Raising the Dead

by D. B. Sieders

  He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, his breath causing shivers that had nothing at all to do with the cold. “And I do believe a few have come to see you, Vivian.”

  “Why on Earth would they want to see me?” she asked.

  “You are becoming rather famous in our circles. We don’t get many living souls mingling with us. They are curious, too. Some want to gawk, some would like your assistance, and others wish to protect you. In spite of the reluctance of the guardian council to accept you into the fold, most don’t take kindly to a rogue in their ranks.”

  “Good to know,” she said. “Not that I’m not grateful for the support and protection, but I don’t think I can make it through the rest of the night if I have to be worried about sorting the living from the dead.”

  God, she hated feeling so helpless, and she didn’t want to ask him for more help.

  Wait, maybe I don’t need help with this one.

  She closed her eyes and silently sent out a mental text, opening her mind wide so that all of the spirits waiting just around the corner would pay attention. The little jolts of electricity she felt coursing through her made her think it was working.

  Hey, folks, I’m glad to see so many of your kind are here to celebrate Sue’s big day, and I’m really and truly honored that so many of you want to know me and protect me.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to say it out loud, though it was damned awkward. Conversations in one’s head often were.

  Here’s the thing, though. I’m still not used to coping with so many of the dead, especially in a room full of the living. I might get confused and slip up, or I might not be able to get through my toast to the bride. I hate to ask, but would you mind staying out of sight for a few hours? I promise I’ll make a graceful exit early and let you get back to the party after I leave.

  She waited. Nothing. None of them disappeared or exited stage right. Or left. They all just stood rooted to the spot. Closing her eyes, she sighed and gave it one last shot.

  Please? I’d be happy to meet with you a few at a time over the next few weeks. Just give Ezra or Jeanne a shout. They manage me.

  She was pretty sure that she’d laughed at the last. She waited, afraid to open her eyes.

  “I do believe that did the trick, Vivian,” Darkmore said when she finally took a peak. He was only an inch or two away from her face. She lowered her gaze and he rolled back on his heels.

  “Shall I go make certain?”

  “No,” she muttered, knowing perfectly well that he could track any spirit for a few miles, if not more.

  “Then, please, will you do me the honor of escorting me into the reception? I’m famished!”

  Great. Another hungry corporeal spirit.

  Feeling a little less than confident, Vivian stood and took Darkmore’s hand, pausing only to fuss over her dress. It was wrinkled, of course, but it probably would have been by night’s end anyhow. They walked at a stately pace, even when she tried to rush things along. Darkmore stopped and bid her take in her surroundings. The dark wood tones, low recessed lighting, and the sweeping arches of the vaulted ceiling were warm and inviting. Vivian couldn’t help thinking that it must have been a bitch to renovate and modernize, but she was glad they’d left the old clock and the board with the train schedule as a nod to the past.

  It seemed to just stand still, observing, without doing anything. Darkmore didn’t appear to mind. Then again, he had oodles of time relative to her short existence. He probably spent a great deal of time just watching and waiting for the right moment to swoop down and steal souls. No, that wasn’t fair. He didn’t steal them. The souls to which he could stake a claim deserved it.

  It was easier to swallow, however, when one didn’t know the soul personally.

  She couldn’t make herself believe that Zeke had deserved damnation, no matter what he’d done in life. That was probably why Darkmore had warned her not to make things personal. God, she hadn’t been a saint herself, and the guardians had certainly found her to be less than saintly these days.

  And here she was, cavorting with a reaper and enjoying his company. What did that say about her?

  “Shall we mingle?” Darkmore asked.

  “Let’s,” Vivian replied. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  The reception was casual in the sense that everyone was able to hit the buffet line and sit where they pleased before the toasts and speeches. Vivian’s went off without a hitch, save a few more tears. In spite of her envy, she expressed her sincere wish—and it was sincere—for a lifetime of happiness and love for her dear friends, Sue and Jack.

  She tuned out for Sarah’s speech.

  Darkmore proved to be quite adept at social graces for a non-Southerner. He tolerated the prying questions and artfully evaded those that proved to be too personal, or uncomfortable for Vivian. Boyd warmed to him after a lively discussion about football. Jace shot surreptitious glances their way when he wasn’t chatting up Sheila or the friends that they apparently now shared. She wondered if she’d ever be comfortable with them. She decided to leave that question for another day once the music began.

  Apparently she’d spent so much time immersed in her own personal angst that she’d missed the cake cutting. If she was ever going to get back to normal, Vivian figured she’d have to work harder at living in the here and now.

  She faced the last Jace hurdle when he asked her to dance to the second song, just after the bride and groom christened the floor with Shania’s “Still the One.” It was a good song for Jack and Sue, given their history. Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be” played second. Vivian would have preferred “Your Cheating Heart,” for her obligatory appearance on the dance floor with her ex, but it wasn’t her call. Swallowing some more of her pride, she accepted his proffered hand and they joined Jack and Sue, as well as Sarah and her husband James. She noticed that Sarah looked more relaxed, even happy in the arms of her husband.

  Interesting.

  Jace didn’t talk, thank God. He held her at a comfortable distance and Vivian was surprised to find that she felt…nothing. Jealousy lingered just below the surface, and she was certain she could muster it along with righteous indignation, but swaying to soft music with the man she’d once considered spending her life with—she was blessed with indifference.

  Did Darkmore do that, or did she?

  Darkmore tapped Jace on the shoulder, and her ex let the reaper cut in. Vivian took his hand and found that he hadn’t lied about being able to dance like Fred Astaire.

  She certainly didn’t feel indifferent while they moved in time to Smokey and the Miracles.

  “Are you having a good time?” Vivian asked.

  “Of course. Did you think I would not?” Darkmore said in her ear. His cool breath made her shiver.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just figured you’d had much more interesting company in all of your years.” Wow, that was pathetic. Was she seriously fishing?

  “Define ‘interesting.’”

  “Kings? Queens? Great warriors? Intellectuals? Take your pick,” she tried not to sound small.

  “Ah, some things never change. You mortals reckon relative value on a different scale than we do,” he replied, spinning her around in a way that made her appear to possess more poise and grace than she could’ve ever claimed on her own.

  “Really?” she said after catching her breath.

  “Certainly. Beneath the surface, you are all the same, really. The same flesh, sinew, and bone. Strip away the trappings of mortal glory and what’s left?”

  “So all souls are the same?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said, his gaze growing intense.

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “Death is the great equalizer. I’ve encountered bland kings and delightfully rich beggars. I have indulged in carnal discourse with all manner of mortals, as well as more celestial exchanges. What merits consideration in the afterlife has little to do with wealth or talent, nor even great deeds as far as you
would consider them noteworthy—though deeds matter, of course.”

  “I see,” she said, considering. It made sense. So the question that remained was—what did merit consideration? And interest.

  “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know, Vivian?”

  “Why don’t you tell me, since you apparently already know?”

  It seemed their standoff would continue a bit longer, since the music changed and allowed Darkmore to show off even more fancy footwork. Vivian wasn’t an easy lead. She’d been told enough and she knew from her few forays into dance lessons that it was true. Darkmore managed quite nicely, though, leaving her breathless and exhilarated after three more songs.

  “Lazarus,” Vivian said when she’d recovered, “I want you to do something for me. Walk over there to Kay and ask her to dance. I want you to make her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, like she’s treasured and worth more than her weight in gold. Think you can do that for me?”

  Darkmore did as Vivian requested, which gave her the chance to grab a drink of water and visit the ladies’ room. She wasn’t at all surprised to find it full of spirits. She was, however, surprised to find Junior there.

  “Junior, what the hell? You shouldn’t be here, especially in the women’s restroom,” she scolded.

  He looked sheepish, but shrugged. “This is as close to women as I can get.”

  Men! Dead or alive, they were all perverts.

  “And you can just mosey on outta here right now while I take care of my business. Alone.”

  “Why are you with that reaper?” Junior asked.

  He seemed scared. She couldn’t blame him, really. He was unaffiliated and had spent a lot of time worrying about whether his suicide had condemned him to eternal damnation.

  In his position, Vivian would be looking over her shoulder, too.

  “Because I needed a date and he said yes,” Vivian replied. “He’s not here on business and he’s not here for you. Besides, you’re looking better and better by the day. You’re practically a guardian already.”

  It was true. She could see him clearly now from head to toe. He wasn’t corporeal, but it was a start.

  “Jeanne’s been talking to me about, you know, working with them,” Junior said with obvious hope.

  “That’s great,” Vivian replied, trying to be happy for him. “Just be sure to read the fine print on the contract.”

  He gave her a quizzical look but then shook it off. “All right. You sure you’re going to be okay with the reaper?”

  “His name is Darkmore, and yes, I will. You trust me, right?”

  “’Course I do! Can I peek in on Scooter?”

  “Go for it. I’m sure he’s driving the nanny crazy right about now.”

  Vivian was just stepping out of the ladies’ room when she ran into Kay, who looked out of breath and a bit overwhelmed, but still glowed. Darkmore must have done his job quite well.

  “Vivian,” she gasped, dragging her by the arm and leading her to a couple of unoccupied chairs in the lobby. She sat across from Vivian and stared a hole through her with glittering eyes. “Your Mr. Darkmore…he’s quite a dancer!”

  “Don’t I know it,” Vivian said.

  Speaking of Darkmore… “So, where’d you leave him?”

  She waved a hand in the general direction of the reception area, a serene smile still painted across her face. She’d have to thank the reaper for going above and beyond the call of duty.

  When she arrived back at the reception, she was surprised and a little miffed to find Darkmore deep in conversation with Sarah. Now she’d have to go and talk to the witch if she wanted to get her date back. And she’d have to resist the temptation to zap her.

  Watching from a distance, she spotted the thin stream of pale red light that he drew from her and smiled in spite of herself. Of course he’d be hungry. Human food was one thing, but Darkmore needed the sustenance of raw human emotion, the uglier the better.

  She could hardly blame him. Sarah was a smorgasbord.

  She kept watching until Sarah’s hand landed on the reaper’s arm. That was enough. Vivian marched over and put on her best fake smile, saying, “Sarah, I see you’ve met my date, Mr. Robert Darkmore.”

  “I have,” she purred. She didn’t even have the decency to act afraid. Not until Vivian shot a few eye-bullets her way. “Robert was kind enough to rescue me from a few of my more eccentric aunts.”

  Eccentric was code for batshit crazy. Look who’s talking.

  “I see,” Vivian replied. “I’ll be taking him back now, if you don’t mind. I figure we have about another thirty minutes before your folks start requesting Ronnie Milsap and I want to be out of here by then. Shall we?”

  “Of course,” Darkmore said, winking at her. “I’ll see you around, Mrs. Harrow.”

  They walked back to the dance floor and enjoyed more slow songs. She allowed herself to lean into him a little more and to enjoy the closeness. He must have enjoyed it as well, since he pulled her in and started stroking her back with his long, talented fingers. She found herself wishing they had a room waiting upstairs. But they didn’t.

  Probably for the best—fantasy was one thing, but risking her body, and if she was being honest, her heart with the reaper was quite another.

  They made their goodbyes and rode back to her house with little conversation, and she was left with the nagging thoughts typical for any really good date. Would he kiss her? Should she kiss him? Would it lead to other things? Was he even interested in her beyond her powers and the fact that she was a “food source?”

  He handed her out of the car and walked to her front doorstep. She was tense and figured he must have been, too, since she was feeling his chill. She looked at him and waited.

  “Thank you for the lovely evening, Vivian,” he said, low and smooth. “I haven’t had a night out in a very long time.”

  “I doubt that’s true,” she said.

  “Touché, dear lady. To be more specific, I haven’t had a night out for the sole purpose of my own pleasure in a very long time. I tend to be a bit of a workaholic, you know,” he said, stepping closer.

  “Well, you know what they say about all work and no play?” she whispered. Then she gulped.

  It must have been the sign he was waiting for, since he closed the distance between them, pressing her to the door and placing his lips on hers. They were cool, but she didn’t think she’d have to worry about temperature. It was the kind of searing cold that burned and she pulled him closer and grabbed the nape of his neck with such force that he snarled. Kissing the reaper was incredible. He had to throw her off with some force when he decided to break the kiss.

  When she could catch her breath, all she could ask was, “Why?”

  “I’m old-fashioned,” Darkmore said. He was a little breathless, too. “I’ll not have you yet. Not until you know what it is to be mine.”

  “What if I don’t want to wait?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the night sky. He seemed to be drawing in the tangible world around him, tasting the air and the earth. It was humid tonight. Rain was just around the corner. If she had to guess, she reckoned he was warring with himself a little as well. She didn’t think that happened very often. He opened his bright blue eyes and regarded her, having reached some decision.

  “You have unfinished business. We’ll continue ours in a few days’ time. I’ll find you then.”

  Then he disappeared in a burst of scarlet light.

  CHAPTER 21

  Stunned and disoriented, she walked into her home, shut the door, and locked it. She didn’t bother with the lights. Reality seemed bright and harsh enough.

  While she wasn’t the type of girl to put stock in fairy tales, and she’d convinced herself that Darkmore wasn’t a suitable suitor, she had to admit that his departure hurt. She’d been hoping that this strange and magical night would last a bit longer. Maybe a lot longer. They could have cooled off long en
ough to sit and talk for a bit.

  He could have come in for a cup of coffee or a nightcap, at the very least.

  She stood in her foyer and pondered the state of her romantic life, along with life in general, and didn’t like what she saw. If she had any prospects at all, surely a corporeal spirit would have to be it. Her attempts with normal, breathing men—okay, one attempt—hadn’t worked out. Would any other mortal be willing to make the sacrifice it would take to be with her, not to mention the energy that she owed to dwellers of the great beyond? He’d have to sacrifice a family, at least for the foreseeable future. It would be too dangerous. Any guardian, reaper, or pissed-off spirit would just have to threaten a child of hers and it would be over. She’d destroy that spirit or die trying, and their child would wind up dying and going…who knew where?

  Not a pretty picture, to say the least.

  Sighing, Vivian walked to her bedroom, allowed her grateful feet to slide out of the pumps she’d worn, and slipped out of the gown. Looking in the mirror, she removed the delicate undergarments as well and stood naked in the half-light cast by the bathroom light she’d left on. Her hair was still in place, and the makeup and illumination played well with her features. She could almost feel the sensation of Darkmore’s fingers caressing her arm as they danced. Her lips still burned.

  No need to start something that won’t be finished.

  Slipping on her robe, she padded to the kitchen to seek some liquid consolation.

  Outside, the rain fell hard and fast as it often did in early summer. The rumbling thunder moved closer. Flashes of white pierced the darkness of her kitchen as she poured a shot of smooth, dark whiskey into her glass. She didn’t bother to chase it, taking a long draw instead and letting the burn slip down her throat and warm her body. She’d left her windows cracked and could hear the wind whipping through her maples and jostling her deck chairs. Closing her eyes, she smelled the earth and damp musk released from the ground by the relentless pounding of the rain. That earthy, primal scent beckoned her and she imagined the porous ground as it drank in every drop, pulling it deep within until saturated, sated. Another flash, this one closer.