Shadows in the Mist

by Jeri Westerson

  We kept running, dragging Erasmus, who tried to keep up, until we got to the shopfront. As we pushed through the door, the Wiccans, who had been sitting around the fireplace, stood up.

  Nick was back, and he helped me get Erasmus to a chair. Under the electric light, I could see how bad his chest was…or rather, how bad it used to be. The hole had closed up. His shirt was still covered in the black gore of his blood, but already his face looked better.

  “Holy crow,” whispered Doc. “How’d he survive our spell?”

  “We’ve got bigger problems.” I looked back at Ed, bolting the door and peering out the windows. “There are Draugr out there.”

  Jolene stepped toward me, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

  Nick squinted at her. “What’s a Draugr? Do I want to know?”

  “You don’t,” I said at the same time that Jolene recited, “They’re undead warriors. Zombie Vikings.”

  “No way,” he said breathlessly.

  “Way,” I said. “And Erasmus says they aren’t from the Booke.”

  Jeff, fully recovered and fully dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, but no shoes, stood over me as I knelt by Erasmus. Was it my imagination or was Jeff…buffing out a bit? “Kylie, are you serious? Undead Vikings?”

  “I’m really not in the mood to make that up. I saw them. I fought them.”

  “Whoa,” he said, sinking onto the arm of a chair.

  “Mr. Dark,” said Doc, standing at the back of Erasmus’ chair and leaning in. “Are you certain they aren’t from the book?”

  “I am intimately entwined with the book,” he growled. “I know what came from it and what did not with complete certainty.”

  I rose. “It was Doug and company. They must have summoned them.”

  “But why?” asked Seraphina, approaching Erasmus.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I guess that’s our next move—discover why and stop them.”

  She worried at her bracelets. “But what about Andras? And Baphomet?”

  Erasmus looked up. “Did you say Andras? He’s here?”

  I nodded. “All wings and threats. He’s after me.”

  He turned away, eyes searching unseeable depths. I didn’t like his expression.

  I rubbed my temple. “One thing at a time. We’re going to have to prioritize.”

  “We’re not going to do anything for now,” said Doc. “We’re going to go back to our respective homes and get some sleep. We’re all exhausted.”

  “I don’t think Kylie should be alone,” interjected Nick.

  “She’s not alone,” said Erasmus and Ed at the same time.

  That was just great. I looked from Ed to Erasmus as they turned their glares on each other. I don’t know who was growling the loudest.

  “Okay,” I said, standing between them. “Ed, you go home. I’ll take care of Erasmus.”

  The demon stood unsteadily, his black blood all over my wingback. “I don’t need taking care of.”

  “Yeah, you look just peachy.”

  “I’m healing. In another hour, I will be back to normal.”

  “I’m not leaving until he does,” said Ed, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I wanted to kill them both. “No, Ed. I said go home.”

  He stared at me incredulously while Erasmus, smug as could be, raised an imperious brow.

  “But Kylie—” said Ed.

  “Do you mind? I’ve got this. And everyone else, go home. We’ll strategize later this afternoon when we’ve all had a chance to rest.”

  Nick glanced toward the windows. “But what about the…the zombies?”

  “They disappear at daybreak,” said Jolene, hugging her Hello Kitty witch bag.

  We all made our way to the windows and slid the curtains aside. No zombies. Just shadows being cast by a steadily rising sun.

  Someone yawned, which started the rest of us off.

  “Go home, everyone,” I said more gently. “We’ll meet up later.”

  They were tired, I could tell, but they were still reluctant to leave. I made shooing motions toward the door, and, one by one, they filed out. Nick cautiously peered into the nearby woods.

  Ed stood at the door, a frown on his face. “I don’t think I should leave you alone with that guy.”

  “You know very well who ‘that guy’ is. And what.”

  “Which is why I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with him.”

  “Look, Ed, I know all this is a lot to take in. But I’ll be fine. I need Erasmus. He’s the only one who really knows what to do about the Booke.”

  Bracing himself against the wingback, Erasmus stood straight, raising his chin in defiance. Ed huffed deeply, then leaned toward me, eyes fixed on Erasmus, and kissed me.

  “Call me,” he said gruffly when he pulled back. With a long, pointed look at Erasmus, he turned toward the door and finally left.

  Pissing match averted, I locked the door after him.

  “Proud of yourself?” I said.

  Erasmus smiled slowly. “Immensely.” He stumbled and made his way back to the chair.

  “You’re not all right yet.”

  “Maybe some of that brandy you have would help?”

  I shook my head and went to the kitchen to get it.

  * * *

  I stayed up a little while to drink with Erasmus and make sure he was okay, but he told me to go to bed when my head drooped to my chest for the second time.

  I slept deeply and didn’t remember dreaming, which was probably a blessing. When I awoke, it was around two in the afternoon.

  The time shocked me. I scrambled out of bed and stumbled downstairs with bed hair and bleary eyes. “Gotta open the shop!” I got down near the bottom of the steps to see Erasmus stuff a teapot into a brown bag with handles and shove it at a customer. “Do come again,” he said with a smarmy smile.

  The elderly woman tittered like a coquette, taking the bag and fluttering her lashes at Erasmus the whole way to the door.

  I rubbed the last bit of sleep from my face. “What was that?”

  He startled with the guiltiest look on his face. “You…you were asleep.”

  “And you opened my shop?”

  He gestured toward the parking lot. “There were customers. And you claim to need this place of business for your upkeep.”

  I stepped down the last stair, gripping the banister. “I do. I just didn’t imagine…you…you as a shopkeeper.”

  “I am no such thing. I merely showed my gratitude to you by helping you with a few little purchases.”

  “How did you figure out the register?”

  “The what?”

  “That,” I said, pointing to it on the counter.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t. They simply paid me in your currency.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills.

  I stumbled toward him. “How much did you sell?”

  He waved vaguely. “A few teapots and other assorted nonsense. The whole point of this shop is beyond me.”

  “But…” I took the bundle. Good grief, what did he charge people? “Erasmus, there is no way people bought this much merchandise.”

  He postured. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

  “No, but…”

  “Then take the money and be grateful.”

  “I…I am, but…there’s no coins or anything. How—”

  “They just gave it to me, gladly. They told me to ‘keep the change,’ whatever that means.”

  I bit my lip. “Did you do some sort of hocus pocus on them? Some sort of demon hoodoo?”

  “I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about.” He rubbed at his nose, which didn’t seem to help. Just in time, he pulled out a handkerchief and sneezed into it. “Damned tea,” he muttered, wiping his nose.

  He was allergic to tea. It was ridiculously endearing.

  “Thank you for minding the store. I really appreciate it. It was very thoughtful of you.”

  Was he blushing? “Well…” He o
pened and closed one of my herb drawers absently—the herb called “chase devil” as it happens. “It seemed the least I could do.”

  I laid a hand gently on his arm.

  He looked down at my hand and then slowly at me.

  “So…what did you learn in the Netherworld? We still need a way to subdue a god.”

  “I know. But I’m afraid I learned very little. There might be something, though. I will likely have to explain it to the child.”

  “You mean Jolene.”

  “There must be some sort of rule on the minimum age of your Wiccans.”

  I crossed my arms. “Are you concerned for her?”

  “Of course not! Her young age could be a liability to us.”

  “Oh, of course. I see.”

  “Stop looking at me like that. Have you passed a mirror of late?”

  I grabbed my hair. “No, why?” And then I remembered I hadn’t even brushed my teeth. I clamped my hand over my mouth and ran upstairs to take a shower. As long as Erasmus could run the shop, I knew I had time to get ready. Even with whatever spell he was casting on my customers.

  When I got out of the shower and padded into the bedroom, I found a steaming mug of coffee on my bedside table. I stared at it for a good long while before I sank onto the bed. That Erasmus. He was pulling out all the stops. Could it be…he was glad to see me again? He did send that note, after all. That weirdly disturbing note in the form of an exploded crow, but still…

  I smiled as I came downstairs, this time with my hair neatly brushed, wearing a cashmere sweater and jeans and carrying the mug in my hand. Erasmus was escorting another customer to the door. It was odd, him in his black leather duster jacket tending my business. He hardly looked like a proper clerk for a tea shop, but this was Moody Bog. Maybe it was more normal that I had originally thought.

  “Hey,” I said as casually as I could while sweet thoughts about him swirled around my head.

  He glanced my way, did a double take, and then tried to look as if he hadn’t by straightening his jacket. “’Hey?’” he mocked. “Is this truly an appropriate greeting?”

  “It is in this century.”

  “There is a lot lacking in this century.”

  “Okay, enough. We’ve got to talk about these Draugr.” I settled on a bar stool behind the counter and cupped my mug to warm my hands. “By the way,” I said, lifting the mug and offering him a heartfelt smile. “Thanks for this.”

  “It wasn’t hard to figure out your coffee contraption,” he said smugly. “I’ve watched you often enough. A child could do it.”

  “Even a demon child,” I said into the cup.

  “What was that?”

  I looked up, blinking innocently. “Nothing. What about these Vikings?”

  “They are the risen corpses of Viking warriors.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out all by myself.” I rolled my eyes. “So what is their deal? Do they eat brains?”

  “Brains? If they did, there would be mighty slim pickings around here.”

  “Oh, ha ha.”

  He folded his arms and shook his head. “Where do you get these notions? They don’t bother with eating brains. They have enormous strength and literally crush their enemies to death, drinking their blood. They walk to protect their hoard of gold, rising at sunset and disappearing again at sunrise.”

  “So what do they want with us? We don’t have any Viking gold.”

  “Are you certain? As I said, they didn’t come from the book. Who else do you know who might have designs on a gold hoard?”

  “Doug. And Shabiri probably helped him.”

  “Yes, and no doubt she left out the little tidbit about the Draugr walking the night in search of it, killing as they go.”

  “You mean the Ordo would also be in danger?” Our least favorite biker gang called themselves the Order of the Right Hand of the Devil—the Ordo Dextarae Diaboli, or just Ordo for short. They were short a few brain cells, that was for sure. They dabbled where they shouldn’t have, like summoning Baphomet and allowing him access to this plane of existence. I don’t mind sharing our plane with friendly spirits, but since we were currently using it, a baddie who wanted to destroy us was not welcome.

  Andras, the demon assassin, was another story though. Who summoned him? I had my doubts that the Ordo were capable.

  “Everyone is in danger,” Erasmus was saying.

  “Right. Then what’s our priority? Andras, Baphomet, Draugr?”

  “You’re forgetting that something has yet to come from the book.”

  “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten the stupid Booke of the Hidden.”

  As I said it, the Booke popped into the space between us, like a middle finger to my disdain. I would have thrown it through my front window if Erasmus hadn’t held my wrist. Instead, I put it down on the counter and opened it. I had only filled three pages. That was how I contained the creatures who’d escaped and put them back where they belong; I wrote about them in the Booke, usually after I shot them with the chthonic crossbow. But there were so many pages left to go.

  “Erasmus, we have to destroy this Booke,” I said for the umpteenth time, worrying at the demon-faced amulet hanging from my neck. It was the only clear way to stop the destruction and death. And to protect future generations of Chosen Hosts from getting caught in its curse. “Any ideas?”

  “As I have said before, it cannot be done.”

  “But there must be a god or being in charge in the Netherworld who could stand up to the Powers That Be.”

  He seemed uncomfortable, squirming. “Of course, there is.”

  “Well…who then?”

  His gaze settled on mine. “Satan,” he whispered.

  “Wait. The Satan?”

  “No, Fred Satan. Of course, the Satan!”

  “Wow.” I slumped on my stool. “I just didn’t imagine…I mean, it never occurred to me that…Really?”

  “Yes,” he hissed.

  “Is there…is there any way we could, well, talk to him? Maybe reason with him?”

  He snapped to his feet. “Are you insane? No, we cannot talk to Him.”

  “Oh, come on, Erasmus. You’re a demon. Are you saying you’re afraid of Him?”

  “Yes! I’m terrified.” And he suddenly looked it. Anything that could put that look on his face… “I don’t want him aware of me. At all.”

  It dawned on me again that once the Booke goes, so does he. As Guardian of the Booke, he’d be out of a job. And in the Netherworld, that meant a quick trip to non-existence. Was I ready for that? Judging by my reaction to his long absence when I thought he was dead, the answer was a decided “no.”

  “Oh, okay, forget it. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

  “Never mention it again.”

  “Okay!” I sipped my coffee and noticed that it was growing cold. “Erasmus, you were missing for something like eight hours past the time you were supposed to return. How…how did you survive all that time? You weren’t lying there with a hole in your chest for eight hours, were you?”

  His angry expression—maybe I should say his usual expression—morphed into one of puzzlement. “I don’t know. Maybe your Wiccans did the spell wrong.”

  “Maybe. And by the way, your pal Shabiri was here.”

  That old scowl was back. “What did she want?”

  “She’d heard on the Netherworld grapevine that something had happened to you and offered her services as Booke Guardian.”

  “She what?”

  “Hey, don’t kill the messenger. I just want to know how she knew. I thought the whole point of that stupid spell was to keep you incognito down there.”

  “It was supposed to. It did work…” He mulled it over, slowly rising. “I felt it. I moved about with impunity. No one and nothing detected me. I ventured to places I would have been instantly killed. It did work.”

  His eyes met mine. Something else was going on, and neither of us liked the implications. Was it the Big Guy, the Head Honcho? Satan? Was
he aware of Erasmus despite our precautions?

  “You can’t go back.”

  “Don’t be a fool. If summoned, I must.”

  “But they’ll…they’ll…”

  “They might. They might not.”

  “Erasmus…”

  He sighed, looking away. “We both have our roles to play.”

  We certainly did. He cast a glance toward the Booke. Mine had been a whirlwind. His was centuries old.

  I took a deep breath and tried not to think about it. “Then…priorities?”

  He pushed away from the counter, suddenly on edge. “Discuss it with your Wiccans. I have places to be.”

  “Wait—Erasmus!” I put the mug down and scrambled after him. He stopped abruptly, and I stumbled into him. When he turned, we were toe to toe, his dark eyes so close to mine.

  His previously tight muscles seemed to soften. The intensity of his gaze did as well.

  “I’m glad you’re back.” I swallowed. “Safe and sound.”

  Even his shirt had repaired itself. Either that or he had an endless supply of black shirts somewhere in his demon closet.

  “I’m…glad to be back,” he said quietly. “Safe and sound.”

  We breathed at each other intensely for long seconds. I swore he was leaning into me when the damned bell above the door jingled.

  Sheriff Ed postured in the doorway. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Erasmus hissed at him, like Bride of Frankenstein hissing. A stark reminder that he wasn’t human. Erasmus took several strides toward Ed, peeled back his lips in a smiling grimace with too many pointed teeth, and vanished into a wisp of smoke.

  As tough as Ed was trying to be, the expression on his face gave him away. Horrified. Maybe he had half-believed it in the dark of night, but this was daytime.

  He looked at me. “You’re having a relationship with that guy?”

  “Um, well…yeah. Sort of.”

  He breathed harshly through his teeth. “You could have told me.”

  “I never said we were exclusive.”

  “It was implied.”

  “Really? When?”

  “Well…” He stalked into the room and looked around. “I thought we were,” he barked. “I thought I was your boyfriend. You said so yourself.”