Exorcising Aaron Nguyen

Splat on a Hot Tin Roof

I can't tell you why I made the connection. After all, it was just a flash of fabric, a heavy whump of meat and bones on earth, but I instantly knew it was Eddie Keel. My brain supplied a freeze frame of that jacket, one arm draped around Rachel Honeycutt, followed by a snapshot of dark hallway and the squeal of a slowly-closing door.

Everyone else had frozen, staring back at the window as if processing what they'd seen. I couldn't breathe. I took a step back from the chess board. Hiroki blinked and turned to me. I met his eyes.

"Rachel..." I said, and suddenly I was halfway across the room, movement difficult and uncoordinated, like I was rushing through neck-deep water. The Pawn at the door stared as I shunted her aside and my pace sped up.

I burst from the library and careened down the hall, ignoring the questions and the footsteps in my wake. When I reached the adjoining hallway, I grabbed the corner and slung down it, intent on the gray stairwell door. Hiroki appeared next to me, shoving past to get to the door. He grabbed the handle and tugged, but it didn't budge.

"Move!"I growled, panic tight in my chest. Hiroki didn't have the muscle to open a stuck door, but I sure did. I pulled, leaning back with my weight, but something in the handle clattered and shifted.

A pale hand grabbed my arm. I shrieked.

"Bloody hell, woman!" the owner of the hand shoved me aside-no small feat, let me tell you; I used to dominate at Red Rover-and shouldered past. I was staring at the back of the Bishop's blazer. My brain still buzzing, I glanced at Hiroki, who shook his head. Why the hell had the Bishop followed us? This was our investigation.

"The handle's partly undone," he was saying. "You have to reposition it, then..." he hauled it open, nearly tripping over my shoes as he stepped back. I dodged and flailed a little to keep my balance. He was already in the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, when Hiroki and I collided in our haste to get through. There was a moment of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern-level slap-fighting before we untangled ourselves and followed the mad Prince of Denmark up the stairs.

It was only one flight of steel and concrete, our footsteps an un-synchopated echo over the throb of my heart, but by the time Hiroki and I caught up with the Bishop, we were both gasping for breath.

Hiroki and I have this much in common: our cardio is shit. At least mine isn't from willfully inhaling smoke.

The Bishop heaved open the roof access door just as we reached the top landing, spilling bright sunlight across our faces. I shielded my eyes and blinked away the glare.

"Rachel?" I called, still breathing hard. I turned from side to side, looking for her. I can't say why, but something about the roof felt eerie, like invisible cobwebs clinging to my skin, though all I saw was washed out concrete and reflected sunlight.

"Aaron's presence is all over the place..." Hiroki said, earning a hard look from the Bishop, but I felt it too.

"There," the Bishop said. He pointing toward a ventilation duct and started toward it. Then I spotted the limp hand and spill of dark curls peeking out from behind the duct.

"Shit," I breathed, and took off toward Rachel. When I got there, the Bishop was kneeling, feeling for the pulse-point in her throat. She was flushed red from jaw to collar-bone, darker red marks under her jaw and around her neck. There were cuts, too, drawing harsh red lines, as though she'd been clawed by some animal. Strangled.

I thought of Amanda Barnes, her body still swinging from that magnolia.

The heat and the air all sucked away from me and my vision went dark around the edges. I could feel a scream bubbling up inside me, but it refused to come. The Bishop glanced up at me and for just a second the chill in his eyes was a relief, anchoring me to reality. I couldn't scream. I couldn't lose it and give him another reason to feel superior.