Page 58 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

TWO MONTHS LATER…

“ Dammit , Greg!”

I spun sharp, ready to bite his head off for pausing my music while trying not to jerk Mr. Wexler’s artery out, and could just make out a set of chestnut brown pigtails on the other side of the room.

“Em? What are you doing down here, Bug? You know you’re not allowed in the basement.” I scrambled to clamp the vein and cover the body before her short little legs could get her over here.

“How do ya even know what they’re sayin’? It sounds like he stubbed his big toe.” I giggled under my breath, fixing the sheet and making sure she couldn’t see anything from her point of view.

“Sometimes it’s not about what they’re saying. Sometimes it’s about what they’re feeling .” I turned around and picked her up, lest she get any brilliant ideas to sneak peeks, and sat her on the metal table with too much memory on it.

“So…is that why you’re not sayin’ much anymore, Auntie Sev? Are you sad?”

Well, fuck…

“Why do you think I’m sad, Bug?”

She stared up at me, way too smart for her own damn good, and I immediately registered that I’m not doing a very good job at hiding what I haven’t been able to forget about. “You never stay for dinner anymore. Mema says you’re… durcressed .”

“Mema needs to stop talking so loud. And you need to stop eavesdropping. Grown up talks are for grown-ups.” I narrowed my eyes, smirking slowly and she cracked a little devious smile. “But, since I know you’re gonna do it anyway, what else are they saying about me?”

“Daddy told Mommy you need to get…um…I don’t really know what it means…”

“You know what? Nevermind. Start walking around with earmuffs.” I’m gonna kill him. I reached my arms around my bestie and squeezed, kissing the top of her head. “I’m okay, Em. I’m sorry. I’ll hang around more. Hey, how are things with what’s her face? Don’t you have a competition coming up?”

“Yeah, Logan’s my friend now. And her mom always brings cupcakes to the gym. She didn’t do that before. Are you sure you didn’t hit her?”

I winked. “Sounds like I hit her a different way. But I’m not opposed to going back to finish the job if they act out. You hear me?”

“Emmaline! You better not be down these stairs!” Greg’s stupid voice echoed through the basement, and I made a face at Em, wrapping my white lab coat around her.

He clunked downstairs and stopped at the bottom, looking first at the covered body, and then at me as I smiled innocently.

“Did a three-foot monster happen to get lost on her way to the car? You seen her anywhere?”

“Nope,” I said, popping the P. “No monsters down here.” Greg smiled, looking at Emmy’s legs dangling under the hem of my jacket. “Just a princess that’ll never have boobies ‘cause she doesn’t eat her green beans.”

“Heeeyyyy!” She pinched my rib, and I caved, Greg laughing as he came over to grab her. “Viv doesn’t eat hers either! And maybe I don’t want boobies! ”

“You’re not gonna have boobies. Ever .” He wagged a finger at me and lifted Em off the table, playfully popping her behind and pointing her towards the stairs. “Mommy’s waitin’ on you. Get!”

“Love you!”

We both answered and the upper door slammed shut. We were quiet until we stopped hearing her little feet cross the ceiling. Greg looked over at me and I crossed my arms. “Alright. Time for an intervention. I’ve been nice, but you’re talkin’. I’ll stay down here all day if I have to.”

“Lemme just start these mouth sutures. Or the eye caps again, you love those.”

“Don’t do that. Talk to me. What’s going on with you?” He hopped up onto his spot on the table and I pinned him with a look.

“Well, apparently…I need to get laid. And I’m ‘durcressed’ , according to Mom. Am I missing anything, or does that cover it? You’re a real asshole, by the way.” I turned and pulled the sheet down, starting back up on Mr. Wexler.

“That conversation didn’t go like you thought. Mags is worried about you. Everybody’s worried about you.”

I fired the embalming machine back up. “You act like that’s not a daily occurrence, Greg. I’ve never had the luxury of personal fucking space. I’m fine . Could you just, for once, let me work in peace?”

“You’re not fine, Sev. And we might give you shit, but it’s because you’re loved, and you know it. It’s different when we see a change and you shut us out like the plague. It’s that guy, isn’t it? The delivery boy?”

Dammit, Malek…

My gloves slapped on top of cold dead skin and I silently apologized, shutting the machine off again.

I spun around to face him. “He’s not a delivery boy, Greg.

And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

And I really don’t feel like getting my ass handed to me, or listening to you be a fucking Judgy McJudgerson , either.

Trust me. You don’t wanna know, and it’s better if you just let me navigate it by myself. ”

His arms folded and he leaned forward. “ Try me . And you were happy. We all saw it. Whatever it is, I know you were better off with the dude in your life, so start talkin’ or I’ll beat it outta you anyway.”

It’s been two of the longest months of my life.

I’m not handling it well. I wear this necklace every day, when I promised him in that coffin that I’d let him go and pretend he’s the worst thing to ever walk the Earth.

I’ve almost trashed the Girthmaster twelve times, just out of spite, and dug it out of the can every time.

I don’t have a friend to talk to about it, because the only one I actually made just happens to be his sister .

I have no one, I can’t go to therapy, and honestly…

they’re not wrong. My baby just came in here sad because I’m sad.

Greg is gonna lose it. Maybe I’ll just leave out the part where there were people watching this house.

But if I don’t talk to him, then he’ll involve Mom and Dad… and hell no.

“I’m not saying a word until you go across the street and get chicken salad. And I want mud pies, or no deal.”

“Fine. You got two days to finish Wexler. Ice him. Take a day. I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying with an open chest cavity sittin’ right there.” I snickered and palmed my forehead.

“Greg, you have to swear this stays between us, or I’ll never tell you another damn thing. I’ll quit, I’ll move…I mean it.” The look on his face completely changed. He knows it’s serious now. All the brotherly snark left him completely.

“You have my word.”

We talked for almost three hours, and for once in his damn life…my brother is eerily quiet. His mouth has hung open for most of this conversation and I can’t blame him for it. It’s open now , and I have no idea what to say now that all the cards are laid out on the table.

“Say something, please.”

He dragged his palms down his face and blinked while he slowly shook his head, sighing. “I’m—I’m just…processing.”

“Can you process with something other than stunned silence? I knew I should have just—”

“I’m sorry, no. It’s not that, I just…I’m the worst fucking brother in the world.

” My eyebrows nearly obstructed my vision.

How could he possibly… “My baby sister was kidnapped and locked in a basement, and I didn’t even know it?

” That image of us looking down in the casket at Annaliese Montague got stuck on replay in my mind.

“Greg, you’re an amazing brother. It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t a nosey, annoying pain in my ass. You couldn’t have done anything, and it was my own damn fault.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to protect you.”

Everything I just told him. The fact that I have a side gig covering up actual murder …

and this is what’s hitting him the hardest?

He’s not even gonna bat an eye at the fact that we let a killer through the front fucking door?

Or that he busted me after I let him eat my insides out in this basement?

It hit me pretty hard then. I looked at Greg, destroyed and hurt, not because I’ve been dishonest, but…

because my brother is a good man. And they do actually exist. I slid off the edge of the metal table and stood in front of him, wrapping my arms around him and he crushed me in a tight hug.

I can’t remember the last time we actually did this. Can’t get over how much I’ve needed it.

“Tell me you’re done with that shit, Sev. Never again. Why isn’t this enough?”

“I am. And it’s always been enough, Greg, it just took me going through some shit to realize it. I’m gonna be fine.” He pulled back and shook his head.

“Not until you realize that this Malek guy is the right guy. Where is he?”

Well, now I’m just pissed.

I broke away and my arms shot out to the sides. “How the hell can you say that after I just sat here and explained that he’s an executioner for the fucking Irish mob? And I don’t know where he is. That’s what letting go means.”

“But you haven’t let him go, Seven. And he was an executioner. Didn’t you also just say that they’re free? Are you not just a mortician now?”

“Yes, but…” I lowered my head, shaking it. “I have let him go, Greg.”

He shuffled down from the table and smiled to himself, pacing around the morgue, very Malek-like, and poking around at shit he has no business touching. “Is that why you’re wearing the penny from that boat dock like some lifeline every day? Cause you’ve let him go?”

“Don’t patronize me. And don’t touch that. And don’t sit here and try to do what the three of you always do, and imply that I have no idea how to manage my own sex life. It’s actually fucking gross.”