The Book of Lost Souls

by Michelle Muto

  Ivy suppressed the urge to shudder. “So how do you know about this book? Why was it in the cemetery?”

  The waitress brought them their drinks and Nick unwrapped his straw. “The book was small press. Maybe less than four hundred in print. The missing book, Skinner’s second work of dark art and considered the most dangerous of all is The Book of Lost Souls. There’s only one.”

  Nick paused and rubbed his chin. “As for who wants it, well, there are certain witch and demon families. My Dad, for one. Others might want it for how much they could sell it for. To some, it’d be a collector’s item. But, I’d bet that every dark spell caster in existence would probably kill to get their hands on it.”

  Spell casters were those capable of, well, casting spells. Witches, demons, wizards, fairies. That meant half the Kindred in Northwick could use the book if they got hold of it. And then, there were the Regulars who’d want to hide them the best they could.

  “My dad tried to swindle Skinner out of it about eleven or twelve years ago. But, he wasn’t the only one.” Nick’s eyes locked on to hers as he paused, waiting for her reaction.

  Ivy blinked. She remembered her parents arguing over something to do with Skinner and some books, but it had meant nothing to her then. Except that her parents were fighting and they never fought.

  She leaned forward. So, he did know about her dad. His father clearly told him more about the books than her own father told her. Ivy was shaking inside, both scared and angry. Scared that Nick knew so much. Angry that Mr. Marcelli and Nick had known what her dad had been up to while she and her mother didn’t matter enough for her dad to explain a single thing.

  “What do you want, Nick?”

  The corner of Nick’s mouth eased into a grin that made Ivy’s insides somersault unexpectedly. “You,” he said without breaking eye contact.

  Ivy’s heart raced, then tumbled somewhere into her midsection, leaving any response she’d been planning frozen in place.

  The waitress returned with their pizza and two plates. “Get anything else for you two?” she asked.

  Ivy shook her head, still unable to speak or look at Nick directly. His gaze was far too intense and flirtatious for comfort.

  “No, thanks, Angie,” Nick said with a casual and charming smile, and Angie tucked her pad and pen into her apron and left to attend another table.

  “Well, and I also want the books, of course,” Nick added. “Want to know what The Book of Lost Souls does?”

  She did.

  “It’s a list of some of history’s most notorious dead and damned: Jack the Ripper, Lizzy Borden, Al Capone, just to name a few. The book details how to resurrect their souls from Hell,” Nick said, offering her a plate with a slice of hot, gooey pizza.

  “Thanks,” Ivy said, taking the plate. The pizza smelled good, and she hadn’t eaten any lunch. She chose to ignore Nick’s first answer. “So, this book you want raises the dead?”

  Nick shook parmesan cheese on his slice of pizza. “It’s not what you think, Ivy. There are three kinds of Kindred that want it. Anyone who practices black magic wants it. Then, there are the collectors who want it because it’s one of a kind. It represents power.”

  “And the third?” Ivy took a bite of pizza. There couldn’t be any such spell. Once you were dead, you were dead. Well, unless you were a zombie or a vampire.

  “The third believe the books shouldn’t fall into the hands of either. Those books need to be put away. Someplace safe and out of reach.”

  She swallowed. “And which type do you fit into?”

  As if she didn’t know.

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “The third type.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “What have you got against me, Ivy? You seem to think I’m this terrible person because I’ve had a few scrapes. I’ve made some poor choices. I’ve had some bad timing. Guilt by association, too. In your situation, you should understand. If the word gets out about the books, about how you found them, everyone will think your father gave them to you. Especially after last night. I know that’s not the case. I trust you.”

  True. They’d all imagine the worst, which was exactly what scared her the most. It’s why she wasn’t sure she could tell her mother about the books. Her mother would think that going straight to the Council would clear her daughter’s name. But, Ivy didn’t believe that for a second.

  “What do you want,” she repeated. Lower this time.

  Nick looked up from his food. “You’re no pushover, are you? I want to help you find the other book. And, to show I’m trustworthy, I’ll also help you clear your reputation. It isn’t good for a girl to create her own dates.”

  She just bet he wanted to help find the books. This had nothing to do with her reputation. “What will it cost me?”

  “Another date. Maybe more. Trust me. Like I said, I have a plan.” His eyes met hers again, and she swore she could see a smile behind them.

  Ivy laughed. Nick was nothing if not opportunistic. “You never date anyone more than twice.”

  “What? You think I can erase the damage Spike caused in one date?” He nodded slowly. “So, you do think a lot of me.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes. If he thought he could sway her, win her over with that come-hither charm of his, then, well, Nick Marcelli had another thing coming. She wouldn’t be swayed. Not by that smile. Not by those smoldering eyes or his dark hair or—”

  “Nick!” a voice called out. “Oh, hello, Ivy.” The voice belonged to no other than Phoebe. Phoebe’s gaze fell on Ivy’s book bag and without another word, she slid into the booth against Nick.

  “You’re so bookish, Ivy. Helping Nick with one of his classes?”

  “We weren’t studying,” Ivy said firmly.

  She had no idea why she felt the need to be so defensive. Her tone caught Nick’s attention, and he raised an eyebrow in question. It didn’t escape her that he hadn’t moved over to offer Phoebe more room. Was he trying to see what her reaction would be? From the subtle disapproving look he’d given Phoebe, Ivy decided Nick wasn’t thrilled about the intrusion, either.

  And what did she care, anyway?

  “Actually,” Nick said. “We’re on a date.”

  Phoebe looked at Ivy. “Really? Weren’t you dating a lizard?”

  “Ivy and I had a little spat, that’s all,” Nick lied.

  Ivy and Phoebe both stared at him in disbelief. What was he doing? What a ridiculous story! This was his great plan?

  “But we patched things up,” he said quickly.

  “Oh,” Phoebe said, sounding disappointed. Yet, she didn’t miss a beat. “So how is Spike, Ivy?”

  “Still missing,” Ivy grumbled.

  “Well, better luck with your next creation.” Phoebe turned and smiled devilishly at Nick. “Made up dates are so much easier to handle than demons like Nick here.” She patted Nick’s leg.

  Ivy took a deep breath. “Hate to be rude, Phoebe, but our food is getting cold.”

  Phoebe slid out of the booth. “When you get smart, call me, okay, Nick?”

  Ivy glared after Phoebe. She pointed a finger at her and cast a spell that made the back of Phoebe’s hair frizz. Nothing permanent, it’d last a half-hour, tops. It made her stop and consider why she’d done it, but she couldn’t come up with a reason except that Phoebe had pissed her off—just like Tara had yesterday. Still, she should be careful. Throwing hexes around after last night, even small ones, would only bring unwanted attention. And, it’d be worse if word of the book ever got out.

  She took a deep breath. It was okay, she was just on edge. That’s all. Perfectly understandable. She caught Nick snickering and leaned toward him, “Please don’t tell me that was your plan to rescue my reputation as a lizard lover.”

  Nick looked at her sheepishly. “Well, yeah. It sorta was.”

  Ivy leaned back and took a sip of her soda. That was the best Nick Marcelli, Master of Mystery and Chaos, could do?

  “So, are you jealous?”
Nick asked.

  “What?” Ivy said, nearly choking.

  “Are you jealous? Even a little? I mean, some of the guys think Phoebe is pretty hot. At least before you made her look like a Chia Pet. Nice. I like a girl who isn’t afraid of a little mischief.”

  All laughter vanished. Was she jealous? No, she couldn’t be. She liked Dean, and Nick was nothing like Dean. Dean was predictable, outgoing, and far from mysterious. And Phoebe? Well, Phoebe was just being bitchy and had irked her at a bad time. “No,” she said. “Not at all.”

  Nick smiled and leaned forward. He gently grasped one of her hands. When their eyes locked, Ivy didn’t pull away. Why didn’t she pull away? Why couldn’t she look away?

  “Oh, come on Ivy. We both know you only think you want Dean. Now, I may not be anything like him, but I’m not like anyone else you’ll ever meet, either.”

  Two women raced past them outside the window. One screamed for help. But what the other cried out caught her attention the most.

  “Right here in Northwick. In daylight! He’s been murdered!”

  CHAPTER 9

  Ivy and Nick dashed out the door along with everyone else. Really? A murder in Northwick? Ivy couldn’t believe it.

  A crowd had gathered around two older, heavyset women who were screaming and crying hysterically. The younger of the two women, Vivian, was Mr. Nash’s wife. She was a large, beefy woman with a double chin and small, watery eyes. The Nash’s were long-time Northwick residents and while neither of them could be considered very nice, Mr. Nash was downright hateful. Even his looks weren’t nice. If Ivy didn’t know better, Mr. Nash resembled an ogre who’d caught a whiff of something nasty. But, despite his appearance, Mr. Nash was a Regular and the only powers he had were of the bullying kind.

  Ivy recognized the other sobbing woman as Vivian’s sister, Gloria Albert. Both women wore a heavy coating of makeup, including purple eyeshadow the color of a nasty bruise. They were the town gossips, and on more than one occasion they’d talked about Ivy’s father and how they thought his daughter would turn out just like him. It wasn’t a nice thought, but Ivy couldn’t stop thinking that Gloria Albert resembled a rather ugly man in drag. The woman’s complexion was unnaturally pink, and she sported jowls like a mastiff.

  “He’s dead!” Vivian continued to wail. “Please, someone... he’s back there. He... he... these awful people came out of nowhere!” She pointed back to the rear parking lot. “The man, this lunatic, he charged my husband. And, this horrible woman, stopped us from helping Robert. She had a knife. Oh! My poor, brave Robert.” Then, she collapsed onto the crowd. Bystanders groaned as they fought to keep Vivian upright. Someone, Ivy couldn’t tell who, was trying to comfort the distraught woman as they led her toward Saludo’s.

  Ivy started to follow them back inside.

  Nick held her arm. “Wait.”

  “Some freak in a costume killed my brother-in-law,” shrieked Gloria as she followed her sister’s entourage. Another bystander patted her shoulders consolingly.

  But who’d do such an awful thing? Mr. Nash might not have had many friends—okay, any friends but Ivy couldn’t believe that someone living in Northwick would resort to killing him.

  “It’s starting. This way,” Nick said, pulling Ivy in the direction of the parking lot. A few others were headed that way, too. Maybe they thought Mr. Nash was still alive. Maybe they just wanted to see the body.

  Ivy hurried after Nick as he sprinted down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner of the building. Ivy rounded the same corner a few seconds later. No one seemed to notice or mind as she and Nick pushed their way through the crowd. They were all in shock. When they reached the front, Ivy understood their reaction. She froze, too stunned, too horrified to take another step. Mr. Nash’s attacker had impaled him against the iron fence dividing the alley from a storage warehouse. Mr. Nash hung limply, his blood trickling down the wrought iron into a glistening pool at the fence’s base.

  Mr. Nash wasn’t a small person. Whoever did this was either incredibly strong or wasn’t a Regular. Maybe both.

  Three or four people gathered around the body. Someone wretched and vomited, and although Ivy stood too far away for the smell to reach her, she covered her nose and mouth fighting off her own gag reflex. A bystander was on his cell phone, calling the police. How different Mr. Nash looked from the people Raven’s mother dressed and made up to appear peaceful and serene. Ivy had never seen a dead body outside of Forever View. This looked anything but peaceful.

  “Come, on,” Nick said, returning to her side. He slipped an arm around her and gently escorted her back to Saludo’s.

  “Who’d do such a thing?” Ivy asked, not bothering to care that Nick had wrapped his arms around her as he guided her back around the building. She felt cold, and the warmth and comfort of Nick’s arms felt good.

  “It’s the book,” he said in a weak voice. “We’ve got our answer. Someone’s using the book, and it’s not a Regular.”

  They walked back to the crowd, some still gathered outside the restaurant.

  “Nick, the books!” Ivy said, suddenly aware she’d run outside and forgotten her book bag. “We’ve got to get back inside!”

  Nick took her hand, and he pulled her along through the crowd. When they reached the door, his Uncle stood, blocking the entrance. Inside, Vivian and her sister were seated in a booth, three police officers and a waitress stood near them.

  “Ivy forgot her book bag,” Nick explained. “I just need to get it for her.”

  No way was she allowing Nick to get the books. “I can—”

  “I’ll get it,” his uncle said. “Stay here and don’t let anyone in.” He turned and headed toward the table she and Nick had been sitting at.

  Ivy gave Nick an uncertain glance. Nick on the other hand, remained calm.

  “Nick!” Ivy whispered in protest.

  “Shh!” he whispered back. “Listen.”

  Gloria was giving a full description to the police. It was somewhat hard to hear everything over Vivian’s wails, but it was still enough.

  “Tall, mustache. Black cape or some sort of cloak. Boots, weird little hat with a band of beads and something like a star on the front,” Gloria said.

  Vivian let out another loud sob.

  “What? How should I know?” Gloria went on. “It’s nearly Halloween. It was some freak in a costume. And that woman he was with! Gaudy attire if you ask me.” She snapped her fingers as though trying to jog her memory. “Some Shakespearian dress. Looked like someone shot the drapes, if you know what I mean. Dark hair. He called her Elizabeth. She called him Vlad. Their accents were fake—horrible renditions of something Hungarian or maybe Romanian. Once, I heard them call each other Count and Countess. Surely, some concocted hoodlum names.”

  “Barbarians!” Vivian wailed, then blew her nose loudly into a napkin. “They were barbarians!”

  Nick and Ivy exchanged glances, neither of them daring to say a word. Nick’s uncle returned with the book bag and Ivy hurriedly took it.

  “Thanks,” she said, holding it tightly against her side. For a moment, Ivy thought she heard someone call her name. She glanced behind her, then dismissed it.

  “You okay?” Nick asked.

  “Huh?” Then she nodded. “Yeah. Just a little freaked out.”

  “Pizza’s on me,” Uncle Joe said. “Take Ivy home. She must be pretty shaken.” He shooed them out of the doorway and outside, then locked the door behind them.

  When they returned to the parking lot, the police were busy ushering onlookers away. Ivy counted four squad cars. Yellow tape sectioned off the parking lot.

  “We’ve got to find out who’s doing this,” Nick said. “I have no idea who the book brought back, but it’s not good. Of course, no one in that book could ever be good.”

  Ivy stopped and Nick turned to her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I know who’s been brought back,” Ivy said. It was hard to rid herself of t
he image of Mr. Nash hanging from the wrought iron fence, a spike protruding from his back. She thought of how terrible his death must have been and how dangerous and ruthless his killer was. “History, last year. Fifteenth century. Vlad the Impaler. I’m just not sure who the woman is. Not yet. This has gone too far! We’ve got to tell someone who’s doing this!”

  Nick grabbed her arms, snapping her to full attention. “Tell them what? That someone used The Book of Lost Souls to bring back Vlad the Impaler? Who’s holding the other book, Ivy? They’ll find it. The Council will think you’ve done this.”

  “But—”

  “We say nothing,” Nick replied firmly.

  CHAPTER 10

  The coroner pulled alongside one of the squad cars in a black hearse. It looked nearly identical to the one at Forever View and Ivy wondered if Raven and Gareth would enjoy drinking Mr. Nash’s blood—what was left, anyway. The thought made her stomach queasy. On more than one occasion Raven had said she’d like to drain him dry if she could. Of course, Raven hadn’t really meant it. Lots of people had said things about Mr. Nash. But no one had ever harmed a hair on his head.

  A group of about twenty or so still loitered in the parking lot, including Dean and Tara.

  “I can’t believe someone in Northwick would bring back Vlad the Impaler,” she said to Nick in a low voice as she scanned the rest of the crowd. “He was horrible! A cold-hearted mass murderer. This whole bringing back the dead thing—it’s not right. It’s not normal.”

  “There’s no part about this that’s normal,” Nick retorted. “Worse, whoever is doing this is going to keep using The Book of Lost Souls.”