by Crymsyn Hart
“No, Darria. None of that. It’s me. Turn around, and see for yourself.”
Darria turned around. Her gaze traveled up from the harvester’s feet and saw that he was no longer dressed in his dark robes but in his normal attire: jeans, T-shirt, and black shoes. His hair was down, and his face was pale. His eyes were intent on getting his meaning across. She couldn’t believe he was there. Her entire body shook. Chills washed over her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Oliver took her hand and laid it on his chest. His heart beat underneath her palm.
“It’s me.”
“But the shears. I watched you turn to ash. You floated away on the breeze. Chaos ... he....”
“Shhh....” Oliver placed his lips on hers to quiet her. He kissed her with a passion and a hunger she had never felt from him before. It fanned the fire within her. She could see it blaze, light and dark, higher and higher until she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. He slipped his arms around her back and held her to him. The air shifted around them, and the light was drowned out by the expanse of his wings. They wrapped around her and pulled the two of them closer together. She felt the air move, and then, the light returned.
Oliver pulled away from her. Darria licked her lips and tasted the tang of cloves and cinnamon. He wiped her tears away and lifted her chin, so she could look into his dark eyes. “I’m never going to leave you again.”
“How is this possible?”
“Azrael caught my soul. He gave me a choice whether I wanted to go on or to come back to you and resume my duties as a harvester. How could I refuse you, my Mistress of the Dark?”
Darria chuckled and felt her cheeks sear from the compliment. “You’re starting to sound like Omar.”
“He does have a point about you being luscious. I was an idiot about before. Was this something you had for me?” He traced the strap of the nightie and touched her shoulder, sending a chill through her.
“Yes.”
“It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. Dying made me realize I was more human than I thought I was, that I would miss you more than anything. When you came to me, and I was dying, I understood what I had done and that I had misjudged you.” He touched her face and then flipped a coin over in his hand, placing it on her arm. “My token to you. Do you accept it? You are the main undertaker now, and if you choose another way to pay the fare for the souls, it must be done now.”
“I accept it.” It sunk into her flesh. It was the same coin that Legba had given her. She touched his face and realized that he was real. This was all real. She pulled him to her and kissed his lips again lightly until he had to move away. The power that once tugged inside of her to take him over remained under her control. It seemed neatly integrated into her soul.
“Thank you. One other question.”
“What?”
“Do you forgive me?”
“I love you. I thought you were gone. I can’t lose you again.”
He touched the poppies on her arm and drew her attention to them. The center vine that had previously wound up her arm and shoulder was now where the morning glories had stopped on the side of her neck. The ravens were in a spiral now around her arm. The morning glories had been rearranged so that they were above her elbow along with the same small, white flowers the sprites had placed upon her. They were small stars. The black rose Legba had given her rested in the crook of her elbow. Ten red poppies were on either side of the vine. The vine was a thick, dark thread, and each thread was the stem of a poppy. On the inside of her arm was where the needle was. A thread looped through the eyehole. The coin was next to it, and there was a place for the key.
“You are the most important thing to me, and I won’t let anything happen to you. You have more power than any other undertaker I have ever come across. These poppies show that and what you accomplished with Chaos. I won’t let anyone hurt you. My scythe is yours, and I will wipe down anyone who gets in your way.”
“That’s great, but I want to know if I can have other things from you?” She touched his chest and trailed her fingers lower.
His smile lit up his face, and the devilish grin made her stomach flutter. It was something that she had always loved about him. She wanted to know how he would feel against her.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 17
The wonderful, sweet scent of something cooking tickled her nose so that she woke up. Her whole body hummed from the night she had spent with Oliver. It rejuvenated her spirit, and she was ready to dive back into being an undertaker. She showered quickly. When she was out, she put on one of her dresses and went down to the kitchen.
Oliver stood by the stove, making pancakes. She thought back to the time when he had been doing that for her and Abner. It stung her heart, knowing that her mentor was gone, but she figured he was somewhere watching out for her. If she wanted, she could reach out and talk to him. She slipped her arms around Oliver’s waist and buried her head between his shoulder blades. If she concentrated hard enough, she could feel the softness of his feathers. If she inhaled, she could smell the slight dust and vanilla scent that clung to them.
“That tickles,” Oliver murmured.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize I could feel them until I was up against you. I didn’t last night, and....”
“I was trying to make you feel something else last night,” Oliver chuckled. He set the pan down and turned around in her arms.
“You did. A few times.” She kissed him lightly, but he deepened the kiss. Darria got caught up in the moment.
“Oh. Hey, guys, sorry. I didn’t ... ahh....”
She broke away when she heard the door slam shut and Rory come inside. Oliver nuzzled her neck before he went back to cooking the pancakes. “It’s okay, Rory.”
“Is there enough for everyone?” Rory’s stomach growled.
“There’s plenty,” Oliver said. He placed a plate of pancakes on the table. “I have to go anyway. Things to do. I’ll be back later, though.” He slid his hand along her side and pinched her ass. Darria jumped at the sudden contact, but he disappeared before she could react.
She sat down at the table and ate breakfast. Her assistant focused on the pancakes. While he ate, she saw the faint scar where the scissors had sliced his throat. “Are they good?”
“I’m very sorry about barging in. I didn’t know Oliver had spent the night.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure you realize that things are going to be different now.”
“I kind of got that. These three women came to me last night in a dream and told me that things were going to be changing and that you were more than my boss. You are the chairwoman now. Others are going to be coming here to learn how to be undertakers. I think it’s cool. Boss.”
“Damn straight! Now finish your breakfast and clean up, okay? Once you’re done here, I need you to set up downstairs. I have a feeling a body is going to be coming in soon. Come and get me when you have everything set up. I’ll be in my office.”
“Okay, chief.” Rory stuffed his mouth with pancakes, dripping syrup onto the plate.
Darria grabbed the tools she left on the counter the night before. She took the scissors and laid them on her hand with the point at her wrist. They shrunk down, so they fit onto her flesh. The threads of the vine laced around the handles of the scissors. She took the key and placed it underneath the needle. The threads grew and wound themselves around the loops in the skeleton key. She took the bag of other relics and held it in her hand, weighing it. The responsibility of it descended on her. For now, there were other things she had to do.
She made her way up to her office. In there, the magic was stronger than it had been before, and the air was cleaner. Her gaze swept over the bookcases. She saw the dark spider and smiled. All she needed to do was talk to the spider. She didn’t know if it would relay the message, but it was worth a try if she ever needed help. Darria hoped she didn’t. She went to her desk, unlocked the drawer, and pulled out Omar’s withered hand. The power sp
arked in her at the thought of repairing his flesh. She passed her hand over the marred skin and envisioned it whole again. The magic moved out of her. It was barely nothing at all for her, but she could feel her connection to the mummified hand as she breathed life back into it after all the damage it had encountered.
Now that things were calm again in her life, she could focus on Omar. Rory had said he was waiting for her to call him back. All she had to do was reach out and touch him. Darria focused her will the way she had done with Gerry. This time, she didn’t think about pulling Omar back. She wanted to stand before the veil and invite him. She was never going to trap anyone to rotting flesh ever again or pull them away from paradise without their permission.
Within her mind’s eye, she found herself moving along the connection she had made and discovered that she was standing in the cemetery. Around her were gravestones and trees, but right in front of her was a wall of mist so thick she couldn’t see through to the other side. When she put her hand up to it, the fog wrapped around it, trying to swallow it whole. Darria thought about Omar and touched the veil once more. An opening grew where her hand was. The small bit of power she used didn’t have much of an influence on her now that it was tied within her. The Fates had woven her together and made sure the necromancer slice was combined with everything else, so figuring out how to use her power was a little bit different, and yet, it was second nature as well. Now she could say that she truly walked a gray path.
“Hey, Omar!” she called into the other realm. “You want to get your ass back here?”
A form approached with the unmistakable swagger of her familiar in his red suit and shiny shoes. “Finally decided to come and get me. Hey, babe.”
“What did I tell you about calling me babe, honey, sweetness, etc.?” Darria put her hands on her hips and smiled.
Omar shrugged. “Gotta give a dead man a try. How can I not compliment the Evil Mistress of the Dark, her great highness who has saved the world from Chaos.” He stood in the middle of the doorway.
“If you’re coming back, give me your hand.” She held out her hand to him.
Omar placed his left hand in her palm. “I’ll come back only if you give me a kiss and let me feel you up once in a while. I’m not going to stop with the sex jokes because you are one hot momma.”
Darria rolled her eyes. “Fine. One kiss, and you can feel me up, but only with your left hand and not when I’m in the shower, doing my work, or in bed asleep. Deal?”
He leaned in and puckered his lips together. “Give me some sugar, baby, to seal the deal.”
“Ugh.” Darria pursed her lips together and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey, that doesn’t count.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t say I had to kiss you any place in particular. I kissed you.”
“Can I feel those luscious knockers of yours with both hands since we’re here?”
He was never going to shut up if she didn’t let him. “Make it quick. One squeeze, and that’s it.”
He eyed her and placed his hands on her breasts. “So luscious. So tempting. So....”
“Omar, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a female voice said from behind him.
“Nothing, precious. Just making nice with my dark mistress here.” He yanked his hands away.
From behind him emerged a lovely woman who resembled Darria in some way. She was a little taller. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were brown and almond shaped. “Forgive him, Mistress. He doesn’t know any better.”
“Omar, did you forget to tell me who this is?” Darria glanced at her.
Omar glanced down at his shoes. “Um ... her name is Penelope.”
“What did you say?” the woman asked. “She asked you a question. You should answer her straight.”
Omar glanced up at her. “Darria, this is Penelope.”
Darria glanced at the other woman. “Nice to meet you. Are you coming back, too?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course. One of my body parts is in the cabinet. If you don’t mind bringing me back, that is?”
Omar hadn’t looked up yet to meet her eyes. “Not at all. What should I be looking for? Another hand?” Darria asked her.
“I’m not sure. I guess you’ll know when I start moving around.” Penelope looped her arm through Omar’s.
Darria held in a laugh at seeing her familiar being put in his place. She shook her head and thought about heading back to her body. She fell back to herself and opened her eyes. When she did, Omar was moving in her hand. The mummified appendage grabbed ahold of her breast and squeezed it.
“So succulent.”
“Get off me,” she squealed, peeling him off her right breast and throwing him across the room.
“You know you loved it,” he retorted. He stood up on his fingers and stretched, his knuckles cracking.
“Yeah. Yeah. You can tell yourself that.” Darria got up. He scrambled up her leg and hopped up onto her shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, though.”
“You were the one who banished me. I should be horribly offended and have chosen to stay back in the afterlife.”
“And miss all the fun?”
He squeezed her shoulder. “You did well. I could’ve helped you with Chaos.”
“You would’ve been scattered to smithereens. He would have sucked you dry like a juice box.”
“I already am dry. Dry as a bone. A big, hard bone.” He wiggled his fingers at her.
“Ew. Enough flirting. It’s creepy. Besides, if you want me, you have to take on the Angel of Death.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the shimmer of Omar’s spirit. He wasn’t solid enough to have a body, but it would be easy to make him flesh. She could weave a few strands here and there and remake him. Whoa ... where did that come from?
“Are we going downstairs to look in the Wunderkammer for Penelope?” Omar poked her, bringing her back from her thoughts.
“Yeah.” She opened the door and headed down to the cellar.
“You and Oliver finally did it. Was it good?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Details?”
“I’m not going into details about my sex life with you.” Darria got out her key and went to open the curio cabinet. Something banged from the inside, and she heard a muffled voice coming from it. She unlocked the cabinet to find that the shelves had rearranged once more. On the second shelf was a closed, wooden box, a smaller cabinet within a cabinet. The voice was coming from inside there.
“Don’t open it,” Omar whispered.
“I heard that.”
Darria recognized Penelope’s voice and pulled open the smaller cabinet. Inside was a shrunken head the size of a baseball. A tail of hair was braided around its neck stump. Her eyes were sewn shut, but the bindings on her mouth had come loose. “How did you get into the cabinet?”
“One of your undertakers put me in here once they found me in an antique shop. They stuck me in the cabinet, and I’ve been there ever since,” Penelope said.
“How did you end up as a ... head?” Darria asked.
“Not really sure. I think it was one of those blind dates gone wrong. You know. Girl meets boy of her dreams. Boy happens to be a dark magic practitioner who wants to use your head in the worship of his backwoods god. The usual first-date stuff.”
“What kind of first dates did you have?”
Penelope turned her head to face Darria. “The normal ones with goblins, vampires, and werewolves. I think my strangest one was with an insurance agent. He was so ... so normal.”
“How did you and Omar meet?”
“Are we going to talk about this all night?” Omar asked.
“Hush. I want to know,” Darria quieted him. She reached into the cabinet and lifted Penelope out of the box. The Wunderkammer trembled when she removed the head, then the shelves realigned so that she was staring back at the silver bowl that held all her instruments.
“It’s a long story that we can tell another time
. Don’t you know there’s a body coming?” Omar interjected. “You have to hush, so Evil Mistress can concentrate, or she’ll send you back into the other realm.”
Darria rolled her eyes. “Yes, a body is coming. Penelope, we can set ground rules later, but Omar, you have to bring her around. She’s your girlfriend.”
“Hey, Darria, I thought you were going to be in your office,” Rory yelled, coming down the stairs. A body slid down the chute and landed in the coal bin.
“Sorry. I got sidetracked,” she said to her assistant. “Are you ready to work on your first real body from beginning to end?”
“You mean it?” Rory asked.
“I do. First rule?”
Rory stopped and stared at her. It was clear that he was thinking about what he had to do. He turned and locked the bottom door, making sure the bolts were in place. His hands shook as he got his apron and tied it on. He handed her hers. She put it on and then stepped out of the way. From there, he arranged the tray of all the instruments and then used the key he had to open the cabinet, taking out the silver bowl containing the thread they used for sewing up the mouths of the corpses and the coins. He set them on the tray and then went over to get the corpse. The body was three times the size of the skinny teenager, but he hefted it over his shoulder and settled it on top of the stainless steel table. He stopped and looked up at her.
“What now?”
“Pat through his pockets, and see if you are drawn to a certain part of the body,” Darria instructed.
Her assistant did what she said, patting down the body, and he opened his coat and fished out something within his inside pocket. He pulled out a green pouch. He handed it over to Darria. She pulled open the drawstring. Inside, she found a small, carved figure of a Buddha. She closed her eyes and concentrated on it. It didn’t strum any of her senses, so she placed it back inside the bag and put it into the pocket.
“Why did you do that? I thought we always kept stuff,” Rory asked.
“Only if it’s evil or off. This was something he believed in.” She placed her hand on the corpse’s chest and felt his spirit inside, aware of what they were doing to him.