After the Dark

“Good morning, Kaylee.”

Kaylee held the cell phone to her ear with one hand and rubbed her face with the other. It was pitch black in her room, curtains drawn against the light of the moon.

“What time is it?”

“Just after three thirty,” the gruff male voice replied.

She cast a sleepy look at the alarm clock resting on the night table. Sure enough, glaring red numbers confirmed 03:37. A soft groan escaped her. “I’m not on call tonight, Sergeant James.”

There was a gruff sound from the other end of the line, like the grizzly sergeant was also irritated with the situation. “We couldn’t get a hold of Amber and you’re next on the list. We need you down at the city morgue.”

Translation: Boston Police Department dispatch could not get a hold of Amber and Sergeant James had her number on speed dial. If she was really next on the list, she would be speaking to a dispatcher, not someone on-scene.

Reluctantly Kaylee sat up in bed, running her hand through her messy hair. Such a dark brown it was almost black, the ends reached down past her shoulders, and in desperate need of a trim. The plan had been to go to the salon in the morning.

“Someone was murdered in the morgue? Ironic.”

James snorted. “Stranger things have happened. Are you coming?”

“If you’re at the morgue, you don’t need me. No one can read old deaths. You know that.”

“But it’s not old. She’s been dead less than four hours. We just got her moved.”

A fresh kill. They were the best, the clearest, and most understandable. Blood rushed in her veins but she quelled her excitement. “You know better than to move the body. What exactly is going on?”

“I’ll explain it to you if you come down here.”

“You’re baiting me.”

“Is it working?”

There was no way she could go back to sleep now. Like a starving fish, she went after the juicy tidbit. Hook, line, and sinker.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Dropping the cell phone on the comforter, Kaylee slid out of bed. The wooden floor was cold on her bare feet, her naked body unprotected from the night chill. She slept best in the cold. When she slept, that is.

Switching on the closet light, she winced and caught her reflection in the full-length mirror against the door. Slender, milky form; too skinny, too gray, especially with her dark hair and eyes. Her closet was filled with similar colors. Black, gray, and a random blue sweater her father had given her. A deep sigh broke from her as she selected some black jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and her heeled boots.

Hair scratched back into a ponytail, she shrugged into her black, hip-length leather coat. Armed with her purse and car keys, she hit the door to the garage and was on her way.

She backed her dark blue sedan out of the garage and onto the sleepy suburban street. Gunning it, she navigated out of the neighborhood into the busier Boston streets. Her house was in a central location, just five miles from the morgue, three from the police department, and four from her office. That was exactly why she had chosen that neighborhood. Time was always of the essence.

Remnants of the Friday night festivities made traffic thick and slow-moving. Hands tight on the steering wheel, she tried to quell her anxiety. Things can only get better, she told herself. A yellow pickup cut her off.

Minutes later she was pulling into the back parking lot of the City Morgue. She tucked her sedan between two Boston PD patrol cars and shut it off. Resembling a three-dimensional concrete rectangle, the morgue lacked personality. Double glass doors marked the front entrance with modest landscaping and bold black letters on the wall proclaiming “City Morgue.” On the back wall adjacent to the parking lot was a single steel door with a prox card reader for after-hours entrance. ID badge in hand, she waved it in front of the reader and heard the replying tick of the magnetic lock opening on the door.

As soon as she hefted the door open, she could hear faint growls. Hesitating, she paused and listened for a moment. A plain, dimly lit hallway stretched before her, leading to a set of double doors. The growling was coming from the other side of those doors. Steeling herself, she stepped inside.

A small desk guarded the end of the hall, manned by a skinny black man dressed in all white. He simply nodded to her in acknowledgment and went back to reading a newspaper. She continued through the large double doors, toward the savage sounds.

The walls were lined with small doors approximately two-foot-square, from floor to head level. A row of four examination tables was against the back wall, only the one on the far left in use, a white sheet covering the form of an average-sized adult. Probably a woman. In the middle of the large room stood a patrol officer, a heavier sergeant, and the coroner, all whispering to each other.

“You won’t disturb them by speaking in a normal tone,” Kaylee said.

Sergeant James looked over at her and smiled. He never laughed, just smiled if he was amused. “Well, I guess if you say it is okay.”

Considering his wit misplaced, Kaylee did not respond. James had the most street smarts she had ever seen in a cop and a very dry sense of humor. Of moderate height and stocky build, the majority of his mass was muscle except for the belying beer gut. Short, gray, crew-cut hair and slightly wrinkled features, his eyes were ever-sharp and his expression easy.

“You look paler than usual,” he said.

She only spared him a glance in reply. The growling was getting louder, an occasional howl ringing through her ears. They’re definitely ready for this one. From the corner of her eye, she could see the shadows move, darting to and fro in anticipation.

“We should hurry,” she said.

The coroner was a man of average stature, with graying hair and dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. More than likely he had been drug out of bed as well. But he did not question her, just turned smartly on his heel and walked toward the body on the gurney against the back wall. As he reached for the top of the sheet, he looked at her over his shoulder.

“This one is bad.”

“Thank you, George,” Kaylee said and nodded for him to continue.

Without emotion, George pulled the sheet back to the shoulders and then stepped back.

From the body’s skin and delicate shape, it was a female. But just seeing the head, it was impossible to tell beyond the mutilation. No scalp covered the bloodied cranium, half of her face missing. In its place was something that strongly resembled hamburger mashed over broken facial bones. Her left eye remained intact, frozen open and wide, dilated pupil encased by a green iris. It was a beautiful green eye.

Stomach churned. She swallowed hard. The shadows had begun to take form, revealing canine-like creatures that growled and snarled non-stop in her ears. They ran and pounced between the bodies strewn around the room, occasionally running straight through the uniformed men unnoticed. Enormous and wolf-like, their backs were about the level of her waist. Dense coats with wire-hair consistency in unsightly black and grey, matted with blood. The elongated maws lacked lips, exposed razor-sharp teeth shining white. Her eyes drifted from the body to the creatures – there were about a dozen of them – then back.

“I need dirt,” she said to no one in particular.

The patrol officer left the room and quickly returned with a handful of brown grit, which he released into her open palm. Yanking the sheet completely off the body, Kaylee sprinkled the dirt on the woman’s chest, murmuring quietly as she did. The hounds circled, snapping Kaylee’s limbs. But she did not flinch, grounded by the fact that no one else in the room could see the haunting taking place. If she reacted, the others could panic. That would help nothing.

Continuing to murmur her mantra, Kaylee rolled up her left shirt sleeve and placed her hand on the woman’s bloodied forehead. Leaning forward, she gently blew a breath on the corps’ face. Unbeknownst to the other eyes in the room, a shadowy apparition emanated from the graying flesh, rippling and swirling like smoke until it solidified into an exact replication of what lay on the gurney. As it hovered just above the ground, Kaylee kept her eyes trained on the misty face.

“Wake up,” Kaylee whispered.

The aura convulsed once, then sat up as though startled by a nightmare. A gargled scream broke out from a damaged windpipe and Kaylee visibly winced.

“You okay?” James' voice broke through her concentration.

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just stand there and shut up.”

The aura turned to look at her, single eye wide with panic. Garbled sounds came from fleshburger lips. The hounds let out a hungry howl and the soul jumped in fright.

“Who did this to you?” Kaylee said, watching the ghostly figure unblinkingly.

“Blaaack,” the misty woman said, slurring. “Cold, daaark...”

“Who was it?” Kaylee said.

All at once, the hounds howled, the sound reverberating in her ears. Her focus wavered and her image fluctuated. I’m losing her... “What is your name?”

“S-Samantha.”

“Samantha, did you see your killer?”

Samantha’s soul wavered in and out of view, weaker and weaker. “Blaaack...”

The hounds let out one last demanding howl and lunged. Kaylee instinctively reared back and out of the way, large bodies flying past her mind’s eye to devour Samantha’s soul. Screams were slowly drowned out by snarls and growls. Whirling away from the sight, Kaylee zeroed in on the closest trash can and darted toward it as her stomach clenched.

It felt like an eternity before the snarling and tearing of flesh quieted. But at long last all was silent; the only sound that of breathing. Kaylee raised her head to look around, relieved the display had wafted away. The patrol officer was watching her with wide eyes while Sergeant James avoided looking at her altogether, toying with his MAG flashlight. At some point, George had disappeared. Trying to regain a bit of composure, Kaylee took another deep breath and straightened. In irate motions, she brushed stray hairs from her face.

“So…what did you get?” Sergeant James said finally.

“Not much,” she said, turning and glaring at him. “Were you the primary sergeant at the crime scene?”

Not looking up, he nodded.

Eyes narrowing, she calculated silently for a moment. “What idiot – with a higher rank than you – ordered the body moved before a Seeing was performed?”

“That would be me.”

The deep reply came from behind her. Spinning on one boot heel, Kaylee came face-to-chest with a man dressed in a light gray suit. Looking up, she met blue eyes framed by blond eyebrows. Perhaps in his mid-thirties, his face was bold and angular but not harsh, though his square jaw was firmly set. His straight, blond hair was trim, but borderline long for a law enforcement position. He was holding a foam cup of steaming coffee in his left hand and the other was tucked into his slacks' pocket. Overall, he was almost plain looking – on the street, she wouldn’t have noticed him. But here in the morgue, he had her full attention.

“And you are?” she said.

“Detective Ian Blau,” he said, extending his hand. “You must be Kaylee Mitchell. James told me about you.”

From his tone, she wasn’t sure if she should be concerned about what James told him, exactly. She looked down at his hand, then back at his face. “You must be new to Boston Investigations. In case you had not been educated, Detective Blau, things are a little different in this city than where you came from.”

His eyebrows went up just slightly. “You don’t know where I came from.”

“I don’t need to. Your obvious disregard for policy is evidence you’re not from here.”

“Now, Kaylee,” Sergeant James said, “go easy on him—“

“Why didn’t you explain it to him?” Kaylee shot at the sergeant, then turned back to the Detective. “If you want a Seeing, you absolutely cannot move the body under any circumstance. A dead person’s memory is incredibly sensitive. It has to see its surroundings to help articulate the last recorded images in its mind’s eye.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. Detective Blau stepped toward her in an authoritative way and dropped his voice low. “Though I appreciate your lecture, I want to inform you that I didn’t want the Seeing.”

Dumbfounded, Kaylee blinked. “Then why am I here?”

He gave a chin-up nod over her shoulder. “Sergeant James asked for you, so I decided to humor him. No, I’m not completely familiar with the city, but an investigation always goes the same way. Period.”

“Not here, they don’t.”

“No offense, Miss Mitchell, but I personally think all this Animadverto Mortuus hogwash is a waste of time—“

Her eyebrows rose. Hogwash?

“—and unscientific. Evidence is factual. And investigations are about the evidence.”

Now he was lecturing her. I’ve met patrol rookies with more tact. Though nothing would please her more than to retaliate, her emotional control was in the balance and she could not risk her equilibrium merely to satisfy her pride. Instead, she looked at James over her shoulder.

The burly man shrugged but said nothing. No help there.

Silently counting to ten and taking a deep breath, Kaylee blew it out forcefully and re-directed the conversation. “Sergeant James, my findings today would have been more useful if she had not been moved.”

“I got to call you on the condition that we could move the body. Besides, I’ve seen you pull stuff out of people deader than this,” he said, unapologetic.

“Your regard for my skill is comforting,” she said in a flat tone. Then she glared at Detective Blau again. “There is no knowing what kind of damage was done due to your recklessness.”

“Perhaps you could humor us with what she told you,” he replied with a motion to the body.

Lips pursed together, she studied him. She didn’t dare hope the situation could be salvaged but moved forward anyway. “Her name was Samantha. Unknown last-“

“We’ll find out who she is with fingerprinting,” Detective Blau cut her off.

She ignored the interruption. “She was notably scared and disoriented. The only thing she could get out was that whoever did this was cold and dark.”

Detective Blau stared down at her. “That’s it?”

“I didn’t have much time. The hounds were anxious for her soul.”

“Hounds? There are hounds, now?”

Kaylee shot James a pleading look. But he was toying with his flashlight again.

“Are you sure you didn’t imagine things?” Detective Blau said

Breathe, Kaylee. Just breathe...

“I don’t imagine things, Detective. This is a prime example of why you should not move the body,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, okay.”

That was it. Fists resting on her hips, she gave him the dirtiest look she could muster. “Regardless of your personal beliefs in the validity of my skills, I came out here before four in the bloody morning after getting only two hours of sleep to give you a Seeing. You could at least pretend to be cordial.”

He matched her scathing expression. “You started with accusations of idiocy and recklessness. I consider my conduct completely amiable.”

“Amiable!” she said. “The only thing amiable about you is-“

“That’s enough!” James cut in, stepping his thick form between them. Kaylee realized at that moment that the arrogant Detective was still a couple of inches taller than the burly sergeant and significantly leaner. If the two got into a fistfight, she would reluctantly have to bet on the Detective.

“In case you guys care, you’re both correct,” James cast both disapproving looks. “Regardless, you’re acting like my teenage boys. Cut it out!”

Begrudgingly, Kaylee realized he was right. Her glare toward Detective Blau softened and he avoided eye contact.

There was an awkward pause.

“We should all go down to the station,” Detective Blau said finally. “That way I can get a formal statement from you, Miss Mitchell, and we can collaborate on the preliminary forensic evidence.”

“I have nothing to do with investigations after the Seeing—“

“Fine, let’s just say I’d like to include you this time,” he cut her off. “Until all my ducks are in a row, I want to be overly thorough.”

Giving him a hard look, he merely returned her gaze unblinkingly. The look in his eye stated he was not going to back down. She was beginning to see the pattern.

“Fine.”

Without waiting to be dismissed, Kaylee spun around and marched out of the morgue. Once in her car, she blew out a long, tense breath, not realizing she had been holding it.

Heaven help me if I have to keep working with that man...

She started her car, resting her hand on the gear shift. There was no place in investigations for her. On occasion, she had looked over the crime scene reports for anything that might coincide with the Seeing, but otherwise, she avoided the rest of the process. It was tedious and finicky, with a lot of back-and-forth banter between investigators, forensic technicians, and whoever else wanted to get their hands dirty. Sure, when they were lucky they solved a case. The process seemed to work perfectly well without her...

Just suck it up. Another hour and you’ll be free.

Putting the car in reverse, she backed out of the parking spot. In drive, she maneuvered out of the lot and back onto the street. Bright blue numbers on her dashboard announced it was now 04:10. Another hour felt like an eternity.