Page 69 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne

It’s been days.

I probably should get up and shower, at least get some clean clothes on, but I just can’t be bothered. Poor Danny, having to lie next to me every night. I can’t imagine I smell that great. I haven’t brushed my teeth either. I know I’m gross, but I just can’t seem to fight through this heavy numbness.

I shift my gaze from the wall to the bedside table where my beautiful little anatomical heart sits whole and unblemished. Propped against it is a small note, no bigger than a business card, written with gold ink in an elegant, curling script.

Every heart can mend, but truth takes time…

I close my eyes. I’m grateful, but it hurts to look at it.

Death obviously felt sorry for me after my epic tantrum the other night because Danny ventured into the living room the very next morning to assess the damage and start clearing up, only to find everything immaculate. Not one book out of place on the shelves, intact lamps back where they belonged, even the portraits were repaired and hung neatly back on the wall.

I feel bad I lost it like that; had the queens from The Rainbow Room witnessed that particular hissy fit, I definitely would have won Meltdown of the Month. The fury was like a hot summer storm, tearing through me and leaving devastation in its wake, but it’s gone now, and all that remains is a gut-wrenching sense of resentment at the unfairness. A small part of me wonders if I’m behaving like a bratty child, but I don’t see how it’s fair to expect me to solve everyone else’s unfinished business, to help lost souls cross into the light, to spend all of my time surrounded by grieving families and loved ones, helping them with their pain, but then deny the one thing I needed for myself.

Ever since I started seeing ghosts, a small voice in the back of my mind has thought,One day. One day I’ll get to see Dad again as he was. I’ll be able to have him look at me and see me, know who I am.

I just don’t understand. Even if I couldn’t talk to Dad, if I’d just been able to see him, see that he was all right, I could’ve lived with that. I know that most people don’t even get that, but my circumstances are different. Or should be.

One question keeps pounding through my aching head relentlessly.

Why?

Why.

Why.

I’m exhausted from it.

I hear the bedroom door open and when I glance over, I see Danny poke his head into the room.

“Harrison’s here, love,” Danny tells me softly. “Do you want to come out and see him?”

I shake my head slowly.

“It’s alright, Danny, I’ve got this.”

I can hear Harrison’s voice, but I’ve already turned back to the wall.

A few moments later, he takes a seat by the bed, on the chair I usually sling my laundry on. Which drives Danny nuts.

“Wow, when was the last time you took a shower, Tristan?”

“What do you want, Harrison?” I mumble tiredly.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” he says quietly.

I turn and stare at him for several long seconds.

“Thank you.” It’s the expected response, but it’s not coming from any real sense of gratitude.

There’s a protracted silence. Harrison looks uncomfortable and I—I just want to go back to sleep.

“Tristan,” he finally says, “why don’t you get up and get dressed? You might feel a bit better.”

“What do you want, Harrison?” I ask again, although my question stems from wanting him to go away rather than from any real curiosity. I just want to be left alone. Even though I’m surrounded by death all the time, I haven’t lost anyone close to me since my mum, and I was only a kid when that happened.

I’d forgotten how painful grief is.

“I need your help,” he admits. I continue to stare at him, and seeing that he has my reluctant attention even if I’m not inclined to reply, he ploughs ahead. “I’ve spent the last several days researching demon traps and blood magic. I’ve combed the oldest manuscripts I could find, even visited the British Library and went through their archives. There’s very little information, but what I’ve managed to find all points to the same conclusion. I think that whoever killed Vivienne intends to open the trap and set the demon loose.”