The next morning, I sat on the couch, pretending to be distraught at the fact that I had 'accidentally' uncovered two bodies while digging a fire pit.
The police officer who took my statement, patted my head, trying to comfort me as I 'broke into sobs'.
Thank goodness for acting lessons and the ability to cry on demand.
It was hours later before the police had left, taking Moira and Hugo's bodies with them, leaving me alone in the house.
Or well, as alone as one can be in a house of spirits.
"That was good acting. I almost believed it." Came Tate's voice as he appeared, leaning against the doorframe of the living room.
My cheeks warmed at the sight of him, especially when I remembered how I had cuddled against him during the night.
I gave him a playful bow. "I appreciate that you appreciate my skill." I said in a jovial tone.
He grinned darkly, in that way only he could. "Well, lets just hope your plan works."
I sighed and nodded, sitting myself down on the couch. The police of course would still have to identify the bodies, reopen the case and change it from 'missing persons' to 'murder', and then come up with the correct evidence needed to pin it on Constance.
Which of course made Constance just one more thing that wanted me dead.
I balled my fists and rubbed my eyes, as if to rub all my problems away.
Which obviously does not work.
"I did some Internet searching this morning and found several suggestions on how to dispel evil from a house and exorcise spirits.
But I dunno... I mean, the salt and burn thing didn't work, and Violet told me the Croatoan spell didn't work either, so I'm a little iffy." I crossed my legs as I spoke, and watched Tate take several long strides as he came towards me and sat down on the couch as well.
We sat at opposite ends, facing each other. "Don't rule them out until we try, you never know if they'll work or not." He grinned.
I ran my hand through my hair. What had my life become? Spirits and spells? And was it possible I was falling for a dead boy?
I heaved a sigh and decided I needed food. Preferably of the take-away variety. I stood up and wordlessly walked into the kitchen, Tate on my heels as he followed.
"What are you doing?" He inquired as I dug through a stack of menus from places that delivered.
I held up the pile of menus and smiled, pushing all thoughts not related to food away. "I'm hungry for unhealthy food. Help me decide what I want?"
With a short laugh, we sat together at the kitchen island, looking over the many different menus and what they had to offer.
"You know what, I feel like I should order one thing from each place, and just pig out." I declared.
He lifted up a menu and waived it in my face. I snatched it away and looked it over, noticing it was for the "Fire Dragon", a Chinese restaurant.
"This was my favourite place to eat, when I was alive. You should order from here." He offered a smile and I smiled back.
I handed him my phone. "Order for me? You obviously know what used to be good there."
He took the phone and our fingers brushed each other. He quickly dialed the number and I listened as he ordered some sort of seafood dish before giving the Rosenheim address and hanging up.
He handed me back the phone and brushed his fingertips over my cheek. I winced, suddenly reminded of the bruises Hayden had given me. "You're still hurt. I could see the way the police were giving you questioning glances over it."
I batted his hand away, not wanting him to keep touching the purple patch of skin. "I'll mend."
He nodded once and tilted his head. "Where did you learn to fight?" He questioned as the memories from last night refreshed themselves in our minds.
I tapped a finger against the marble countertop of the kitchen island. My mind flickered over the truth, but I was hesitant to say anything, instead opting for a distraction by change of topic. "I haven't seen Moira today, do you think she's gone?"
He shook his head. "She's still here, you just haven't seen her." He pursed his lips and pointed a finger at me. "You changed the subject. Why don't you want to answer my question?"
I looked away, pretending to be fascinated with anything but him. Finally I let out a sigh, giving in. If I told anyone my sins, it may as well have been a dead guy who had killed people, right?
"Before I moved here, I lived in New York. Mom worked a lot, so I was usually left to do whatever I wanted. Which when I was sixteen, meant selling drugs. And sometimes doing them.
It meant I got into a lot of fights with users who thought they could kick my ass and take the goods without paying, but I adapted quickly and learned to fight so that wouldn't happen. After all, my supplier would have killed me if I didn't make a profit, you know?
So another dealer taught me to fight." I shrugged my shoulders and looked into his eyes, waiting for his reply.
"When did you get out of the drug business?" He asked softly, leaning towards me as he spoke.
I clenched my fists, balling them up as I remembered why. "There was this girl, Sunny, I loved her. I'd share my stash with her, the good stuff, ya know? Not the shit I sold on the streets, but the really good stuff. It was pure.
She got too addicted and dependent on it. I went to her apartment one day and found her dead. She'd been shot by another user, who wanted to steal the stuff I gave her.
The doctor said she probably didn't feel anything cause she was so high. Even said she probably would have died that day anyway, of overdose. What a load of bullshit, huh? They probably tell those fucking lies to everyone..." I shook my head.
"It was my fault. I was the one who got her started in it! I let her get addicted and I gave it to her freely.
If she hadn't ever met me, she'd still be alive." I bit my lip to keep from crying as I remembered the brunette haired, brown eyed girl I had loved. I remembered finding her, dead and alone.
Tate put his hand over mine. "It's not your fault. You didn't know she'd get so addicted or that someone would shoot her."
I opened my lips to protest, but was cut off by the doorbell. Tate grabbed my wallet and left me alone in the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with my take-away and wallet.
He set the bag of Chinese food in front of me and handed me a set of chopsticks. "Eat up! It's good."
I took the utensils and wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. "Thank you."
He wrapped his arms around me. "I didn't do anything." He murmured.
I pulled away and wiped my eyes. "I know..." I turned to the food and pasted on a smile. "Looks good."
He smiled too. "Too bad I can't eat."
