Tainted: Book Three - Enslaved

15. Death Cry

Rome

Pepper Crane's office was near Midtown, so we hopped on the subway again. Following Kasparian's directions, we walked a block to an older building, rode the elevator to the thirty-third floor, and went down a beige carpeted hallway until we reached his office. I silently read the neat block letters painted on the stippled glass window.

PEPPER CRANE

SERVING SINCE 1784

Following Kerry into the office, I looked around curiously. Dominating the room was an old-fashioned desk with pigeon holes and a roll top. Behind it, in an equally old-fashioned wooden chair, sat a transparent figure dressed in perfect Colonial attire, from waistcoat and breeches right down to the powdered wig.

He certainly looks like he's been around since 1784.

"Good morning," the ghost said in a cultured voice, rising to greet us with the serious mien of a lawyer. "May I help you?"

Kerry motioned me forward and I took the hint.

"Good morning," I said. "A friend of mine was murdered about a year ago. The Council of Wardens conducted an investigation, tried two men, and found them guilty. One was sentenced to life in the Box and the other was executed. I assumed justice had been done, but now I'm not so sure."

Keen interest lit the ghost's gray eyes and his stoic face became animated.

"Oh! Nephilim!" He grinned broadly. "And what is your friend's name?"

"Zoe Becerra."

"I will need something of hers to find her karmic signature."

"Oh. Um." I scrubbed one hand through my hair, angry at myself for not realizing that. "I don't have anything. Sorry. I didn't mean to waste your time--"

"A memory will work." Crane shrugged and held out one hand. "I can use anything, but one with her face would help the most to confirm I've found the correct person. Just place your hand in mine when you have the memory at the forefront of your mind."

"Will he lose that memory permanent?" Mira thought to ask.

"Yes, so be cautious, young warrior."

With a nod, I quickly ran through my options. Part of me wanted to surrender to memory of when I had to kill her, but the logical side of me know that would be dumb. If I didn't remember doing it, I wouldn't believe anyone who told me otherwise.

In the end, I picked a memory of her laughing at one of Spin's stupid pranks shortly after she joined our team. There were lots of those in the early days, so it was no sacrifice and would cause no issues later.

Touching my fingers to Crane's palm, I felt I sharp sting as he claimed the  memory, then the ghost hustled to a floor-length mirror across from his desk and opened it like a door to reveal a yawning blackness within.

Muttering softly, it sounded like he was arguing with someone. After a few seconds, he reached one hand into the dark abyss and pulled out a small square of pure white paper. It was nearly as transparent as he was, but emitted an almost blinding glow.

"My favorite clients have all been nephilim." The ghost turned back to face us. "Such intriguing investigations. Much more interesting than finding an ancient curmudgeon to ask him where he left the deed to the house."

Crane pinched the postage stamp-sized scrap between his thumb and forefinger, a look of intense concentration on his face. He was silent as his eyes wobbled from side to side as if he were reading something only he could see. The longer he held it, the less light it produced until, at last, it was as dull as any piece of paper.