Raven

Raven, Chapter Sixteen

Silently, we agreed to keep this last scenario between us until we had a clue of what was going on and what Lorelei remembered. It was odd because she seemed completely fine. Her body temperature dropped, and she seemed relatively normal, but considering Ivan was a vampire, I was the Reaper, and Sigmund was something akin to a dwarf—he never gave anyone a straight answer on his lineage, kept saying that if people knew about his family, then they'd be able to psychoanalyze him. All I knew was he was short, strong, Germanic, and had a really long life; however, since he was the closest to a living human and an actual doctor, we took his word for it when he said Lorelei's temperature was within normal boundaries.

He seemed eager to have her under hypnosis, but I didn't want to tax her so early. She didn't seem the least bit bothered by us turning on the lights which we did immediately, and I began making her some Spaghetti-Ohs. Ivan looked at me with the distaste he usually only reserved for homeless people, but Lorelei swore the nauseatingly-sweet, faux tomatoey concoction was her favorite. She gulped one microwaved cup after another, not giving a clue that she had any idea of what we were doing there. When we explained that we were looking for her father, she seemed confused, and from what I gathered, she'd been home alone for the past couple of days.

After her third serving of artificially-flavored kidfood, she pushed herself from the table and patting her belly, looked around.

"This place is a mess," she said.

"I've seen cleaner sewers," Ivan's lip curled over his fangs.

"Daddy's not been around much lately."

"Well, Jesus, Lorelei," I said, "why didn't you tell someone?"

"I did," she insisted. "I called Nana."

"Who is?"

"My grandmother, silly," Lorelei told Ivan.

He countered with, "Which one?"

"Mommy's mommy."

"Well, where the fuck is she," Ivan looked around, as if Griselda would just pop out of one of the cupboards.

Lorelei's eyes clouded over.

"Honey," I said, waving my hands in front of her face, but she came back almost immediately.

"I don't know. She left—" her brow crinkled, "she had something to do."

"Like find your father," Ivan offered, and although I couldn't miss the sarcasm in his voice, Lorelei prattled on.

"I guess so. I don't really remember."

"Do you have her number somewhere?"

"Sure," she said, hopping out of her chair and running toward the fridge. She pointed to the numbers on the whiteboard. Her nanny and Griselda were the top two numbers after Lou's cell and office line. Mine was listed under several more numbers, including that of the receptionist, Sascha. Ivan's wasn't even on the fridge—a detail his narrowing eyes did not miss.

I picked up the phone and called Griselda's cell phone, but I only reached a generic voicemail. I left a message which I hoped didn't sound panicky—just that we were with Lorelei and looking for Lou. I hung up after leaving my cell number.

"What now?" Ivan asked.

I pulled up a stool and sat, thinking through everything. I began ticking tasks off my fingers. "First, I call the lab and see if they've found what's going on with the Zs while we wait for Griselda. In the meantime, if Lorelei feels like it, I'm going to let Sigmund try to work his magic."