The Dead (The Thaumaturge Series Book 1) (21 page)

He took a deep breath, turning his head to gaze out of the window. “So we got into town and right away Corvin wanted to go see his mom. We dropped him and Morgan off at her house, and then Jim, Shaina, and I went to the motel to check in.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Where was the house? What’s his mom’s name?”

“I didn’t get her name. And the house was way out in the middle of nowhere,” he said.

I frowned. “That doesn’t help.”

He put his hands up. “Sorry, but it’s true. We went up this dirt road and then turned off into the trees. There was a sign that said ‘No Trespassing’.”

“You’re describing any one of a hundred houses around here,” I said impatiently. “Did you see any street names?”

He snorted. “Do they have names for dirt roads?”

“Yeah, they do,” I snapped back and rubbed at my own tired eyes. “Fine, what time did you drop him off?”

“Afternoon,” he said. “About two or three, I’d guess.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “We got lunch, we drove around, and then Corvin’s mom dropped him and Morgan off at the motel around eight. I didn’t see her though – Corvin and Morgan just joined us in the room. The next day, we went and got breakfast, and then we went to see you. Jim, Shaina, and I were pretty much just hanging out at the motel while Morgan and Corvin took care of whatever business he had.”

I leaned forward, intentionally getting into his face. “But how did you end up in the woods?”

Marcus chewed on his bottom lip, lines appearing around his eyes. “I don’t know. That part doesn’t make any sense. We were at the motel. Corvin’s been working with this particular spell for months now, and he wanted us to help. It was late, I was tired.”

“When was this?”

“Friday night.”

“What was the spell?”

“A dream walking spell,” he said, shifting a little, working his teeth deeper into his lip. “It’s not that unusual,” he said, seeing the look on my face. “I mean, it’s high level stuff, way out of my league, but Jim’s been mentoring Corvin through it. We’d just bought all those supplies from you, and Corvin wanted to try it.”

“You participated?” I asked. He reached for the glass of water, holding his head stiffly to the side, keeping his distance from me.

“It’s not like I’m useless,” he snapped. “I’m part of the coven, too.” He took a long swallow and then sucked in a shaky breath. “And I wanted to. Jim said it was okay.”

“And what happened? How’d you get from there to the woods?”

He raked a hand over his face, wiping away the fine mist of perspiration. “I don’t know. I can’t - .” He took another swallow, draining the glass.

“Can I have some more water, please?” he held the glass out to me.

“Sure,” I said, eyeing him. He blinked rapidly a few times, and I saw another bead of sweat roll down his temple.

“Marcus?” I asked. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said vaguely. “Can I have some more water?”

I stood up and went into the kitchen, filling the glass straight from the tap. When I rejoined him, he looked at me with red, squinty eyes.

“You don’t look so good,” I told him.

“’M fine,” he said softly.

“So did the spell work?”

“Did it?” he asked, surprised. “Really?”

I stopped, a sinking feeling settling into my stomach. “Marcus,” I asked slowly. “Tell me what happened next.”

He gulped in a few breaths, breathing heavy until his chest was heaving. “When?” he asked haltingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me what happened after you helped Corvin with the spell?”

He moaned, low and pained. He drew his lips back in a grimaced, sucking air through his teeth. “I don’t... I can’t – “

“Okay, okay,” I soothed, putting my hands on his arms and squeezing. The touch seemed to ground him and his breaths came steadier.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked carefully.

“Nothing, I don’t know.” His eyes went to mine, confused and bloodshot. “Maybe I remember running? That's all. Then there's nothing.”

“You don't remember . . . pain, or anything?”

“No. I remember being cold, and then I woke up and saw you.”

“Were you in pain when you woke up?”

“Oh, man,” he groaned, and I noticed his fingers straying to his belly, pressing subconsciously to the place where that horrible red smile had been. “Yeah, it was awful. Worse pain I think I've ever felt. It was like being squeezed, crushed, I don't know. The pressure - sorry, I can't explain it, Ebron. I want to stop, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said and let go of him. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

I thought hard, my mind racing. The concept of dream walking was not unfamiliar to me, but I had no firsthand knowledge of it. Had Corvin used the spell as a ruse, as a distraction to kill Marcus? Or had he actually succeeded, and somehow released Marcus’s soul? Or his own? Corvin’s smug face came into my mind, and I tried desperately to attach it to some memory. Did I know him?

“Okay, so here it is,” I said, turning back to him. “It's obvious to me that Corvin put some sort of spell on you. You get even close to the memories and you turn into a mess. So why’d he attack you? Why’d he attack Aubrey? And how does he know me?”

His eyes widen a bit. “If he attacked me, that must mean he attacked Jim and Shaina, too!”

“Maybe. We don't know that. Because the motel told you that they checked out. So they were fine at least up until yesterday morning. Whatever happened to you, they stayed the night and then checked out the next morning.”

“They wouldn't have left me,” he said fiercely. “They wouldn't have. They are my family.”

“Then we have to assume that they are in trouble themselves or that they knew you were dead.”

He looked at me hard, his dark eyes serious. I saw him swallow, his throat working up and down. “When did you find me?”

“Saturday afternoon.”

“So I was dead for almost twelve hours, and they didn’t come looking for me?”

“I don’t know, Marcus. There’s a lot we don’t know.”

Marcus started to say something else, but Johnny whined then, and we both looked to where he was pawing at his empty food dish.

“Your dog has the right idea,” Marcus said, giving me a tentative smile.

I stood. “Hungry? Want some lunch?” I said, rolling my stiff shoulders.

“That would be awesome.”

My mind skirted over the food I currently had on hand, quickly dismissing all the poor people food, like ramen noodles and boxed macaroni and cheese. “I'm going to make BLTs. Is that all right?”

“I would never say no to bacon.”

I nodded, and he smiled faintly back, still looking pale. He rubbed his hands together and settled back into the couch with a sigh. I left him there, rubbing Johnny’s head as I grabbed his dish. Kibble clattered loudly into the bowl when I filled it. The air seemed too thin. With the heavy conversation on hold, the feeling in the trailer felt fragile but peaceful.

“Can I use your laptop?” he yelled out to me.

“Yeah, it's there on the couch,” I called back with pang, wishing I had cleared my browser history.

Not that it mattered. It was the least of my problems. I began pulling supplies out of the refrigerator. With my back to him, it didn’t matter if the worry showed on my face.

The general freakiness of the whole situation faded into the background in the cozy warmth of my trailer. We ate BLTs in companionably quiet and then later, after we had eaten, Marcus insisted on showing me video clips on the Internet. Apparently, his coven maintained a fairly active YouTube channel.

“Watch this one,” he said, balancing my laptop on his knee and clicking. “We're casting a circle here. I'm calling the eastern energies.”

I watched, bemused. The grainy footage showed Marcus, Jim, and Shaina wearing robes and standing in a small windowless room, in front of what I thought was an altar. Corvin and Morgan were not present, and I glanced at the upload date, seeing it was from last year. Before Corvin and Morgan had joined them, it seemed.

The Marcus in the video was dressed in black, a white scarf around his shoulders. His face was almost comically serious. Jim and Shaina flanked him, the three of them forming a sloppy triangle. They each held their hands out, towards each other but not touching, their palms up. Jim chanted in a steady drone, with Marcus and Shaina adding their voices to his every so often.

“Huh,” I said, underwhelmed, and stood up to go grab a beer. I brought him one too, just in case, and I watched as his nose wrinkled when I handed it to him.

“I'm not really a beer person,” he said, and I chuckled.

“Let me guess. You like . . . Captain Morgan with Coke.”

He lifted his chin defiantly, his eyes still on the video. I peeked and saw the Marcus in the video lifting his arms solemnly, like Mickey in the
Sorcerer's Apprentice
. I snorted, unable to bite it back, and he glared at me indignantly, snapping the laptop closed.

“Fine, make fun,” he said, glowering.

“I'm not, I'm not, I'm sorry. I totally get it.”

“Get what?”

“I mean, okay, clearly you have these abilities, right? You
did
do something to me the other night. I felt that. So you can manipulate the Force or whatever. That's real.”

He nodded, the affirmations easing the tension out of his face. I took a sip of my beer, trying to wrestle my conflicting feelings for him into some sort of reasonable shape.

“What I can do – that’s real, too. And I have to dress it up with candles and herbs and shit. People can’t accept what I can do, not without making it into a big magical production.”

Marcus nodding along, muttering his agreement.

“So I’m not making fun of you,” I continued, sitting back and crossing my ankle over my knee. “I get the need for theatrics. But I’m just wondering – you don’t have an audience, so what's with the rituals and the costumes? Do you really think that there are watchtowers and guardians or whatever? I mean, who is that for?”

“It's for me,” he said immediately. “I like the rituals. Are you religious at all?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Really?” he leaned back into the couch, and tucked his legs underneath himself. He faced me, and I realized that I had been inching my way over to him bit by bit.

“Even with what you can do?”

“Especially because of what I can do.”

He looked at me for a long time, those beautifully shaped cat eyes fixed on me. They weren't just green, I decided. There was gold and amber in there, too, like a kaleidoscope of spring.

“There's nothing out there,” I said gently. “I ask every one of them, each person. Where they were, what they saw. Nothing. They all say the same thing. There's nothing else. There’s just blackness, all the way up. It’s peaceful,” I added, seeing the stricken look on his face. “But there’s no heaven.”

“Did you ask me?”

“Well, no. You were different.”

“Why?” he scooted closer, laying his arm along the back of the couch, so close that it brushed my shoulder. I wanted to close my eyes at the sensation and just enjoy it, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. I focused on him and his lovely mouth.

“You came right back,” I said, remembering how his soul had returned immediately without me even having to search.

“Came right back? How do you mean?” His eyes were glittering a little. “Tell me how it works.”

I hesitated, the relaxed and cozy atmosphere dissipated as I began to squirm. Talking about it with the fresh memory of his guts splayed out and open was hardly the way I wanted this day to go.

He noticed my reluctance and twisted his bottom lip a little as he considered me. We gazed at each other for a few easy seconds, and finally I sighed a little.

“If you are asking about the mechanics of it, then sorry. I can't explain it. I just do it.”

He nodded. “To be clear, you can bring people back from the dead. That's what you are saying.”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” he shook his head wonderingly. “What an incredible world.”

“I guess.”

He smiled wryly and quipped, “You can bring people back from the dead. Like Jesus.”

I snorted. “No. Not like Jesus. And not just people. Animals, too.”

“Plants?” He asked, with a flash of humor.

I smiled a little. “Probably. I haven't tried with plants.”

“But definitely humans and animals.”

“Yes, definitely.”

“So I take it that you have . . . what? Have a lot of experience? Or you've experimented?”

I sucked in a breath. “Well. Both actually.”

He looked fascinated. “Really? How do you experiment?” His eyes widened. “Oh my God, do you kill people? Do you have a shed full of dead animals?”

He gave me a big grin, but I felt a worm of unease. Because that was uncomfortably close to the mark.

“No,” I said, but he evidently heard the strain in my voice and the grin faded.

“Leo and I - “ I stopped, looking at him directly, seeing his open and trusting face. What would it be like to still think that the world was a friendly place? That people were unthreatening, that they were good?

“Look,” I said softly. “I'm not used to talking about this.”

“I can see that.” he rested his fingers on the top of my shoulder and sort of tapped rhythmically. “It's all right.”

“When I was younger,” I said, resisting the urge to pull away from his touch. “Leo and I did some tests. We tried to figure out my . . . limits.”

“How?”

“Well, obviously, we - I mean, he -” I gave a helpless shrug. “It sounds bad, okay? But we needed to know what I was capable of.”

“So he killed things and brought them to you and you brought them back?”

“Yes. More or less.”

“Animals?”

“Yeah. Sometimes we used road kill.” I looked fondly over at Johnny, stretched out in his bed. “That's how I met this guy.”

“Hmm.” Marcus stared at Johnny, and then asked without looking at me, “People too?”

He looked a little too interested for my taste. A little too, I didn't know,
into
it. I shied away, moving my arm out from under his touch.