Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Prologue

"Donna, I'm so sorry for your loss," I said gently, sitting down next to her.

She could barely look at me, but she nodded. "Thanks."

I searched her face, looking for any clues as to how she was feeling or what she was thinking. Losing a parent like that couldn't have been easy, but some took those sorts of things easier than others. There were some questions that I wanted to ask her, but... she seemed really upset. It probably wasn't the best time for that.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I held her close to me. "I can't imagine how you must be feeling. If you need anything, just let me know, alright?"

She nodded. "I will."

Leaving her to be comforted by her friends, I went off in search of Lily, wondering if she could tell me anything. I found her a little ways away, sitting by herself, an odd expression on her face.

"Lily?" I called softly. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. "No," she whispered.

Immediately, I picked her up, sitting her down on my lap so that I could hold her and see her at the same time. "Talk to me, honey. What's wrong?"

"It's my fault," she admitted, progressively becoming more and more inconsolable. "What happened with dad. It's my fault."

Shushing her, I rocked back and forth, trying to calm her down some. "Why on Earth would you think that?"

Lily pulled away from me a bit to look me in my eyes. "Because I said Bloody Mary."

I paused, looking at her. "What?"

"I said Bloody Mary three times in the mirror, and then she came and clawed my dad's eyes out," she cried, burying her face into my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around her again, holding her to me as I did my best to assure her it wasn't her fault. But all the while, my mind was going a million miles a minute. Bloody Mary... it would make sense, more sense than a stroke, especially with the state of his eyes— unless, of course, Donna was just exaggerating things. She was the only one who had seen anything, so it was possible, which would make the stroke a more plausible story. Although, if she wasn't misremembering— but it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Bloody Mary was a legend, an urban myth designed to spook your friends at sleepovers. She couldn't have actually been real. Because if Bloody Mary really was jumping out of mirrors and killing people....

Well, shit. That wouldn't be very good, would it?

First things first, I had to figure out for myself whether or not Donna had been exaggerating. The only way to do that was to go take a look at his body, which would've been fine, if the pathologist hadn't been so stubborn about it.

"Look, he named me as next-of-kin, and I had his power of attorney until Donna, his daughter, turned 21. That's got to mean something, right?"

Dr. Feiklowicz shook his head, organizing some papers on his desk. "Look, I feel for you, I really do, but no, it doesn't mean anything. Power of attorney terminates immediately upon death, and being his designated next-of-kin just doesn't apply here," he explained. "What good would it do to see him, anyways?"

I sighed, shaking my head, thinking quickly. "I just— I just need to see him. I can't— I just can't believe what happened. I need to see it. Please."

He paused, looking up at me for a little while before standing. "Alright, fine, you can see him. But just a couple of minutes, and then you have to go, alright? I'm really not supposed to be doing this."

Dr. Feiklowicz led me through the morgue, using his keys to open one of the doors, ushering me inside. There was a body on a table, and as I watched, he pulled the sheet back, exposing the guy's face.

I felt a wave of nausea upon seeing Steven like that, his eyes nothing more than puddles of congealed and dried blood. Forcing it down wasn't too difficult, considering the fact that the actual cause of death was much less gory than some I'd seen before. I simply removed myself from the situation, looked at it as if it was just any other job.

The markings were consistent with the story of Bloody Mary... but that didn't mean much, if anything. Urban legends were built off of true, human fear, and sometimes, they were just stories. Maybe a stroke had caused his eyes to explode, maybe it had just been a freaky occurrence, but a natural death, nonetheless. That was more likely, after all. Much more likely— and, to be honest, preferable.

After a few moments, I nodded to the doctor, and he covered the body back up. "Thank you," I said, surprised to hear how thick my voice sounded.

He nodded, watching me curiously as I stalked out of the room, forcing my emotions into check.

The most important part of any supernatural event was proving the supernatural part. If it was Bloody Mary, then she would have appeared in the mirror, which meant that there had to be some sort of evidence there, some paranormal footprint. So, back to the Shoemaker house I went.

I told myself, as I went to his bathroom, that I was just making sure. I wasn't entertaining the possibility, I was just ruling it out, once and for all, and then I could truly put all that stuff behind me. But when I entered the room where Donna had found Steven's body, I felt a wave of emotion well up inside me. It was the closest I'd been, emotionally, to a murder since....

Well, it didn't really matter. I needed to solve the case before I could dwell on that, otherwise I'd never be able to finish.

Pulling my car keys out of my pocket, I flipped through the keychain, finding the little black light attached. Turning off all the lights, I drew it over the mirror, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then, I pulled it off the wall, doing the same thing on the back....

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

There, on the back of the mirror, was a handprint and the words 'LINDA SHOEMAKER'.

I quickly replaced the mirror, turning all of the lights back on and putting my keys away again. Steven didn't have many friends, it was mostly just me, which meant, by default, I was his closest friend. And because I'd been his closest friend, he'd shared some things with me that he hadn't told anybody. Things about Linda, his late wife, that hadn't quite added up, that had made me a little suspicious, but I'd always written off as just paranoia....

Heaving a sigh, I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to process things. Not only was Bloody Mary probably at fault for his death, but I was fairly certain he'd killed his wife. So much for putting it all behind me.

Immediately, I went into the home office, booted up their computer, and began my research. There couldn't be so many situations that had such perfect conditions as to manifest a Bloody Mary spirit. A girl, probably a teenager or young adult, who had died in front of a mirror— that wasn't exactly common, which meant my search would either be much easier, or much, much harder. It was rare enough for there to only be a few occurrences, but they would be few and far between. If it wasn't an extremely local murder, I'd never be able to find it.

Before I even knew it, I was coming out of retirement, going back to a way of life I'd fought so hard to get away from. I'd promised myself I'd never go back, worked my butt off to make a life for myself as far away from all of that as I possibly could. I'd had a permanent residence, an actual job, friends. Things I wasn't sure I could lose again.

The only question was... did I actually have a choice in the matter? Or would it all turn out the way it had before?