Dead bodies danced in the sparsely lit room. Ghosts of Emmett's past taunted him with their bloody jaws, sinister smirks, and hollow eyes. Emmett tightened a ribbon around his arm, struggling to find a decent vein to inject. Greedy eyes watched him as he plunged the syringe into his pale, frail skin, unbothered by the new mark it left behind. Just another to add the constellation that marred his arms.

"Go away," Emmett muttered. "Fuck off already."

Emmett rolled his swivel chair back, just far enough to crack his window open. A gust of chilly air swept across the room as he swatted at the ghosts savoring their merriment, splattering their blood all over the place with their absurd dancing. He treated them like pesky flies.

One by one, each dead body slipped out into the night sky to dance away into the heavens. But his demons wouldn't be gone that easily. They'd be back. They always came back.

However, just when Emmett thought he was free, a young man caught his attention. Not like he could forget that bastard. Griffin slid onto his desk; those piercing eyes sending shivers down his spine even though he wasn't really there. A bubble of desire rose in his chest, yet it made him want to vomit.

"Go to hell." Emmett reclined in his chair, arching his back. "I already killed you."

Blood oozed down his chin, dribbling from between his teeth. Two gunshot wounds were visible in his old t-shirt that Emmett used to steal from him every night. Griffin didn't die in that shirt though. Emmett remembered it well. He wore a black hoodie and worn out Old Navy jeans. They'd just robbed a fuckton of money from their boss. It was so goddamn stupid. It was one time in his teenage life when he actually felt alive.

Griffin's ghost smirked, grabbing tightly to the pale skin of his own tender cheeks. He pulled until the skin loosened, tearing through the flesh like it was nothing. Blood oozed from the split in his head, revealing hundreds of black butterflies that nestled in his skull. They poured out in swarms, and Emmett ducked his head down to let them escape out the window.

Emmett watched, transfixed, by the sight before him. He waited, just to see what happened next. Right until nothing but a pile of worms was left on the floor, slithering all in Griffin's old clothes.

A pounding fist on the door ripped him away from the gore. Before he had a chance to respond, Kazimir barged in. He tread through the pile of worms on the floor like they were nothing. How gross. He'd have to make him change his socks before he got back in their bed. Emmett wasn't sleeping with no fucking worms.

"Just wanted to check on you," Kazimir said, voice croaking from his sore throat. "You've been in here for hours now. Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No thanks. I'm good." Emmett reassured him.

"Are you sure?" Kazimir frowned.

"Yeah, how about you? Does your throat feel any better?" Emmett asked.

"A little."

"Well, if you're up to it, I plan to go do some digging into something tonight. I'd love the extra company. Only if you're feeling up to it."

"Sure, I'll take some medicine before we head out." Kazimir smiled, his lovely brown eyes lighting up with adoration.

Nothing about Kazimir reminded him of Griffin. From their appearance to their personalities, there was no resemblance. They were like fire and ice. One made him want to live his life to the fullest while the other made him wish someone would take him out of his misery.

When Kazimir left his office, the worms evaporated into thin air. No traces of Griffin's spirit remained. Only that goddamn photo of them in his pocket. He should burn it or maybe put it in Phantom's litter box. But something made him hang on to the fucking thing. Maybe he just wanted to torment himself.

💀

Evening melted across the sky like sherbet ice cream. A breeze rustled through Emmett's hair as he climbed out of his blue Cadillac, Kazimir trailing close behind him. He led them through rows of tombstones amid Serenity Cemetery. Just as he neared Mal's grave, he froze. Someone else was already there.

"Who's that?" Kazimir whispered.

"Dunno. That's not my buyer," Emmett replied. "Let's head over to Hank's grave. Just pretend like we're here visiting him."

Hank's grave was close enough for Emmett to keep an eye on the young man at his plot. Who was that? He didn't want to spook the guy, but he needed to know who'd visit him at such a strange hour. Mal didn't have many people in his life.

"Why don't we try talking to him?" Kazimir suggested. "Maybe he was close to Mal?"

"I don't know." Emmett hesitated.

"What's the worst that could happen? Come on, let's just go see who he is."

"Fine," Emmett succumbed.

Sometimes, Kazimir trusted people too much. Despite how much he'd been through, that never clicked. He always wanted to try and see the good in people. Maybe that's why he stayed with Emmett. Such a thought amused him. As if there was anything good left in him. His heart rotted away inside him and he had no faith left in humanity. He only cared about himself and his loyal rebels.

As they crossed through the freshly trimmed grass, Emmett examined the young man. Dark, tousled brown hair buffeted in the wind and his face seemed familiar. Where would he know the guy from? He didn't place him as a gang member.

"You a friend of Mal's?" Emmett asked, stepping behind Mal's new gravestone.

The young man froze like a deer caught in the headlights. "Uh, yeah. He was my friend. Tragic how he died. Were you a friend too?"

"What's your name? I don't remember Mal ever mentioning you." Emmett walked around, as if desiring to trap him in.

The guy took an unsteady step back, clutching to the fake roses in his hand. His chin trembled as he gazed back, probably searching for his car to see how far away it was. Emmett knew he wanted to flee. Poor bastard failed miserably at hiding his fear. He reminded him of a skittish mouse about to be devoured.

"Xavier." He licked his lips, fidgeting with the tag of his fake flowers. "I swear, I was just leaving flowers, man. I ain't trying to cause no problems. I'll leave."

"I didn't accuse you of anything yet." Emmett offered a not-so-friendly smile.

"Sorry, we've just been skeptical of everyone lately," Kazimir spoke up. His words strained against his raspy voice. "You know, since Mal's murder."

"Nah, I get it." Xavier's gaze lingered on Emmett for a moment. "But like I said, I ought to go. Got a morning shift tomorrow and I still need to grab supper."

Before Xavier turned to walk away, Emmett asked, "You work at the bakery, right? Mad Batter?"

Xavier nodded, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Uh, yeah."

"I thought I recognized you," Emmett said. "Well, be careful getting home. You never know what kind of dangerous killers lurk around. People are fucking nuts nowadays. More than usual."

"Yeah, thanks. Y'all do the same."

When Xavier was out of earshot, Emmett remarked, "That was weird."

"I think you just made him nervous. You looked like you wanted to kill him," Kazimir pointed out.

Emmett shrugged. "Nervous people usually hide secrets. He might know something more about Mal's murder. How do you think they met?"

"Maybe at that bakery?" Kazimir suggested.

"Did Mal go there often?" Emmett asked. "He never went with me. You know, I do business with the family's owners."

"I don't know. Maybe we should drop by there tomorrow?" Kazimir suggested. "We could ask their family if Mal's been around there lately. If that Xavier guy knows who Mal was messing with, we might be closer to finding his killer."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea to me," Emmett replied.

They'd be closer to finding the fucker who wanted his precious artist dead. Emmett couldn't bring himself to tell Kazimir what they found out in that forest. He didn't even tell him about how he'd gone back. There was enough weighing on his mind without the extra paranoia of watching over his shoulder for a killer. Emmett would just make sure he kept Kazimir close.

Emmett slipped a plastic bag of heroin from his pocket after plucking the money out of Mal's vase of flowers. At least Xavier hadn't been nosy enough to snoop around the grave. He wouldn't use his old pal's grave for his transactions anymore. That could've been a close call. Emmett wasn't sure what Xavier would've done if he'd caught on to their drug trade in the cemetery, but he knew they'd need to be more cautious. The last thing Emmett wanted was for the cops to be on his ass.

After finishing up their business, Emmett checked his phone once they got back inside his car. New messages from Mayor Kaufman popped up. He must've missed them earlier. Emmett skimmed through the details, focusing on his mention of having guests over for a town meeting at his home. Mayor Kaufman wanted him to wait outside until everyone left, then he'd pay him.

Emmett smirked. Oh, he planned to get that money. But how could he turn down an opportunity to snoop around the Kaufman's residence? Emmett was a prominent member of their town, after all. Shouldn't he get to listen in on their discussions? If it weren't for him, most of their businesses would be bankrupt and abandoned.

"Sweetheart, how would you feel about crashing Mayor Kaufman's town meeting tomorrow night?"