Niteblade – March 2009

The man’s gaze met hers again, but this time his eyes widened and he looked away. She took a threatening step toward the murderer. Out of the corner of her eye, Melanie thought she saw a shadow move across the wall, a sinuous, serpentine shape, but when she glanced over, it was gone, and she was angrier than ever.

The blood drained from the man’s face. He said, “I’m sorry,” then put the knife to his neck, glanced at it in shock and cried out as he slowly and methodically cut his throat from ear to ear. Blood sprayed the room.

Melanie’s anger evaporated and she put both hands to her mouth. “Oh… oh…” she heard herself saying. Then, mercifully, she passed out.

~*~

Walter was the first person she saw. His face loomed over hers, as big and white as the moon. The light behind his head turned his white hair into a strange blaze of colors. He was talking to her, but his voice was distant and filled with echoes. “I think I’m hallucinating,” she said. And at the sound of her voice, Walter’s expression changed to one of tearful relief so intense that it made Melanie cry in sympathy.

He held her tight, and rocked her back and forth, saying, “I thought I’d lost you,” over and over again. He didn’t stop even when the police came into the apartment, moving from room to room with their guns drawn, acting as though the dead man in her living room might have a secret accomplice. Finally, he let her go when the paramedics almost dragged him away. Melanie watched this happening from her distant and warm place, and wondered if Walter would get in trouble if he fought with the ambulance guys. A paramedic drifted into her field of view, waving a needle around. From far away, he said, “This will help you relax.”

Funny, she felt pretty relaxed.

~*~

When she came to again, she was in the hospital and Walter sat by her bed. “Hey,” he said when she stirred.

“That guy killed Jerrod. Did I tell the cops that?”

Walter frowned. “You didn’t need to. They found a lot of blood on that knife, and not all of it was the killer’s.”

“Oh.”

Walter shook his head. “They said he didn’t have a history of psychological problems or violence. He’d been on the streets for years, though.”

Melanie started to cry. “Shit.”

“You okay?”

Melanie wiped her face, “I yelled at him, Wally. He was outside the diner where Jerrod dumped me, and he stole my phone, and I yelled at him. I was so mad about Jerrod humiliating me. I wasn’t rational.”

Walter narrowed his eyes. “Did you say, ‘Go kill my ex-boyfriend for me?’”

“No.”

“Then stop feeling guilty.”

Melanie closed her eyes. “I have this irrational fear that my day hasn’t hit bottom yet. Every time I think it has, it gets worse.”

“Well…it’s one a.m.,” said Walter, glancing at his watch. “Day ended an hour ago.”

“So are you supposed to be here? Isn’t it past visiting hours?”

“I told them I was your boyfriend.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Just so they’d let me stay,” He assured her.

Melanie gave him a sad smile. “I know. You’d rather die than admit you like me. Message received.”

Walter grinned, “You’re the queen. One may love the queen, but one does not fall in love with the queen. Only a blackguard would be so presumptuous.”

Melanie could tell by his grin that he thought he was being funny, but his words just made her feel unsettled.

So she didn’t bother to respond, just shut her eyes and let herself begin to drift. Walter slept in the uncomfortable wooden chair next to her bed, his hand never leaving hers.

Ty Franck and Emily Mah have been cowriters for half a decade. On his own, Ty writes science fiction and fantasy short stories and role playing games. Emily writes young adult speculative fiction and LDS fiction. They live with their respective spouses and pets in New Mexico.

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