vague memory of it all. Since then there had been no personal conversation other than his voicing sympathy over the loss of her father.

He was keeping a deliberate distance.

"My father is coming home," Evan said. "He's going to help with Graham."

"That's nice."

"He misses Tuonela."

Rachel thought about how the mummy's face had turned into Evan's that night. "Would you like to say good-bye to Richard Manchester?" She swung open the coffin lid to reveal the remains of the Pale Im- mortal. "It's a shame I can't find his scarf, don't you think?"

There had been a lot of discussion about what to do with the Pale Immortal. Some residents thought he should be reburied in Old Tuonela, that his removal had unleashed a sinister evil. Some thought he should be put on display in their local museum. Rather than running from history, residents seemed ready to embrace their strange heritage, especially if it meant tourists and money. Rachel could see it now. The Pale Immortal Pancake House. The Pale Immortal Taffy Shop.

Celebrities and millionaires had offered staggering amounts for the mummified remains of a heinous monster who had slaughtered women and children.

Who owned the dead? That's what they were trying to decide. Normally it would be family, but half of Tuonela's inhabitants were descendants. Until a decision and agreement could be made, the Pale Immortal would be stored in an undisclosed location.

"I hate for him to leave here without his scarf." Rachel looked up, hoping Evan would admit to taking it.

His face was ashen.

"Evan?" In that moment she finally understood that part of her own longing for Tuonela hadn't been about Tuonela at all.

We
are good at keeping secrets from ourselves.

He pressed long, pale fingers to his temple. "I have to go."

"You should sit down. You're doing too much too soon."

She wasn't herself yet either. The loss of blood had left her weak and anemic. She fell asleep at odd moments, and would wake up disoriented from strange dreams.

He whirled around. "I have to go."

She closed the coffin lid, sorry she'd used such juvenile tactics to draw him out. "Let me drive you."

"I'll be okay."

In a flurry of coattails, he was gone.

She reached the door in time to catch a glimpse of his dark, lonely figure moving down the street to finally vanish under the tree branches.

Alba had been a bad person, but would he have killed if not for the close proximity of ground that had been cursed and imprinted by the horrors of the past? And had the fresh murders, so reminiscent of the old, awakened evil?

They would never have all the answers. There simply weren't answers for such questions. But she knew people weren't supposed to know what happened to them after they died. Death was supposed to remain a mystery. The door to the next world, whatever the next world was, should remain firmly closed.

She'd always tried to tell herself that the stories surrounding Old Tuonela were wrapped in ignorance and superstition. Now she could finally admit the truth; that Old Tuonela was a place no human should ever go.

Evan headed out of town. He drove too fast, so lost in thought that later he had no recollection of the trip. He found himself in an overgrown lane, the headlight beams illuminating a for sale sign. He got out of the car, removed the sign, and tossed it aside. Then he dug the antique tin from his coat, lifted the lid, and studied the remaining contents.

He'd drunk tea made from a vampire's heart. He wasn't sure what it had done to him, but he knew he was no longer completely human and that a part of the Pale Immortal now dwelled within him.

Nobody must discover his secret. Especially not Rachel and Graham.

He put the tin away, pulled out the mono-grammed scarf, and wound it around his neck. Then, his hands deep in his coat pockets, he walked up the lane to Old Tuonela, land of the dead.

* * * THE END * * *