Hellfire

by Lisa Manifold

  Zane turned to his father. “Dad, you need to leave. Like, leave town. This isn’t a place for you.”

  The man stared at Zane as though he’d never seen him before. “It’s hard to believe I raised you,” he said conversationally, as though this wasn’t about to be the OK Corral in about three seconds flat.

  “I find that hard to believe myself,” I chimed in. “Zane’s polite, and professional, and not an asshole.”

  The man’s brows drew together, and I could feel magic around him. Certain magic has a smell, almost like ozone. He was obviously itching for a fight as well. But something in his son’s face stopped him.

  I saw it—it was something, and I was dying to turn and look at Zane, but I didn’t take my eyes off his dad.

  “I will take my leave,” Brian Earl DeGroate said formally. “For the time being. But I want Deadwood, Zane, and I will have it. Along with everything else I seek.” With a scornful glance at me, he whirled away.

  If he’d had a cape, it would have been right out of a Vegas show, he was so dramatic.

  As we watched, he shimmered, and disappeared.

  “Wow,” I said. “So that was your dad.”

  Zane sighed, the sound of a much older, tired man. “Yes.”

  “What does he want with Deadwood?”

  “He wants it because I’m here.”

  “Seriously?” I did look at Zane then. “That’s it?”

  Zane nodded. “He’s every single bad stereotype rolled into one angry ball.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” Deirdre said.

  “Yeah, he gave in way too easily, especially after insulting you in every way he could,” Daniella said. “There’s something more to this. He doesn’t really give a shit about you, or us. Outside of how we might screw up his plans.”

  Zane looked at her, and I could see warring emotions on his face. He wanted to believe this wasn’t personal. He really, really wanted to believe.

  I sighed. “Great. So he’s going to hang around? You think this is his whole stash of the undead?” I pointed at the poor zombies still on the floor. They hadn’t moved during any of this.

  “That was a pretty good piece of magic,” Deirdre said. “The whole swirly, whoosh, and gone thing.”

  “It’s one of his specialties,” Zane said.

  “Did you know it was him?” I asked, remembering the lack of surprise when his dad turned around.

  “No, but when I saw him, I wasn’t surprised at all. Because of course who else would it be?” Zane’s voice was bitter.

  “Well, standing around here isn’t going to solve a thing,” DeAnna said. “Why don’t we help the zombies along to a final resting place, and go home?”

  I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that Brian Earl DeGroat was still walking around, agenda in hand, planning on doing things in my town. I didn’t like it at all. But DeAnna was right. We needed to get these zombies free of whatever it was DeGroat had been doing with them, and get the hell out of here.

  When we went to move the zombies, several of them started to fall apart.

  “Oh, for Goddess’ sake,” Deirdre said. “We’ll need to levitate them.”

  We avoided obvious magic like this. But here in a gulch that was relatively deserted, I thought we might be able get away with it.

  “Can you all glom on here?” I asked Dee. “I know we haven’t taught you this yet, but just sending helping thoughts.”

  “Lifting thoughts,” Daniella said.

  “We can do that,” DeAnna said.

  Carefully, we maneuvered all ten of the zombies out of the mine. When we came to the opening, I stopped. “Hang on. Let me look around. We need to dig a spot for them, and I want to make sure that no one is around.”

  “No one comes down here,” Daniella said.

  “Yeah, but it will be just our luck that a hiker was feeling frisky today, or something equally random,” I said.

  “She’s right,” Deirdre said. “That’s the only sort of luck we seem to have.”

  I walked out, looking for a good spot. A bit north of the cave was open ground, and I used magic to dig out a place where we could bury them. When I walked back to the cave, everyone was shifty and impatient.

  “I thought you went home or something,” DeAnna snarked.

  “I already have their grave. All we need to do is get them in and end it.”

  “Oh,” DeAnna said. “Well, that’s good then.”

  I smiled in the darkened entrance. I didn’t mind that she was getting snarky. I kind of liked it. Sass was always better than accepting shit.

  We floated the poor things out of the mine, and over to the grave, letting them come to rest gently in the dirt.

  “What now?” asked Dee.

  “You might want to look away,” I said.

  Dee shook her head. “No. We’re all in this together.”

  “All right,” I said. “Deirdre? Daniella?”

  They knew what to do. We’d done this far too many times before. We clasped hands, and together, we said, “Separatum finis vitae.”

  There was a muffled blast of dirt around the zombies, and their heads rolled slightly, no longer attached to their bodies.

  “Whoa,” said DeAnna. “Holy hell. That was…”

  “It’s not something we like doing, but it gets things done quickly, and without dragging things out for them,” I said. The sight of so many people, pulled from the grave and used by that stinky peacock of a man… it made my blood boil.

  We moved the dirt over them.

  “Could he come back and bring them back?” Dee asked.

  “No. By separating the head from the body, it makes them useless as a zombie,” Daniella said.

  “Well, good.” DeAnna said. “They deserve peace.”

  “They always do,” Deirdre said. “We need to get back to Pearl Street. We have work to do. Research,” she nodded, and turned away.

  I recognized her stride. It was her pissed off walk. Brian Earl DeGroat didn’t know what was coming to me.

  “Research what?” Daniella asked, hurrying to catch up to Deirdre.

  We all were. She was fast when she got into her huffy walk.

  “Didn’t you hear him when we first came in?” Deirdre called over her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I heard enough. Come on.”

  We were out of the woods and the gulch in record time, and before I knew it, on our way to Pearl Street. I rode back with Zane.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what I am. I haven’t seen him since the night I left. You know I didn’t bring him here, don’t you?” He turned to look at me.

  I nodded slowly. “But you weren’t surprised.”

  “Because this is so him. Just move in, toss zombies around, and go after whatever it is he wants.”

  I was thinking about what Deirdre had said. “The sarcophagus!” I exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “I’ll bet that’s what Deirdre is talking about. Hurry, let’s get back.” I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to start researching, and not think about how unsettled I felt about this in regards to Zane. To cover my messy feelings, I asked, “Do you think he brought all those zombies here?”

  Zane shook his head. “I don’t know. They don’t have the… um… flavor of my dad.”

  I stared. “Ew. Just ew, Zane. What does that even mean?”

  He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Every necromancer has their own style, like every witch. I saw enough of the zombies my dad created to know he didn’t make these.”

  “Everyone has their own flavor?” I held up a hand. “You have to stop there. I’m stuck on that part.”

  “I know, it’s gross. I can’t help that I’m related to the guy. But you can see why I left.”

  “Well, yeah. But what really made you leave? Was there more than your mom?” I hadn’t asked him this since he told me about his mom. I mean, who would, right? But the way his dad talked—not that his dad was
to be trusted—I needed to find out more, not directly in this manner, with no room for wiggling away, or changing the subject.

  Zane looked more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him, and that made all my red flags go right up the mast and fly at full speed. “He wanted us to work together. Most of us can’t. We’re solitary.”

  “Because you’re all egomaniacs,” I interjected. “Well, you’re not. But you know what I mean.”

  “Sharing much of anything isn’t a strong point,” Zane agreed. “It’s different with your kid, I guess. I told him no, I wanted to study more, and there were different things I was interested in. This was before I walked in on him with my mom’s zombie.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m not really fond of zombies. Not getting them, or animating them, or anything. My dad likes to use them for…” he stopped, looking embarrassed again.

  “For?” I prompted.

  “As a method of persuasion. Do what you’re asked, or zombies will start hanging around your home, or your business.” He looked out the window, his expression bleak

  I threw up my hands. “Of course he did. No matter that they’re people! Who had loved ones! Who—”

  Zane held up a hand. “I know. I know! You don’t have to tell me, Desdemona!”

  I stopped. I could tell that he was upset, and I didn’t want to make it worse. I knew he was upset about his mom, and having to put zombies that his dad had in service probably stirred up a lot of shit. But—“You know he can’t stay here,” I warned.

  “I know. I don’t know how to make him leave, though. The more we push, the more he’ll dig his heels in,” Zane looked miserable. “Tonight was too easy. Deirdre’s right.”

  “Zane, you know we protect Deadwood,” I said.

  “I know, no exceptions,” Zane finished.

  I’d never seen him look so miserable, and I felt… bad… that I’d had to make him feel this way.

  I scooted over the seat in the truck, and threaded my arm through his. Touching him sent an electric jolt down my arm from my hand.

  “Desdemona,” he whispered. We were stopped at a stoplight, and as though he couldn’t help it, his head bent to mine, and I let my eyes close. I knew it wasn’t smart, wasn’t the best choice, blah blah blah. I didn’t care.

  Zane’s lips touched mine, and I felt myself nearly go up in flames. His lips were soft, and firmly pressed against mine when—

  A horn honked behind us, making both of us laugh a little. Zane hit the gas, and we moved forward. I leaned my head on his shoulder, liking the way he felt next to me.

  After a moment, he pulled over onto the shoulder, and buried his face in my neck. I could feel his anger, and shame, and sadness. No one likes to discover their parent is an even bigger jerk than they thought.

  Although we’d found out Granny had left us with some serious shit, and we just got mad. Well, if Zane hung around long enough, maybe he’d get some of that mad reaction thing. Please, please, please don’t let this be a farce, I thought. Please let this be real.

  I don’t know how long we sat on the side of the road, but eventually, he moved away from me, and got back onto the highway. We didn’t talk as he drove through downtown Deadwood. When he pulled the truck into Pearl Street, I slid back across the seat, and walked through the open garage door. Coming into the kitchen, I saw that my sisters and nieces were already at the table, peering at their laptops.

  “OK, what did I miss?” I asked. For today being kind of a bust, I was feeling pretty good. And I was fairly certain it had everything to do with Zane.

  Which was… disconcerting.

  Please let this be real.

  “When we came in, DeGroat—and where did you get the last name McCallister, anyway?” Deirdre asked.

  “It was my mother’s maiden name,” Zane replied, his face stony.

  “Well, I can see why you and your dad don’t pal around,” Daniella said.

  “When we came in,” Deana began again, “He asked, ‘Did you see the sarcophagus?’ like it was something that whoever he was expecting knew all about.”

  “OK,” I said.

  “And he said something about ley lines, which, while it was kind of bullshit, wasn’t total bullshit.”

  “You know this how?” I asked.

  Deirdre pushed her hand through her hair. “So I went onto the message boards.”

  Deirdre loved the message boards. Normally, they came through for her. Although her search for Mariah Connors hadn’t gotten any bites, she had a pretty good rate of success.

  “I’d just seen a thread about ley lines, and I went back through it. There are ley lines here.”

  “There are ley lines everywhere,” I said.

  “Yes, but our ley lines, the ones here in Deadwood, they’re special. Like everything else around this joint, there’s something different about them,” Deirdre said.

  “And that is? Spit it out,” Daniella said. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

  I sat down on the end of the bench. Zane didn’t sit down, choosing to walk to the window and stare out. Moody Zane was back. Well, he’d have to take care of himself for the time being.

  Doc and Granny drifted down the spiral staircase, obviously interested in our conversation. All the better. It would mean we wouldn’t need to repeat this fourteen times.

  “Our ley lines are like rainbows—there’s a pot of gold at the end of them. Well, not gold. This is Deadwood. There’s a sarcophagus.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

  Deirdre sighed loudly. “OK, once more for you slow folk,” she glared right at me. “Our ley lines have a secret. A treasure, if you will.”

  “How is it we didn’t know about this?” I glared right back. It was our business to know about Deadwood.

  “When have we ever had to do diddly with ley lines?” Daniella asked. “We’ve always had enough to do on a daily basis.”

  That was fair, but I was tired of finding out shit after the fact. “What’s the treasure?”

  “It’s a sarcophagus,” Deirdre said, rolling her eyes.

  “What’s so special about it?” I asked.

  “It’s not what’s special about the sarcophagus itself—”

  “I think you just like saying the word,” DeAnna said.

  Deirdre continued, “But what’s in it. There’s a djinn inside.”

  “It’s a genie in a coffin?” I asked. I fought back the urge to laugh. I knew it was because this day had already gone sideways, but the words brought a visual to mind, and it was hard to turn that visual off.

  Deirdre nodded. “This is not proven, or anything else. And it’s not a new thread, but this is the story. A couple of hundred years ago, some demon got a wild hair after getting hold of a djinn, and locked him up in the sarcophagus. There are a lot of urban legends about what the demon did to the djinn, that they were a couple, that the djinn wanted to be a demon, all sorts of stupid stuff like that.” She pointed at the screen of her laptop. “But all of them point to a demon grabbing a djinn, doing something to the djinn, and stuffing him in a coffin.”

  “Why is it always demons?” I asked the room in general.

  “Because they live to annoy,” Daniella said.

  “You think that’s what my dad is after?”

  “Is there any other reason he’d be after an old coffin?” Dee asked. Her voice was kind, as if she could tell this was tough on Zane.

  “I haven’t seen him in almost fifteen years. I have no idea what he’d do—but he doesn’t have boundaries.” Zane kept his post at the window.

  “Have you checked the ley lines?” I asked Deirdre.

  “Of course. I’m looking at them right now. And I know why DeGroat hasn’t found it yet, if it’s even there.”

  “Why?”

  “The standard maps have the ley lines crossing slightly off from where they are, according to all the ley lines people,” Deirdre gestured at her laptop again. “For wha
tever reason, whoever made the map here wasn’t as exact as they should have been.”

  “Maybe that was deliberate,” Dee said.

  “What do you mean?” Daniella asked.

  “Well, if there was a treasure, and the ley lines marked where the treasure, whatever it was,” Dee gestured vaguely in the air, “I wouldn’t draw a straight line to it.”

  “Dee, you’re brilliant,” I said, smiling.

  “I know that. About time you all figured it out,” Dee said.

  “We don’t even know that there’s a treasure, much less if it’s still there,” Zane said.

  “But the off-center ley lines are a good clue,” Deirdre said. “If I had a treasure—and can you imagine demon infused djinn power? Holy shit—I’d hide it too, and only tell my descendants about it.”

  “Or the entire internet,” Daniella said.

  “Oh, well, you know you can’t keep anything completely secret. One of the descendants or someone in love with the demon or whatever found out, and ran their mouth. No one’s picked up on the fact the lines might be off on purpose.”

  “OK, so if they’re not right on purpose, you have to figure out which way they’ve been moved, and how far. I think you might be looking for the Loch Ness monster,” I said.

  When Deirdre glared, I spread my hands out in front of me in defense. “What? I’m not trying to be a killjoy, but that’s realistic. And now we’re on the clock. We have to get to this thing before DeGroat does.”

  “He’s following the known map. That zombie you found at the old mine site, Zane? That’s where the ley lines intersect.” Daniella didn’t look up from her laptop.

  “So what are you saying?” I asked.

  “Looks like we’re going to be doing some digging.”

  We spent the next day digging in spots that Deirdre picked off the map. I also went to the claim where Zane had picked up one of the zombies. There had to be a reason DeGroat had him digging there. At the end of the first day, I came back to Pearl Street, hot, tired, and grumpy.

  “That was a bust,” I said. “Not to mention, I had to sweet talk Gunilla and Larson Beck.”

  “Why?” Deirdre asked.

  “Because the Olaf Seim claim belongs to them. And someone told them we were up there, poking around.” I was annoyed we hadn’t thought to call them beforehand.