Chapter 2

The day went on as I practiced my craft, took my lunch, and then returned to the cold room I had grown accustomed to. Mrs. Scott required very little work after embalming. I envisioned her nodding off in her sleep after a long day of shopping and getting her nails done, as evidenced by the fresh coat of ruby-red nail polish on her fingers and toes. 

I spent my time styling her hair how I had seen her wear it and added the little embellishments I knew she would have liked. It would be a few days before her burial, and as I finished, I placed the thin white sheet over her body before rolling her back into the morgue. 

"You're as beautiful as the endless night."

I spun around quickly. That voice was the same as before. Was I hallucinating again? I had to be. This wasn't the first time I heard the voices of people who were not there, and Dr. Hagger told me that stress might lead to another episode. I shook my head and went into my small office, rummaging through my bag until I found a small bottle of pills. This would make the voices go away, I told myself. I popped a few and swallowed hard. I looked at the clock just as the hands met at 5:27 pm. The mourners would soon arrive, and I was to herald our newest arrival's family until Darcy or Mr. Babineau could take over. 

I watched as the mourners entered the front parlor—people of all shapes and sizes, young and old, all dressed in black. Mr Babineau set her up beautifully in the casket, decorating the altar around her with flowers and plants from mourners, sending their sorrow for life cut short. We had taken extra precautions due to the nature of her death to keep the media out. I watched as her family grew closer to her body, the way her mother gasped, seeing her daughter's corpse, looking somewhat alive. Then came the tears. That was my cue to step out.

As I backed out of the parlor, my body met with another. Amends left my mouth when I felt the stranger touch my arm. Moving out of the way, I allowed the mourner to pass; however, they did not move. Standing before me was one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen when I looked up. The sequence of events that followed that glance would easily evoke a blush as I mentally undressed her. The darkness of her skin shone under the fluorescent light, giving it a golden hue.

 Her soft golden-brown eyes watched me as if she fed off the attention; like she almost needed it. When she finally spoke, her voice hummed like it was only meant for my ears.

"My Brother Enkel Wrirs was brought here earlier today. I'm here to meet with the funeral director to discuss his burial", her soft cajun voice hummed. 

Something deep within me almost growled.

"I am… I can… Let me show you…", my voice betrayed me.

But she just smiled, took my arm, and walked me towards the door marked "office." Yet again, my nerves got the better of me. 

Damn it.

When we found our way inside, I did my best to be professional, reviewing pricing and the services that were included. She nodded and looked over the brochure we kept, but she stared deep into me every time I looked up. Like she could see my soul, it made me shudder in a very good way. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my face despite this office being colder than normal when Mr. Babineau cleared his throat at the door. 

"Hello, Miss Wrirs. I am glad you could make it down this evening. I hope Wren has been helpful?" he asked in a smooth voice. 

You forgot to give her your name…didn't you?

She smiled slightly, her eyes never leaving mine. 

"I'll take over from here, Wren. Why don't you go help Darcy usher out the Arturo service?" he smiled at me. 

I know he didn't have a mean-spirited bone in his body, but I could almost sucker-punch him at that moment. Though my body moved, I felt her eyes on me as the office doors closed behind me. I wandered around helping mourners out the side entrance to avoid the camera crews and crowd that had gathered to hold a candlelight vigil for the beloved woman. I kept a close eye on the door to the office, hoping for another glance at the beautiful creature that now plagued my thoughts.

When Mr. Babineau came around the corner from the morgue, my face melted into a frown. He was alone, a sign that she was gone. He smiled, letting on that I had done an excellent job and that we had made a sale. The rest of the evening was spent cleaning and gathering the supplies for tomorrow's burial. 

Yet all I could think of were those golden-brown eyes looking at me, making me shudder once more.