Mercy by Rhiannon Paille Read Free Book Online Page B

cab. Rain misted on his pants and he rubbed his arms from the heat. They stung like acid as a yellow cab rolled to the curb and Krishani swung the door open, sliding into the backseat.
    “Five pounds,” the driver said, looking into the rear view mirror. He had a thick middle-eastern accent and sat on the right hand side of the car. Krishani inched to the front and put his hand on the Plexiglas between the front and back seats.
    “Drive south,” he instructed, his voice sounding warbled. The glass spider webbed with cracks and the cabbie’s eyes widened. He pulled the car into traffic. Krishani watched houses go by, rain streaking the window, streetlamps causing reflections in the glass. He was trying to remember exactly where it was, but his mind was a buzz of activity. He couldn’t get the image of the star out of his mind.
    If she was alive he had to find her.
    “Where?” the cabbie asked. After a half hour of weaving through narrow streets and passing dilapidated districts Krishani was tired. The body was quickly losing temperature and rigor mortis was settling into the bones. He couldn’t twist his left foot anymore, and his right hand was stuck to his side. He deeply regretted taking Pierre’s body but he wasn’t about to give up. He crunched his facial muscles together, fighting the stiffness and concentrated hard on the last time he had been to the apartment on Adelaide Avenue, Lewisham. He repeated the info to the cabbie who swung a violent left, leading them past a cemetery, hedge bushes aligned with the sidewalk, black wrought iron gates pulled across the entrance. They were locked. Krishani stifled the urge to vomit as they rolled past it, the cabbie slowing to make a left turn onto Adelaide.
    Krishani forgot that Elwen lived next to a cemetery. He flexed his hands even though they were settling and tapped the glass.
    “Stop,” Krishani choked, fighting with the door handle to get out of the car. The cabbie stopped on the left side of the road and Krishani shoved the door on the right side open, afraid of scooting across the seat.
    Krishani stepped onto a cobblestone road and limped around the back of the cab, the sensation of the exhaust against his shins like a flamethrower. He yelped as he reached the sidewalk and the cab took off, not waiting to see if he was okay. Hedge bushes blocked the cemetery but it wasn’t enough to stave off the incessant need. Cemeteries, churches, they were all on hallowed ground, a place he couldn’t be. The only irony being that Gemma and Kazazar couldn’t step foot in those places either. He clenched his forearm, his neck pulling to the left, wanting to stay there forever. He forced himself across the sidewalk at an uneven gait until he reached the first building. It was red brick and black railing and flimsy wooden steps leading to a wide porch. He looked at the array of doorbells, each of them with letters beside them and rang them all. There was a buzz and a click, and Krishani wedged the door open. He moved up the freshly painted wooden staircase, hauling his heavy body around the bend, his knees groaning with every step.
    He reached the door on the second floor, apartment B. Unable to stop the stiffness spreading through his limbs he shoved himself into the door in a full body check, rattling the thick oak. He slid onto his back, paralysis reaching his knees and elbows. His hands were clenched in claws, fingers attempting to make fists. His head hit the floor as the door opened. He stared at the baseboards, white walls, tanned floorboards.
    “Find me,” he croaked before exploding out of the body, fleeing through the open window at the bottom of the first flight of stairs.
    O O O
    Elwen hit the doorframe—fear, anger, and disbelief coiling his muscles into tight bunches. His stomach dropped, the black void escaping the body in a crescendo of silk, and disappearing into the night. He crouched beside the old man and lifted his arm, seeing the hospital bracelet