Page 5 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest

“Could be dyed. Or a wig.” I took his coffee cup from the table and downed the contents. Ugh. Much sweeter than I preferred but I needed something for my dry mouth.

“You are correct. It could be. Suppose I DNA test it, out of due diligence. See, the Rowlands wanted to call the whole thing off. They were convinced it was the husband’s failing memory.

We couldn’t say otherwise of course, because they were convinced they had their painting.

But how many times had I heard your dad speak about restoration, Cora?

What will I find when I test this?” He slid the bag in front of me.

“Not to mention the suspicion within the MF that there is a network of thieves within town. I just put two and two together.”

My face contorted in rage but I continued to speak in low tones.

“I don’t appreciate being threatened. If that identity was mine, I’m sure you’d consider any resources I have at my disposal that aren’t necessarily legal.

Which is, as of right now, slander and hearsay.

” I leveled him with a glare. “Make your point now or I’m leaving.

” This was getting vexing. Why did I agree to this again?

He took the bag from the table and tucked it back in his pocket.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to threaten you. I was hoping you would willingly comply with what I was asking. Something I have— had was circulated through the black market. I need it back.”

OK, depending on what the object was and when it was moved, it was possible. This may not turn out to be so bad after all. I sat back and relaxed a bit. His face remained passive, stony.

I waved a hand at a nearby waitress. Maggy set down a menu and glass of water which I started to gulp.

After she left, I spoke again, slightly intrigued.

“I might be able to help you. Is this for a case? Mostly I do antiquities or art. I also expect a handsome retainer fee.” I set down the water expectantly. “What’s the item?”

In response, he pulled down the zipper to his quarter zip and the neck of the white T-shirt underneath to reveal his breastbone. There was a perfect scar going down, barely noticeable.

Time stopped. My blood froze. Oh no. Oh no no. My eyes bulged out of my head. “You did not!” I whisper-yelled at him. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I told the force it was an accident and needed a minor surgery.”

The absurdity nearly made me stress-laugh. “Of course they wouldn’t know the

difference in the scars.” Damien, you beautiful bastard, why?

He let go of his collar and zipped the sweater back up. “But you would. Your mother was a great healer. And you have her gifts as well.”

I scoffed. “Barely. I do cuts and small burns and that’s it.”

“Still a nymph, Cora. Can’t hide that.”

“I’m not hiding it. Just out of practice.” My tone was a few degrees more testy than

I would have liked. I looked back at his chest. “Why would you do that? Shooting up drugs would be a better choice,” I hissed. “I thought you were smarter than that!”

His face went ice cold. “It was borne out of necessity.” I get it, we stop being friends and I lose the right to tell you not to do completely insane things.

I looked left and right down the aisle before continuing. “Let’s say I’m dumb enough to believe you had a witch take your kelpie heart out. What happened to it?” I hissed.

The coincidence to the other day was getting to be uncanny.

He sighed, defeatedly. “You were never dumb. I definitely was.” He ran a hand across his eyes.

Merv waddled out of the kitchen with a turkey club sandwich. I smiled and reached for a fry as he put it down.

“Let me know if you need anything else, kid.”

“Will do!” He waddled back to the kitchen. It was not unnoticed that a smuggler and a cop were conversing together.

“Let me repeat myself. What happened to it?” I started on my fries again.

“It was taken from the witch who took it out.” He looked tired, almost haggard.

I peered over my sandwich at him curiously. “How long had she had it?”

“A little over three years.”

I nearly spit out my water, eyes bugging out again.

A coughing spell later and I patted my mouth with my napkin.

“You’ve been wandering in the city for greater than three years without your

heart.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “Did the witch explain the inherent risks to that spell?”

He groaned. “Of course she did. I paid her handsomely to do it.”

The dekartios spell was only used by the most experienced of witches.

The healer witches did it alongside the doctors for complex heart cases.

Even then, it was dangerous. If the heart was damaged at all, the owner could die without warning.

If it was out of the body too long, the owner could die.

In the case of the kelpie, their tissue was so sought after that any on the market would create a bidding war.

Some kelpies sacrificed some heart function to give tissue to those in need.

The thing is, the longer the heart is out of the body, the less emotion he’d feel. I guess he was faking many day-to-day interactions. I remember my mother telling me when I was younger that it was a double-edged sword, if for some reason it had to stay out of the body.

I covered my mouth and nose with my hands, just staring at him, trying to process why he took this big of a risk.

I was utterly dumbfounded. Damien was always smart, always a hard worker.

Top ten in our high school class. He could have picked any college or career he wanted.

He wasn’t stupid. In fact, he erred towards the side of caution most over everything. It was how I remembered him anyway.

“I assume you were going to put it back in? That’s why you contacted the witch?” My appetite was near gone. Something extreme must have happened to him.

“I knew I was running out of time but she got to me first, said someone took it. Out

of nowhere I started to get some emotions again, which, I was told, was a bad omen. Near total system shut down.” His laugh was humorless.

“Damien...what happened to you?” I asked incredulously.

He shook his head vehemently. “I’ll only tell you the reason if you get it back. That’s my deal. You’ll get your retainer, I’ll ignore any illegal or immoral things you do. Just get it back.” Desperation laced his tone, punctuating his words.

The guilt started to creep up slowly but surely.

I opened my mouth to dispute his terms but I had to know. “When was it stolen?”

“A few days ago.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck me.

“If I tell you what I know right now, do you promise not to shoot me?” I winced.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you think so poorly of me that you think I’d harm you? Cora, what do you know?”

“I’m just trying to avoid retribution,” I added, chagrined.

“Cora,” he ground out, voice steely. “Tell me what you know.”

I felt shaky and embarrassed. “I know there was a heart that ended up on the market. I made a deal with the witch, got it to my fence for distribution.”

His face was a maelstrom of sorrow and rage, or what I assumed he passed as

such.

I rushed on. “Let’s get the obvious out of the way first. I had no idea it was yours

and the witch didn’t identify you. Second, you opened yourself up to a whole ration of bullshit by doing that. Third...” I paused and closed my eyes. “I’m not sure I will be able to get it back.”

“Why not?” His tone was pure ice.

“Because the buyer was an oncologist at the children’s cancer center downtown.” He looked at me in a state of genuine horror. I winced, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“The moment,” he emphasized, “he cuts into it, I am dead.”

“I know.” I ground my teeth together. “I’m aware.”

He sat back, looking like a shell of his former self. “Cora. You need to get it back.”

I felt a bit stunned; I wasn’t used to pleading from him.

“Would you believe I thought I was actually doing some good in the world?” That humorless laugh again. “Yes, actually, but there are other venues for that.” I squirmed again. “Again, I will reiterate, I had no idea who owned it.”

“I know but it doesn’t make it better.”

“For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry.” Those words were hard to come these days from me.

“Help me fix this.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. His hands were clenched, white knuckled.

“OK.” Any professional integrity, destroyed. I didn’t really have a choice though. I picked up the sandwich glumly. “Can I ask you something?”

He crossed his arms, “Aside from my motivations, sure.”

I took a bite and swallowed. “What can you feel?”

He gave me a wary look. “So you know?”

I nodded.

He sighed. “I was numb for a really long time which was OK for a while. The bad

stuff has been creeping in lately. I get fear, pain, anger, sorrow. It was part of the reason I wanted it back. There was no reason to have all the bad and none of the good.” He leaned back. “Can I also ask you something?”

I nodded. My biggest secrets were out anyway.

“What happened to you?”

I looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did you get from being in college, on track to do what your dad did,

to dropping out, working at the coffee place and now smuggling? Thievery?”

“You have the gall to ask me that?” An inferno was rising in my chest. “Your father put mine behind bars,” I hissed.

“It broke him. It destroyed him. Even after the charges were dropped, he came back a ruined man. His reputation was gone. Two years in jail for a sixty-year-old. And he wasn’t healthy to begin with.

” The old rage had come back up, long pushed down, flooding every nerve with anger.

I pushed my food away with some force. “You have the balls to ask what happened to me? I was a kid and he was gone. I was alone. You don’t think the day I came back and found him hanging from the balcony wouldn’t change the course of my life?

He wasn’t the only one who died that day.

” I choked on my last few words, the combination of sorrow and vitriol a potent one.