I remember this novella. Eve has a psychic/paranormal experience with old Hungarian/Romany woman. It’s awesome!
Yeah, I really liked Father Lopez and wish we’d see more of him in future books
“You want to ask me about Li,” he began as she passed through the gates.
“Yeah, for one thing. I see Morris mostly over dead bodies, but I can get a sense of where he is. Just by wardrobe for a start. I know he’s coming through it, but . . . ”
“It’s hard to watch a friend grieve. I can’t tell you specifics, as some of what we’ve talked about was in confidence. He’s a strong and spiritual man, one who—like you—lives with death.”
“It helps—the work. I can see it,” Eve said, “and he’s said it does.”
“Yes, tending to those whose lives have been taken, like his Amaryllis. It centers him. He misses her, misses the potential of what they might have made together. I can tell you most of his anger has passed. It’s a start.”
“I don’t know how people get rid of the anger. I don’t know if I’d want to in his place.”
“You gave him justice—earthly justice. From there he needed to find acceptance, and then the faith that Amaryllis is in the hands of God. Or, if not God, the belief that she, too, has moved on to the next phase.”
“If the next phase is so great, why do we work so hard to stay in this one? Why does death seem so useless and hurt so damn much? All those people, just going along, living their lives, until somebody decides to end it for them. We should be pissed off. The dead should be pissed off. Maybe they are, because sometimes they just won’t let go.”
“Murder breaks both God’s law and man’s, and it requires—demands—punishment.”
“So I put them in a cage and the next stop is a fiery hell? Maybe. I don’t know. But what about the murdered? Some of them are innocent, just living their lives. But others? Others are as bad, or nearly, as the one who ended them. In this phase, I have to treat them all the same, do the job, close the case. I can do that. I have to do that. But maybe I wonder, sometimes, if it’s enough for the innocent, and for the ones—like Morris—who get left behind.”
“You’ve had a difficult week,” he murmured.
“And then some.”
“If closing cases was all that mattered to you, if it began and ended there, you would never have suggested your friend meet with me. You and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. And you wouldn’t, couldn’t, maintain your passion for the work I believe you were born to do.”
“Sometimes I wish I could see, or feel . . . No, I wish I could know, even once, that it’s enough.”
He reached out, touched her hand briefly. “Our work isn’t the same, but some of the questions we ask ourselves are.”
Whoa. Gotta admit the whole scene with the dying old lady is spooky…and way cool
She is Beata. I am the promise, and the promise is in you. You are the warrior, and the warrior holds me. We are together until the promise is kept and the fight is done.
Total woo-woo for Eve 😂
“I’m not sure, and I need you to give me a really open mind. I mean wide-open. Yours is already more open than mine about, you know, weird stuff.”
“What sort of weird stuff is my mind going to be wide-open about?”
“Okay.” She looked into his eyes, so blue, so beautiful. Eyes she trusted with everything she had. “There’s a dead woman sitting right beside me. Her name’s Janna Dorchester, and some asshole named Rennie Foster bashed her head in with a rock in Riverside Park. She’s worried her friend Sara might be next on his list. So I’m going to pass the information to the primary. I can read Russian.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I can read Russian. I think I can speak it, too, and I’m pretty sure I can make Hungarian goulash. And maybe borscht, possibly pierogies. The old woman, the one who fell into my lap and happened to be a Gypsy speaker for the dead, did something to me. Or I have a brain tumor.”
Staring into her eyes, Roarke cupped Eve’s face in his hands.”Kak vashi dela?”
“U menya vsyo po pnezhne mu. Hey, you speak Russian?”
He sat back on his heels, rocked right down to the bone. “A handful of phrases, and certainly not as fluently as you, apparently. And despite your answer, I doubt you’re fine.”
Eve freaking slays me
She’s in here.” Eve touched a hand to her chest. “This is the guy who took Beata, the guy who killed her. She might want some payback. If it looks like I’d turn that way, stop me. You stop me.”
“I have every confidence in Lieutenant Dallas, but if it makes you feel easier, I won’t let you do anything you’ll regret.”
“Good. But be, you know, subtle about it.”
He had to laugh. “You are absolutely you. All right then, while preventing you from taking a dead Gypsy’s revenge, I’ll do whatever I can to preserve your dignity. How’s that?”
“It’ll do.”