Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)(63)

Amelia’s expression immediately became one of sadness. “At least, when I was alive, I knew how to live,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry—truly,” Clara said.

Amelia smiled at her. “I know you are. You’re actually a nice person. I wasn’t a vicious person—I just thought that I... I thought that I would live forever, becoming more and more adored and famous! Ah, well. I will go down in the history books. I wanted people to remember my name. Now they will when they talk about horrible killers in history. I probably already have thousands of hits on the internet.”

“Oh, Amelia,” Clara murmured. She wasn’t sure what she should say.

“I think you should hop right on one of those FBI guys,” Amelia said.

“What? Hop on?”

“Oh, please!” A mischievous smile crossed Amelia’s face. “My God, how old are you? Mid to late twenties? Where have you been? With one of them. At all times. Through the night. How do you know that the killer isn’t in this house? Do you want to wake up with your throat slit or hands around your throat, choking the life out of you? You need to pick one—and sleep with him. Oh, my God! If I were the living one, I would have done so by now!”

Clara stared at her, completely taken off guard. And then she began to laugh.

“Amelia, honestly, and say what? Hey, buddy, I’m here, and since I am, I think we should sleep together?”

“Really? And you’re an actress!” Amelia said.

Clara inhaled, smiling. “Amelia, I just came from another bad situation. I was working on a ship, and people were killed. Jackson Crow was there and—”

“You slept with him!”

“No, he’s married.”

Amelia studied her nails and sighed. “Well, I have to admit—that never mattered to me. Do you think that’s why I’m floating around here? Am I on my way to hell? Do you think that there is such a thing as heaven, or...will I just float over the ice and snow and pines and watch others live forever? Maybe that is hell,” she added softly.

Clara moved across the few feet that separated them and sat next to Amelia, wishing she could put an arm around her shoulders and comfort her.

“Amelia, I don’t know any of the answers. But I can’t believe you were evil—you might have been a bit selfish and maybe self-centered.” She winced. Wrong thing to say. Amelia looked even more pained. “But I do believe—especially since I am sitting here talking to you—that there’s more. And, honestly, I believe you’re here to help us catch the killer. You will help us. I know that you will.”

Amelia looked at her. Clara wondered how the woman could be nothing more than heart or soul or whatever it was that made an individual a revenant or an energy that remained—and appear to have huge tears burning brilliantly in her eyes.

“Yes, I will,” Amelia said with conviction. “Yes, I will.” She seemed to brighten. “Okay, so you and Jackson Crow are best buds—but the married thing bothers you. So that leaves Mike Aklaq and tall, blond and handsome. Seems to me like you and tall, blond and handsome have something going. Oh, honey, I wouldn’t have blinked!”

“Okay, okay, I think lots of people survive bad situations without sleeping with one another,” Clara said.

“But I saw you kiss him.”

“I am discovering that I like him. Very much,” Clara said.

“So?”

“So I’d like to see where that goes, if anywhere.”

“Watch where it goes later. Sleep with him now,” Amelia said. “Oh, seriously, do come on! You’re an actress—surely you’ve played some kind of strumpet or harlot or the like somewhere along the line! And you kissed him. I saw it, I saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you... You know that you want to. He’s like a frickin’ perfect creature!”

Clara had to smile. “Yes, I like him very much—now.”

“You mean there was a time when you didn’t?”

Clara waved a hand in the air; she didn’t want to explain. And she realized that she was still smiling because talking to Amelia was fun. And she was sorry that the woman was dead—even though she seemed to be getting a newer, nicer version of Amelia.

Death had changed her. Death, Clara figured, could do that.

“So, should I have this honest conversation?” she asked Amelia. “Tell him that, yes, this is really an awkward situation. Two women are dead and we’re trying to find their killer before he strikes again. Oh, and I know you’re obsessed—thinking it’s a killer you put away who has escaped and is killing again—but, in the meantime, let’s sleep together?”

“It would work for me,” Amelia said.

“Hm. Just tell him that it’s a great stress reliever?” Clara asked.

“Yes, absolutely!” Amelia said.

“I was just kidding,” Clara said.

“That’s too bad. You shouldn’t be kidding. You should do it.”

“There are other people all over this house!” Clara protested.

“Cops and agents, and the creepy couple. And creepier Marc Kimball. Hey, I’d sleep with the FBI guy just to make sure that Kimball doesn’t come in. No, you might sleep with him just to make sure that Kimball doesn’t come in. Kimball isn’t all that bad looking, and he’s rich as an Arab oil nation. I might have slept with him,” Amelia said with a shrug. “Anyway...for me!” she said softly. “Be careful. Be really careful. Let me help you live. Maybe I’ll redeem myself.”