✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

11

"Macy Bryant, age 23. Killed by, what seems to be, natural causes," breathed Crawford, staring down at an immaculately clothed, blonde woman in the dirt. By the lack of bugs, and the glow of her skin, she had come from a casket—recently placed. A funeral home lay only a mile away.

"Who discovered the body," asked Will, mind already whirring through possibilities.

"An officer who was patrolling the area," said Jack, glancing around at the trimmed wilderness about them. "Not suspicious, seeing as we're on a park." He stared at Will. "We've already interviewed him. At first, he thought she was just taking a nap—or passed out, even—but when he touched her..."

Will nodded, kneeling down. "And the marking?"

"Beneath her shirt. It's barely been touched, but you can see the hint of black."

Will took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes, catching onto the faint scent of power and foreboding. Although the placement of the body was recent, Death's scent seemed weak. He sighed, slipping some gloves on and opening the woman's button-up shirt. On her stomach, respectfully away from her chest, stood the stark letter M in thin, elegant writing.

Will dragged his finger along the letter and pulled his hand back. No smudging.

Death.

"It's him," breathed Will, slowly standing up. Jack sighed and ran a hand over his head, staring down at the body in disappointment.

"We can't catch what half the nation doesn't believe in," he said, referring to Death possessing a mortal form. He shook his head, a troubled expression flashing about his eyes. "Death, or whoever's doing this, has already messed with five of our cases. If we don't catch him soon, the public will get suspicious."

Will grimaced. "I'm sure Freddie Lounds is already brewing up a fake story."

"Three, to be exact," said Katz, joining their sides. She nodded towards the body. "Work your magic, yet?"

"We already know who did it," said Will.

"Yeah, but you don't know why," she explained. She glanced between Will and Crawford. "I'm gonna see if I can collect more evidence. But even I'm getting weary about these 'messages.'"

"Need a minute?" asked Crawford. Will sighed and gave a reluctant nod, closing his eyes once Jack stepped away. The scene cleared, and he slowly opened his eyes, now standing in the doorway of the funeral home.

"There's a service going on for a woman," he muttered, walking inside. "She's highly respected. Sophisticated." He glanced around the filled chairs of mourning people, staring at Macy Bryant from within the casket. "Merely perfect."

The scene skipped, and suddenly he was alone, standing before the casket. "I respect the dead," he whispered, "but her sins amount enough to rely my message."

He glanced around, finding the scene clear, and dragged the body out of the casket. Eyes sharp and movements calculated, he traveled the mile towards the public park and settled the body on the grass peacefully.

"Unlike the other bodies I've tainted, I must keep this one in a pristine state," said Will, kneeling down. After making sure no one was around, he unbuttoned her shirt and dragged his finger along her stomach, scrawling the letter M elegantly. "My message goes beyond letters."

He buttoned her shirt back up, staring at Macy's peaceful, glowing face. "I am not just spit on mortals. Not just a deity who takes lives out of malice. I am also elegance and poise—a peaceful bridge between mortality and the afterlife."