CHAPTER SEVENTEENA Delicate GuillotineBryony sobbed all of the way to the hospital, the note crumpled in her hand. Not Syrina. Not her dear, brave and true friend. It would be too cruel. It would be too much.She ran through the hospital doors and up to the front desk.“I am looking for my friend Syrina. Rikki-Tikki said she was here, and I’m so afraid! Is she alive? Is she hurt? Oh, won’t you help me find her?”The receptionist stared at this otherworldly woman whose soul was mixing with tears and spilling out of her ephemeral eyes. She wanted to grab the girl’s mitten-covered hands and tell her stories about faeries and trolls and great green monsters born from gardens. She wanted to ask her if she thought it would hurt terribly when death came to take her, as it most certainly would. Why, perhaps even this very minute! Time is of the essence! The receptionist opened her mouth to speak.“Bryony!”Bryony spun around at the sound of Rikki-Tikki’s voice and grabbed onto his sle
CHAPTER EIGHTEENHe Kills AgainFate grumbled and schemed and plotted. Sending an enthusiastic but second rate robber to do a professional killer’s job certainly didn’t seem to work. Now the gloves were off. It was time to call in the big guns.It is time to check in on our murderer.What the murderer really wanted, of course, was Bryony. He did not know her name. He did not know anything about her. She could be a young doll-maker named Cassandra or she could be young man-turned-woman who was originally named Maurice, although he did not quite think so, and he had a fairly decent eye for that sort of thing.But he also wanted to save her, as one saves dessert for a particularly fine reward for a job well done, a job like passing a grueling test at school or surviving this life, and thus he put Bryony away for later.That did absolutely nothing to dispel the fact he wanted to kill now, and to make it good and satiating. One does not necessarily have to have crème brulee to satiate
CHAPTER NINETEENA SongEddie sat with his back against the cloying floral wallpaper in his apartment. He held Jasmine in his hands, and ran his fingers over her strings as he looked through the window. The moon was extravagant tonight. The stars were full of brilliant luster.His fingers never ceased their movement and with his eyes full of the stars he teased out a song. It was something quite unlike anything else he had written before. It was about death and life and a plant that can heal or kill, respectively. It was a song about making the choice to love when you knew that in the end. . . you would only have . . .. . . empty hands.
CHAPTER TWENTYBe AwareSyrina wasn’t home when Rikki-Tikki came by, but that was all right. He mostly came to speak to Bryony.“’Sup, girl,” he said, and hugged her. She had spent the morning paying bills and making Very Important Phone Calls and decided to reward herself for the hard work. She was frosting cupcakes and was careful not to get the frosted knife in Rikki Tikki’s dark hair when she hugged him back.“Hello, how are things? Would you like a cupcake?”He would like one, very much, and there was an impromptu cupcake party full of sprinkles and raspberry lemonade and good times and laughter. It was an enjoyable occasion, and funny stories were told, and each had the choice opportunity to see each other as the enchanting and mischievous beings that they had been as small children. But then it was time to get serious.“They found another body, Bryony. A young woman with all of her limbs broken, stashed behind some trees in the park. She had some sort of book shoved down h
CHAPTER TWENTY ONEA Circle of StarsBryony didn’t know why, but she was nervous the next time she saw Eddie. Usually she said what needed to be said without any embarrassment whatsoever, because honestly, who had the time to dance around what was really important? If there was something to be said, it should be said. There might not be a tomorrow, or even a later tonight. But something in her stomach flipped around, and when she saw Eddie at the market the next morning, she found herself suddenly not knowing what to say.“I called the radio station,” he said to her, and grinned. “I’m going down on Tuesday to introduce myself and play a couple of songs. Which ones do you think I should choose?”She stared at him and her mouth worked, but nothing seemed to come out. Eddie’s smile faded and he looked at her with some concern.“Bryony? Are you all right?”Suddenly she wasn’t. She was tired, and scared, and the feeling of somebody’s eyes on the back of her neck became more intense la
CHAPTER TWENTY TWODear Girl Who is Already DeadThis is what the murderer thought:He thought, “The girl tends to come out in the early evening, except for Wednesdays. On Wednesdays she comes out in the morning when the mist still covers Matthews Beach. Useful.”He thought, “She always runs alone and then stretches out by the water. Useful.”He thought, “She tends to favor her right ankle, which seems to be a little unstable. Endearing, that. She is friendly to the other joggers on the trail, and doesn’t mind falling into step with them temporarily, and will even chat with them. Useful.”He thought, “Something about her eyes. Something about the soft paleness of her throat. She seems to run above the ground, not necessarily across it. I think she was not created for this earth, but from the stars. And to the stars I will release her.”Briefly he thought that this could be a kindness, but then he pushed the thought away. He is not a man who dwells on being kind.Her time is com
CHAPTER TWENTY THREEA Brief Essay on GiftsThere are few people who are not genuinely delighted when it comes to gifts.Whether you are giving them or receiving them, there is something undeniably magic that skitters up one’s spine and makes one shiver in anticipation. A gift! A surprise! Something unexpected and shiny and sparkly where before there was . . . nothing! Suddenly there is something new to squirrel away and whisper to in the dark, quiet parts of the evening.And when one gives a gift, one is transformed from Billy Next Door to A Generous Benefactor, and when the receiver opens their box, they are full of gratitude and awe for the kindness and insight of the giver, who knew exactly what they wanted.Unless, of course, it is a particularly terrible gift that is delivered in an undeniably ill-chosen fashion. And it is a sorrowful thing to say, but that is exactly what happened with the murderer and his carefully chosen gift for Bryony.The gift itself was a charming th
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUREddie on EdgeEddie didn’t sleep that night.This was for many reasons.One, he was extremely nervous about playing at the station in the morning. Had he chosen the right songs? Would Bryony be moved by the one he had written especially for her, the one teased from Jasmine the Guitar on that fine, moon-magic evening? He had never played it for her before, and he could imagine her eyes growing starry and luminous with her joy, and hoped she would be bouncing eagerly from foot to foot, impatient to hug him, impatient to cover the bottom half of his face with kisses, ready to slip her anxious hand into his as she stood stalwart beside him. There would be interviews and maybe even autographs, and they would network and make small talk and schmooze, and do all of those necessary, yet sometimes delightful, things of making and selling music.This was, quite honestly, enough to make him nervous on its own, but something else had Eddie on edge.It was the feeling of d