Feathered Friend

Chapter 5

Image by craigiepoo.tumblr.com

~ Golgotha Tenement Blues - Machines Of Loving Grace

Following the bird, I returned to the place Scott and I had planned our wedding. Luckily or unluckily, the police tape across the door was still in place and I had no trouble entering the apartment that appeared frozen in time.

I knew even without realizing how I knew, that the hotel room where we had died would no longer be in the same state it had been when we were last there. Hundreds of people would have been through that key card accessible door since our murder. There was nothing there that would bring back memories of Scott and what we'd shared. This place on the other hand had so many things that blasted memories straight into my brain with the force of flying lead.

The mirror by the door that still held photographs of the two of us in happier times for example.

One photo stood out, it was of the two of us embracing, our eyes forward to the camera as we showed off our Engagement rings. Two matching bands of platinum and onyx that spoke of the promise we'd made.

A memory hit me with so much force it was like reliving it all over again, the images made me stagger as did the emotions that accompanied them. I fell against the wall and watched as Scott once again got down on one knee and held out his hand to me along with a single white rose.

The look in his eyes as he'd asked me to be his forever had taken my breath away then and it did again.

Then more memories smashed into my sluggish consciousness as the bird flew in past the open fire escape window and in through the door of the apartment. It alighted on the kitchen table and turned a black eye up to meet mine.

"Remember why you returned." Came the unexpected voice in my head as my feathered guide told me what to do. I listened as it explained.

"You cried out for justice and that is what you will receive if you follow me. See with my eyes, those you seek. Take your vengeance upon them and then follow your twin soul to the other side."

Sounded ridiculously simple, but where would I begin. I straightened up and looked in the mirror again, this time seeing my reflection in the mirror and not mere memory. I looked like a recently resurrected murder victim should look I supposed. My shock of rain dampened and windblown hair looking nothing like my usual perfectly styled coiffure however. My skin appeared paper thin, translucent and it gave me the appearance of being fragile.

My outward appearance looked nothing like the burning anger inside me. The emotions I felt towards my murderers seemed like they needed an outward expression and so I decided to do something about it. I remembered what I had thought about Scott's reappearance and what that might have done to strike fear in the hearts of the sadistic bastards who had triumphed that night. Maybe if I worked on that image in my head, something more in keeping with the dark mission I had been brought back for, it would give them pause.

Long enough to take them out one by one.

I went to my wardrobe and pulled out everything black that I owned. I stripped out of my sodden graveclothes and changed. My black leather pants that fit me like a second skin and would hold up to any weather conditions were first, I didn't bother with anything under them. I'd never worried when I was alive, why start now?

My more current collection of boots were all designed for appearance and not for kicking in doors, but I found a well-worn pair at the back of the closet that had just enough of a heel to give me another couple of inches and were mean-looking enough to make me smile at the thought of actually using them to do that very thing.

I slipped an oversize shirt over my head and looked at the draping material which hid all my visible ink and the newer scar that covered my chest. The sleeves would be in the way when I went to smack anyone in the face though, so I used my favourite shears to hack off five inches from each one and then looked in the mirror again at my appearance.

I looked like a ghost. A black ghost.

I fixed my hair, patting it down and to the side as I used to wear it and then went to fix my face. 

Opening my makeup box, I pulled out some stage make up Scott had bought with a video in mind and applied the base white to my face liberally. Once I had a good layer of that color applied, I filled in my eyebrows with jet black and then used my eyeliner to draw around my whited out lips, extending the lines out towards my jawline, giving me the appearance of my head being split in two. I did the same thing around my eyes, lining them expertly then running one single line down each eye, from my forehead to my cheek. It was reminiscent of a mask I'd seen in a performance of Madam Butterfly. The only thing missing was lips. I used the only jet black lipstick I owned and then looked at my reflection again.

It wasn't me staring back from the mirror anymore. It wasn't even a ghost. It was a figure of retribution with an expertly applied mask. Just the thing to inspire uncertainty. Fear even.

Hopefully in the men I was about to go and find.

"Good, now see with me." The bird cawed as it flew back out the way it had come. I knew it was searching for the men who had killed me. And I could see through its eyes as it flew over the rain soaked City. I followed, closing the door to the apartment behind me, knowing I'd probably never return.

It didn't matter though, that place belonged to dead men.

Time to go find some more.