The smell of formaldehyde and faint antiseptic lingered in the air as Suzi stepped into Eternal Springs Funeral Home. She tugged at her too-loose blazer, making a mental note to replace it soon—she couldn’t afford to look unprofessional. Her gaze flicked to the intake board, her fingers swiftly writing her name and Gracie Jo’s beside one of the cases requiring reconstruction. She barely finished when Nick’s voice called out from the hallway.
“Morning, Suzi!” Nick’s ever-joyful tone wrapped around her like a snug sweater.
“Good Morning, Nick.” She gave him a polite smile. “What’s up?”
“The McGillicuddys are here with their lawyer. Are you ready for this?”
She stifled a sigh, running her fingers through her hair as she adjusted her composure. “Might as well get it over with. Jo and I have work waiting.”
Walking toward the meeting room, Suzi spotted Gracie Lynn, Nick’s daughter, multitasking at the front desk. The girl waved a pinky finger in greeting, her phone perched between her ear and shoulder. Suzi returned the gesture, her focus already shifting to what waited ahead.
Inside the room, tension thickened the air. Four pairs of eyes tracked her and Nick as they entered. The woman who’d swung at her last week glared daggers, a small bandage marring her right eyebrow. Her brothers sat stiffly beside her, their somber expressions a stark contrast to the older woman’s half-lidded gaze, as though she teetered on the edge of sleep.
“Ms. Bachman,” the bald man with wire-rimmed glasses stood and extended a hand. “Ernest Byrd. Mr. McGillicuddy’s attorney. It’s a pleasure.”
His handshake was firm, his fingers rough from paperwork rather than manual labor. Everything about him screamed desk job—a paunch pushing against his waistband, a double chin hinting at long hours and little exercise. Pale and soft, like a man who hadn’t seen the sun in years.
“Just Suzi,” she replied, shaking his hand briefly.
“Then call me Ernie,” he offered with a genial nod before gesturing to her chair.
Nick pulled it out for her, a gesture that felt both courteous and grounding. She slid into it, placing herself squarely across from the glaring woman and her subdued entourage. The lawyer reclaimed his seat and dug into his briefcase, the rustle of papers amplifying the uneasy silence.
Suzi broke it first. “I want to apologize for last week.” Her tone was steady, but her chest tightened as she met the woman’s venomous gaze.
“For my face being in the way of your fist,” Annie laughed.
“For not properly kicking your ass,” the hateful Judy interjected.
“My actions were…inappropriate. I should have understood you were grieving. If you decide to press charges, I won’t contest them.”
Ernie raised his hands to cut in. “There will be no charges,” he said firmly. “The family and I agreed to move past this. But first, we need to address Mr. McGillicuddy’s final wishes, as laid out in his living will”
He pulled a thick manila envelope from his briefcase, Suzi’s name scrawled across it in Mr. McGillicuddy’s unmistakable handwriting. Her heart skipped, the weight of it heavy in her hands before Ernie began to read aloud.
“I, John Quincy McGillicuddy, being of sound mind and body, leave my entire estate, belongings, wealth, property, and holdings to Suzanne Bachman of Eternal Springs Funeral Home in Naperville, Illinois.”
A sharp exhale escaped the glaring woman—a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snarl. Ernie kept reading, unfazed.
“I fully anticipate this decision will upset my children, whom I love dearly but who rarely visited me. Ms. Bachman spent time with me regularly, treating me with kindness and respect. She didn’t coddle me or treat me like a burden. If I were fifty years younger, I would have made her my fourth wife. I expect my family to respect my wishes and not pursue litigation against Ms. Bachman. Enclosed are keys, deeds, lock codes, maps, and a personal letter for her.”
The bald man folded the paper and placed it in a folder in his briefcase. He removed four hand-sized, clasped dark blue jewelry boxes and closed the briefcase. “This was dictated to me by John almost a year ago and signed and notarized in our office with witnesses.”
“Maps?” Suzanne questioned. “What the fuck?”
Judith chimed in from within, “Consider me intrigued”
Spike added, “A treasure map!”
“How much is she getting?” The daughter’s voice cracked through Suzi’s inner musings, her words barbed with resentment.
Ernie’s tone remained neutral. “John didn’t disclose the estate’s value, nor was he required. I’m sure everything is outlined in Ms. Bachman’s documents.” He looked at Suzi. “As for last week’s incident, the family has one request: they wish to retain Mr. McGillicuddy’s military honors in lieu of any litigation.” He laid his hand on the stack of jewelry boxes.
Suzi’s fingers tightened around the envelope. “His Purple Heart? His Silver Star?”
“Yes.” Ernie nodded solemnly.
“My mom was with him for 20 years and gave him three children,” the woman who attacked her stood, pointing to the dozing woman next to her. “She is entitled to something.”
Suzi thought for a moment and calculated her next words. “John had three wives and six children. Are his other children not entitled to anything?”
“They are not here,” she protested. “They didn’t bother to show up for his funeral.”
“My condolences for your loss, ma’am. But it sounds like none of you could be bothered to see John when he was alive. John entrusted those to me. They meant something to him, and I’ll ensure they’re respected.”
The lawyer’s eyes went wide-eyed and tucked in his lips.
“You go, Girl!” James cheered in her head.
The woman’s chair scraped against the floor as she surged forward, rage pouring off her. “You fucking bitch!”
“Hey!” Nick rose, ready to intervene.
Suzi stayed seated, calm and unflinching. “You’re angry because you think I manipulated him,” she said evenly. “I didn’t. John made his choices. If you want to sue, go ahead. But you’ll lose.”
“Ernie,” Suzi said, her voice steady but cold as she turned to the lawyer. “I need the mailing addresses of all John’s kids. If I knew him as well as I think I did, he left them something in here.” She gave the envelope a small shake, the weight of it in her hand feeling heavier than paper should. “And if he didn’t, I’ll decide what’s fair and send it to them myself. But for now, I’m declining the family’s request for Military honors.”
The room went silent. She slid the neatly stacked boxes closer to her, picked them up in one hand, and straightened her back. Her gaze swept the room, landing on John’s sons. The resemblance to him was uncanny—same sharp cheekbones, same deep-set eyes. It was like staring at photos of John from his younger days, brought to life.
“My deepest condolences for the loss of your father,” she said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. Her tone softened just slightly. “I know he was proud of you. But he missed you, too. Don’t fool yourselves into thinking otherwise.”
Then her eyes locked onto the woman sitting stiffly to the side. Her presence made Suzi’s stomach tighten, not in anger, but something darker. The woman’s expression was a mask of judgment and defiance, but Suzi could see through it.
“Your mother left John,” Suzi said flatly, her voice sharpening. “I don’t believe she’s entitled to anything.”
The words tasted bitter as they left her mouth. It was too close to home. Suzanne flinched.
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But she didn’t backtrack. Didn’t soften. “If you want to share whatever you get with her, that’s on you. But don’t expect me to. And I hope you visit her more often than you visited John.” Her eyes darted to the elderly woman, who sat slumped and dazed in her chair, lost in whatever fog had taken her mind.
She didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel, ready to leave, the tension in the room pressing against her back like a physical weight.
Nick’s expression caught her off guard. He looked... proud. But there was something else, too—shock, maybe. Or approval mixed with disbelief. He stayed silent, though, as did Ernie, who gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
And then the eruption came.
“I’m going to fucking sue you!” The woman’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip.
Suzi froze at the door. Slowly, deliberately, she turned around. Her expression was calm, but her eyes burned with restrained fury.
“Go ahead,” she said, her tone low and steady, like a predator waiting for its prey to make a fatal mistake. “You attacked me. Your father’s will explicitly stated that you were not to take action against me, but you ignored that. You knew his wishes—you had already heard the details of his will—and you still attacked me. You thought I manipulated him, didn’t you? Thought I seduced him into rewriting his will?”
She took a slow step forward, her voice growing sharper. “Let me be very clear. I didn’t. I was just his friend, just like I am to dozens of veterans at Lone Pine. John trusted me. He gave me his estate because he trusted me. And you? You attacked me because you couldn’t handle that. I can forgive you for being angry, but if you sue me or press charges? You’ll get nothing. Not a damn thing.”
The woman’s face twisted in rage, her eyes wild as she lunged forward, but one of her brothers held her back, his grip firm.
“Come on, sis,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “It’s fair. Let it go.”
He turned his attention to Suzi, his expression a mix of guilt and gratitude. “Thank you for being with him,” he said quietly. “We weren’t great kids. But we’re glad you were there. You gave him peace.”
Suzi stared at him for a long moment, the fire in her chest cooling just slightly. She gave a small nod, turned back toward the door, and walked out without another word.
As she passed Lynn, she caught her eye, threw her a quick wink, and made her way to the employee dressing room. The familiar scent of disinfectant and worn wood hit her as she entered. She eased onto the splintered bench in front of her locker, her military honors cases balanced precariously in one hand and a sealed envelope trembling in the other.
Her fingers itched to rip the envelope open, but the thought of its contents paralyzed her. Not here, not now, she decided, shoving it deep into her bag. Her hands still shook as she zipped it up, hiding the weight of anticipation away. With a deep breath, she rose and headed out to find Gracie Jo.
The kid was already in the thick of things when Suzi found her, hunched over the computer with her curls spilling over her shoulders. The wireframe software glowed on the screen, X-rays and living photos meticulously aligned. Or so Jo thought.
“Hey, Jo. Hard at work, huh?” Suzi leaned over, her voice light but probing as she peered at the screen.
“Yup!” Jo’s tongue poked out, a telltale sign of her intense concentration.
“Did you resize the images to match resolution?” Suzi asked, her tone betraying her expectation that the answer was a no.
Jo froze, her fingers hovering mid-air above the keyboard and mouse. “Ah, crap!”
Suzi chuckled, ruffling the girl’s curls. “Yeah, if you don’t, the negative image will be a mess. You’ll end up wondering why an eye socket’s where the nasal bridge should be. Start over.”
Jo groaned, her pout exaggerated as she hammered away at the keyboard to fix the oversight. Suzi slipped on her protective gear, her mind already cataloging the day’s tasks when Jo’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“Hey, Suzi, can I ask you something personal?” Jo’s tone was hesitant, uncharacteristic of the bubbly intern.
Suzi paused, her gloves halfway on. “This must be serious. You’ve never asked permission before. Fire away.”
Jo’s cheeks flushed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you think I’m attractive?”
For a moment, Suzi didn’t respond. Jo’s question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Slim, plain, and painfully naive, Jo wasn’t ugly—just... unpolished. Suzi perched on the edge of the desk, cupping the girl’s face with gentle hands, forcing Jo to meet her gaze.
“Gracie Jo, you’re beautiful. Why would you think otherwise?”
Jo’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m almost 27, and the other day, when Doyle…” She practically whispered the next part. “Wanted to have s-e-x with us, it was the first time anyone showed interest. Now he avoids me like I’m diseased.” A single tear slid down her cheek.
Suzi suppressed a grin, knowing exactly why Doyle kept his distance. She’d made damn sure of it. Swiping the tear from Jo’s face, Suzi searched for the right words. “Sweetie, you don’t want Doyle. He’s just...”
“Ew?” Annie offered.
“Repulsive?” Judith added, her tone dripping with disdain.
“Nauseating,” Suzanne chimed in.
“Vile,” James finished with a growl.
Suzi cracked a smile. “You’ll find someone worthy of you soon enough, but it’s not him. Don’t rush it, Jo.”
Jo sniffed, her expression a mix of relief and lingering doubt. “I’ve never even been kissed by anyone who wasn’t family. My parents were married at my age. You had kids by now, and I don’t even believe that because you look my age.”
Suzi laughed, brushing the comment aside. “Stress and not eating, babe. But seriously, the right person—or people—is out there for you.”
“People?” Jo’s eyes widened. “No, my mom says once you give yourself to someone, you’re with them forever.”
“That’s a nice fairy tale,” Suzi said gently. “Life doesn’t always work that way. Don’t rush it. Don’t kiss someone just for attention, and don’t lose your V-card to feel validated. It doesn’t bind anyone to you—trust me.”
Jo nodded, her focus returning to the computer. Suzi watched her for a moment, a wave of protectiveness washing over her. She hoped Jo’d make smart choices—better ones than she herself had made.
“So, Jo, what’ve we got today?” Suzi asked, pulling her gloves tighter.
Jo opened a file. “John Dale Conway. Fifty-three. Air Force vet. Carpenter, truck driver, mechanic. Massive cranial trauma from a car accident. Left behind a wife, a teenage son, and three daughters, one of them just a toddler.”
Suzi raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that important?”
Jo’s voice wavered. “Because it reminds us he was a person with a life worth respecting and honoring. Our best effort is the least we can do?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Telling you?,” Jo said, hesitating.
Suzi raised an eyebrow at the girl.
Jo stood more confidently and conclusively, stating, “I’m telling you.”
“Good.” Suzi pulled back the sheet covering Mr. Conway’s remains. Her stomach twisted at the sight, but her face betrayed nothing. “This one’s tough, Jo”, she called, examining the tissue and bone closely. “I can do it, and you can watch, okay? This really should not be an open-casket visitation, even if we succeed with the reconstruction. I don’t know that there will be anything original that will be viable. This is basically a decapitation.”
“Yeah, I looked. It seems very challenging. I thought the same thing, but if we remove the entire bone structure, not just the damaged parts, couldn’t we print a new skull, attach the soft tissue, and suture the wounds? Shouldn’t that work?” Jo asked.
Suzi pursed her lips and thought. “Yes, that should work. We’ll rebuild the entire skull. It’ll take all day to print. Let’s get precise measurements from the living photos. Tissue depth, too. No shortcuts.”
Jo nodded. “I’ll start and check with you before printing.”
“The student becomes the master,” Suzi said with a smirk.
The hum of the embalming machine filled the room, a low, steady noise that Suzi had come to find oddly soothing over the years. Her hands moved with practiced precision over Mr. Conway’s body, each motion automatic, a muscle memory she could do in her sleep. Her mind, though—her mind was anything but still.
Aiden was out of the woods. That’s what they’d said, moving him to a standard ICU room. It should’ve been a relief, and maybe it was, but the knot in her chest hadn’t loosened. Not yet. Every beep of a monitor, every phone call from the hospital brought with it the possibility of more bad news.
Tom and his crew flashed through her thoughts next—the ragtag group who had somehow become her allies in this fucked-up war against demons. Tom, steady and loyal, always there when shit hit the fan. And Phineas... poor Phineas, taking leave from the department after stabbing his own goddamn brother. The look in his eyes that night still haunted her.
And Ricky—she didn’t even know what to think about Ricky. Whatever that bastard Rotic’al had shown him, it had left him pale and shaking like a fucking leaf. But the next day, he’d plastered on a smile like nothing had happened. She knew better. People didn’t just bounce back from something like that.
Then there was Kariel. Suzi’s hands faltered for a fraction of a second, the thought of the angel tugging at the edges of her focus. One favor. That’s all it had been. And now he was paying for it with a hundred goddamn years as a human. What the hell did a hundred years even feel like to someone who wasn’t supposed to age, let alone die? And what about her? What was her price? She hadn’t dared to ask, hadn’t wanted to know. But it was coming—she could feel it, hanging over her like a storm ready to break.
And Dr. Adamson. The thread that tied this entire fucked-up mess together. Why had it started with him? And the man who shot him? Every time she tried to make sense of it, it was like grasping at smoke, the pieces slipping through her fingers no matter how tightly she held on.
Jo’s voice cut through her thoughts, grounding her. “Skull template’s done,” she said.
Suzi’s eyes scanning the work. She didn’t say anything, just made a few precise adjustments, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. The printer whirred to life, its screen flashing a daunting fourteen-hour estimate.
She didn’t realize how tense she was until lunchtime rolled around, and she found herself sitting across from Gracie Jo at Guillermo’s Tacos, the establishment who’s flyer beaconed the moniker she’d given her superconscious mind, housing her alter selves.. The warm, savory aroma of carne asada and spices filled the air, pulling her mind back to the present.
The meal was a brief respite, filled with Jo’s chatter and Suzi’s occasional hum of agreement. When they left, Suzi was mid-sentence, gesturing animatedly as they approached the door. Jo had already wandered ahead, kicking little patches of snow, oblivious to everything else.
Suzi reached the door just as someone else approached from the opposite direction. A strange, awkward dance followed—both stepping left, then right, mirroring each other like a bad comedy routine. It was ridiculous, and for the first time in days, Suzi found herself smiling.
“Please, go ahead,” she said, stepping to the side and gesturing them through with a sweep of her arm.
But something was off. She hadn’t looked closely at the person before, but now, as they moved past her, she noticed the hoodie. Dark green, pulled low over their face, casting it into shadow. Her stomach tightened.
Before she could react, a hand shot out, gripping her wrist like a fucking vice. There was a sharp prick in her arm—a needle, she realized too late—and a cold rush swept through her veins.
Her vision blurred, the world tilting at strange, nauseating angles. The last thing she saw was Jo, her back to Suzi, completely unaware.
Then the world went dark.