Page 36 of Darkness

An autopsy would show the truth, but Farren bet a traveler had body snatched and gotten the hell out. No suicide note. No pill bottle by the bed. Maria’s tidiness just might be her downfall.

There really should be a census on travelers.

No telling how long the traveler lived in Maria’s body.

Farren lay down beside the victim, touching the bare skin of his wrist to hers. Nothing. The human part of this body had been gone too long for him to access memories. This close, however, he caught a hint of decay beneath the herbal notes. Cancer. She’d had cancer, a sickness the traveler couldn’t heal.

He sat up, regarding the woman he couldn’t save. Farren’s mind flashed to his soon-to-be partner. How could he explain this murder to a guy who’d just discovered another somewhat dirty world bleeding into the life he’d known?

Carefully. Now, not only were they dealing with a rogue nurse they at least had details on, but an unknown man.

Perhaps news of a missing person might come in. Or maybe the traveler who’d been posing as Maria would take over her victim’s life, pretend to be them.

That would make the traveler harder to track, especially since it would be Farren's responsibility to start the investigation and turn his files over to humans on the task force. FAET considered Farren's time more valuable in the field. Besides, he could heal from a bullet better than his human counterparts.

Still, this was the fifth traveler this month who committed murder and eluded capture.

The dress. If Maria met the victim in a club, maybe she’d appear on video somewhere, with her mystery man, or a social media post. Or had left a paper trail of credit card payments

One could hope.

Sometimes Farren hated his kind.

***

Farren didn’t normally drink, but tonight he needed fortification and the touch of humanity. If, by chance, he found someone interesting to go home with, well, he wouldn’t say no. Provided that he checked in with the compound, he could stay out all night. Thank the humans’ god. So far, he had not been obligated to confess his origins to his one-night stands. To do so would cause panic. If the crime rate kept spiking, though…

He imagined his fellow travelers wearing badges to proclaim their status, being gunned down for their otherness. It only took a few bad ones to spoil everything for the good.

The bar and grill wasn’t far from where he’d met Morrisey, but distant enough from the FBI offices to minimize the chances of Farren running into anyone he knew.

The thing he wanted the least was to hear a hissed "demon" on his off time. Arianna wasn't around to join him for a drink, and neither were the other travelers Farren had encountered in the past. They all thought he’d haul them in for banishment for the smallest infraction, except Arianna, who’d dared him to try on several occasions.

Not hardly. After years of seeing the worst two worlds offered, the traveler equivalent of jaywalking didn’t even get his notice.

Hey, was that… The man turned around. Nope, not Morrisey.

Morrisey. Couldn’t he get out of Farren’s brain even for a moment? Would he be bold to be seen together outside of work, or would he, too, regard Farren with suspicion?

Farren found a place at the bar, ordering beer and nachos, foods his host body seemed to have a love-hate relationship with. Pretty busy tonight. He turned to watch the crowd. They were all humans other than the bartender, who gave a slight wave in acknowledgement of their kinship. The traveler version of a secret handshake.

There Hank was, proof of good travelers existing. He hadn’t stolen a body but had salvaged one from a dying man. Now he worked hard, married, and fathered a baby.

A human baby with no traveler traits. Hank could be a poster child for blending in.

Farren watched the crowd for a while until one beer too many sent him in search of the men’s room. The lingering memories of the host he possessed whined, Dude, do you have any idea what you’re doing to our body with all these carbs?

Farren didn’t reply. If a certain someone hadn’t taken a liking to drugs, they wouldn’t be having the conversation to begin with. Although a few memories remained, there was actually no thinking entity left to argue with. The initial incarnation of Farren Austen had departed from the world a long time ago.

A man entered the bar as Farren returned from the men’s room, all long-limbed and none too graceful, cracking one hand on a table as he made his way across the room. He looked neither right nor left, heading straight for the bar. A man on a mission.

Morrisey. Farren’s mouth went dry. Had he somehow summoned the man simply by thinking? No, summoning wasn't one of Farren's powers, though he'd never actually tried to bring someone through from a different realm—an illegal act. Only the ones who accidentally found themselves here were allowed—at least officially, though a more unenforceable rule never existed. Even then, people in the know treated travelers with suspicion.

So far, no one questioned too closely how Farren got here.

Should he say hello? Start up a conversation? But no. Farren and Morrisey might wind up as work partners. Morrisey having a live-in male partner for years didn’t mean he’d be amenable to a few fun but ultimately meaningless hours with Farren.

Besides. If Morrisey became Farren’s partner, eventually, Farren would need to confess his nature. Oh, boy, the “Where are you from?” talk never went well. Would Morrisey scream and run like any others Leary had tried to team Farren with?

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