I spotted the bathroom and headed toward it, bumping the door open with my hip. The sink had a wooden board running over it where a mini soap dispenser rested. There was enough room for me to place my drink and food down while I washed my hands.
The mirror above the sink sat at an angle, its metal frame crooked. But it gave me what I needed. A chance to make out my newly borrowed body and identify the victim.
The face staring back at me looked to be in its early forties. I had a decent tan and wrinkles around the dark brown eyes that could have come from lots of time in the sun as well as age. A few rogue bands of gray streaked my finger-length dark hair. More salt than pepper made up the stubble lining my new face’s solid jawline.
There were no visible signs of what could have killed me. Both the blessing and the curse of my situation. Any body I inhabited was restored to its state prior to death by a higher power, and I healed a good bit faster than the average vanilla mortal. It wasn’t comic book crazy, but if something didn’t kill me outright, there was a good chance I’d bounce back to one hundred percent given enough time.
I took in my clothing next. The kind of dark blue overalls that could be found on mechanics and other industrial laborers. A white oval had been stitched just above the left breast pocket and a name had been embroidered into it in red thread:Curt.
At least now I had the start of his identity and maybe a guess at what kind of work Curt might have been in. None of which got me any closer to what sort of monster killed him and, more importantly, why?
I finished my business and grabbed up my food, leaving the shop and hitting the streets in the direction of the church. A few minutes passed before the inevitable hunger pangs of taking on a new body hit me. It’s a coin toss between what growled louder, me or my stomach.
I plunged a hand into the paper bag, snatching a doughnut and scarfing it down. The frosting had caked up in a few places, and some of the sprinkles had softened like they’d been out for a while, but it was the best damned thing in the world to me. The coffee hadn’t cooled quite enough for me to take a sip without burning myself. I chanced it anyhow, giving the lip of the cup a quick blow before tipping it back. The brew tasted smoother than I would have guessed for strip mall coffee, not carrying much of a bitter bite.
The rest of the walk went by in a blissful blur as I reached the church just as Jake had described. The place looked like what anyone would expect of a church just outside a strip mall. It could have been a small barn at one point that had been converted and fixed with a steeple at the front. The whole of the building was painted a shade of white found on classic picket fences. An unassuming place not worth remembering.
I leaned against one of the brown double doors and pushed my way in to find the building unoccupied. Not a surprise. Every time I entered a church on a case, it’d be remarkably empty save for one person.
I let the door shut behind me as I made my way over the burgundy carpet and by the old worn pews. The inside had been painted a softer, muted white than the outside. “Hello?”
“Vincent.”
I jumped a foot away from the source of the voice and almost dropped my coffee. “Christ, don’t do that!”
The man who’d spoken had the sort of looks where you weren’t sure if he was prettily handsome, or handsomely pretty. Fair-skinned, lean build, and tousled golden locks that fell to his chin and framed his face well. His eyes were a deep and cold blue like the waters just below the surface of a frozen lake. He wore a pair of black glasses that only added to the nerd chic look all made worse by the khakis and pale blue dress shirt he’d tucked into his pants.
His lips pulled into a thin frown as he looked me over. “Please don’t say that name in vain here, Vincent.”
I grimaced when he said my name. Not the one of the man whose body I was occupying, but the only name I’d had to cling to when I started this gig. The name I’d given myself, Vincent Graves. Doing this job, my soul bouncing from body to body, all came with a cost. I’d accrued so many borrowed memories and skills from the people I’d been in that I’d lost track of my original ones, including my name.
I’d once asked the blondie in front of me for his own. He thought it funny to take a look around the church we’d been in then and name himself that.
“I’ll stop that when you stop the Batman act, Church.” I arched a brow and shrugged. “So, where am I this time?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “A small town outside of the counties that make up what’s known as Northern Virginia. Somewhere you won’t likely be back again any time soon.” Church held out a hand expectantly.
I sighed. It was as good as I was going to get on info. He wasn’t a chatty guy.
“I’m chatty enough when I need to be.”
I squinted. He also had the unnerving habit of being able to guess my thoughts.
He smiled, saying nothing. The look could have easily been the sort of smug satisfaction that’d get a guy punched in the nose.
I set the drink and paper bag down, rolling up the sleeve of my left arm as I presented it to him. “Don’t suppose you’ll be nicer with the timeline this time around?” I flashed him a lopsided grin. “I brought you coffee and a doughnut.”
He rolled his eyes as he clamped onto my forearm with both hands. “Coffee you’ve already sipped and a doughnut you bought for yourself? Besides, I’m trying to watch my figure and sugar is bad for you.”
I opened my mouth to say something brilliantly witty when searing pain engulfed my arm. It felt like the tissue had been pressed to a hot grill and held there for a handful of seconds. When I pulled away from his grip, a big black number 1 sat emblazoned into the center of my forearm. The surrounding area had turned a bright red and still burned.
One hour. That was how long I had to solve the case of what monster killed Curt and how long my soul could occupy his body. If I failed, justice wouldn’t be done for Curt and a monster would still be roaming the world. I’d be shuffled along to the next body and case having to live with that. And there was always the chance the freak behind this got the upper hand and killed me.
At the end of the day, I can die just like anyone else.
I shook my head clear of that thought and eyed Church. “What gives with the short deadline?”
His face remained perfectly impassive, but a light filled his eyes like he was refraining from smiling. “You won’t need it.”
