Page 8 of Wicche Hunt

The coroner stood, staring down at the linoleum, shaking her head. “And how could you have known?” she said, mostly talking to herself.

“I’m not here to perform party tricks,” I said, voice still raspy. “Get Pearl.”

Landscombe didn’t like being wrong, didn’t enjoy being ordered around, and clearly resented me. Whatever. She stalked across the room, moved Trisha’s gurney, checked the tag number on another, and wheeled over Pearl.

Was it wrong that I wanted to punch the doctor in the back of the head? Because I really wanted to.

I sat again and took off my glove. This time, I let my finger hover right above the bloated, discolored skin of an elbow barely sticking out from under the sheet. The body had been washed, but she still smelled of the sea. This was Pearl. Blowing out a breath, I touched her skin.

A quiet coffee shop. Pearl, her hair still long and black, sits alone drinking cocoa, her textbook open, her muffin forgotten. She stops to type into her laptop and then resumes reading.

A handsome young man with chiseled features, dark hair, blue eyes, lightly tanned skin leans on the empty chair across the table and asks if he can take it.

She nods, confused, her face flushing, her Corey green eyes guarded. There are lots of empty tables. Why ask for hers?

He lifts the chair and turns, but then seems to change his mind and turns back, replacing the chair and sitting. Looking at her textbook, he asks if she’s studying for the Anthropology midterm as well. She nods, unused to the attention.

Smiling, he leans in and asks if she has Professor Putnum. She shakes her head. He then launches into a tale about the professor, the assistant, and a couple of particularly ridiculous students.

Pearl laughs in sputters and starts. It’s like a rollercoaster. She doesn’t have time to catch her breath, to get used to the uninterrupted attention of a charming, handsome man. It’s all going too fast, and while it’s fun, she feels out of control.

No studying is done. He sees a friend and has to run but not before asking her to dinner. She nods, the rollercoaster careening around a curve. They were supposed to meet in the quad, but when she answers a knock on her dorm room door, there he is, throwing her off yet again. She planned to calm herself on the walk, maybe call home to talk with her mother about the garden, but he’s already here.

They take the stairs down, avoiding the elevators, and leave without anyone noticing. Pearl is used to not being noticed but is surprised that no one calls out to him. She assumes they’ll eat on campus, but instead he walks her to his very expensive sports car. None of this is real. How isshethe one with the hot guy in the fancy car?

He takes her to a little bistro. She feels out of place. She and her mother aren’t poor, but since the divorce, it’s been tighter. Dad, like others in his family, has money, but she and mom have been on their own a long time. She brings forty dollars on the date, thinking that would be enough if they split the bill. With the prices on this menu, she’ll need to use her emergency card and then explain to her mother what happened. Mom won’t be mad, but it makes Pearl uncomfortable.

Still charming, he holds up most of the conversation with stories about trips he’s taken. The rollercoaster jolts forward up a long incline before teetering on the precipice and then racing down, her stomach dropping out from under her. When he kisses her at the end of the night, it feels like an out-of-body experience, like she’s looking down from above, thinking her shoes are stupid and wondering why he would choose her.

He touches her hair, telling her how beautiful it is, and then mentioning that she might look even better as a blonde. Yeah, he says nodding. Short blonde hair.

And that’s how it goes for two weeks, him showing up when she isn’t expecting him, and him sweeping her off her feet while oh-so-subtly suggesting how she could improve. She uses a chunk of her savings to go to the salon he recommends to have her hair cut and colored. She hates it, hates being so visible as the rollercoaster drops again.

He’s so pleased when he sees that she’s changed for him, he takes her to a fancy dinner at a restaurant on the water. She orders scallops because they’re small and he makes her stomach wobble. He orders wine. She doesn’t like it, but she keeps sipping, as it gives her nervous hands something to do and allows her to hide, however briefly, behind the glass.

After dinner, they walk on the beach, each holding onto their shoes in one hand and each other with the other. They walk for quite a while. Pearl’s teeth are chattering. Instead of turning around, though, he laughs and points up ahead to a place he wants to show her. The cliffs are high beside them, and she sees no one else on the beach, it being such a cold, windy night.

Pearl stops. The tide is coming in and icy seawater is washing over her already frozen feet. He laughs again, tugging her along. It’s not much farther. They round a huge boulder and are out of view of most everything. Pearl is wondering if he’s going to kiss her again. He hasn’t since that first night.

When he moves in close, she is caught between excitement and terror, the rollercoaster going up again. His fingertips brush the long column of her neck. Leaning in, he bypasses her lips and instead whispers, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

She smiles, but then his fingers tighten on her neck. She can’t believe it. Doesn’t fight. She stares into his dead eyes, uncomprehending. When he smirks, kicking her feet out from under her, she panics, clawing at his hands, even as black spots blur her vision.

She barely registers the cold when he drags her to the water, shoving her head under as he squeezes the life out of her. The out-of-control rollercoaster slams into a turn and goes flying off into the dark. The last thing she sees is his triumphant smile as he scrubs at his face, washing it away until there are only dead eyes staring into her lifeless ones.

FOUR

Why Is She Still Here?

Two strangled victims in a row made me hate Landscombe even more. The ocean, though, gave me a thought. I needed to start carrying a jar of seawater in my backpack. The ocean always healed me—thanks, Dad—so maybe it would help after readings.

My throat was killing me, my head pounding, but the rest of me felt fine. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was sitting on Declan’s lap. He was on the chair, a strong arm around my waist to keep me from tumbling to the floor again. That was nice.

Hernández crouched beside me again. “Your neck,” she whispered, her expression pained.

“It’ll fade,” I croaked. Damn, that hurt! “Water?”

The doctor was already there, with a paper cup of water. I wanted to smack it out of her hand, but I wanted the drink more. I slipped on my glove and took the cup, taking a tiny sip. It felt like knives going down, but then the pain began to lessen. The doctor made to poke at my neck, causing me to jerk and spill some water on Declan’s leg. I swear, I couldn’t remember wanting to hex someone more in my life! Well, maybe my cousin Colin. He was the worst.

---