Breathe

Chapter 4

Cian

I'd stopped telling Lucie she couldn't come with me to these trips a long time ago, as she'd always end up going anyway. If there was one thing I knew about this girl, it was that nothing could stop her once she had her mind set on something, whether that be baking and decorating a cake for no apparent reason (an ordeal that had occurred last week which had turned her kitchen into the aftermaths of a flour explosion), or coming with me to see dead people.

Truly, her range of interests was astonishing.

Vinny—as we were all still concerned for his safety—was secured in the back seat, while Lucie took the passenger side, next to me. She kept flitting her gaze from out the car window and then back to me and back towards the window again, watching the sun sink beneath the trees. She said, "This doesn't make any sense. Nothing weird has happened for at least two months, so why now—"

"I don't know, Lucie," I muttered, keeping my eyes on the road. I cleared my throat, trying to lighten up my tone. Our argument before had been bad enough, and I had no reason to continue it. "I have no idea, and that's why we're investigating."

"Caprice has probably already taken care of it," piped up Vinny from the backseat. Lucie glanced back at him. "What if the body's already gone?"

"Then I'll turn this car around and we'll see Caprice instead."

"Cian," Lucie said, her tone warning. I shot her a sideways glance, the city lights reflecting in her eyes in fleeting streaks of green, yellow, and red, the buzzing neon signs caught in the dark ebony of her irises. "What if it's not even a big deal, actually? What if, you know, it's just a typical homicide?"

I scoffed. "I wish there was such a thing as typical in this life of mine, but there's not. Like always, there's something odd linked to this."

Lucie sat back in her seat and sighed, looking out the window again. I could tell in the slump of her shoulders, the huff of her breath as she crossed her arms, that she was tired of this. For the past eight weeks we'd rejoiced in having my kid brother back, and thought that any drama with fallen angels or any other threat was off our backs.

Now that there was a murder on our hands, there was a heavy chance of getting thrust right back into that world.

We drove on in near silence, with the exception of the tinny buzz of the radio turned low. Vinny was silent as he watched the street zip past, Lucie the same. I hit the gas pedal and hurried my pace. If she was tired, so was I, but what was I supposed to do? Ignore the brutal halting of my heartbeat, which always told me something was wrong? I couldn't. My heart, when it stopped, proposed a question, and I was responsible for finding the answer.

I'd gotten vague visions this time, but not vague enough that I couldn't piece the location together: a glimpse of green foliage, moonlight bouncing off the leaves, the stench of gunpowder in the air, a sickening cry of death sent to the stars. The odd thing was—normally I felt some sort of emotion. Fear, disappointment, or maybe rage, but this time, I got nothing.

It was what pricked up the hairs on my neck. If there was one thing I knew from being close to it for all this time, it was that death was a sentimental topic. It didn't exist without emotion.

We pulled up to the city park, and Lucie craned forward in her seat to read the sign at front: East City Park. She sat back again, scrutinizing me as I pulled the keys from the engine and started to hop out of the SUV. "A park? Someone got murdered in a park?"

"Not everything shady happens in alleyways or basements, muffin," I replied, then glanced back at Vinny. "Do you want to stay in the car, or.."