Romancing The Dead (28 page)

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Authors: Tate Hallaway

Tags: #Horror & Ghost Stories

BOOK: Romancing The Dead
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I rubbed my neck. The near-fatal attack was likely done by Marge, so actually, other than property damage, whoever this second attacker was, s/he wasn’t bloodthirsty. Or, maybe s/he just had terrible aim. “It’s possible the damage has all been accidental. Maybe more proof that this is someone who’s a rank amateur when it comes to magic.”

“Hmmm,” he grumbled. “Then maybe I’m just hungry.”

Even though I suggested Sebastian should go home and check on his roof and generally put his affairs in order, he insisted he come with me to the store. “I don’t want you out of my sight until we figure out who’s after you.”

“Fine,” I said, turning my key in the lock. “But stay out of the way. No distracting me while I work.”

Sebastian gave me a wicked grin. “No promises.”

In fact, it turned out the storeroom was an excellent place for a quickie. But despite that, we managed to open right on time. Fresh cup of coffee in hand, I stood at the ready behind the counter.

Not a soul came in all morning.

The midafternoon shift was just as dead. I sent William to nap in the back, blushing at the thought of what I ’d been doing back there. But when I checked in on him, I found William with his feet propped up on some boxes and his head nestled against a pile of yoga mats. I sat up front with my head in my hands. Sebastian curled up in the “book nook” reading something about politics and witchcraft. His eyelids drooped, and I thought I heard soft huffs of snores. Watching the door with half-closed eyes, I struggled to keep conscious.

The sound of the fire alarm jolted me upright. I smelled smoke, and my eyes burned. Instinctively, I grabbed the fire extinguisher from behind the counter. I struggled with the pin, but managed to get it out. Then, I rushed through the aisles trying to locate the flames. A smarter woman would have gone out the door to safety, but my only thought was that if the sprinkler system kicked in, like it was supposed to any minute, all the books would be completely ruined and I’d be out of business before I even started. Sebastian was right on my heels.

In the witchcraft section, I found that a circle in the middle of the wood floor was on fire. The flames seemed concentrated in the center of the aisle, and somehow, they had not reached any of the much more flammable books yet. I let loose a stream of white goop just like the fire marshal taught me during the safety training seminar. Splatters of gunk flew everywhere, not only covering the fire but also splashing the bottom row of books. Still, I told myself, it had to be better than an entirely soaked store, although I wondered if my concerns were moot given the stench of smoke in the air.

William ran past us in the next aisle with a wet rag over his mouth. I heard the bells over the door chime as he threw the door open and escaped onto the street. Two seconds later, I heard the door bang again. “Garnet, are you in there? Sebastian?”

“I’m okay! The fire is out,” I yelled over my shoulder. The alarms had stopped their clamor, but I could hear the sounds of sirens approaching. I was just about to join William outside when I felt something, like a hand, on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to see someone standing there. Instead, I saw a slither of black smoke. As tall as I was, it hung there in the air, not dissipating, just undulating slowly, like a snake.

“Sebastian,” I said, “do you see that?”

Then, it attacked.

The smoke snake dived toward my stomach, and I felt its teeth tear at my flesh. When I doubled over, I felt Sebastian’s arm around me. The instant our bodies touched the silver cord between us sparked. As if in response, the smoke creature reared up, as though disgusted or alarmed. It hissed. Although, really the sound was more of an insect’s dry rattle, reminding me of the magical bugs that I’d seen crawling in the ruins of my apartment. “Alison?”

Behind me, I felt Sebastian go taut with anger. “It is her?” he snarled. “Damn it, Alison. Is that you?”

As if sensing Sebastian’s rage, the smoke creature fled, disappearing through a vent in the ceiling. With magical sight, I looked for traces of a signature power. There were bits of energy scattered about, swirling aimlessly like confetti. I didn’t know for certain that it was Alison, but it certainly was the same power that attacked my house. I didn ’t have much of a chance to ponder its significance because the next thing I knew, a bevy of firefighters came bursting through the front door. Just as suddenly, I found myself outside, breathing into an oxygen mask. Sebastian stood guard over me. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. How could I tell them the truth? It was a magical attack, Officer, honest. I couldn ’t even offer an explanation that sounded remotely plausible. So, I tried to answer their questions as honestly as I could. “It just looked like the floor was on fire,” I said.

“The floor,” the firefighter repeated skeptically. He was an impressively large black man, who looked striking in the bright, fluorescent yellow of the uniform. “When there was all that paper everywhere?”

His deep, disapproving frown made me suggest another option. “Maybe there was some spilled wax there or something?”

“How did it start?”

I shook my head mutely. “I don’t know. One minute I was sitting there”—albeit half asleep—“and the next, the alarms were going off.”

“Did you see anyone come in?”

I couldn’t lie to that formidable stare. “I had a late night last night,” I said. “I can’t honestly be sure.” Of course, given the longdistance magical attacks that had happened before, I highly doubted that the culprit needed to be anywhere nearby to start that fire.

“Are you hungover?”

“What kind of question is that?” Sebastian snapped.

I felt like I was being quizzed by my father, only
my
father was never so stern, and I could probably tell my hippie dad about the magic. “No,” I said. “Just tired. I didn’t get any sleep.” And, to be fair, it’d been several nights of little or no rest and then, ehm, a whole lot of physical activity. I blushed again. “I might have dozed.”

Even though I gave him a weak, friendly smile, I got a sense that the firefighter wasn’t terribly impressed with what he saw. “You’re lucky. It’s a good thing you had that fire extinguisher close at hand. ” Then he turned to matters of business and I was kept busy filling out forms for insurance claims.

So, it was two hours later that Sebastian, William, and I finally got around to cleaning up the mess. The entire bottom shelf of books was going to have to be thrown out, and when I wiped up the floor, I discovered the attacker had permanently scorched the hardwood.

Sure, just when I was going to buy the place.

I scrubbed angrily at it for several minutes while tears rolled off my face. I ’d had enough. This person had gone after my place, Sebastian’s house, and now my store. It was time to take the fight to her.

12.

Eris

KEYWORDS:
Strife and Discord

I did something I never do; I closed the store early. It felt so wrong to flip that sign over, but the place smelled of smoke. I might even have to keep it closed a few days while it aired out.

We all stood out on the sidewalk under the awning. I stared angrily at the darkened interior.

“Do you really think it was Alison?” Sebastian asked.

“Alison? Totally,” William said, from where he sat on a bench tossing the remains of his whole wheat and tuna sandwich to the pigeons. “She has spent some serious time trashing both of you on LJ.”

“What has she said?” I asked. At the same time, Sebastian asked, “What’s LJ?”

“It’s an Internet community,” William told Sebastian. “And, as for what she said, it’s totally not worth repeating. It’s just all a big rant about how Garnet is a psychic vampire who is enslaving you, Sebastian.”

“See,” I said to Sebastian. “It’s got to be her.”

“Just because she hates you doesn’t mean she’s broken the code and started using magic. It could just be coincidence.”

“Except the part where she’s calling for revolution,” William noted.

We both looked at him. He’d gotten the attention of an entire flock of pigeons, who were bobbing and pecking on the ground at his feet, despite the fact that he’d run out of bread crumbs minutes ago. They all scattered with coos and a rush of wings when a bicyclist came past.

“She wrote this whole screed,” William said, “about how the vampire masters are keeping true magic from the suppliers. She had this whole pseudo-historical argument that the first ghouls were Witches and the whole concept of Witches inviting the devil into their coven was really about how they used to be ghoul harems for vampires.”

I was deeply offended by the idea. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, believe me, she got flamed for that,” William noted.

Sebastian was silent. He was the only one of us that was old enough to truly dispute Alison ’s claim. I gave him an elbow. “That’s not true, is it, Sebastian?”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Ghouls were most often slaves or indentured servants.”

The social, economic, and political ramifications of that made my head hurt.

Sebastian must have notice my look because he shrugged guiltily. “It was a different time.”

“I think it’s time to pay a visit to Alison,” I said.

“You’re right,” Sebastian said.

After dropping William off at his apartment, we drove for several blocks before I realized we weren ’t headed anywhere I recognized. Sebastian’s car was an antique and didn’t have air-conditioning. My window was cranked all the way down. Sunlight glinted painfully off passing cars.

Sebastian’s phone rested in his cup holder. Grabbing it suddenly, he began to dial. “Alison,” he said into the receiver. His tone was gruff and curt. “It’s me. We need to meet. Now.” There was a pause then, with a brief sideways glance at me. “Yes, in the usual place.”

He snapped the phone shut. We turned onto the Belt-way. Sebastian frowned forbiddingly at the morning rush-hour traffic. A million and one questions raced through my head, but I leaned my arm out the window and let the wind buffet my skin. We pulled off onto a highly industrial boulevard. Modern glass-and-steel office buildings stood a short distance from the road. A strip of perfectly maintained green grass led to sandstone gravel and scrub bushes. Sebastian pulled into a reserved space in the parking lot and turned off the engine.

After a few moments of dark silence, Sebastian said, “I don’t like ghouls knowing where I live.”

I glanced at the office building. “So you have an office?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “I don’t want other people knowing where to find me either.”

Now I was officially confused.

“I own a business real estate company,” he explained, unbuckling to turn to face me on the bench seat. Our knees touched, but our eyes met only sparingly. Sebastian spoke evenly, but he was clearly uncomfortable explaining all this to me. “We lease space to companies all over the metro area. All sorts of businesses come and go, so there’s always empty office space—though rarely the same ones for very long.”

I glanced again at the building with its straight lines and rows of bluish reflective windows. “You meet in empty offices? Isn’t that kind of . . . impersonal?”

Sebastian cracked a slight smile—the first since we started discussing this subject. “That’s kind of the point, Garnet.”

I couldn’t even begin to picture Sebastian’s rendezvous, so I just gaped at him mutely. His eyes slid away again. “I try to keep things as businesslike as possible. Even so, it’s not easy.”

No, I thought, my hand rubbing the sore spot on my shoulder, you have to put your mouth on them. It’s personal. Sebastian clicked open his door. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be sitting here when she comes.”

“Yeah,” I said, following him out. “What is our plan, exactly?”

“Kill her and bury the body where no one will find it,” Sebastian said grimly.

I glanced at his face to make sure he was kidding. The deep frown scared me. “You’re not serious.”

“How many times has she tried to kill you?”

“Three, but that’s assuming they all were her. We don’t know for sure it’s Alison, do we? What if it’s not?” I’d stopped moving. Seeing the cornered expression on my face, Sebastian took my hand. The heat carried the smell of chemical fertilizer from the grass. “Then we leave in peace. But, if it’s her that’s behind these attacks, I need you because she’s clearly got some kind of astronomically powerful magic. Lilith needs to hold that at bay.”

Sebastian glanced over my shoulder at the parking lot. “Let’s discuss this inside. Alison can’t know you’re here. It would destroy any element of surprise we might have.”

Numbly, I followed Sebastian through large glass doors. A security guard glanced up at Sebastian briefly, eyes widening momentarily in recognition, and then she feigned a sudden overwhelming interest in a pile of papers on her desk. She was still rearranging them frantically as we stood in front of a burnished chrome elevator. Sebastian stabbed the up arrow. A man in a suit and tie joined us. After checking his expensive watch impatiently, the suit leaned over to press the button himself, as if Sebastian ’s move hadn’t been sufficient. It seemed like an eternity until the soft chime of the elevator greeted us. The three of us got on. Sebastian pushed the button for the tenth floor; suit for the sixth. In typical midwestern fashion, no one said a word; we just stared pointedly at the red digital display that counted the floors for us. Suit snuck a couple of curious glances at me. I’d opted for comfort again today, so I wore a bloodred halter top, a black mini, and combat boots. My hair was still mussed from the fire, and I hadn’t really had time to freshen my makeup. Goddess only knew what the guy thought of me, but his step was rather quick when the bell chimed and the doors swooshed open on his floor.

Sebastian chuckled. “I wonder what he’d think if he knew I owned the whole building and twelve more like it.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand. “We can’t kill her. Not really, you know,” I said.

“I know,” Sebastian said. “There’s no practical way to get a body out of here undetected. Not during daylight, anyway.”

I’d been hoping to convince him of the immorality of the idea, but if pragmatism worked . . . I shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

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