Page 28 of Any More Questions for the Corpse?

“What is this place?” Mal said.

“It’s a safe house I keep for emergencies. No one will find you here,” Walters said, unlocking the door.

“Must set you back a bit,” Hala said.

“Not really. Not even the banks know about this place, that’s how I know it’s safe.” Walters pushed open the door and ascended some old carpeted stairs. The group followed.

Inside was a quaint, if dusty, apartment. A few bedrooms, a bathroom in need of a clean, and a kitchen with large windows that jutted out over the street. Des gave the place a once-over.

“Not exactly subtle,” Des said, inspecting the large windows as the group made themselves comfortable in the kitchen.

“They’re one-way enchanted,” Walters said, “so feel free to stare out them all you like.”

Yu put the kettle on, and got out five cups. Walters shook his head and Yu put one of them back.

“So, it’s nine o’clock now …” Walters said.

“It’s nine? Oh, fuck.” Mal pulled out his phone. It was erupting in a hail of texts and missed phone calls. His family was going ballistic. Every Monday evening he’d head back to his familial home and keep his parents alive for another week. It was a tradition Mal hated, but obliged because it was easier than letting his parents die. He did this every week without fail. Not illness, nor exam, nor car crash could stop him. He’d gotten so caught up in all of this that he’d completely forgotten. While Mal thought being attacked, abducted, and attacked again would be a sufficient enough excuse for a normal family, he knew it wouldn’t matter to his. Mal wondered if any of the texts would be of concern for his whereabouts or health, but he was, expectedly, disappointed.

“What is happening?” Walters said, taking the phone from him.

“They’re gonna kill me. I have to go. It’s my parents, y’know …”

“No one is going anywhere,” Walters said. “Not even for that. Everyone is staying here until things have calmed down. It’s not like it’s life or death.”

“It kind of is …” Mal went silent, quieted by Walters’s stare.

“Sit tight,” Walters said. “You can resurrect your parents when we’re out of this mess. I have to go help clean it up, but when I know what’s happening, you’ll know.” Walters handed Mal’s phone back and gave him a look that said, Don’t make me regret this. Mal nodded.

Walters was right, of course. This was more important, and if someone was trying to kill them, going back to his parents’ house would just put his family in danger. For now, he would do as he was told. Even if it meant his siblings hating him for a few months, and taking a heaping spoonful of shit from his parents.

Yu brought him over a cup of tea as Walters gave Des the rundown on the safe house. Mal inspected Yu as he thanked them. What were they still doing here? Yu could have slipped off at any point, changed their face and disappeared into the crowds. Mal was grateful they hadn’t; he was beginning to enjoy their dry sense of humor, and having a genius around was quite helpful.

Yu had regaled them with historical tidbits as to Skelmir Alley’s origin as they’d gone along it. Apparently, the hidden street first served as a hideaway for the pickpockets of Dunwich; they would pinch a coin purse, then vámonos into one of the many side entrances of the street. Then, as pickpockets needed to flog their wares, it became the go-to place for fences and anyone looking to purchase extralegal items. Its notoriety snowballed from there, and it became the vibrant underground market it was now. Clearly the police knew about it, Walters had suggested that much, but he hadn’t seen any cops there other than Walters and Des. Maybe they gave it a wide berth. Either way, Mal was glad Yu had stuck around. It gave them a much better chance of solving the case—something Mal desperately wanted to get back to doing, as opposed to being chased by the dead.

Once Walters had gone, the group settled in around the dining room table. They watched as ne’er-do-wells and seldom-do-wells walked by the window; there were no e’er-do-wells in sight. It felt all too familiar, the four of them detained in a strange building, but this time there wasn’t a looming terrible fate awaiting them. Mal hadn’t really processed quite how close to death he’d come, from the walking dead or from the Order themselves. He wondered how everyone else was keeping it together so well; the group certainly felt more upbeat even though no one was talking. It was a calm, exhausted silence, not a dreading, anxious one. They sat, sipping on their piping-hot tea, enjoying the quiet.

Mal thought back on the chaos and carnage of the last week and wondered quite how he’d ended up in the middle of it. Their new main suspect was now a necromancer who, up until this point, had been locked up in a Bone Vault. How could they have been killing people? How could they have raised the dead when they were, themselves, super dead? Stoned-and-jarred dead. Mal still didn’t understand why the jar mattered; he’d have to figure that part out later. He wished he still had that book with him. The more he found out about this case, the less sense any of it made. Why would Mazino, a super powerful necromancer, kill random civilians? Then start killing Order members? Why not start with the people who imprisoned him? Mal’s head hurt from thinking about it. He paused for a moment, worried it was his death sense. But no, it was just a regular, non-necromantic headache.

“What do we do now?” Hala said, easing out of the silence.

“Sleep, please let it be sleep,” Yu said, folding their arms into a pillow, then plopping their head down on them.

“I thought you’d want to be getting back to your studies?” Des said, smirking at Yu.

“I fully intend to,” Yu said, “but after a nice long lie-in. Aren’t you looking forward to some sleep, Des?” Yu’s tone took on a light mockery.

Des said nothing, glaring at them through the side of her eyes.

“Can we talk about how you’re a vampire now?” Yu said, with a gleeful smile.

“WHAT?” Hala said, rocking back in her chair.

“You suck,” Des said. “How could you tell?”

“One: It is you who sucks. Two: You’re paler, you’re hiding your teeth, and I saw you punch a dead guy so hard he flew across the room.” Yu chuckled to themselves as Des bared her fangs.

“Maybe I should have put that together too.” Hala looked to Mal who, thus far, had stayed quiet. “You knew?”