Sleep with the Fishies

Part 2: Not the Fun Cider

     "What, is she a mobster or monster?"

     "My acquaintance is human, if that is what you're asking."

     Tap tap tap.

     I played with the phone cord. It'd make a good garrotte. "So you're not here, huh?"

     "Surely you didn't think I would call you at a police station without proper protection? You really are ridiculous." A pause. "Ah, finally, Barteal is here. Do be civilized for once, Joanah."

     There was a shadow cast from the doorway, stopping just short of my feet. I frowned. Bookstore part didn't have a bright enough light for that. A slight woman in baggy but obviously expensive slacks stood in the doorway, her head tilted slightly.

     I folded my arms. "Well, what's Barteal's deal? Is she as big a fan of drowning people as you?"

     The figure continued to watch me. Hemming inhaled sharply. "Wait. Who is that?"

     Ice lodged in my throat, but I managed to melt it with a laugh. "Nice try, Hemming."

     "Joanah, I do not know who that is, but we both know I cannot collect my hellgae if you are dead. Get out now."

     In the time it took for me to blink, the woman disappeared. I scowled. "Hemming, if you sicced another fucking monster on me, I'm gonna go apeshit."

     Tap tap tap.

     "This one is not mine."

     "Try to get me out all you want. I'm finding what I came for." I considered the phone for a second. The cord looked long enough to move around the distillery and find the source of that stupid dripping. "You'd think someone who knows you would know enough to turn off the bloody tap."

     "None of the taps are on, Joanah. If you truly cannot listen to my warning, perhaps you can hurry in your pointless little investigation."

     "Shut up." I advanced on the back, carrying the phone base along.

     "Do mind the phone cord, Joanah. It would not do to destroy my being able to talk to you."

     "That would suck, eh? What would you do without me?" I reached the other end of the room and quickly noticed two things: the dripping was coming from behind one of the vats, in a tight space between it and the wall, and I was dragging a limp phone cord, the end neatly severed in the middle.

     "Are you nearly finished, Joanah?"

     I found a camera on the wall and held up the broken cord for it to see. Could still hear breathing on the other end of the receiver. Weird. Turning back to the vat, I heaved myself up to look behind. And retched into the cider beneath me.

     "Joanah. Whatever is back there, get out. Listen for once in your sorry life."

     My stomach was heaving. The thing was folded in half, caught on a pipe and dripping onto tinfoil placed below. Tap tap tap. A woman's empty skin, wrinkled slightly like a towel that'd been wrung out. She had a name tag.

     I choked out the words. "I found Barteal."

     There was a long pause. "Quick wit finally failing you, Joanah? I would have expected at least a response. Please, just go."

     I heaved bile onto the pile of skin, unclipping the name tag. Dropping back to the floor, I held it up to the camera. "I said she's fu—fucking dead, Hemming."