13 Mink Street

Chapter 25: The Call From The Morgue

Once you’re discharged and back home, let’s find time to sit down after your wounds have mended. I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”

“All right, Grandpa.” There was no reason for Karon to refuse at this point, or for him to continue pretending to be afraid. If he had never seen Mr. Mossan’s strange dance, or watched Mrs. Hughes being overtaken by a demonkin, if he had never met Alfred or Ms. Molly, or been stabbed by his own grandfather, then perhaps life could have continued on under the same silent agreement as before.

But to still choose ignorance after having come so far was absurd. To cover your ears, to close your eyes, to pretend that nothing had changed, at this point was as senseless as if Inspector Duke called to say that he’d found the true killer, refused to explain over the phone, and instead asked to meet somewhere. Upon arriving, you discovered that Duke had been murdered by his own suspect. Such adamant denial was an insult to one’s intelligence.

“Rest and recover. Don’t worry about home,” Tiz said.

“All right, Grandpa.”

Tiz turned and left. Pu’er tried to slip out with him, but just as she was squeezing through the doorway, his heel flicked her back inside the room.

She flipped over before landing on her feet, just as a loud bang echoed from the door closing firmly shut behind her. She lifted her head to look at Karon, who was still lying in his hospital bed.

He didn’t bother reacting. He simply picked up the novel the nurse had lent him, I Have Bound Your Heart, and continued reading.

The story followed a common-born heroine who became the beloved of a prince from the Veyn royal family. Against every social barrier, they married, and the narrative traced her trials in the world of royals and aristocrats.

Karon found the plot to be rather trying, but there was much for him to learn about Veyn’s social order within the pages.

In many ways, Swillen was a mere vassal state to Veyn; a so-called “protected territory.” Swillen’s economy was tightly bound to Veyn’s, and culturally, they had inherited nearly everything. For Swillen’s upper class, Veyn was always the stage they longed to step onto.

Pu’er curled up in the visitor’s chair and, soon enough, seemed to fall asleep.

When Karon began to nod off, he set the book aside and turned off the lamp. Time for sleep.

***

Elsewhere, later that night, in another hospital, in another ward, Mr. Hoffen, who had been sleeping, slowly opened his eyes. There was a familiar figure at his bedside.

The nurse was in the neighboring bed, snoring and completely unaware.

“I stabbed him,” Tiz said quietly.

Mr. Hoffen smiled. “He didn’t die.”

“No.”

“If you had killed him, you’d just have said, ‘He’s dead.’ You don’t bother with the details.”

“I couldn’t do it,” Tiz replied.

“Tiz, I helped you prepare that divine descent ritual. We both know how precise it needed to be. We failed, because what we brought back was not Karon’s true soul. That is not Karon. From the moment I saw first him, I was sure of it.”

“I know.”

“He isn’t your grandson, Tiz. You need to be clear about that. I have cancer. My time is short, which is why I was willing to help you. I know how much your family means to you, but with a ritual of that scale, since we didn’t summon Karon’s soul, he is very likely a heretical god. It’s possible that he’s still weak, recovering from the descent and needing more time, but you must understand, if a heretical god regains his strength, the consequences will be catastrophic. You should have killed him, Tiz.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because... he calls me Grandpa.”

“Tiz, do you realize how much suffering your mercy may cause others in the future?”

Tiz was silent for a while, then managed a faint smile. “There is no one else who calls me Grandpa.”

***

When Karon woke again, the morning light filled the room. He pushed the call button, and Nurse Maina quickly came in with a smile. “Karon, how’s the book? Any good?”

“It’s interesting.”

“I thought only girls like those.”

“Boys do, too. They help us to understand you girls better.”

She laughed. “You’re funny.”

Maina helped him to sit up, brought him a robe, and guided him to the bathroom. Once he’d finished freshening up, she assisted him back for breakfast.

It was a corn porridge and assorted fruits. Karon had never cared much for combining fruit with the main dish, regardless of the supposed health benefits.

“Would you like some help walking?” Maina asked.

“Can I?” Karon replied. He was not seeking permission in terms of her responsibilities as a nurse, but rather asking if his injuries would allow such movement.

“Yes, you may. The doctor said your coma was mostly due to blood loss...” Maina’s hand hovered as she gently checked his chest, though his wound was on the opposite side. “A little activity will help you recover.”

“Thank you.”

With Maina’s steady support, Karon left the hospital ward. The convenience of being on the ground floor made things easier. The air outside was fresh, and the sun was gentle. Being there made it hard not to notice what health really meant, though he knew that people quickly slipped back into their familiar, careless routines.

“How old are you?” Karon asked.

“Seventeen. I just finished nursing school. I know you’re fifteen, which makes me your elder, I guess.”

In Swillen, fifteen marked one’s entrance into adulthood. Those who did not pursue higher education could begin working, though in families down on their luck, some children started even younger. While the laws against child labor seemed strict, in actual practice, factory owners tended to treat young workers less like children and more like machine parts: easily replaceable and easily ignored.

Since awaking in this world, Karon had seen more clearly how deep the divisions ran through its society. It wasn’t merely the chasm between families like the Immers and the Adams; At the very bottom, there were families fighting for their next meal.

He had once measured people’s hardship by the two thousand rupi factory workers earned each month, but the truth was far harsher. There were many in backstreet workshops who made less than forty rupi a day, and illegal laborers fared even worse. There was a large, hidden class, one which Karon rarely encountered. The Immers served only the middle class or higher echelons of society, and even the cases his Aunt Mary disliked needed to be listed on the city registry.

“I know your family,” Maina said.

“Oh?”

“The Immers. My aunt’s funeral was at your house. I didn’t see you that day, though.”

“It’s a shame we missed each other.”

“You’re... interesting. I haven’t had a boyfriend myself.”

Karon blinked, realizing she had misunderstood him.

After a few minutes walking, sweat began to bead on his brow, and Maina guided him to a bench. She carefully dabbed his forehead with her handkerchief. Her every movement and word seemed rehearsed, as though she wanted to present her best self. There was nothing wrong with that. Everyone tried to appear their best when with someone they liked.

“What do you usually do for enjoyment?” Maina asked.

“I help out my relatives; my aunt, for instance. Sometimes I help her clean the bodies.”

Maina fell silent.

Just then, three familiar figures appeared at the end of the path: Uncle Mason, Paul, and Ron. Uncle Mason led, hands in his pockets, while Paul and Ron followed behind, each of them pushing a gurney.

“Uncle Mason!” Karon called out.

“Karon.” Uncle Mason smiled and walked over. “I was on my way to see you.”

“Young Master Karon,” Paul and Ron greeted him. “Glad to see you recovering well, Young Master.”

“What brings you here?”

“Last time we stopped by, you were still unconscious. I had tea with the head of admissions, so today we’re back.” Uncle Mason gave him a look that silently said everything.

Karon nodded, smiling.

“I need to get back to work now, but I’ll visit again this afternoon.”

“All right, Uncle.”

Business always came first. This hospital was in the Murdock District, which was far from Mink Street. Because of that, it had not yet fallen within the Immers family’s reach. Now there was an opportunity to gain a foothold, but they needed to move quickly. If they didn’t collect the deceased, the local funeral parlor would claim them first.

“That was your uncle?” Maina asked.

“Yes.”

“Your family has strong genes.”

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t empty flattery. Uncle Mason was past his prime, yet he still carried himself with a quiet dignity. For his age, he was a striking man. Aunt Mary, whether running the household or tending corpses, had never strayed from his side. It must have been love, though even love needed a foundation. If life had been hard and Mason unremarkable, would Mary have stayed?

“You’re handsome, too,” Maina added.

“Thank you.” Such praise no longer affected Karon. It landed as lightly as a comment about the weather.

“May I ask something personal?” Maina said.

“Of course.”

“How much do you spend in a month?”

“Whatever I need, I suppose. I don’t really know the exact amount.” Since coming of age, he had been on the family payroll, which allowed him to collect a portion of the dividends, but he rarely thought about the numbers.

“I only make twelve hundred rupi a month,” Maina stated. “It’s just enough to get by, so there’s never much left over.”

“So little?”

“The benefits are decent, and pay goes up with seniority,” she explained. “Still, I don’t really like nursing. You’re easy to take care of, but sometimes I end up with difficult old ladies or men who like to get handsy.”

“Patients who can breathe are always the troublemakers.”

Maina rolled her eyes. “Exactly.”

She’s interesting, Karon thought. He didn’t dislike her. She was honest, genuine.

Even ignoring his good looks, simply being an Immers gave Karon confidence for the marriage market. Any stigma related to being part of a funeral home meant little when you had money. However, he wasn’t in any hurry to settle down. He felt too young, and there were larger problems waiting.

“Let’s go back,” he said. “I want to lie down.”

“All right. I’ll help you.”

With Maina’s help, Karon made his way back to the ward. As they reached his door, the head nurse called out, “Maina, come here. Take this plasma to the operating room; The staff are shorthanded!”

“Go ahead, I can get to my bed on my own,” Karon said.

“All right.”

At the threshold of his hospital room, Karon paused to take a breath. The scent of disinfectant always seemed sharper inside the room than in the hallway. He stepped through the doorway.

The moment he did, a hushed voice whispered in his ear, “My money... my money... my money... my money...”

He froze, locked in place by the sound. Hearing the voice abruptly pulled him back to the night he had heard Mr. Mossan sobbing in the basement.

“My money... my money... my money...” The voice went on.

Karon ignored it, walked to his bed, and laid down to pick up his novel again.

Meow... Pu’er leapt onto the bed and stared at him.

“My money... my money... my money...” The muttering grew sharper, as if some old woman was crouched under the bed, never tiring, never silent.

Karon lowered the book and pressed his hands to his ears, yet the sound lingered. It wasn’t something he “heard,” at least, not in the usual way.

Meow...

Pu’er cried again.

Karon grabbed her and turned her belly up. A minute earlier, she had seemed so self-possessed, but now she wriggled, almost bashful.

“Is this your doing?”

Pu’er shook her head, her tail curling over her stomach.

“It has to be you.”

Meow. She shook her head again.

“Then what is this, in my ear?”

Meow, meow meow, meow meow meow, meow.

Karon nodded, playing along. “Meow, meow meow, meow.”

Pu’er only stared, unblinking.

“You really can’t speak?” he asked.

Meow.

“Ms. Molly can speak, yet you can’t?”

Meow.

Karon frowned. He had accepted Mrs. Hughes’s transformation, but Ms. Molly’s appearance had still been unsettling. Given how oddly human Pu’er could be, her silence at this moment seemed almost unnatural. “If you can’t talk, then as soon as I’m discharged, I’ll find you a tomcat and have you mated.”

Meow...

“I swear it in the name of the God of Order.” This was a phrase he’d picked up from Piaget. Karon remembered that night, and how Alfred had addressed Tiz as Inquisitor of the Church of Order. That was apparently Tiz’s post.

As expected, the mention of the God of Order sent Pu’er into a visible panic.

Karon was, at heart, a materialist. If something supernatural presented itself, materialists did not deny it, but instead studied it, classified it, and tried to fit it into the world’s logic. Strange things could also become ordinary.

He wasn’t superstitious, not at all, but Pu’er understood the real threat. If Tiz heard that his grandson had sworn by the God of Order, he might actually find her a mate, fulfilling the vow to the letter.

“It isn’t me.” A crisp female voice, laced with authority, sliced through the air.

Karon glared at Pu’er. She stared right back. He released her. She hunkered down, belly to the blanket.

“So, you can speak.”

“You are shameless! The most shameless human I have ever met! Never before have I heard of a human threatening a cat’s chastity.”

“I’ve never heard of a cat that cares about such things.”

“Cats care. It’s humans who disregard feline feelings.”

“All right, all right.” Karon shut his eyes, let everything settle, and then looked at her again. “So what is this voice in my ear?”

“That’s what I find odd. You haven’t been purified, so how can you hear it?”

“Purified?” Karon repeated. “Like a baptism?”

“That’s just a scam. Nothing but empty psychological reassurance.”

“Oh?”

“True purification is something else entirely. Only when you’re touched by the breath of a holy relic do you become changed; You become more alert, able to see what ordinary people can’t. People refer to it as many things, and there are many ways to achieve it, but the safest way is with a church’s relic. When an ordinary person encounters a demonkin and survives, they might sometimes emerge purified. Other times, they just lose their mind.”

“All I’m hearing now is ‘my money, my money.’”

“I hear it, too.”

“Who’s calling?”

“The morgue is just below us. Your room sits right on top of it, with only a concrete slab between. Some of the corpses down there are too obsessed to rest. They reach out, calling.”

“A demonkin?”

“No, this has nothing to do with demonkin. Demonkin are otherworldly beings, and are at least clever enough to get by. Take Ms. Molly, for example. She’s one. Alfred, from the other night, proved powerful enough to strike a deal with Inquisitors or even church leaders.”

“So why can I hear this?”

“I have no idea.”

“Could it be because of the original Karon?”

Pu’er’s tail rose, as if Karon had finally slipped. “So you admit it! You’re really not Karon.”

“That’s right, I’m not. Go tell Tiz if you like.”

At that, Pu’er simply laid back down and sighed. “Tiz is too caught up with his family. That’s the Immers for you. Their motto: kin above all else.”

Karon pressed on, “You really are quite the gossip. Just tell me, is this connected to the real Karon?”

“The ‘real’ Karon?” Pu’er flicked a paw in dismissal. “He was a hermit, nothing more.”

“I doubt you ever told Tiz that.”

“No.” Pu’er smiled. “Even a fool is still family.”

She stretched, claws flexing, back arched. “After Karon’s parents died, Tiz became determined that no one in your family would undergo purification or follow the same path again. The original Karon was just an ordinary human. No unusual symptoms. Everything strange began only after you woke up. But don’t overthink things; You aren’t purified. From where I sit, you’re practically a demonkin yourself. I still think your gentleness is just a show, but Tiz falls for it every time. Deep down, I bet you’re hiding something violent and cruel. Am I right?”

A sharp meow broke the moment. Karon had caught Pu’er’s tail, and he pulled her closer. “What I want to know is how to turn off this damned voice, or at least block it.”

“Just turn off that sense. It’s simple.”

“How?”

“Close your eyes, focus on the sound. Let it sharpen and settle, and then follow it further, feel your way...”

“I’ve decided; Once I’m discharged, I’ll have Lent bring in three vicious tomcats and lock them all in the washroom with you.”

“Oh, you beast!”

“How do I do it?”

“There is no way. You haven’t been purified. You’re just going by instinct, so you can’t control what comes through. It’s like telling someone who’s never seen a car to drive. Can they? Usually, you just put up with it for a while. She won’t call for long; She’s almost spent.”

“Like a cat in heat?”

“What a disgusting, thoroughly speciesist comparison to make!”

Karon released her and lay back, forcing himself to steady his breath.

“My money... my money... my money...”

Eyes closed, he murmured, “She’s still calling.”

Pu’er sprawled across his stomach. “She’s just more persistent than most. Her voice will run out soon.”

“My money... my money...”

Karon could only endure.

Then, there was a faint creak.

“I think I heard something else,” he said.

“That’s normal,” Pu’er replied, flicking a paw. “When’s lunch, anyway? Order ahead for me. I want fried fish.”

The creaking noise was heard again.

“I hear shoes dragging outside.”

“It’s just the nurses and patients in the hall. Get me pudding, too.”

Click.

“A door opened.”

“It’s the next room over. Nothing unusual.”

Voices drifted in, low and persistent by Karon’s ear.

“Huh? Madam, what are you doing here?”

“My money... my money is lost...”

“If something’s missing, you need to speak to the front desk. This is the morgue. What could you have lost down here?”

“My money... my money...”

“Which room is yours, madam? Let’s get you back upstairs.”

“My money... my money...”

“Fine, fine. Yes, I took your money. Once we’re in your room, I’ll give it back. You’re from psychiatry, right? Your room is...”

“You took my money!!!” A sudden scream shattered the calm.

Karon jerked upright, eyes snapping open.

“And goat milk,” Pu’er muttered.

Meow, meow! She lay where she had been thrown below the bed, glaring up at Karon. Her fur stood on end.

He turned to look down at her. He gulped and quietly said, “She... killed someone.”