Tuesday 2 AM
There was a sweet escape in being dead.
Eponine didn't sleep well these days and while dead it's the best relaxation she can manage to get. But there are downfalls - one of which she found herself experiencing on a regular basis.
She leaned over the porcelain, feeling the coolness radiate off the pristinely cleaned toilet as she emptied the contents of her stomach.
"What the fuck did they do to me?" she asked, voice ragged from the forty five minutes she'd spent puking. "Why did they bother to kill me at all? They know it won't do any good."
"I imagine they were trying to send you a message," Enjolras replied, joining her in the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the tub and handed over a cool rag which Eponine immediately grabbed. She leaned back against the wall, running the rag over her neck and forehead and cursing whatever had happened to make her this way.
"All they did was piss me off… How'd you find me?"
"Grantaire called - said he couldn't locate you with his," Enjolras paused to motion around his head for a moment, "head shit and that he was worried if you were dead he wouldn't get paid so I should probably look for you. They worked you over," he added, looking at the bruises on Eponine's face that were already yellowing and healing up. In a few hours she would look good as new, but he knew she'd feel the effects for days to come.
"I hate vamps. Fucking entitled pricks."
"Did Montparnasse help any?"
Eponine shook her head and held out her hand, allowing Enjolras to help her up from the floor.
"Not enough. But he did confirm that it's more than some random killing. He told me to be careful."
The two exited the bathroom and Enjolras headed straight for the kitchen to grab two mugs and fill them with coffee. When he made his way into the living room, he found Eponine sitting on the floor near the coffee table, his case files spread out over the surface.
"Those are confidential," he said pointedly as he handed over her mug. Eponine grunted in response and flipped through the pictures of the victim - the poor boy's eyes were still open and looked almost as if fear was frozen in them.
It gave her chills.
Silence fell over the two as they both buried their noses in the files, commenting only when needed. But after a bit, Eponine yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Enjolras looked at his wristwatch and let a groan slip from his lips.
"Shit. It's after three." He stood from the couch and disappeared into his bedroom for a short moment only to return with a pillow and blanket in his arms. "You can sleep in the bed. I'll camp out here on the couch."
She wasn't one to argue, especially not when it came to Enjolras's expensive mattress, so she immediately stood up and strolled past him. When she paused at the threshold though, she glanced back to Enjolras who was cleaning off the mess she'd made on the coffee table.
"You can't share a bed with me?" she asked quietly. Maybe it was from being dead twice in such a short period of time, or maybe it was because it was so late, but Eponine felt the hurt building in her chest. "We're supposed to be friends."
Enjolras looked up from the scattered files and managed a weak smile.
"That's why I can't share a bed with you. Goodnight, Eponine."
She stared at him for just a second longer before nodding and entering his room, closing the door tight behind her. When she crawled into the bed, Eponine inhaled the scent of his aftershave and the same floral shampoo she had started buying him back when they actually shared the bed.
And maybe, for a moment, she allowed herself to cry into his 700 thread count pillowcases.
Tuesday 9 AM
Enjolras pushed the sleeping woman aside, muttering under his breath as he tried to wake her. When she finally groaned in response, he pulled the pillow from under her head, leaving Eponine to crash into the mattress.
"What's your deal?" she demanded, although her voice was marred by sleepiness.
"You sleep like the dead."
"I'm dead fifty percent of my life, it only makes sense."
Enjolras rolled his eyes and leaned over to dig through his nightstand, pulling out his badge and gun. "Get up and get ready. Boys found a new body. Same MO as the first one."
Eponine hopped from the bed quickly and moved into the bathroom to ready herself for the day. With a new body on the scene it was bound to be another long day in a string of long weeks.
Tuesday 11 AM
She stood at the edge of the crime scene, an old storage facility on the edge of town and smack dab in the middle of the worst part of the city. Enjolras had disappeared earlier, leaving her to sip on gas station coffee and wait until his superiors had cleared out.
"Hey, Ep!" a familiar voice called before she was enveloped by large arms and lifted straight off the ground.
"Bahorel!" she responded, smile coming to her lips. It had been months since she'd seen him and even longer since she'd enjoyed one of his large hugs. If he wasn't known for his various tattoos or the way he couldn't harm a fly she figured that there was no better way to identify Adrien Bahorel than by the way he warmed up to anyone almost instantly.
And warm was an understatement.
The police officer was a werewolf and he ran hot because of it. He came from a long clan of Irish wolves that had made their mark in the city generations before either of them were born. And although Bahorel had decided to live a normal human life for the sake of his girlfriend and the son they were raising, Eponine still found herself coming to him when things got a bit too supernatural for Enjolras to deal with.
"Enjolras says he's ready for 'ya. Took him long enough. All he did was run his mouth about 'possible leads' to the chief. We both know that's shite."
Eponine laughed, following after Bahorel as he led her to the crime scene. The two caught up briefly, chatting about Bahorel's family until they reached the yellow tape and he held it up for her to pass under. It was when they reached Enjolras that the tension rose and Bahorel bounced on the balls of his feet.
"I'm going to uh… I'll be over there," he muttered, excusing himself from the ex couple.
"Why do you make everything so strange?" Eponine asked, glaring at Enjolras.
"I didn't even say anything!"
Eponine bypassed him and strolled to the body that was covered with a sheet, lying motionless in the middle of the storage crate.
"The body's just like the last one," Enjolras pointed out, watching as Eponine pulled the sheet back to examine the corpse. It was a girl this time - pretty and blonde and definitely young. "She was drained dry. Marks on the inner thigh only."
"This is what? The sixth victim?" she asked, carefully looking over the girl for any details.
"Yes. And in fewer days this time. I think the killer might be trying to send us a message - he knows you're looking for him."
Eponine stood up and dug a cigarette from the pack in her jacket. With it lit between her teeth, she stared down at the girl whose life had been stolen from her so soon.
"We have to catch this guy," Eponine declared solemnly.
Enjolras nodded his agreement and took the cigarette from her lips, taking a drag on it himself before dropping it to the ground.
"Smoking will kill you."
"Don't get my hopes up, Enjolras."
Some time later
It's when she made her way into the building that housed her office did she realize that she didn't have her keys. Eponine couldn't help but curse under her breath, damning her bad luck to hell and back. She kneeled down and removed a pin from her hair and once she had straightened it out, Eponine inserted it into the lock. It took far longer than she would have liked - she really needed to work on her lock picking skills - but after jimmying it the right way the lock turned and Eponine stood up. "Thank God," she muttered, pushing the door open.
In almost slow motion, she saw the blunt object flying for her face and she ducked quickly, falling to the hard wood floor with more force than she intended. In defensive mode, Eponine rolled onto her back only to find herself staring up at Grantaire holding onto his walking stick for dear life.
"What the fuck are you doing!" she yelled, forcing her heart to stop beating uncontrollably.
"Oh thank God it's just you," he muttered, shoulders slumping with relief. He held a hand out for her and helped her to her feet before closing and locking the door behind him.
"Grantaire, what the hell is going on?" she asked, brushing her jacket free of dust.
He sighed and extended his stick, using it to feel as he navigated through the office. "I walked in on a break in. The jackass took advantage of me being blind and he was able to get away," he explained as he opened the door that led back toward their filing area. Papers and folders were thrown everywhere and even a cabinet had been tipped over. "I thought you might be him coming back."
Eponine immediately turned to Grantaire, looking him over for any injury she could see. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you."
Grantaire shook his head. "Just my ego is wounded. And my trust for Ferdinand. The son of a bitch just cowered in the corner. So much for a guard dog."
She stared at the mess and took a deep breath. "Come on, I can't look at this." Eponine lead Grantaire from the storage room, leaving the door cracked open behind them as they exited. When she reached her desk, she leaned over and rested her head against the cool wood.
"Did you have fun with lover boy last night?"
"If you count fun as being killed again and then being reminded how completely fucked up we both are…"
"Sounds like a party."
"On top of it all, there's another body. And clearly this is going far deeper than anyone expected it to." Eponine hadn't expected to get involved in another case so soon after her last but now she was in too deep. And if Montparnasse was right then she had even further to go - a thought that worried her.
"Anything I can do to help?" Grantaire asked as he absently twirled his cane in his hand.
"Actually -"
"Oh come on, Eponine, you know I was just offering to be nice. I didn't meanit."
Eponine tossed a wadded sheet of paper at him that he caught mid air - a trick that still amazed her to this day. "Look, I got some hair from the victim. I want you to try and contact her."
"I am not some county fair psychic who does seances for skeptics, Eponine."
"Can you do it or not, R?"
"No. I see the future, I don't talk to the dead - which by the way, isn't as easy as you seem to think it is."
"How would you know if you don't do it, smartass?" Eponine shot back, pulling out the baggie of hair from her back pocket.
"Because I happen to know someone who does, smartass. Come on, maybe we won't catch her on a busy day."
—
"Why are we at the library?" Eponine asked as she and Grantaire climbed the stairs to the large building.
"Because maybe it's somewhere you'll actually shut up."
After a prompt punch in the arm, the two walked inside and were greeted by the overwhelming smell of old books. "Follow me," he said, allowing Ferdinand to lead him through the corridor and to a winding staircase. They made their way up the stairs and when they reached the second landing, Grantaire turned into narrow hallway.
It wasn't long before they reached the end and Grantaire knocked on a heavy oak door - S. Combeferre carved into the deep wood.
The door is opened by a tall, thin woman, dark skin nearly sparkling in the bright light behind the door.
"Grantaire, how good to see you," she greeted, skipping past formalities to hug the man. "And Ferdinand," she continued as she leaned to pet the dog.
"Simone Combeferre, this is Eponine Jondrette, the detective I work for, remember?"
The other woman stepped back, opening the door wider for them to enter the vast office. Once inside, Combeferre shook Eponine's hand with enthusiasm.
"Grantaire has told me about you. He says you're very good at what you do."
"He's actually said that?"
"Don't ruin my reputation, Simone," Grantaire muttered under his breath.
"What brings you two by?" Combeferre questioned, crossing her arms across her lithe figure.
Eponine looked to Grantaire but when the silence became awkward she took a step forward. "Grantaire tells me that you can help with contacting someone. Someone who isn't exactly… alive." She pulled the baggie of hair from her pocket and held it up for Combeferre to see. The other woman nodded slowly as she began to understand the situation.
Combeferre moved to her desk across the room and sat down in the grand leather chair behind. She turned to her phone and pressed a button - the room filled with a dial tone for a moment before a voice answered on the other end.
"Celeste, please cancel my appointments for the afternoon. Something terribly important has come up."
With the phone disconnected, she leaned forward, steepling her hands in front of her.
"I hope you know that contacting the dead isn't as easy as making a phone call."