Chapter Text
The alarm sounded, and a few seconds later, Tyler, a twenty-year-old man, opened the oven. A wave of heat and the smell of bread greeted him. He smiled at the sight of the toasted crust and hurried to take out the blackberry tarts.
He took one and cut it in half. The filling was very dark, almost black, viscous, and with a tangy flavor that made his mouth water.
He had been told, or rather warned, that the customers that afternoon were as eccentric as they were demanding. With the specific instructions, Tyler had no doubts.
He put the pastry in his mouth. The crust crunched under his teeth, and the filling assaulted his taste buds.
Tyler closed his eyes.
It was perfect.
He began placing the dozens of spider-shaped pastries into the boxes.
Tyler had worked in a coffee shop almost his entire life. Since he was fifteen, after a tumultuous period that ended in a behavioral camp and his father dragging him to the job interview he'd gotten him.
Old Alfred, the owner of the Weathervane, had been a friend of his father's, and that was the only reason he'd given him a couple of shifts a week.
Tyler thought he'd hate the job—like everything related to his father—but he was very surprised when he discovered he actually liked it.
Who would have thought a coffee maker and an oven would save him from being a juvenile delinquent?
He put the last lid on and threw away his gloves just as the cafe door opened and the bell rang.
"Welcome to Cafe Paradise, what's up…? Oh, Ajax! Hi."
Enid, his assistant, leaned over the counter.
Tyler's back was turned, but he'd seen that same interaction a hundred times. He rolled his eyes and went to get his jacket.
"Hi, Enid. Is Tyler here?" Enid sighed dramatically.
"You know what? I'm starting to resent you always going after him. When are you coming here for me?"
"Uh..." Tyler left before Ajax's brain exploded.
"Come on, Casanova! I need you back here."
"Oh, yeah! We'll talk later, okay?"
Ajax crossed the counter and went into the kitchen, and Enid gave him a grotesque farewell gesture.
They grabbed the boxes of tarts and left through the back door toward their old red sedan.
"Why don't you just ask her out and end this torture? You have no idea how painful it is to watch you."
"As if it were that easy," Ajax complained. "She's so... Enid, and I... I'm going to look like an idiot if she stays with me for more than ten minutes."
"Trust me," Tyler said, getting into the car. "You already do."
Ajax made a face at him, but didn't deny it.
They drove to the edge of town, where the houses were large and spacious, and Tyler's apartment could easily fit in their gardens alone.
"Dude," Ajax drew out the last syllable and pointed at the house at the end of the street. "I think it's that house."
The mansion in question was made of dark wood, with pointed roofs and a metal fence covered in thorny vines. Tyler felt a chill run down his spine.
"Well, that explains the spiders."
The gates opened as soon as the car approached. Tyler and Ajax exchanged a glance, but neither said anything.
They drove along the stony road, with the mansion on their left and a cemetery on their right.
"Okay," Ajax said, without taking his eyes off the gravestones. "I think we don't have much time."
They got to work.
As soon as he entered the house, a butler showed him to the room where the family would gather after the burial.
The coffin was already in the old stone chapel, where everyone was saying their final goodbyes. Afterward, they would add the girl's photograph to the mantelpiece and celebrate her death.
It wasn't traditional, but Tyler had attended enough funerals to know that everyone processed death differently.
He finished placing the blackberry chandeliers on the towers and gazed, fascinated, at the ice sculptures of scorpions that decorated the table. Then, he placed the dark chocolate cake with 98% chocolate and red jelly on its own corner table, scattered with dried flower petals.
Everything was so… unique and depressing.
Tyler sighed and looked out the window.
From there, he could see the old stone chapel, surrounded by large trees whose leaves had been stolen by autumn.
The chapel doors opened, and that was his cue.
Tyler left the house and walked to his car, only to veer off at the last second and circle the cemetery, leaving the mourners behind. He hid among the graves, and when the garden was empty, he entered the chapel.
The place maintained the gothic aesthetic of the rest of the house. It had chandeliers instead of lamps, and a hundred candles burned.
The smell of incense made his nose itch, and when he sneezed, the sound echoed off the walls.
Tyler stood still for a few seconds, but no one seemed to hear him.
He walked over to the coffin. It was made of ebony and silver, and behind it were a dozen withered floral arrangements.
He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, opened the coffin door, and…
“Holy shit!”
The girl inside had pale skin, black hair in two braids, and features that Tyler would never forget.
Her name was Wednesday, and Tyler had met her five years ago at boot camp.
It had been their first kiss and at the end of the summer they lost their virginity amidst haste and trees, thinking that they would never see each other again.
Well, they hadn't been entirely wrong.
Tyler felt a slight tug in his stomach.
She couldn't be dead.
He had thought about her a couple of times since he had moved to New Jersey and opened his coffee shop. He had fantasized about the possibility of her walking in and recognizing him.
And now… God!
Tyler brought a hand to his face.
At least he had the chance to see her once and kill his hopes.
He inhaled deeply and looked at the clock.
One minute, he reminded himself.
Tyler reached out and stroked Wednesday's cheek.
The moment their skin touched, he felt a tingle, and then a wave of heat coursed through Wednesday's body. Her eyelids twitched and she opened her eyes abruptly.
She sniffed the place and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Prickly pear. I told her I wanted sandalwood," she murmured, her lips turning a mauve hue.
Wednesday shifted her eyes to him.
Tyler swallowed hard.
"Tyler? What are you doing here?"
Tyler blinked. At least she remembered him, he thought.
He quickly pulled his hand away and looked at his watch again.
"You're in your family chapel," he explained.
"I know, I like to sleep here in the winter. The cold is brutal."
"Oh! Makes sense," he murmured. Tyler shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. He had fifty seconds. "You see, you died, and I wanted to know if you saw who did it."
Wednesday sat up and blinked. Just one blink.
That was one of the most embarrassing parts of his job—well, the unofficial job.
People didn't usually react very well to the news that they'd died, but Wednesday said nothing. Her face didn't express anger, confusion, or sadness; she just stared at him with her large eyelashes.
"So what are you doing here? Why would my family invite you to my funeral? Or are you dead too? Are you part of the welcoming committee to hell?"
"Uh, nope. You see… I… well, I have a gift"—he shrugged—"sort of. One touch revives you, and another makes you die again."
Wednesday nodded, as if what he'd just said was the most normal thing in the world.
"And your family will pay a hefty reward for catching your killer," he added quickly, feeling his ears burn.
"Oh!" Wednesday looked surprised. What would she think of him now? "Sounds like a good way to capitalize on my death. Get paid double."
Tyler smiled.
"That's why I always liked you."
Wednesday returned a smaller but satisfied smile.
The second hand of his watch pulled him from his thoughts; he had less than thirty seconds left.
"So, who killed you?"
"I don't know. I was attacked from behind, but I felt a prick in my arm." Wednesday touched the spot, a little above her elbow. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I guess... that's it. Just promise me, when you find my killer, you'll make him suffer."
"I will. I still have the taser you gave me."
Wednesday nodded and lay back down, placing her hands crossed over her chest.
That was it. Once he touched her again, she would revert to her original state, and there would be no way to speak to her again.
Tyler felt another tug in his stomach. More stronger.
Why hadn't he asked for her phone number before? It wasn't that he didn't know his fifteen-year-old self was a complete idiot, but not asking for the number just to look cool in front of her. Ugh!
Stupid fifteen-year-old Tyler, he thought.
"Can I give you a kiss?"
Wednesday was surprised, and her cheeks flushed.
"I guess that's okay. You were my first kiss and you would be my last."
Tyler leaned over the coffin. He had five seconds.
That didn't count as necrophilia, did it?
It would only be a touch. It was like touching her with his fingers, only it would be his lips, but it was skin after all.
Three seconds.
He closed his eyes, felt Wendesday's breath on his face…
Tyler took a step back.
"I'm sorry, I can't."
Wednesday stood up again.
"Is it because I'm dead?"
"No!" Tyler looked at his watch. The minute had passed. "it's just... Don't you want to come with me?"
"Escape from my own funeral?"
She smiled, a genuine smile, and Tyler thought she was more beautiful than he remembered.
"You'll have to get out on your own. Remember, I can't touch you."
With remarkable agility, Wednesday stepped out of the coffin.
She was barefoot and wore a long black silk dress. Tyler handed her his jacket and closed the coffin.
They walked through the cemetery. Shouts and music could be heard from the mansion. “They’re dancing the mamushka in my honor,” Wednesday murmured, her tone almost moved.
“Hide there,” he said, pointing to the back seat as he took his place.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The minutes that passed while he waited for Ajax seemed like an eternity, but finally he left the mansion and ran toward him.
“We’ve got the case,” he said, closing the passenger door. “Did she tell you who killed her?” Tyler swallowed hard.
“I’m on it.”
“What do you mean, ‘you’re on it’?”
“Hello.”
Ajax jumped in his seat and let out a high-pitched scream that pierced his eardrums.
“Who the hell-? Tyler!”
“She's Wednesday,” Tyler said apologetically.
“She’s alive.”
“You’re quite the observer,” Wednesday replied, crossing her arms.
“He knows what I mean,” Ajax said. "What are we supposed to do now?"
Tyler looked from one to the other. Wednesday was impassive, though a spark of confidence flickered in her eyes. Ajax, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown.
"There's only one thing we can do. Find out who killed you."