Mortal Wounds

Chapter Four

Invidian's POV

My curiosity is an all-consuming shadow which falls over me like a storm cloud. In my dream, her whiskey brown eyes were filled with life when she hugged me. Henley Price. A question mark. A mystery. I'm done begging my mind for events I cannot piece together. I'm tired of questioning who she is to me because I still cannot remember. Nonetheless, I know I will uncover more truth behind the doors of BBB news station than standing alone in front of its doors. I tuck the newspaper into my pocket and walk to the receptionist. Like the hospital, everything around here is cold, sterile, and fully grown, suit-wearing adults flood the station.

"Hello, kid, can I help you?"

Alison Gosling is the name of the reporter who wrote about Henley's death.

"I'm curious about what it takes to get a job here. Taking any interns?"

"Alright. Well, this place doesn't offer—"

A janitor in his fifties with a fake tan walks into the male bathroom.

"—Are you currently doing a journalism degree?"

"Yes. Actually, I need to use the restroom."

She sighs as though tempted to kick me out.

"Fine."

The janitor is mopping the floor when I walk in. I check the stalls and when I'm sure we're alone, I grabbed his face. My vision shakes, black beginning to spot over my line of vision. Sounds dull into white noise as I push into his mind. I then am met with black.

"What is going on?!" His thoughts shrieks in his head.

Now I see Virgil's passed out body from the janitor's perspective. I drag Virgil's body into one of the stalls, fingers twitching awkwardly as I struggle to control this body. I lock his body in the stall with the janitor's keys then slide it under the door. There is an overwhelming urge to jump back into Virgil's body I try to shake off.

"What is happening?! What is going on?! Why can't I control my body?!" his thoughts scream and it sounds like sirens in my head- oh, technically his head.

"No one can hear you—" I grumble. He's going to be annoying to possess, isn't he?

"Oh God, what is happening?"

"Sorry, God's not able to pick up the phone at the moment."

"Is this karma for going off my vegan diet?"

"What—?"

"Oh God, I was peer pressured into eating that slice of bacon. Please forgive me."

"You will be forgiven if you lead me to Alison Gosling's office."

"Oh, ok. While you are here, I would like to repent for a few of my sins."

"That's not necessary."

Flash of his memories shoots through his mind, containing a concerning number of suggestive images of animals. I leave the bathroom hating my life to an extra degree.

Everyone is engulfed in work as find Alison's office. The blinds on the window behind Alison's desk are drawn, light spotlighting her laptop. I open her laptop, relieved Alison left herself logged into her email account. I click on recent emails. I type in the dates around the day my news article was released.

The CEO of this company sent her an email of notes about what she can say about the case:

· Don't mention autopsy records.

· Don't mention anything important about the male. Focus all attention on her. Say that they were lovers and he died before she did.

· Emphasize the effect of drugs on her mental state.

· Don't mention who she was dating at the time. Do not use any pictures during her time in college.

· Say she set the apartment on fire to cover up the murder of her boyfriend. Do not screw this up.

What an oddly specific list. If it's their job to cover news stories, why are they intentionally leaving out details? Censorship is alive and thriving here.

"It's a news firm. Manipulating facts is their job. It's all sensationalised bullshit that they can profit off," the janitor deadpans.

"And people pay to hear that?"

"They think it's real. Also, aliens are totally real. So were giant humans. They are hiding the truth from us. Are you an alien? Can you abduct me?"

"No."

I type in the CEO's name in the search bar. This is the only email he sent Alison.

I find the CEO's office on the top floor where he sits with a phone to his ear. The room is quite righteous for a man who profited off manipulating the truth behind the death of two people. There is a Mother Mary painting, prayers and Jesus fish sticker on the walls. I get an odd feeling, similar from the one I get around Davian. An odd aura like icy wind surrounds him as though he could freeze a person to death with a single touch. This guy isn't human. I lock the door behind me. Time for the civilised conversation.

"s**t, this ain't gonna end well, is it?" the janitor asks, "Well, I guess it's about time I move towns anyway."

He is going to have to. Said man arches a brow at me and he turns out to be a bulky man with a disproportionately small head as if he's recently scoffed down a cocktail of steroids.

"Sorry Kellin, I'll have to call you back," he mutters before hanging up the phone, "We've talked about this, Jared. Stop trying to convince me to run a story about UFO sightings and the marginalization of the furry community. It's not happening."

"I have some questions about a story printed two years ago. I'm aware you wanted to story to be manipulated to leave out some facts. You emailed Alison Gosling to tell her that she had to say that Henley murdered her boyfriend. You sent her a whole guideline of what she can say."

"Alison is a guy."

"Yeah, you really shouldn't assume anyone's gender, you privileged fuck."

Note to self, don't assume anyone's gender.

"Uh—Well, that's aside from the point. I want to know what was left out of that story. You turned a teenage girl into a killer."

"Is this another one of your crazy conspiracy theories? You can't throw accusations like that."

"I looked into Alison's account. I saw the email."

He sits up straighter with an unreadable expression.

"What do you want? A raise?"

"I want to know what you left out."

"You're fired. Get out."

His finger traces the security button under his desk. Before he presses it, I grab the back of his head and slam his face against his table. He shouts out in pain. I rip him back up from the table and sock in him in the face. His body is thrown out of his chair, knocking it over with him. Then he vanishes. I glance around in confusion. I barely move out of the way when I see movement out of the corner of my eye.

Out of nowhere, the CEO swings a kukri knife at me, something that could have easily beheaded me if I didn't dodge to the side. The blade slices the Mother Mary picture in half instead. Shameful.

He grunts in a mix of disgust and frustration.

"I don't have to tell you s**t, demon. I'm warning you to get out of my office and never come back here again. In fact, go back to Hell. Or else," the CEO snarls at me.

I observe as his eyes flash white. I catch onto the fact he is a Reaper. They aren't allowed to cause death but rather hold a soul's hand to guide them over to the other side. It should sound innocent enough. Only that's not reality. Most of these creatures like to turn a profit by taking up mercenary jobs. Without compensation, they'd leave them to rot in the Veil. This one seems to be one of those corrupt ones.

"Or you can tell me what I want to know."

He flashes me a sharp-toothed smirk before coming at me with a flurry of slashes. I back away behind his desk to put some space between us.

"That b***h committed suicide after killing her pathetic boyfriend. There was nothing more to that," he barks at me, swinging the weapon at me again.

I duck underneath it and drive my fist into his sternum. Instead of it hurting him, it hurts me. Damn him and his hard muscles. He takes the opportunity to grip my arm and kick me in the stomach. I yelp as the pain makes me want to vomit. Without missing a beat, he punches me in the face and throws me against the wall. A metallic taste coaxes my mouth. He then comes after me with the knife again, ready to behead me like the madman he is. Or maybe Vanitas' Marie Antoinette doll was meant to foreshadow my demise.

I ponder the possibility only for a few seconds before he grips my throat, trying to keep me still. He then begins to swing the knife at me. I catch his wrist, squeezing tightly to see if he will let go. He grits his teeth, applying pressure to my throat.

"Before I decimate your soul, tell me why you are even interested in this story."

I offer him an innocent smile before I knee him in the balls. What? I'm a demon. I cheat. I call it karma. He gasps out loud, tears burning his already bloodshot eyes as he tries to inhale all the air in the room. I get on top of him. I grab both sides of his face.

"We could have done this the easy way if you'd have told me. I'm going to have fun finding out what you're hiding."

He opens his mouth to shout at me but before he can, I push into his mind. His eyes bulge. His irises turn black, mouth open in a silent scream. I plunge into his memories. My vision becomes a blank before witnessing a rapidly moving kaleidoscope of his memories. Piercing pain cuts throbs in my head. I need to what I need fast. I create a clear image of Henley in my head, trying to focus on what memories include her. The kaleidoscope slows, capturing me in one of his memories.

The sight instantly makes me want to throw up. Henley's corpse lays bare on a metal table, chest and stomach cut open for an autopsy. I stare in shock. I never saw a corpse before, only undead beings. Ascanius was always adamant about me being out of the room when collecting a soul. I can see why.

I can still remember her arms wrapping around me in my dream. My head aches as I take in her features. There is something familiar about her empty eyes, her expressionless face even though all is disfigured. I force myself to look away before I can be sick. I look down, noticing that I've inhabited the CEO's body in his memory.

"What else can you tell us?" commands a deep voice.

I look up at who's talking. Other than me, there are four men in the room. Another dressed in a standard chief of police uniform. Another is a man dressed in a surgeon's outfit, giving both the men an odd look. The emblem on his scrubs reveals I am in the morgue section of St. Valentine's hospital.

The last man in the room is oddly familiar. Even in this memory, his scent of cologne wafts from his skin. His golden hair is neatly gelled back above cold, apathetic eyes of steel. His suit is tailored to his muscular frame that is easily at a 6'4 height, an inch or so taller than I am.

"She lived in this town for her whole life. She didn't have anything wrong with her, aside for her mental health. There is a record of her being admitted to hospital after she attempted suicide. They prescribed her a few pills to deal with depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia. Her body was severely burned in the fire. It looks like she had overdosed on an unidentified substance. We concluded that her time of death was around 6:15 am on the 12th of August," informs the medical examiner.

I collect myself, trying to focus on contradictions in their conversation. I realise the newspaper article said Henley died at 2:15 pm, not 6:15 am. It doesn't mention her being poisoned either.

"And what about this unidentified body?" The officer gestures to another body lying on the table beside her. I try to walk to it but I can't manage to move. I can only see that it is a corpse in shambles, burnt severely with a bludgeoned chest.

"There were fractures in its skull, indicating that it was smashed open. Not only that, its stomach was guttered. Aside from that, the fire made the body far too unrecognisable to be identified. We concluded that it died at 2:30 pm."

Those times of death doesn't match up with the article's time of deaths. How could she have started the fire if she died before it happened? Does logic operate differently in this world?

"Thank you, doctor," the blond nods before turning to the CEO, "I want you to tell your subordinates to run a story saying that the unidentified body was her boyfriend. Under the influence of drugs, she killed him. She then realised what she did. Wrecked with guilt, she slit her wrists and set fire to her apartment. Inhalation of the smoke and blood loss killed her."

So, they had no idea who this extra body was. They made up the fact it was her boyfriend.

"Fund two million to my account and I won't say a goddamn word," the CEO responds.

"Three million and I'm fine with this," the hospital executive waves him off as though he's heard it for the hundredth time.

The BBB CEO snaps give him a bitter look, annoyed that he is trying to outdo him. The hospital executive offers a s**t-eating grin. The officer nods with an unreadable expression. The doctor is the only one who seems confused by all this.

"She doesn't have slits on her wrists though—" The blond man grabs the scalpel off the operation table and slits the corpse's wrists before turning to him. The surgeon's eyes widen. There is no emotion in the blonde's face, no pause, nothing that indicated guilt. "This- this is unethical. I can't go along with this—" the surgeon's voice trails off, eyeing the scalpel that the blonde plays with.

"You have a three-year-old daughter in preschool," the surgeon stiffens as the blond man says this, "she seems like a bright kid. I can imagine that she has her entire life ahead of her. You probably have her whole life planned out for her. It would suck if it was cut short, don't you agree with me?"

The chief of police smirks at him. The surgeon pales several shades.

"Are you seriously threatening me to keep my mouth shut?"

"I'm encouraging you," the blonde corrects him with an apathetic expression.

The doctor scans the rest of the men in the room, his eyes pleading for some sort of assistance. The hospital executive narrows his eyes.

"Wait for the mortician. You will get a raise so long as you keep your mouth shut," the executive states.

The doctor doesn't say anything, appearing to be in shock.

The BBB CEO turns to the blonde businessman, "I'm guessing you have some personal connection with this girl you're keeping under wraps."

The man doesn't respond. The surgeon finally gets sick of being here and storms out of the room.

The sound of the door slamming pulls me out of the CEO's memories. I draw in a deep breath, vision going black before restoring itself. I find myself back in the janitor's body in the CEO's office. Blood rushes to my temples as I sit up.

I hear coughing close to me. The CEO seems to be gaining consciousness, and by that, I mean he's foaming at the mouth, body twitching uncontrollably. I wipe blood that dribbles from my nose with the back of my sleeve and turn to him. Invading someone's mind is never easy. It's incredibly taxing on both parties. It leaves a long-lasting scarring effect on the victim if it's unexpected. He turns and notices me with wide eyes, shaken by the way I messed with his head.

"Who the f**k was those people in that memory?" I demand, moving towards him.

"Leave me alone, demon! You got what you wanted!" he shouts, dragging himself back away from me.

I force him to his feet by his hair. He grunts in pain as strands rip from his scalp, drawing blood. He tries to elbow me in the face. I block and reward him by kneeing his ribs. He inhales sharply, collapsing onto the ground. Droplets stain his $500 dishevelled business suit. The table tumbles over when I throw him into it.

"Fine. Cassiel Evanderous, the Mayor of GoldVine; the CEO of St Valentine's hospital, Tarren Meldrum; and Gomorrah's Chief of Police, Raguel Whedon. The doctor in that memory is dead. Suicide, I think."

I don't know any of those people.

"Why were they desperate to change the facts about Henley's death? Did they kill her?"

He scrambles to his feet, defensively backing away.

"Honest to God, I have no idea. I admit it looks suspicious because they went out of their way to push a false narrative about what happened. But you'll have to get the answers from them."

"And the corpse in that room. Who was that?"

"I don't know. I did what I was told."

I'm tempted to dig out everything he knows about them, but my powers are almost at my limit. I grab him by the front of his shirt and slam his head against the desk. When I'm sure he's out cold, I dig his phone and wallet out of his pocket. I figure it will be of use to me later.

I stalk back to the bathroom, feeling haggard about my situation. To my luck, the bathroom is empty, aside for Virgil's body. I open the door to the cubicle I hid him in. I'm stunned when I see blood seeping through his shirt. What the hell? Did someone come in here, stab him then left? People are strange.

I lift his shirt, grimacing at the lesions that form on his stomach. I stare in surprise when other parts of his torso split open as if something is slowly eating away at his flesh. That is definitely out of the realm of normal. In terms of possessing people anyway. I don't think anything else that has happened can be described as normal.

I touch him and my soul jumps back into his body.

Next minute I snap my eyes open, finding myself once again in Virgil's body. I instantly find myself in immense pain that makes me roll around and curse. Virgil's body stings and burns where the lesions have formed.

Only after five minutes, the pain fades. I manage to sit up and assess the damage. Instead of splitting any further, his body is reversing the damage.

There is a buzz in my pocket. I take out my phone.

'I forgot to mention that your body will fall apart if your soul abandons it for too long. And if your body dies, it's back to Purgatory.

From your host, with love.'

What a clever little trick to get me to lose this deal. I'm dreading finding out what other rules this stranger has set out for me. I pocket the phone with a loud sigh before my mind trails back to BBB CEO's memory. If I was the other body in that room, it would mean I knew Henley in some sort of way. Her body was found in her apartment, but I do not remember her. She feels familiar, like sunlight, but I can't remember its warmth on my skin. I just remember the concept.

I am sure it was her in my dream today, but I can't help but wonder what I am missing. How much did I know about her? What bound us together? Would have I given my life to protect her? How much did she know about me? My head violently aches. If I was close to her, am I meant to be livid right now? Sad? Confused? I don't how I am meant to react to this and it makes me shake with frustration. I'm beginning to realise I do not know how much I lost.