Just to be clear; crows didn't bother me. I liked them. Thought they were cool. But most people considered them omens of evil or some shit like that. I blame it on horror movies. They always have crows cawing.
This particular crow, however, was making me rethink my stance on them. It was definitely creepy. I followed the bird further and further into the city of the dead. It truly was a city, just smaller than those for the living. Little houses and little streets. Bodies don't need a lot of room. They don't movearound. Not unless you try to bury them underground. Then, they come back up. But that's a local problem, not a general rule.
The bird came to rest at last on the hand of a beautiful woman. She was carved from stone, her stare locked on the sky as if she dreamed of being there, and her face was very familiar.
“Oh, fuck me.” My hand went to my throat.
“Salina?” Cyrus took my free hand while the other two drew in closer, one on either side of us.
I couldn't look away from that face. The artist must have worked from a painting—a very good painting. Because I didn't remember posing for this statue. I didn't even know I was buried in New Orleans.
“Who's Agnes Marteau?” Lex asked.
“She is,” Jake said.
His simple words, full of obvious conviction, finally did the trick and drew my attention away from the statue and to Jake.
He met my stare, made a soft sound that went with his shrug, and then went back to scanning the area.
“That's you?” Cyrus looked from me to the statue.
“Yes,” I whispered. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes. Itwasme. Once.” I looked behind the statue at the crypt she stood before. It was the Marteau family crypt, but I was the first entombed in it and the only statue standing guard at its entrance. “Edouard. Oh, Eddie.” I went up the steps and laid my hand on the carving of my husband's name—Edouard Justinus Marteau. His name was beside mine. And ours were theonly names on the crypt doors. Then I read the words above our names, “Death has parted us. Love will reunite us.” A chill ran down my spine. If I hadn't known that Mr. Average was Silas, I'd think he was Eddie. And I might even feel bad for shooing him away. I guess not all my lovers had been bastards. Just the ones I had loved in return.
My musings were cut short by flowers.
“What the fuck?” I backed up, my stare locked on the fresh arrangement set on the stoop of the crypt.
The crow cawed once more, its job complete, and flew away.
I glanced at the dark stain of it against the pale sky, then back at the flowers. Wide eyes locked on the fluffy blooms, horror rolled through me. I'd seen them before.
“What is it?” Cyrus took my hand again.
Jake growled.
“Salina?” Lex asked.
“The flowers,” Jake said, surprising me again.
You never think of brawlers as being smart. But my quiet brawler was proving to be a brainiac. Brightest of the litter.
“What about them?” Cyrus asked.
“Look at the names, Cyrus.” Lex motioned at the crypt. “This isn't a family crypt. It's got two bodies in it. Just two. No children. No grandchildren. So, who the fuck is bringing flowers to two people who died over a hundred years ago?”
“You never had children?” Cyrus asked me.
I shook my head as I turned to search the cemetery. Not that I could see much. We were down one of those miniature streets and other crypts rose around us to block the view of others. But I thought I saw movement between the homes of the dead. No. I was freaked out, that's all. I had to pull myself together. I had to—
Cyrus grabbed my upper arm and shook me. “Salina!”
“What?” I snarled.
“Whobrought you flowers?”
“I don't know! That's the fucking point, Cy!” I waved at the terrifying blooms. “I didn't even know I was buried here. It's creepy enough that a body I used to live in is just a bunch of bones in a box. Right there. But the only one who could have buried me is in a box beside me. He's also the only one who would have mourned Agnes Marteau.”
“You didn't have any friends?” Lex asked.
