by Robbie Cox
“Oh?” the elf asked, one slanted eyebrow raised. “She means me harm? I never got that impression from her. She seems so nice. How could giving me free pastries mean me ill?”
Wanda rolled her eyes, and Laci had to keep from laughing. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn the older woman was acting jealous. “Trust me,” Wanda said. “Free anything can lead to something ill, especially from that woman. Next thing you know, she’ll be spreading stories about you all over downtown.” She shook her head, blowing out a harsh breath. “The woman is a busybody and a gossip.”
Famallumi bounced his gaze back and forth between the others, his face pinched in confusion. “Does that mean I shouldn’t eat the lemon tart?”
Wanda gawked at the elf as Laci and Tansy laughed. “I see men are the same in any realm,” Wanda said with a sigh. She waved at the bag. “Eat the tarts. Why should they go to waste?” She glanced at the teacups in front of the other two women. “Who made tea?”
Laci watched as Tansy reached over and patted the older woman’s wrist. “I did. Now, we need to try to help Laci.” She turned to Famallumi. “Can you help her? Do you know how she’s supposed to do whatever Hekate expects her to do?”
“Hekate,” the elf repeated as he slid into the last empty chair, his face pinched with concentration. “Goddess of the Underworld. She favors highly in early Greek mythology.” He turned to Tansy. “She is known as a goddess of magic. I am surprised you don’t know about her.”
Tansy gave him a patient smile. “I do know about her. What I want to know is if you know how she expects Laci to serve her? Do you know anything about necromancy? How does Laci serve the dead?”
Famallumi glanced over to Laci. “You talk to them,” he said simply. “To you, they aren’t truly dead, but more like in a state of transition. You can get into their heads, bring them back to life for a time to get the answers you seek.”
“Apparently, I can also walk between realms, like I did when I went into Summerlands. Do you know how I accomplish this?” Laci leaned toward the elf, eager for answers to questions she wasn’t sure to ask.
Famallumi shook his head, a look of disappointment masking his face. “How did you travel to the Summerlands?”
Laci leaned back in her chair. “I just…walked. While Jayden and Alex performed the locator spell, I glanced behind me and saw the lines of power coming from Rose. I pictured a bridge and then stepped on it, following it to where Rose hung, suspended in air being tortured by the demons.” She shrugged. “I didn’t think of whether or not I could. I just started walking, and it worked.”
Famallumi’s face brightened. “Then there is your answer. It’s in your ability to envision the path you want to travel and walking it.” His grin grew. “Sort of like the paths we walk in life, don’t you think?”
“Can it really be that simple?” Laci asked, turning to Tansy and ignoring the elf’s last statement. She didn’t need to get philosophical right now.
“There’s really only one way to find out,” Tansy told her. “You’ll have to try it.”
Laci nodded, knowing the truth of what Tansy said, but also knowing it was the last thing she wanted to do. I don’t want to talk to dead people.
Seventeen
Laci stood outside the morgue, staring at the bland dirty-white walls. Again, she had to face death; only this time, she wasn’t fighting it or running away with it, but rather, walking toward it in order to have a conversation. She really didn’t want to talk to the dead.
She had Jayden drop her off and then sent her sister home with the story that Laci was helping at the morgue as part of some community internship based on her desire to do more in the line of social work. Jayden didn’t understand how working at a morgue would have anything to do with helping people on the street, but she didn’t question it. She did, however, give Laci weird looks as she drove away.
The front door opened, and the detective leaned out, waving Laci inside.
She sighed. Why did I agree to do this again? With a deep breath, she left the safety of the parking lot for the unknown of talking with dead people, her arms crossed over her chest. Wasn’t there a movie about this?
“Hey, there,” the detective said, smiling at her. He glanced behind her. “Are you by yourself? Is that wise?”
Laci gave a soft laugh. “I’m not even sure if this is going to work. I didn’t see any sense in dragging others here to see me fail.”
“You doing all right? You look a little on the pale side. And you sound kind of down.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “To be honest, I was trying to step away from all this fantasy, supernatural-type stuff.” She shrugged as she passed through the open doorway. “Doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark said as he closed the door behind them. “I tried getting Rhychard’s help, but I couldn’t find him. Do you want to call this off?”
Laci shook her head. “No, I offered to give it a shot, and I really want to know if I can do it.” The truth was, she was afraid of finding out if she could do it, not wanting to prove Nazareth right, but she had to know, if for no other reason than her own sanity.
“This way,” Mark said, gesturing down a hall off to the left. “Bryan, who works nights, is gone for now, so you should have some time to do whatever it is you need to do.”
Whatever that is. Laci tried to clamp down on her nerves, but she could feel her whole body shaking. This is so not a good idea.
Once the detective led her into a sterile room smelling of antiseptic over a thin layer of death, she noticed two metal tables with bodies draped with white sheets stretched out on them. One was a dark-haired man, probably in his late forties, and the other an elderly woman a little on the heavier side. Their eyes were closed, arms stretched out along their sides, legs parted ever so slightly. Laci stared at their chests, waiting to see if they rose and fell with breathing, but the sheets never moved. Turn around and run was Laci’s first impulse, but she clamped down on her fear and moved over to the table with the elderly woman stretched out on it. For whatever reason, Laci figured the woman would be the easiest to deal with on her maiden voyage into necromancy.
Laci wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing warmth into her limbs as she wished she had thought to wear a jacket. She hadn’t realized how cold the morgue would be, but it made sense. Who wanted a sweaty corpse? Outside of the two tables in the middle of the room, the rest of the furniture was made of cold metal, even the desk which was layered with file folders and scraps of paper. Shelves lined the north wall, loaded down with thick binders and reference books. On the east wall, another set of shelves held the supplies necessary for the coroner to do their job: latex gloves, bottles of sanitizer, scales of various sizes. The bright lights bounced off the metal surfaces, keeping the shadows at bay; at least, the ones in the autopsy room. Laci’s shadows still skirted around her nerves.
“How does this work?” Mark asked, snapping her attention back to the task at hand as he slipped his hands into his pockets, studying Laci.
She raised her eyebrows as she stared down at the dead woman. “To be honest, I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Famallumi said, I should just talk to them, so we’ll try having a conversation. Maybe that’ll work. I don’t know.”
Mark cocked an eyebrow at her. “Good luck,” he offered with a lopsided grin.
“Thanks,” she said, blowing out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
Turning to the body in front of her, Laci took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. Not knowing how to go about things really, she reverted back to everything Tansy taught her, reaching down to her core and drawing on the power she kept stored there. She reached out with her senses, calling to the elements to strengthen and protect her, to guide her in her quest for knowledge. Just don’t let me get killed, please.
When she felt grounded, she opened her eyes and stared at the body. She suddenly felt foolish, the thought of talking to a
dead person and hoping they talked back, seeming unrealistic even in her world. Still, she had promised to try. “What was her name?”
“Josephine Barnes,” Mark answered. “We found her on her sofa, the television playing one of those twenty-four-hour soap channels. The man on the other table is Roger Sanders. He died while reading a fantasy novel.”
Laci nodded as she took one more deep breath. “Josephine? Can you hear me, Josephine? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
Silence answered her. No movements. No sounds. The woman’s eyes didn’t even flutter.
Laci stared at the woman, trying to figure out how to make her talk. God, I hope I don’t create a zombie. Don’t let zombies be a thing. Laci looked at the woman’s arm as it rested along the sheet covering her body. Maybe touch? She so did not want to touch a dead body. Biting her lower lip, she reached out, placing her fingers along the woman’s cold flesh. With another deep breath, she sent some of her power into the woman and tried again. “Josephine. I really would like to talk to you.”
She continued to watch the other woman for signs of life, but still, nothing happ…
Josephine’s eyes popped open. There was no flutter, no easy opening as her body became animated again. They were closed one moment and then open the next. The sight almost made Laci jump back, letting go of the woman’s arm, but Laci managed to maintain control enough to keep the contact in place.
“Where am I?” the older woman asked. “This isn’t my house.”
How do you tell someone they’re dead? “Josephine, my name’s Laci Valentine. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Josephine turned her head around, her eyes wide as she studied her surroundings. She glanced down at her body, noticed the sheet and the stitches from where the examiner had sewn her body back into place after the autopsy. “Why am I naked? Why does it look like I had surgery?” She jerked her gaze to Laci, stretching her arm out and clutching Laci’s wrist. “Why am I in the hospital?” She glanced down, noticing Mark for the first time. Then she looked back around the room. “This isn’t a hospital, though. It doesn’t look like one.” She turned back to Laci, her eyes widening. “That man. That man, he killed me, didn’t he? I’m dead, aren’t I?” She shook her head, jerking her gaze back around the room. “No, that makes no sense. Dead people can’t talk, and I’m talking. How am I talking?”
Laci placed her other hand on the woman’s stomach, leaning over and trying to calm her down. “Josephine, I need you to tell me about the man who did this to you. What did he look like? Do you remember what he did to you?”
A tear slid down the elderly lady’s weathered cheek. “I am dead then, aren’t I?”
Laci pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to find out who did this to you and bring them to justice. Can you tell me what happened?”
Josephine laid her head back on the cold, hard table, her eyes clenched shut. “I was watching my soaps. I must have fallen asleep; although, I don’t remember doing it. Some man in a robe, like a monk, appeared, accusing me of wasting my life in fantasies, squandering my time watching television and pretending I was the one with the young men.” She opened her eyes and turned back to Laci. “Then he said he wanted me to have my fantasy, and all these men—they were all the same man, actually—appeared and started pressing up against me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even move. It felt like my entire body was being smashed in on itself. I tried to scream, begged for him to stop and help me, but he just laughed.”
“Did he have dark red eyes? Black hair? Did he say what his name was?” Laci shot out question after question, not sure how long her power would last.
Josephine’s eyes went wide. “You know him? Why did he do this to me? Why did he kill me? I don’t want to be dead. Help me not be dead.”
Laci shook her head. “I wish I could,” she said. “This is the most I can offer, but I will find this man and bring him to justice.”
“No!” Josephine wailed, clutching at Laci’s arm. The woman’s fingers seemed distorted, twisted in various directions. “I don’t want to be dead.”
“I don’t want to be dead, either,” a voice came from the other table.
Laci jerked her attention around and watched as Roger Sanders sat up, turning to face her. Laci felt her eyes go wide. How the hell?
“Laci, I think we have enough information now,” Mark said as he reached for his firearm.
Laci doubted bullets would work on dead people. I said don’t let me make zombies! “Okay, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I need you both to just lie back down. We’ll get the man who did this. I promise.”
“No, I want to live again,” Roger said as he swung his legs off the table and hopped to his feet, his body lumbering as he tried to make his legs work. “You’ll make me live again.”
“Yes. Yes, you can make us alive again,” Josephine said, starting to rise herself. “You’ve brought us this far. Bring us back.”
Fear gripped Laci in its icy fingers as she tried to pull her arm from the elderly lady’s grip. The lady clutched on with amazing strength, crushing Laci’s arm as she tried to shove herself away from the coroner’s table. “Let go of me!” she screamed, eyes wide.
Mark appeared from her peripheral, reaching out to grab Josephine’s arm, trying to pull her off Laci. “Is this how they’re supposed to act?” he asked through gritted teeth. “I thought they would just answer a few questions and then go back to being dead.”
Laci clawed at the other woman’s fingers, prying them from her arm. “I told you I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“I want to live!” Roger was now around the table, his gait a stumbling stagger, jerky, as he reached out and pulled at Mark’s shoulder, pulling the detective down to the ground as Roger’s body collapsed.
Mark shoved the dead man to the side, swinging his leg out and knocking Roger across the floor. “God, this is so frickin’ creepy,” Mark growled. “How do we get them to…you know…go back to being dead?”
Josephine started to move to the edge of the table as Laci tried harder to back away, practically dragging the older lady with her. “I told you, I don’t know!” She kept clawing at the woman’s fingers, trying to break her grip if she could. “Get the hell off me!”
Josephine showed no sign of slowing down, however. Instead, she lunged at Laci, sliding off the table, her body crumbling to the floor, legs twisted like broken branches.
Growls erupted inside the morgue as the two hellhounds slid through the concrete walls, moving over to where Josephine struggled with Laci, the elderly lady’s dead weight almost dragging Laci to the tile floor. The hellhound leaped across the floor, hitting the woman in the side and pinning her to the ground. The other hellhound attacked Roger, ripping him away from the detective, and dragging the dead man across the floor, growling as he shook the man’s arm with his giant fangs.
Laci stumbled over herself, trying to get away from the old woman and the hellhound. She rubbed at her arm where Josephine had grabbed her, trying to get the sensation of being held onto to fade away. Her breathing was ragged gasps, her eyes wide, as she stared at the hellhounds dragging the bodies across the floor, both Roger and Josephine screaming as they tried to shake free.
Mark had his gun out, aiming it at first one dog, then the other, then at one of the dead bodies, his hand gripping the handle of his gun with white knuckles. “Where the hell did the giant dogs come from?” he asked, his voice almost a screech. Laci didn’t blame him.
“They belong to Laci,” Nazareth said as he entered the room, crossing over to where the first hellhound pulled at Roger’s arm. “They sensed she was in trouble and came to help.” He shook his head. “I thought you didn’t want to be a necromancer?” He leaned down and placed his hand on Roger’s head, chanting a couple of words as he closed his eyes.
Laci couldn’t make out what he said, but as soon as he opened his eyes again, Roger’s body collapsed on the floor, once again
lifeless. She just sat there on the cold tile, still rubbing her arm as she watched him move over to Josephine and do the same thing. The elderly lady’s body went limp, her eyes staring up at the drop ceiling.
Nazareth stood straighter, glancing over at the detective, one eyebrow cocked. “You were going to use a gun on a dead person? I’m not sure that would work.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver flask, twisting the cap off as he did. “I mean, they are already dead, you know?” He took a long swallow of whatever was inside his flask. When he finished, he turned back over to Laci as he leaned back on one of the exam tables. “So, what made you decide to talk to the dead tonight?”
“She was trying to help me figure something out,” Mark said, holstering his gun. “And who are you? How did you get in here?”
Nazareth gestured toward the front door on the other side of the wall. “You left the door unlocked. Were you not wanting someone to walk in on you? Didn’t do such an excellent job securing the place.”
“Nazareth, what are you doing here?” Laci asked, blowing out a breath of exasperation as she pushed herself back to her feet and brushed herself off.
The older man took another drink from his flask. When he finished, he twisted the cap back in place and slid the flask back into his pocket. “Duncan warned me you were going to do something like this. The hounds helped me find you. What were you hoping to find?”
Laci glanced over at Mark, her lips pressed into a thin line. She took a deep breath before turning back to the necromancer. “These people supposedly died in their sleep, but something doesn’t add up about their deaths.” She pointed to Roger. “He died of fright while he was reading a book.” She then pointed to Josephine. “And she died on her couch while watching television, her internal organs and bones crushed, probably why she couldn’t stand up right now. Lucky me. The detective has helped us on other cases, so he asked me to help him on this.” She glanced at the bodies again. “I think I know who killed them, just not how he killed them.”