“Maybe we should wait a few more minutes to make sure he’s dead,” Edwina said, but then her sister gave her that aloof glance just short of an eye roll that insinuated she was being a prude. “All right, then. Take your bauble, but we’ll need to find a policeman to report the body to on our way back.”
Mary squealed with delight and knelt beside the man’s chest. Edwina, a touch uneasy since the man still took breath, kept an eye out for any stray fishermen hitting the shore before the sun was up. There was nothing wrong, necessarily, in taking a man’s memories when he was on the verge of death. After all, he had no more use for them. But those who didn’t understand the unique attraction the rising memories floating off the dead held for her sister might misinterpret her intentions. To some, such a scene might appear as if they were robbing the poor dead fellow of his earthly belongings. True, Mary might yet pluck off a brass button or slip loose his wedding ring, if he wore one, but that wasn’t the same as stealing. Not really. Not when it came to the dead.
Mary leaned over the man and held one hand against the left side of his forehead. There might have been a twitch of discomfort, but it wasn’t enough to erase any doubt he’d be dead soon. With her other hand she pressed on the man’s chest. An instant later an aura of blue light rose out of his throat to form a tiny cloud above his body. Quick as a bird after a moth, Mary grasped the thing with both hands. Cupping the memory between her palms, she blew air into the hollow space inside to preserve it.
“Come, Mary. The tide’s rising. We need to head for home.”
Her sister stood with the man’s memory cradled in her palm, an orb of iridescent cobalt and gold that could pass for a fisherman’s glass float. Edwina pinched her brows together, inspecting how brightly the multispectral memory glowed. She could see why her sister had been drawn to the shiny thing.
“All right, pocket it and let’s be off,” she said. Edwina waited, eyes on the shoreline, while Mary shrank the shimmering orb of energy in her palm down to a solid sphere by clasping her hands together and whispering her preservation spell. Edwina peeked over her shoulder and saw that the memory had retained its iridescence so that it resembled a precious stone or a piece of sea glass rather than a child’s marble, as was often the case with Mary’s finds. “Pretty,” she said and hooked her arm in her sister’s.
“I’ll store it with the others,” Mary said. “I must have over a dozen such gems now, each a deeper shade of blue and gold, though none so dazzling as this one. Someday I hope to discover what all the different veins of color mean.”
Not without finding a way to speak to the dead, thought Edwina, but she let it go. She didn’t wish to spoil her sister’s good find. Both their good finds, actually. If the right buyer entered the shop, the gold ring might bring in enough to tip the scales toward a profit for the month. All in all, it was a good morning of scavenging along the foreshore. Well, perhaps not for the unfortunate man they’d left lying on the riverbank.
North of the embankment they spotted an officer making his rounds. Naturally, it wouldn’t do to speak directly to a member of the police force. Not with a dead body involved. Or even a nearly dead one. And definitely not when those who had found the dead body were considered by some to be contrary. Curse that boy. They’d learned that lesson well enough before.
Instead, Edwina nudged a thought toward the officer by singing the message in a melody. Her sister might have a talent for spotting shiny corpse lights rising off the dead, but she could sing a spell better than any woman in her clan.
Her song trilled through the morning mist, and the officer, cocking his ear, headed for the river. At least the authorities could retrieve the poor man’s body before it was swallowed by the rising water. Edwina patted her sister’s arm and trotted up the cobblestones toward their third-story flat, a good deed done in the early morning gloaming. But before they turned the corner at the top of the road, a shrill call from the officer’s whistle pierced the morning calm, shrieking loud enough to shake loose her denial. She peered at the dark line of the embankment, at the moving lights of men rushing to answer the call to save another human being, and knew.
Chapter Two
Edwina’s feet touched down on the wood floor of their attic bedroom. She threw off her shawl, letting it drape over one of two single beds. Mary followed and remembered to shut the window behind her before bounding on top of her quilt.
“Light the lamp.” Edwina caught her breath as she braced her hand against the chest of drawers.