THE LAUGHING CROW: A CRYPTIC Anthology

Niemand

There was a stranger in the house.

The girl was young. Younger than Miriam, and Miriam was barely in her thirties. Children, the both of them.

He didn't like how the girl looked at him.

"What is your name?" he asked.

The conversation, stilted as it had been, halted entirely. Miriam set her cup down, too-fast. Tea spilled over the rim. Miriam clasped her hands and exhaled sharply.

"It's alright," he told her, "I'm here."

The stranger smirked. "That you are."

Miriam made a soft, choked sound. She was upset. That would not do. Guest or not, the stranger had to go.

Miriam stood. "More tea?"

"Sure. Here."

The girl handed Miriam her cup. It was still mostly full.

"How... how long?" Miriam asked.

"We'll see. You'll know when it's done."

Miriam nodded. She darted a look over her shoulder, at him.

"Everything will be fine," he said.

Miriam shook her head and left the room. She closed the door behind her. Good. He didn't want to concern her with what was to be an unpleasant talk. He turned his attention back to the girl.

"You-" he began.

The girl drew a gun and pulled the trigger.

An explosion of sound and color blinded him. He had the girl by the throat when the world realigned again, her body wedged between him and a wall. Anger made him shake. Everything shook.

"How dare you," he snarled.

The girl smiled. "Had to try. It helps, sometimes. A reminder of where you ought to be."

He crushed her neck.

The girl disappeared. A paper doll floated in the space she had been, its head torn clean off.

"Over here."

He turned. He knew where she was. She couldn't hide from him, not in this house.

She wasn't trying.

"Which one of you is real?" he asked. His attention bounced from one end of the room to the other. There were two of her. Twin copies, an exact match.

"That'd be telling. Where's the body?"

"Get out," he rumbled. The ceiling cracked above them, a long, jagged line of broken plaster.

The girl smiled at him with two mouths and spoke with an echo. "It has to be here. The husband's accounted for, but the perp's was missing from the scene. Where'd you stash it?"

The husband. He had died protecting Miriam, protecting their home. Miriam still cried for him. The house mourned, too. The shadows spawned miserable things at night.

"The cops are still looking, you know. They'll keep bothering her."

"She's innocent."

"Not if she's hiding a corpse on her property."

He said nothing.

"It's not doing anything good for the spiritual balance of the place, either. There'll be problems soon."

The girl knew. He studied her anew, seeking something that would betray her as more than human. She raised her brows.

"Well?"