Wake

Chapter 2

I followed Caprice's constant grunting until I entered what appeared to be some sort of parlor, or perhaps a music room. The oriental rug was a deep maroon, the walls of the same color, a well-taken care of grand piano in the tiny room's corner. Sheet music was everywhere: on the floor, hanging off the peeling bookshelf, twirling in the air on the breezes let in by the half-open window.

Caprice was perched, oddly, on the top of the loveseat, her dark wings sprouting from her shoulders like ornate, overlapping vines. She gritted her teeth, her ebony eyes zipping to Vinny and me as we entered the room. "Oh," she said unpleasantly. "You brought Lazarus with you. Perfect, just perfect."

I was freezing cold, and not because of the open window. A soul still sat at the piano as if nothing were happening—a young girl, to be precise, with her stark black hair wound into two spotless pigtails. Her fingers were tapping away at the keys, though they fell through them, making no sound at all.

I shivered a little. "Caprice," I began, "want to tell me why you're standing on the couch like you're running from some cockroach, or something?"

"This is worse than a cockroach. So, so much worse."

Vinny leaned back against the wall, tugging at one of his hoodie strings. Well, to be exact, it was one of my hoodie strings, as he didn't exactly own any clothing that was good for sneaking around and had thus had to borrow some items from me. I cast him a sideways glance. He didn't look nearly as good in black as I did.

"She's a little girl," he said, gesturing in the dead girl's direction. She was dutifully ignoring us, still tapping out her silent song as if she were still alive. "I don't see how she's the equivalent of a cockroach."

Caprice ruffled her wings' feathers in exasperation, easing one heeled foot down to the floor. As to how she went about her duties in heels and a tight dress, I wasn't sure—but this was Caprice Martinez, and I'd never really seen her in anything that didn't cling to every single curve. "No, she won't move. I've touched her a million times—you know, little one, the touch—and she hasn't gone. She's just been sitting here, this whole time. Something's wrong. This never happens."

Vinny scoffed, his gold-trimmed eyes landing on me. "The touch?" he echoed. "That sounds ominous."

"I don't think you really mean ominous."

He grinned at me.

I didn't like that grin.

I ignored him, stepping further into the room and offering Caprice a hand as she lowered the remainder of her weight to the floor. Her wings took up an enormous amount of space, arcing up towards the ceiling in elegantly curved lines. I eyed them, but wouldn't let myself envy them. I was okay now. It was okay now.

I thought.

I rubbed my temples. "So let me get this straight—this girl's dead, yet you can't send her to the afterlife? How is that even possible?"

"Cian Horne," she muttered in response, one eyebrow risen, "I don't have the slightest idea. That's why you're here."

"What, like I'm supposed to know?"

"You have a young brain. Use it."

"Look, Caprice, I'm not going to help you just because you're some senior citizen who doesn't know how to do her job anymore—"

"Senior citizen! Do I look like a senior citizen to you—"

"Oh! Don't deny the fact that you're as old as dirt—"

"Guys!" Vinny snapped. We both glanced at him, and he was still standing there against the wall, his eyes wide as he pointed at something in front of him.