Marianna was a bad person.

  This was what she thought as she sat next to Blaze on Hikari’s couch, listening to Sadie complain about her “asshole” escort, her head resting on Hikari’s shoulder.

  She eyed her freshly painted nails, the sparkles in the blue paint seeming to glitter in the dim lighting of the Funai living room.

  Not unlike Cherise Sawyer’s necklace.

  I’m a bad person, I’m a bad person, I’m a bad person, Marianna chanted in her head for the upteempth time. Calling herself such fixed nothing (or make her feel better), but she must be a masochist because she couldn’t stop thinking it.

  Blaze must have sensed her sombre mood because he grasped a lock of Marianna’s golden hair, giving it a slight tug.

  “You okay, there, Goldilocks?” he asked, an edge of humour in his voice.

  If Blaze’s sole purpose had been to get Marianna’s attention, he succeeded. Marianna tore her gaze away from her nails, giving Blaze a sceptical look. He was looking rather good today, Marianna acknowledged. While Blaze didn’t sport a six-pack like various movies would have people believe, he was certainly muscular.

  Blaze’s hair had once again grown to the point where the bangs kept falling into his eyes, sometimes even obscuring his vision. Even now, Blaze tossed his head, trying to get the hair out of his eyes.

  Well aware that she was stalling, Marianna reached up and pushed the bangs aside.

  “Goldilocks?” Marianna asked instead of answering. “Really, Blaze?”

  This earned her an unrepentant grin, Blaze’s white teeth flashing at her. “Would you prefer––” He said the name of a well-known blonde princess from a popular video game series. One he and Marianna had taken turns playing in the past.

  Marianna wrinkled her nose in distaste, although she felt secretly pleased with the comparison. “Well, it’s better than Goldilocks,” she pretended to admit grudgingly.

  Blaze didn’t seem to believe her act. His grin only widened as Hikari and Sadie’s conversation ended. Marianna found two sets of eyes on her.

  Just as Hikari was opening her mouth, undoubtedly about to ask her what was wrong, Marianna stood up.

  “I’m gonna get some pop,” she announced, well aware that she sounded a bit too cheerful. “Anyone want anything?”

  She was met with three doubtful looks. However, her friends must have sensed her lack of desire to talk because they told Marianna their drink of choice. None too soon, Marianna escaped to the kitchen.

  Marianna didn’t bother standing around once there. Instead, she made quick work of gathering everyone’s drinks, hoping to distract herself.

  I’m a bad person, she thought as she opened a white vintage cupboard.

  Anyone who knew Hikari’s mother, Karin, knew that she loved all things old-fashioned. It showed, too, all throughout the house.

  While Karin’s kitchen had evidence of her and Hikari’s Japanese heritage, there were just as many signs of Karin’s love for old stuff. The stove was a small blue thing that was apparently new when Karin bought it. It was simply designed to look retro for people who liked that type of thing.

  Marianna glanced back at the cupboard, taking in the pretty blue designs, as she gathered everyone’s drink of choice. It gave her something to think about besides the guilt constantly assaulting her mind. Or the nightmare last night.

  Just the thought made her shudder. Marianna focused on breaking the ice in the ice cube tray, the cold sensation on her fingers diverting her thoughts somewhat.

  Heavy footsteps alerted Marianna to Blaze’s arrival. He really was relentless, wasn’t he?

  A moment later, Blaze was leaning against the counter next to her, arms crossed as he watched Marianna plunk ice into Hikari’s orange pop.

  “Didn’t know you were a bartender,” Blaze quipped. A smirk graced his lips.

  The joke was surprising enough that Marianna looked over at him, raising her eyebrows.

  “Was that supposed to be funny?” she asked, forcing herself to sound teasing.

  Blaze shrugged and then rolled his shoulders, obviously still a little stiff from practice earlier.

  “Guess that depends on what you think.”

  With a slight chuckle, Marianna began to fill four glasses with ice, finding the soft clinking sounds strangely calming. She avoided Blaze’s heavy gaze, half hoping that he would forestall questions if she didn’t look at him.

  Marianna had been lying to her friends for years now, and while it was something she tended not to dwell on, there was the occasional moment where guilt would hit her out of nowhere. If they’d known Marianna broke the law and, on more than one occasion, risked her safety for what they’d see as a series of mad schemes, her friends would lose it. Marianna could see Hikari slapping or punching Alna.

  Sadie wasn’t a violent person by any stretch of imagination, despite how much she liked horror movies. She’d probably scream at Alna and try to convince Marianna to break up with her.

  And Blaze––

  Blaze was suddenly standing right next to Marianna, his brown shirt appearing in the corner of her eye as she poured root beer into his glass. When his warm hand fell on her shoulder, Marianna stiffened on instinct before relaxing.

  When Blaze turned Marianna to face him, she offered no resistance. The concern in his warm brown eyes almost undid her.

  “What’s wrong?” Blaze asked, ducking his head so that his eyes were level with Marianna’s. His other hand settled on her shoulder, trapping her.

  “Nothing’s wrong, Blaze,” Marianna said on instinct. She made a half-hearted attempt at tugging herself away. His grip only tightened.

  “That won’t work with me, Mary,” Blaze said, a determined look settling over his face. “Tell me what’s up.”

  When Marianna said nothing, surveying his forehead, Blaze removed his hand from her shoulder and tugged on a lock of her hair. “Is it your parents?”

  The question startled Marianna a bit, although it shouldn’t have.

  “No. God, no,” Marianna assured him, almost shuddering at the suggestion. “I haven’t seen them in over three months.”

  She didn’t want to think about the last time she saw her parents; didn’t want to think about how stupid she had been, accepting her dad’s impromptu invitation to dinner. She’d thought meeting them in a public place would make things better…

  “It’s just...” Marianna began, desperate to change the subject. And then she let the sentence hang, not knowing how to finish it.

  What was she supposed to say? “Oh, you know that guy, Peter Black, that was arrested the other day? That was because of Alna and I. See, we like to play detective and catch killers; except we really just report them to a hotline. That’s why I almost got killed in grade eleven––because Alna and I were investigating together. But I’m disappointed about Peter Black. This case was too easy and anti-climatic.”

  Yeah. That would go over well.

  As she thought about what to say, Marianna stared at the ceiling, eyeing a water stain in the white paint. She’d have to tell Hikari about it so her mother could get it fixed.

  With a sigh, Marianna finally relented and looked back at Blaze. He’d moved away from her a bit, removing his grip on her and allowing Marianna her personal space. There was still a stubborn set to his jaw. Marianna wasn’t going to get out of this without telling him something.

  She nibbled on the inside of her cheek before speaking. “Do you ever think things you know are wrong?”

  Blaze’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline.

  “What, like liking girls? I thought you were past that, Mary.”

  The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth showed he was joking. Marianna rolled her eyes. She smacked him on the arm.

  “No, this isn’t about my sexuality; I came to terms with that awhile ago, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  This earned her a brief smirk before Blaze once again turned serious. “So what do you mean?”

  Marianna wasn’t sure how to answer that. There was no way she could––not without a lot of beating around the bush. Telling Blaze the truth was out of the question, which––

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  The guilt hit her with the force of a freight train. As far as Marianna was aware, her friends never lied to her. Not about anything overly important, anyway. What would they think if they found out how much she lied to them? The thought made her feel sick to her stomach.

  “Nothing,” Marianna said. She turned around, gathering the drinks in her arms. Maybe if she got out of here fast, Blaze would relent and drop it. She doubted that would work all that well, but she could hope.

  An arm appeared across her stomach, stilling her. Marianna frowned at it but didn’t pull away. It felt nice to be held, and call her selfish, but it felt freeing to have someone who didn’t know the details comforting her.

  She felt Blaze rest his cheek on her head as his other arm went around her Marianna, hugging her from behind. With a soft sigh, Marianna relaxed against him.

  “Hope it works out,” Blaze said, his breath stirring her hair. “Whatever it is.”

  Marianna sighed again, for a different reason this time.

  Looks like it already has, she thought.

  ***

  Life moved on, as it always does. Marianna forced herself to let go of her disappointment over Peter Black and dived headfirst into practicing for the Grand March for graduation (read: pointless march that most students hated) and trying to stay on top of her homework.

  Peter Black confessed to stealing the ruby necklace and even to stabbing Cherise Sawyer himself. This was what Marianna found out on a Saturday morning, still in her pyjamas as she watched the news.

  “Well, that was easy,” Marianna commented, playing with the sash of her dark purple robe.

  “Hmm,” Alna hummed from the other end of the couch, clearly uninterested. Unlike Marianna, Alna expressed very little disappointment at the discovery of Peter Black and had reported him to the Brigate Crime Hotline without ceremony. The actual arrest of Mr. Black had taken a few more days, in which time Alna had tried to track down Mr. Black’s partner (because, as she said, it would be nearly impossible to pull off a heist at a museum and a billionaire’s mansion without some kind of help).

  And then Mr. Black turned in his partner himself.

  The loyalty, Marianna thought wryly, ran deep.

  Sliding down against the armrest, Marianna stretched out her legs, clad in light blue pajama pants with various snowflakes “floating” around, until her feet nudged Alna’s own. This earned her the reaction she had been looking for, as Alna lifted her head, glacial eyes fixing on her with a questioning look.

  Marianna smiled, finding she rather looked forward to a day of doing next to nothing. She had started practicing the Grand March in high heels, which, despite seeming to fit her well, were killing her feet. So much so that Alna, not entirely sympathetic but a good girlfriend nonetheless, had given her a foot massage last night.

  “You know you’re allowed to rest sometimes, right?” Marianna asked.

  Alna gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I suppose you’re right. Although I won’t be resting much once I’m in police training.”

  That reminded her. “About that––”

  “No word yet,” Alna cut her off, going back to typing. “It has not yet been three months since I applied; I see no point in getting concerned yet. However,” she continued, never looking away from the computer screen. Marianna admired her ability to work and hold a conversation at the same time. Few people could pull off multitasking so well. “If I do not get accepted, I plan to get a bachelor’s degree. The academy I’ve applied to requires a high school education, at minimum. If my application is not accepted this time around, a degree will help my chances.”

  On the television, the news channel had switched from talking about Peter Black’s arrest to the weather forecast. Marianna wondered how news anchors could seem so completely unaffected by the constant deaths and murders they reported. Emotional distance, she mused, would be the only way they could stay sane.

  Marianna smiled as the weather reporter (what was his name again? Terrance something?) appeared on the screen. He was looking as put together as ever, wearing one of those black suits most men wore to “dress up.” However, he also wore a bowtie decorated with some kind of gold metal, three strands on each side, that converged at the knot of the tie.

  “He’s changed his routine,” Alna observed, not sounding all that interested. “Normally he only wears ties like that on a holiday or special occasion.”

  When Marianna looked back at Alna, she seemed to glow in the light from the television. Unlike Marianna, Alna was very much put together, ready to face the day––even wearing the necklace Marianna had given her.

  “Why don’t you go to college anyway?” Marianna wondered.

  Alna seemed to check something on her computer screen and then closed it, setting her laptop on the coffee table as she planted her feet on the floor. “In case you haven’t noticed,” Alna began, sounding a bit amused, “I can be rather impatient. College is not completely out of the cards for me, but as of right now, it is not my first choice.”

  It was then that Alna stood up, tugging on the end of her shirt to straighten it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I planned to make everyone waffles this morning.”

  Oh, so that was why she’d gotten up so early this morning.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Thank you,” Alna said, walking into the kitchen. Marianna followed her, wishing she bothered to get dressed when Alna had woken her by getting up at the ungodly hour of six in the morning (yes, knew she was a bit of a wimp).

  Once in the kitchen, Marianna went about helping Alna gather the proper ingredients.

  “Oh, and by the way.” Alna turned to her, a carton of eggs in one hand. “I have a new case for us.”

  Suddenly, Marianna was a lot less disappointed about Peter Black.

  ***

  Marianna wasn’t too sure about this. When Alna had told her what their new case involved, a part of her hoped Alna was joking.

  Because this was… this was so far from anything they’d done before. This wasn’t a bloodstain on a carpet, a room in complete disarray, or a picture of a corpse that Marianna had forced herself to look at.

  No, this was an honest to God dug up grave. As in, someone had literally dug up this… Toby Walter’s grave so they could steal anything valuable.

  Talk about morbid.

  “I feel like this is going to turn into Night of the Living Dead at any moment,” Marianna said, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the rough, jagged hole. No way in hell she was going down there.

  And really, the atmosphere was perfect for a horror movie. For one, they were literally in a graveyard. Sure, it was far from being midnight, but it was dark out, and it was late. Not for the first time, Marianna found herself taking in their surroundings. As far as she knew, she and Alna were the only (living) people currently present in the Gloriana Rest Place, but that didn’t stop her from having flashes of some old, grizzled grave keeper discovering her and Alna chasing them with his shovel.

  Okay, that was unfair. She shouldn’t stereotype people like that.

  How did they go from investigating a thief/murderer to a grave robber? It was bizarre. The grave markers all varied in size and shape, creating upright shadows in the distance that, to Marianna, looked menacing.

  “Which one?” Alna asked. Unlike Marianna, Alna had shown very little qualms with hopping into the hole that used to hold Toby Walter’s body. She was almost invisible, her dark clothing, combined with the darkness around them and being partially underground, offering the perfect camouflage.

  It took Marianna a moment to process Alna’s question, too preoccupied with her morbid thoughts.

  “Which movie?” Marianna looked down at Alna briefly. Alna was using a flashlight to examine the grave… Well, the hole in the ground, but there wasn’t much for Marianna herself to see. She kept examining their surroundings. “I’m not sure. It was in colour, but Sadie said it was updated or something.”

  “Did the main character have blonde or red hair?” Alna asked. She paused and seemed to examine something at the bottom of the hole.

  For a moment, Marianna wondered why Alna would care about a horror movie, of all things. Especially during an investigation. And it hit her: Alna was distracting her. This discussion was likely a way of keeping Marianna from growing too anxious, however irrational her fears were.

  “Red,” Marianna said, recalling the movie in question. “We watched it at the beginning of this school year, actually. On Halloween.” Along with two other movies, Sadie had insisted they pull an all-nighter, watching movies she thought were perfect for the occasion. She’d even told her friends that she was planning to visit a couple sites her favourite films were shot at. Someday.

  “Nothing,” Alna said, changing the subject. She stood and hauled herself out of the large hole with the help of Marianna. Even in the dark, it was easy to tell that dirt now covered Alna. It dusted her hair, smudged her cheeks, and clung to her clothes. With the dirt creating shadows across those pale, porcelain cheeks, Alna looked a bit like the undead herself, Marianna thought.

  Not that she would ever admit that out loud.

  “Next one?” Marianna asked, trying not to sound too amused at Alna’s expense. Although Alna rarely bothered to hide it when she found Marianna amusing.

  “Yes,” Alna said, attempting to dust herself off, unnecessarily, as she was just going to get dirty again. This had been the third grave of the night Alna had investigated, all without success. How these people had dug up five graves without getting caught was beyond Marianna. Even if they did over days.

  But done it they had, and now there were two more graves to investigate.

  And the next was a creepy angel she’d been eyeing earlier. Joy.

  As they approached the angel, Alna picked up their earlier conversation. “That would be the nineteen-ninety version.”

  Marianna didn’t bother to ask how Alna knew that. Sure, she spent most of her extensive free time on some form of research or those courses she liked so much. But Marianna was also well aware that Alna kept up with at least two TV shows and watched the occasional movie if she felt like it.

  Alna showed no hesitation when hopping into yet another dug up grave. Frankly, Alna seemed so unaffected by a good number of things that Marianna wondered what, exactly, went on in her head. She hesitated a moment, surveying the angel warily, before sitting down on the cool ground. A stick dug into her thigh. Marianna grabbed it and tossed it away, watching the stick bounce once before lying still in the grass.

  “Do you think the police will ever find everything Mr. Black and his partner stole? Marianna asked, staring at the stone angel. At least it wasn’t covering its face. That would be too much creepiness for her.

  Even still, Marianna almost felt like she needed to keep her gaze on the statue to make sure it didn’t start moving. Telling herself to stop being ridiculous, Marianna forced herself to do her job as the lookout. It surprised her that there were no police officers stationed nearby, ensuring no more grave robbery occurred. Perhaps they only did that for crimes deemed more important. But surely there should be someone showing their respect, or at least some teenager waltzing around to prove they weren’t afraid of haunted graveyards.

  “It’s possible,” Alna said, her voice muffled. Marianna once again stared at the stone angel. “Although unlikely. If Black and Hertz”––the partner––”sold their prizes on the black market, it is quite possible no one will find them.”

  Alna sounded as though she didn’t care one way or the other, but Marianna was fairly certain she did. If nothing else, Alna had to care that a historical item such as Gloria Brigate/Wallstone’s ring was now gone, likely in the hands of some greedy hoarder.

  But the black market was a vast web. Alna had only had her intellect, any tools she could buy, and Marianna herself at her disposal. Finding those items would be difficult and it wasn’t their job, either. Even if it bothered both of them.

  In the pocket of her light jacket, Marianna’s phone vibrated. For a moment, she ignored it, surveying the stone angel with renewed interest. It was older than she’d thought. At least sixty years, according to the plaque at the bottom. There was a chip in the angel’s face, just under one empty eye. Marianna wondered how that happened. The angel was in perfect condition otherwise, its large wings folded. Whoever had carved it had put a lot of time and effort in, as the wings displayed various, individually cut feathers.

  Reaching into her coat pocket, Marianna retrieved her phone while still staring at the angel. It looked like those statues in–––

  The display from the news app on her phone brought Marianna’s thoughts to a grinding halt.

  “Alna, I don’t think Peter Black was the one we were looking for,” she said.

  Museum Owner Killed. Book stolen.