✓ DYING MOURNINGS, original

seven : a warning

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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 : 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

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Mike Ronaldo was playing hard to get.

I sat inside the morgue for well over thirty minutes after the service had ended and still not a thing. Macabre had told me he was headed home fifteen minutes ago and even instructed me to be safe and take the back door when I left but I was beginning to wish he'd stayed and kept me company.

I had pulled over one of the chairs to sit by the casket, waiting to push it into the freezer and I could feel the icy cold air leaking from the opening. The air shivered and wavered over my skin, flushing my cheeks but still, no sign of my ghoul. I thought of trying to channel him like I'd seen in paranormal films but I didn't really know what to do.

I rested a hand on the lid of the casket and closed my eyes. "Mike," I said in a sing-songy voice, "I know you're here somewhere." I waited a moment, now drumming my fingers over the smooth wood. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

When it didn't work, like I knew it wouldn't, I opened my eyes and stood with a heavy sigh. "When you're ready to come out of hiding," I announced, "feel free to meet me at home, okay?"

I eased the casket into the freezer and shut the door, locking it with the thick latch. There was an unsettling feeling in my stomach thinking of how I'd feel if I came down here to find one of these doors unlatched.

Leaving the basement and heading up the stairs, I closed the door carefully behind me and the skin on the back of my neck began to crawl. It wasn't because I was in the church so late at night and the hallway lights were off and not even the moon could shine through the opaque windows or because there was strangely not a sound but because I wasn't alone. There was someone there, right by the doorway to the kitchen and near the only exit not sealed shut.

I carefully took a step towards the left, knowing if I could just hid within the pews this person would give up. Maybe they hadn't even seen me yet, maybe I could still run free–

A shadow moved, dark and predatory, taking up nearly half the doorway. This man was large and even I could see the knife in his hand by his side.

"Shame we're meeting like this," came the deep voice, booming in the silence, "under such dangerous circumstances and all."

I straightened my shoulders but still took another protective step back. Be strong. Be brave. "I'm sorry," I said with striking confidence for once. "I don't seem to recognize the voice, do I know you?"

He took another step forward and my shoulders tensed. Even through the dark I could tell her was strong, he would be able to wrap one hand against my face and slam my head in. "Oh, come on," he chuckled. "I know you've seen pictures of me from your father's ridiculous file."

"Doesn't ring any bells."

"You've killed some of my previous coworkers," he snarled now, taking another frightening step forward. "That must ring something in that pretty little head of yours."

"I think I need a little more," I said, stepping back further. I could make it to the pews if I turned abruptly but I had a sick feeling he'd be able to catch me pretty fast.