He became very still, and the temperature surrounding them plummeted. His voice remained low, but it was even colder than his presence. “You believe you’ve seen true evil, in its magnitude and delicious splendor?”
The way he said delicious sent a shiver up her spine. It took more conviction than she thought she possessed to hold steady and keep her eyes on his, but she did. When his composure returned and the temperature rose a few degrees, he said, “We shall learn, then, the strength of the metal from which you were molded.”
“Fine,” she said, her voice a bit sharp. “The only thing I ask in return is spirit energy. Lots and lots of energy.”
She felt as well as saw his intense scrutiny. If he was curious about the reason behind her request, he didn’t ask. She thought about telling him, but then thought better of it. Finally, he stood straight, nodded, and said, “I think we can arrange that. Consider it a bonus, if you will. Shall we?”
They continued walking, which gave Vivian a few more moments to think. That wasn’t a good thing, as it gave her more time to dwell on Darkmore’s words and wonder if she was up to the challenge.
Sure, she’d been to some dark places, some within her own soul, and she’d tasted pain and suffering from the living that nearly drove her to her breaking point. Still, she’d survived. More than that, she was able to keep coming back for more. Yet Darkmore, ancient and wise, witness to the spectrum of humanity’s wickedness and cruelty, was most assuredly qualified to take her down a peg or two.
What she’d seen and experienced in her thirty-six years could not compare to that, she realized. Then, she was afraid.
Breathe in, breathe out. If she could breathe, she could move. If she could move, she could face the darkness ahead. All of it.
She was snapped back into awareness as they approached a room flanked by two police officers. They were in an ICU. Vivian had been in and out of hospitals enough to recognize the unit. The police and staff took no notice of them. Darkmore must have concealed them with his spirit powers. She questioned that conclusion when a sleek female physician smiled and walked toward them, heels clattering against the tiled floor.
She was even more shocked, and a little angrier than she should have been, when the lady doc planted a sensual kiss on Darkmore’s lips.
Anger turned to dismay when she realized that the clattering hadn’t been a product of high-heeled shoes. Rather than black pumps, her shapely calves tapered into slender, delicate ankles that ended in hooves. Cloven hooves.
“Uphir,” Darkmore purred. “How lovely to see you again.” Ever mindful of his manners, Darkmore turned and touched Vivian on the arm as he offered an introduction. “Allow me to present Ms. Vivian Bedford, spiritual intercessor and healer. Vivian, this is Uphir. She is called the demon’s physician by some lower life forms, but I prefer to think of her as the spirit realm’s supreme authority on all matters medical.”
Uphir looked at Vivian with shrewd, calculating eyes, the eyes of a predator sizing up the value of a potential kill. Vivian hated her right away. She was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. Naturally, Uphir’s projected form was quite attractive. Vivian consoled herself with the notion that the illusion probably hid scales.
“Darkmore,” she purred. “I didn’t realize you had acquired an…assistant. I thought you preferred to operate solo. She looks so new. I would have expected you to acquire a partner with more experience in the art of reaping dark pleasures.”
She didn’t think that Uphir was being particularly complimentary. Or nice. Vivian didn’t feel like being nice either. Darkmore probably saw it coming, so he spoke before she had the chance.
“Vivian is here of her own accord, freelance, if you will. She normally works with the guardians, but we have developed a rather satisfying rapport.”
“I see,” Uphir said, gaze wide in what seemed suspiciously like appreciation. “She’s a healer, you say? In that case, I believe she will prove most useful indeed. Shall we proceed?”
They were interrupted by a noise from behind, part cough and part grumble. Vivian turned and almost burst out laughing at the source of the sound. In retrospect, she was glad for her uncharacteristic level of self-control. She was in the company of powerful dark beings, after all.
Only this one didn’t look especially powerful. He looked downright comical.
“Oh,” Uphir said, not bothering to hide the touch of bored disdain in her voice. “This one’s a new recruit for my legion. He prefers to be called Lothar, but you may refer to him as Earl. It is the name that his mommy gave him, after all.”
Earl’s pride evaporated instantly, replaced by the chilly mixture of humiliation and resentment. Well, if you work for demons and go around dressed in that getup, what do you expect? Earl was decked out in some sort of black leather and cape combo, accented by a pitchfork. He apparently had been granted some demonic powers of projection, since his head was green and adorned by a panel of spiky protrusions. These were probably supposed to look menacing.
They might have, if you couldn’t still see the rest of him. Earl stood about five-five in his heeled boots, and the rest of his frame was woefully small. Vivian thought he must have been bullied quite a bit in life, assuming he’d left life behind. He could have been trapped in some sort of limbo as she was for all she knew, but she imagined that the small man before her willingly traded his soul in exchange for the power that he lacked on his own. That, or he was just a little too into role-playing games. Vivian had to wonder why he was here.
If Darkmore found his appearance odd, he didn’t show it. He simply nodded and turned back to Uphir. “We’d best get started.”
Turning back to Vivian and Earl, he added, “Please excuse us while we talk shop and strategy for a moment. We’ll be back in a jiffy.” Vivian glared at him, and damned if the reaper didn’t wink just before he disappeared behind the door of the ICU suite.
Asshole.
She wasn’t sure what she should be doing to fill the time, but conversing with Earl was not high on her list of options. Unfortunately, he seemed eager to chat with her.
“So,” he said, giving her the once over. “You’re freelance? Like to spread it around a bit? Nice.”
She wondered if she could get away with zapping him, but settled on the silent treatment. She had to conserve her energy for bigger battles later. Maybe he would take the hint.
He kept staring at her.
Maybe not.
“I’m strictly on team demon, myself. Most of the players on this side don’t like to share, if you catch my drift,” he continued. He actually wiggled his eyebrows. Pathetic. “But Darkmore’s a pretty good score, too,” he offered in a reassuring tone.
She still didn’t bother to answer, preferring to count the cracks in the ceiling instead. But she was getting more irritated. For starters, she didn’t like hospitals. Too many bad memories with Mae. Plus, every time she’d visited a hospital since Mae’s death, it had been for work. That meant consuming burdens and pain, which was uncomfortable at best, downright unpleasant at worst.
She wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s prospects, and Earl wasn’t helping to improve her focus, or her mood.
“So, what do you do, besides heal? I’m a tracker, see,” he continued, not waiting for her to answer. “I can detect a spirit from light years away. And I can tell whether the spirit is a reaper, guardian, lost and lonely, or…” He hesitated. Vivian hoped he was getting ready to shut the hell up, but he finished with, “Well, I’ll just leave it at that. Some of this stuff is classified, and I don’t know how much I’m allowed to divulge.”
He positively beamed. Perhaps he was pleased with his use of a big vocab word. More likely, he was reveling in his perceived superior status.
Vivian knew she shouldn’t feed the troll, so to speak, but she’d had about enough.
“Look, Beelzebubba, I’m here as a favor for Darkmore. I just want to go in, get the job done, and get out. Your babbling is making it difficult for me
to get in the zone, so can we just drop the idle chit chat?”
“Fine,” he snarled. “Sure, Red, why not? You don’t look like all that, anyhow.”
She really thought about zapping him then, but she held her power in check, as well as her tongue. He wasn’t worth it. Besides, she felt a small measure of pity for any fool who had such obvious issues for which to compensate.
At the sound of Darkmore’s beckoning voice, she shifted into high alert mode and prepared as best she could for who or what was waiting behind that door.
Vivian entered at Darkmore’s request, followed by Demon Boy. Hospital disinfectant assaulted her senses, which almost covered the festering scent of old sweat and older blood. The smells emanated from the man at the center of the room, lying motionless on the standard issue hospital bed. The bits of his flesh that weren’t covered by bandages, blankets, or tubes were covered in angry purple bruises or were sickly gray. His greasy salt-and-pepper hair needed a wash, as did his body.
Vivian had spent enough time in the presence of death to feel it and smell it. This unfortunate man reeked.
Uphir busied herself doing normal doctor-type things, like checking the man’s vitals, while her minion sulked in the corner of the room opposite Vivian. Darkmore stood beside Vivian at a polite distance and waited. After perusing his chart, Uphir bent over and licked the man’s face with a slender forked tongue, the sight of which made Vivian jump. The others remained unfazed.
“Well?” Darkmore asked.
“He’s on his way, but not too far gone. I think we should give it a try,” Uphir said, casting her gaze upon Vivian.
Darkmore turned and addressed Vivian. “We need you to try to heal Mr. Rockford.”
“I’m no doctor, but he looks like he’s in pretty bad shape to me,” Vivian said. “I’ve only ever fixed up a sprained ankle and a spirit blast injury. What’s wrong with him anyway?”
“He was beaten,” Uphir answered. “And the victim of multiple stab wounds. He’s suffered severe internal injuries as a result. Start with those. The superficial cuts and bruises are not especially important. We need him to recover. And we need him conscious.”
Vivian was about to ask what interest a demon and a reaper had with curing an injured human, but Darkmore took her hand and squeezed hard. She took the hint and remained silent as he led her to the side of the bed.
She looked down at the man, unsure how to begin.
Darkmore spoke to her in a soft, low tone, asking, “What did you do for your friend the priest?”
“I grabbed him, shook, took in some of his light,” she said, struggling to remember. “Then he took in mine.”
“Then perhaps you could do the same for Mr. Rockford,” he suggested. “I’ll be right here.”
She was grateful for Darkmore’s presence and reassurance, though she was loath to admit it. She placed her hand on Mr. Rockford’s and squeezed. He didn’t respond. No surprise there. Taking a deep breath, she focused her energy on the unconscious man so she could draw in his burdens. She saw the small wisps of yellow light flow from him, a sickly green shade that made her stomach turn. Steeling herself, she inhaled.
Her stomach turned even more.
She tasted lust, perversity, and greed. This man harbored sickening thoughts and desires and Vivian fought the urge to recoil from them. Instead, she forced herself to inhale again. Revulsion and rage shook her as she felt his depravity and degradation, which he not only accepted, but relished.
Disgusted, she tried to release his hand, only to be gripped tighter as his eyes flew open. He pulled her closer as she fought. She registered a wail of sheer horror, and then realized it was her own.
No, no, no!
He ripped the light from her being, sucking in the healing rays into his broken body even as she choked on the evil drawn from his wretched and decrepit soul. She fell deeper and deeper into the chasm as the light left her and filled him.
Too much…you’re taking too much! Stop!
She couldn’t breathe. He’d kill her if he kept at it.
Suddenly, a whirlwind of ice swept in and all around her. Rather than causing more agony, it soothed her burning flesh. It bore her up from the depths and lifted her back to the light. Only then did she succumb to oblivion.
***
Something was being forced into her mouth and she fought like hell to dislodge it. Fear gripped her and she thrashed. She would not taste more of that man’s darkness no matter what she owed Lazarus Darkmore.
Darkmore…
“Darkmore,” she croaked. “Make it stop…he’s killing me.”
“Shh, Vivian, it’s over,” he soothed. She felt his hands near her mouth again and snarled, pulling away while baring her teeth to bite.
“None of that now, my dear,” he said, stilling her head with strong, insistent hands. “Drink, now.”
It wasn’t a request.
She almost spit before she realized that he only offered water. It cooled and soothed as it traveled down her raw throat. She must have screamed a long time before blacking out.
Once her addled brain caught up with reality, she did spit as she tried to speak.
“No, you need more. And this, too,” he commanded, placing something solid into her mouth even as she protested. “Relax. It’s just an energy bar.”
“What the hell happened out there?” she asked, opening her eyes and then wishing she hadn’t. The harsh glare of hospital halogen made her head hurt.
“I’ll tell you after you eat,” he answered.
“Fine,” she said, snatching the bar from his hand and tearing off a bite. She gave him what she hoped was a squint-eyed look of pure damnation while she chewed.
“Ah, there’s the Vivian Bedford I know and love,” he said. He smiled too. He had the audacity to smile. Had she the strength, she would have lunged at him.
“You’ve done well, my dear,” Darkmore said, lifting her from her place on the floor and cradling her in his lap. “Mr. Rockford is making a remarkable recovery.”
“Whampf on Erfth d’d h’ do?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude. Not to mention incomprehensible. I could also do with fewer dirty looks.”
Vivian chewed. Her eyes adjusted and she also took in her surroundings. Once finished, she said, “I asked you what on Earth did he do. And while we’re at it, why on Earth are we in the bathroom?”
“What he did is irrelevant. You have fulfilled your obligation and have acquired the energy you desired, although I suspect you’ll find it less than palatable. I moved you to the bathroom so you could recover in peace, and so we would not disturb Uphir and her minion while they work.”
“So that’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” she asked, trying not to get too comfy in the reaper’s lap.
“That was my plan, yes,” he said, shifting his blue eyes slightly to the left. “When you are ready, I shall be happy to see you home.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said as she hopped off his lap and reached for the door. “I want to know what you got me into.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You might not like what you see.”
“I already don’t like what I’ve seen. Darkmore, his light was so…I mean, it was revolting. I’ve never tasted anything so vile.”
“Mr. Rockford has been rather a naughty boy. Uphir doesn’t come topside for just any old offense.”
“What did he do?”
“I’d rather not tell you.”
“And I’d rather you not make decisions for me. I want to see what’s going on out there. Are you going to stop me?”
“No,” he answered. “Free will, Vivian. For better or worse, that’s what you get with me.”
She nodded, turned, and opened the door before she could change her mind.
CHAPTER 26
If Vivian had tasted evil in the spirit energy of Mr. Rockford, she surely witnessed pure evil when she opened the door to his hospital room.
&nbs
p; The sight that greeted her chilled her to her soul.
Rockford’s body was chained, his wrists and ankles encircled by barbed metal that held him taut and tore into his flesh, the bonds held him suspended in midair above the bed. His face contorted in anguish and his mouth gaped, but no sound escaped. His captors did not permit him the luxury of screaming, or even writhing. He remained completely immobile as both Uphir and Earl repeatedly sliced his flesh with curved daggers.
They took their time, piercing his tissue with slow, agonizing jabs. Once embedded, they turned the blades to inflict maximum damage and pain, and then pulled up, down, and around to create angry, gaping wounds. The wounds didn’t bleed. Instead, they released more of the sickening yellow light that Vivian had tasted. The smell of it made her stomach turn almost as much as the sight of their torture.
When both Uphir and Earl paused and placed their mouths on the open wounds, sucking and slurping, she ran back to the bathroom and vomited. Darkmore was kind enough to lift the toilet lid for her.
Still gagging, she looked up at him, her face smeared with tears. She managed to gasp one word between bouts of nausea.
“Why?”
Darkmore looked at her, his expression inscrutable. His voice, however, held a trace of sorrow. “I did try to warn you, Vivian.”
“You had me heal him,” she whispered in disbelief. “I cured him so they could torture him? Why?”
“Vivian—”
“Tell me why!”
“Mr. Rockford is a predator, Vivian. He preys upon children in the worst way possible. This is his punishment.”
“He’s a pedophile?”
“Child predator seems more appropriate, don’t you think? There is no love in the unspeakable acts he prefers, I can assure you. He has subjected dozens of young girls and boys to—”
“Stop!” she screamed, her already-raw throat protesting. She felt even sicker than she did when she saw the demon and her novice savoring the tastes of torture. Her innards clenched even tighter when she saw the look of longing and hunger on Darkmore’s face.
Raising the Dead Page 25