Joey opened his eyes, trying to untangle himself from the ridiculous mess of blankets and other assorted things he was wrapped in. Jesus, was that a dish towel? What time was it? It felt like he'd been asleep for ages. He almost missed being dead.
When he finally managed to sit up, he spotted a note on the nightstand, set on top of his clothes, now dry and neatly folded. Well, wasn't that a quaint little thing. And she'd said letters were...
'I would've texted you, but you don't have a phone.'
Ah.
'Anyway, I got you some things. Use them. -Rosa.'
There was a key taped to the bottom of the note, and he tugged it off, smiling. Okay, Red. I see how it is.
He walked to the bathroom to see a small bag of toiletries set out for him, alongside another note.
'Shave.'
As if realizing something, he looked into the mirror, rubbing the two-day-old stubble on his chin thoughtfully. He'd forgotten that was a thing. It made a little more sense why he'd been pegged as homeless earlier.
After cleaning up, he got dressed, silently mulling over the fact that his shirt hadn't been ironed. Not that he'd expected Red to own one in the first place, but a guy with one outfit could still try to keep a bit of decency.
With that aside, he was done mucking around. He was going to find Madeline and give her a piece of his mind. There had been too much death. Too many preventable losses. All because one crazy broad wanted to end her existence. Not that he really had any idea how to stop her, but at the very least, he could track her down. And he had a pretty good idea as to where she was.
"Where the hell did you get this?" the man growled, hanging the key in Rosa's face. Detective Sam Durkin. He'd made a bit of an alliance with her and Joey, sending her cases once in a while. It made her enough to pay the bills, though Joey would never cease to complain about it. Durkin was usually cool-headed. Indifferent. He definitely wasn't now. What was with this case? First all the stuff with Joey, and now this?
"Uh... I found it in the laundry room?" That wasn't a lie. She did technically find it there.
Durkin shook his head, taking an extra-long puff on his cigarette. "Hell. You know I can arrest you for this."
"I don't really know what it is," she admitted. She'd only shown it to him as a long shot, just in case he might've known something.
"You don't know," he stated back, unamused. "A key to the house of a woman who's been missing for four days shows up in your hand, and you don't know."
Missing? Great. This just kept getting better. "I swear, I didn't know who it belonged to."
"Right. You even know who she is?"
Rosa shook her head. "No. I've got no idea."
Durkin took another puff of his cigarette. "Good. Stay out of this one. I know I'm usually lenient about these sorts of things, but you don't want any part of this. Trust me." He threw the cigarette into the snow, snuffing it out with the bottom of his boot. "Don't bring this up again."
She turned away, shaking her head. There was no way she was leaving it there. The whole thing was just a little too fishy for her liking. And a bit too close to home, at that. She found a nearby bench to sit on before doing some careful web searches. If Durkin was touchy about Lia, there was a good chance she was a...
There we go. Detective Lia Pierro. Of this precinct, too. But what had Joey been doing at her place? She had to go investigate, but it was going to be a little trickier to find an address. There was probably a clue in the police station, not that she could go in to look or anything.
If only Joey was...
No. She shouldn't think like that. It was good that he was alive. Even if she didn't know why, it was a good thing. She just had to follow his tracks. And in this case, that meant finding out where Lia Pierro lived. Without any help.
Come on, Rosa. You can do this. At least, she hoped so.
As if on cue, two police officers turned the corner, chatting to one another. After a moment they went out of sight but, somehow, remained within earshot.
"Any updates on the case?"
If luck would have it, they were talking about the Pierro case.
"Yeah. Ostin's refusing to leave his apartment."
"Seriously?"
"Uh huh. He keeps saying something about 'being in danger'."
"I mean his girlfriend's missing. I think it's warranted."
That sounded like as much of a confirmation as she was going to get.
"I still think it was the ex-husband."
"What, Emil ?"
"Yeah. Deadbeat dad trying to gain custody, working at some chain electronics store. Come on. The guy's a joke."
Rosa leaned in closer, frowning.
"Hey, I got my TV from the Abacus."
"Look, I'm just saying. Haskins is pretty high on my personal list."
"Well, luckily for him, we don't make arrests based on 'personal lists'."
It almost felt too convenient, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Two names and a location. Not the location she'd wanted, but she probably wouldn't have gotten anything better if she'd strolled into the station herself. And with just a search or two...
There. Looks like she was going to pay the Abacus a visit.
Red would've called him stupid. That running on his impulses was an unnecessary risk. And maybe she would've been right about that. Maybe he'd look back on this day and scold himself for it. But there was no time for that now. Not while Madeline was still around.
He did a button on his new coat as he left the apartment complex, honestly surprised it fit so well. It'd been by the door along with a hat, a few more sticky notes accompanying them.
'Wear this. It's cold outside.'
'You looked weird without one.'
And he'd obliged. It would probably make Red happy. If she'd ever get the chance to see it.
He could see the church in the distance, each step forward feeling like marching toward his own execution. She was going to kill him, wasn't she? Burn him to a crisp then tear his ghost apart. So why was he still moving forward? Maybe he just had to see for himself. And maybe, just maybe , no matter how powerful Madeline could get...
Maybe he just wanted her gone more.
He walked past the main cathedral, making his way to the school. The front doors loomed imposingly over him, the solid wood having stood there for over a century. But even so, he had a feeling they were unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, pushing the doors open.
The Abacus was a small store, but lively, regardless. The displays of various kinds of electronic goods that lined the walls beeped and flashed at her, lights and colors filling the room. She took a moment to stare longingly at one of the television sets. If only she had enough money to replace the one in her apartment. But since she'd suddenly become the sole breadwinner for herself and the recently un-deceased...
She sighed, looking away. Another time.
The clerk looked up as she approached the counter. "Hey. Something I can do for you?"
"Yes, I was looking for Emil Haskins? Do you know if he's in?"
"The manager? Nah, not at the moment. He'll probably be back soon, though. He left his office door open." He gestured toward it, and Rosa's gaze trailed the motion to the door.
Open indeed. If only just barely.
"Would you mind if I took a look inside his office?"
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Uh, are you allowed to do that?"
Rosa glanced at the office door again. "Sure."
He sighed, shrugging. "Ah, whatever. Knock yourself out."
The small office was mostly barren, with a few discarded papers and boxes here and there. The only thing of interest in the room was Emil's desk, or, to be more specific, the computer on his desk. Rosa shook the mouse, clearing the screensaver away.
The desktop background was a photo of a man, maybe a decade or so older than her, a little girl perched on his shoulders. That was Emil and his daughter, she was guessing, glancing at the calendar he kept in the office. Every single weekend was blocked out with the same thing. The same name. Kendra.
She looked back at the photo. The father-daughter pair was in front of an apartment building, the plaque on the brownstones displaying its name. Exeter House. She supposed that was going to have to be her next stop.
Silence. The creak of old wood was the only thing Joey could hear as he entered the school. No sign of anything or anyone else, living or dead.
Right. He'd forgotten that he was a few weeks in the past. There was a chance that Michael wasn't even here at all. He turned the corner to the room where they'd first found Father Michael, the purple glow of a protection circle nowhere to be seen. Great. Just his luck. He might have to go to-
"Who are you?"
Joey looked up to see the priest at the top of the staircase, pointing a pistol at him. Well, wasn't that convenient.
"I said, who are you, and what are you doing here?" His voice took on a bit of a growl as he slowly descended.
But Joey didn't care much for his act. "Relax, Michael. I'm not here for you."
"Excuse me? How do you-"
"I'm looking for a friend of yours. Poofy hair, tacky little tiara..." He narrowed his eyes. "A few centuries old."
Michael's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean Madeline? How on earth do you know about her?"
"Let's just say we're... acquainted."
After a moment of hesitation, Michael turned his head, likely facing his guide as she entered. "Madeline? Who's this?"
He was afraid. Of course he was. But it wasn't Joey he needed to be afraid of. He followed the priest's gaze to a particular blank spot of air, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Maddy. How's tricks?"
The man in front of Rosa was a far cry from the one she'd seen on that desktop background. Besides the fact he had significantly less hair, his entire appearance gave off a sense of defeat. He was dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants; he slouched when he moved. Dark circles lined the underside of his eyes, and his entire face had taken on a pallid appearance.
"Do you know something? Anything?" Emil pleaded, barely able to look her in the eye.
"Probably not more than you do at the moment. I'm sorry." Rosa wished she could give him more. She really did. But she hardly knew why she was here in the first place.
"They think I did it, you know. The police. They think I'd- God ." He rubbed his brow, shaking his head. "The last three days. It's been nothing but interrogation after interrogation. But I sat there and took it. Just in case something would help my little girl."
"I'm sorry. I couldn't imagine having to go through that."
"Yeah." He blinked a few times, wiping his eyes. "So, if you don't have information for me, why are you here?"
"I'm just trying to get to the bottom of things. Doing some investigative work." It wasn't a lie, and yet she felt bad saying it out loud. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"
"Sure," he said reluctantly, shrugging. "If it'll help."
"Has anyone come by recently to talk to you?" Maybe she could see if Joey had been here.
"No one else today. And I spent most of the last three at the police station. So I wouldn't know."
Hm. So most likely a no on that front. "So, Lia is your ex-wife?"
"Yeah. We were married for about ten years. In hindsight, it was a mistake, but I'd do it again if I had to. It was worth it for Kendra."
She could understand the sentiment. Rosa didn't have kids herself, but she understood. When she was younger, she would've given everything for another day with Auntie Lauren. It had taken her longer than she would've liked to admit to accept the fact she wasn't going to just wake up someday.
Rosa cleared her throat before asking the next question. "Would you happen to know an... Ostin?"
"George? Do I know him? Lia left me for him." He sighed, twisting his mouth. "She knew him before she met me. From that church she used to be into."
"Church?" Rosa questioned.
"Yeah. Grace Church, I think it was."
"Surprised to see me, aren't you?" Joey spat, pacing the room. "Of course you are. You probably want to know why I'm alive. Probably drooling at the thought of getting some of that for yourself, aren't you? Because I was like you." He stopped, frowning at the air again. "But you see, I'm not really in the mood for niceties today. You wanna know why? Because I know who you really are. Playing Michael over there like a little pawn of yours. Making Red and I run around and gather up the souls of his dead friends."
"What?" Michael whispered, stunned.
"What do you think really happened to Jeffrey Dutta?" Joey asked, looking at him. "It wasn't just some accident. His soul was harvested for energy. And Maddy here will do whatever it takes to cease existing. She doesn't care who gets in the way."
"She... she says you're lying," Michael said, finger never leaving the trigger.
Joey scoffed. "Patricia Blackwell. Lauren Blackwell. Rosa Blackwell. Those names sound familiar to you? Three generations of women. Gone. Because of you, Maddy. Are you proud of yourself?"
Michael was unnerved, eyes darting back and forth between his spirit guide and Joey. "She says she's done nothing to your host."
"Not yet, maybe. Not here. But I can see right through you, Madeline. Ghost business aside." Joey looked back to Michael. "She's using you, Michael. Whatever she tells you, I wouldn't trust her. You know why? Because I saw her-"
"That's quite enough, Mallone," Michael's mouth said, but his eyes had gone blank. Soulless.
What the hell? Since when could she...
"You want those souls spared? I can do that. I mean no harm."
"Bull," he hissed. "I saw what you did." And what she was doing now. He didn't like the way she was using Michael like that. It just reminded him of...
"Just tell me how you revived yourself. And I will leave you in peace."
Joey laughed, his whole body shaking from the sheer irony of it all. "Never. Not in a million years. You don't deserve it."
Michael's borrowed mouth was pressed into a hard line. "Do not forget who is holding the gun here."
"Ah, right. The gun. The same one you used to shoot George Ostin? I suppose you haven't. Not yet, anyway. I made sure of that." He got closer to Michael's face, sneering. "You know what I think, Maddy? I think that if I was still dead, I'd wring your damn neck myself."
"...So be it."
The rest of Rosa's talk with Emil hadn't been particularly fruitful, and now she was here, at the only place she could think of to go. Grace Church. She looked up at the doors, wondering. It seemed like a dead end. It really did. But there were barely any leads as it were. She had to take whatever she had.
Rosa walked up to the doors. Okay. Here we-
The sound of a gunshot rang out into the air. From nearby. The school. Rosa whipped her head toward it as people fled the scene. It was dangerous, probably. She shouldn't be ten miles within a shooting. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, she found herself running toward the sound.
"Gah... you... you're insane ," Joey spat, clutching his midriff as fresh blood ran freely through his fingers. "But stupid ... too, you know?" He tried to prop himself up against the wall, looking at Madeline in Michael's body. "Say what you want... about me. But I'm... not the one who just fired a gun in the middle of the afternoon." God, this hurt. He'd rather get shot by a ghost bullet ten times than this . "How long do you think before the... police get here? How long... do you think they'll lock Michael up for?"
But his words didn't seem to have much of an effect on Madeline. "At the very least, I will have ended you," not-Michael hissed, walking toward him.
"You won't," he pointed out, trying to maintain pressure on the wound. "If I die... you'll never- never know why I'm alive."
He could see a break in her composure. Or Michael's, he guessed. "No matter. It seems to have cost you greatly, regardless. You are no longer following that woman around like a stray dog."
Joey winced, and this time it wasn't from the bullet wound.
"So tell me, little ghost," Madeline said, leaning in. "Where is your precious host now?"
The door slammed open, a certain redhead running in, hair flying wildly around her face. "She's right here."
Red? How the hell... He had to admit he was a little impressed, though. He never took her to be the type for dramatic entrances.
She scanned the scene, eyes widening when she saw him slumped against the wall. "Joey? Are you-"
"Get out of here! She'll-"
"Blackwell." Michael's body turned to face her.
No. No!
"Who are you?" Rosa questioned, frowning.
The possessed priest moved closer to her, each step ringing out on the hardwood floor. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
God, what are you doing? Get out of there! Get the hell-
"I'm afraid I must depart. But we will meet again, I'm certain."
Michael's body took off running before either of them could react.
"Hey, wait!" Rosa yelled as he barreled past her, disappearing in the distance.
With the threat gone, she ran over to Joey, kneeling beside him. "Oh my God. Joey."
"Hey, Red," he managed to get out, smiling weakly. "I got shot."
It must've looked bad. Her eyes were wide, shiny, gaze darting around over him like an overexcited housefly. He could still feel wet blood seeping through the cracks between his fingers. Apparently, he hadn't done a very good job of stopping the bleeding.
Her hands shook as she tried to examine the wound. "This is a lot of blood."
"Well, that's... just..." He winced, taking a shuddering breath. "...dandy."
"I don't even know how to-" She was panicking, running a hand through her hair. "I'm calling for an ambulance, okay? Just hold on. Please."
He kept watching her face, eyes trailing her every movement. God, she'd really come, hadn't she? And he hadn't even... told her anything. She had... had that little metal box to her ear now... talking into it.
"Yes, my name's Rosangela Blackwell, I'm at the Grace School. I need an ambulance. My friend-" She glanced at him briefly before closing her eyes. "My friend's been shot."
A/N: Fun fact, the reason Emil's office door was open is because Joey didn't close it properly the day before, not because he actually went back to work at any point. Are things a little contrived in this chapter? Maybe. Did I need to get everyone from point A to point B? ...Maybe.