Olivia by Genevieve McCluer

Author:Genevieve McCluer [McCluer, Genevieve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635557022
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2020-06-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Amelia: The Crime Scene

I try to focus. I may not be finished vomiting, but it can wait. This is ridiculous. I’m used to cadavers, even if they tend to be a bit less humanoid. Besides, we were coming here to kill Bianca. I should’ve expected to see a dead body either way. This just means I don’t have to get my hands dirty. I tuck the machete in the leather sheath slung around my waist, turning my attention to Olivia. She seems to be taking this even worse than I am. “Ollie?” I ask. “How you doing, honey?” Wow, I’m already acting like we’re together. That’s a great sign. Though she is too. Something bad happened to her, and she ran right to me, then my manic ass jumped to help her get some murderous vengeance. Sounds like my last relationship.

After a quick glance around the macabre scene, I kneel beside her, taking her hand. “Come on, Ollie, it’s okay, I’m here.” Okay, an immortal psychopath is taunting us and waiting to do who knows what. I grip her shoulders and give her a light shake, but it has no effect. Well, I guess I ought to take a look while I’m waiting, not like there’s a fiend medical examiner or anything.

Trying with all my might to keep what’s left in my stomach on the inside, I take a quick peek at the bodies. The food stays in my belly. I risk looking longer. The bodies are horrid, gruesome, grotesque, and about a billion other unpleasant descriptors, but they’re not turning my stomach, so I elect to take a closer look.

They’ve all been dead—or maybe deader—for at least a day. I’ve had tragically few chances to examine the bodies of fiends for rates of decomposition, but none of these are at all fresh. In addition to Bianca, there’s a young centaur, maybe sixteen, his rear end severed to make the crucifixion possible; a grindylow, her long green hair stuck to her neck, red and matted with blood; a goblin who may have been as old as Olivia, if not more; a redcap, his hat newly dyed; and…I have to squint, as at first, the sixth cross seems to be bare. Then I see the blood. It may be an ashray, but it could be any of a number of translucent creatures, and I don’t believe ashrays can survive out of the water. I can only make out its form from the spots where the dried blood clings to it, but upon closer inspection, it seems to be a boy.

I glance over my shoulders constantly as I examine the bodies, but Iago—Christ, that’s weird to say, like I’m being hunted by a parrot—doesn’t leap out from behind a corner, and Ollie doesn’t stir. They all have exactly the same injuries, save for the centaur. Their throats were slit with a blade, not fangs, and most of their blood seems to still be here, though it’s tough to judge. I’m not sure if vampires can eat other fiends, so that doesn’t tell me much.

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