Deadhead (Damned Girl Book 1)

by Clare Kauter

  Or, you know, try.

  I shuddered at the thought of what might happen to them.

  Henry cleared his throat. “Should we get going?”

  I nodded and swigged the last of my latte. Ed sighed and pushed himself up from the table. Daisy and Hecate stood, straightened their clothes and took off briskly, looking ready for some more crime fighting.

  Henry walked beside them, looking like an average-sized dog next to Hecate’s 6 foot frame, but Daisy looking like she could have climbed on and ridden him. Ed and I walked behind.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Ed said quietly.

  “It’ll be OK,” I reassured him. “I’m pretty certain they’ll hand it over to Hecate without you having to break in.”

  “I meant… you know, the pictures.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I’m certainly not going to force you to look at them.”

  He smiled humourlessly. “Thanks, but I think morbid curiosity might get the better of me.”

  I nodded. I think I’d want to see my autopsy photos too.

  We were weird.

  The morgue was attached to the regular police station. Hecate spoke briefly to the man at the front desk and we were let through. Hecate led us down a maze of corridors until eventually we arrived at a door that said ‘Morgue’.

  “Wait out here,” she said, and went in to fetch the file. She returned a short while later, manila folder in hand.

  “Anything interesting?” I asked as she flipped through it.

  “You could say that,” she said, handing it to me.

  I frowned and flicked through it, Ed watching over my shoulder. There were three sheets of paper in total. Toxicology screen, autopsy results, conclusions. It looked so poorly done that the doctor might as well have written it up in crayon.

  There were no pictures.

  What?

  At that moment, a man came out through the morgue door. Hecate snagged him by his coat. “Excuse me, where are the photos?”

  Very casually, as if it were no big deal, he said, “Oh, the camera’s battery was flat so we didn’t take any pictures.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t take any pictures?” I asked.

  “It was poisoning. The pictures weren’t going to help anyone. There was nothing on the body that’s not on the report.”

  Somehow I doubted it.

  I grabbed the doctor by the arm and pulled him closer to me, accidentally pulling him through Ed. I mouthed an apology to Ed and looked back at the coroner. Holding both of his arms, I stared into his eyes, sensing the way energy was interacting with him. I felt that same strange, fuzzy feeling I’d felt at Ed’s grave.

  A clouding spell.

  I let go of his arms and sent him on his way.

  “He was clouded,” I announced to the group. “There was something on the body. Now that the grave has been blown up, the corpse is incinerated, so this is a total dead end.”

  Ed looked a little relieved. No chance of him having to see his own corpse. Also no chance of us finding whatever clues his killer left behind, though.

  “What now?” Ed said, echoing my thoughts.

  I shrugged. I was at a loss. If Henry, Daisy or Hecate wanted to tell me the truth, now would be the time to do it. We didn’t really have any other avenues to explore.

  They were silent.

  Now what?

  I needed to ask Death. He seemed to be the only person on my side except for Ed, and Ed didn’t know any more than I did. Ed was dead, and we were fast running out of leads.

  One housemate knew nothing, the other was dead, Ed been killed after a party but he hadn’t actually known anyone there. He hadn’t seen anything odd in the days leading up to his death. There was no autopsy report. There was no body. There was just dead Ed, and whoever had killed him was still chasing us.

  “Could we go back to the triangle thing today?” Ed asked. “You could try to talk to Jon’s spirit again.”

  I shook my head. “His spirit would be gone by now. It’s been more than 24 hours – the triangle would have lost its charge without someone there to keep it going.”

  Ed nodded. “Well, what then?”

  I could ask the others about the Doomstone. Ask why exactly they were messing around with my life like this. Get them to line up and each explain why they were lying to me.

  I thought better of this, however. I didn’t want to show my cards too soon. What if their reason for keeping the facts from me wasn’t as benign as I’d been assuming? Hell, these people could be anyone. A couple of days ago, I hadn’t even known The Department existed, or that I needed a licence, or where the magical police station was. They could have just tricked me into doing their evil bidding. I wouldn’t know.

  I really should have been more discerning before starting out on this quest.

  “Maybe we should head back to the station. There might be something in the occult books there that could help,” I said, directing it mainly to Ed. I could tell from his face that he understood.

  “I don’t know,” he said, choosing his words carefully so as to not alert Henry to the real meaning of this conversation. “We know what kind of magic is being used against us, right? Cones and amplification artefacts? So there’s probably not going to be much in the books that can help us.”

  Obviously, I’d wanted to look up the Doomstone, but Ed was right. It would make the others suspect that I knew something more than I was letting on if I started searching through the occult books at the store. We knew what magic was being used. We just didn’t know who was using it or why. The Doomstone was the key, but the officials in the group clearly didn’t want me knowing about it.

  I sighed. “I guess you’re right. But what else are we meant to do now? We’re at a dead end.”

  “In this case, yes,” said Hecate. “But in the case of the missing magic carpet, I think I know how we can make some progress. Nessa, you’re very good at sensing energy, yes? That’s your main magical skill as far as I can see.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said. Well, that and murder.

  “OK, well, if I give you a piece of the carpet’s tassel, do you think you could focus in on its energy and lead us to the carpet’s location?”

  Oh, great. So now I was a magical sniffer dog. Today just kept getting better and better.

  “I guess,” I said. “But won’t that lead us to…”

  “The vampires’ lair? Yes, I’m hoping it will.”

  “It’s daylight now,” Daisy said. “If we’re ever going to be able to get the carpet back, it’ll be now.”

  “They’ll be weakest during the day,” Henry agreed.

  They were giddy on their delusion of having beaten the grabbers this morning.

  “That’s a terrible idea,” I said.

  “No way,” Ed said. Of course, only me and Henry could hear him, and it was three against two, anyway. We were headed into the lair.

  Chapter 13

  “You could always just lie and say that you can’t pick up a trail,” Ed suggested in a whisper. We were back at the shop, in a disused corner of the herb and books area, which unlike the café section didn’t appear to get much traffic. We were setting up a séance to find the lost carpet. I was in charge of candle placement, which was more of an aesthetic thing than a necessity for this kind of search operation, but I was hoping the scent of Autumn Memories – pumpkin spice, flannel and maple syrup, according to this particular candle’s label – would help me relax. I normally didn’t do séances unless I was being paid – and paid well.

  And there was the fact that all of our leads in the real case had dried up, and until I finished the quest I wasn’t really allowed to do unsupervised magic, which was really going to put a stopper in the cash flow of a clairvoyant.

  “The trouble is, Ed, these are the people in charge of giving me my licence. They have too much power for me to screw them around.” I punctuated the sentence by banging Autumn Memories down on the windowsill.

  “Righ
t, better to let them get killed by vampires.”

  I shrugged. “It’s their choice. If they want to get exsanguinated for the purpose of reclaiming a blanket, it’s not really my business.”

  “They think they’re all badass magical ninjas or something since their memories got messed up,” he said. Lowering his voice, he added, “When really, it’s just you who’s the badass one.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “What?” he said, looking wounded.

  “I kill three people in front of you, and now you decide you like me.”

  “No, you kill three people in front of me and I decide I should probably stay on your good side.”

  I rolled my eyes and took the plastic wrapper off Ocean Mist (notes of sea-foam, salt and failed dreams).

  Hecate was wandering around pulling various herbs from cabinets above the bookshelves. They were cancelling herbs, in case the séance got out of control. Which was liable to happen when you were contacting a carpet, I was sure.

  Daisy and Henry were selecting appropriate talismans and crystals to fortify the circle and amplify my energy-seeking capabilities. Henry was even whistling, which normally would have been funny coming from a monkey, but right now was just annoying.

  Who were these idiots? The vampires had already attacked us – some of us twice – and yet we were going to prance right on into their cubby while they were sleeping to take back Hecate’s cheap magic rug. If I ever met whoever was in charge of The Department, I was going to have stern word with them about their recruitment process. Perhaps suggest a psychological testing component.

  The circle complete, and ringed with many a scented soy candle, we sat around on the floor, each of us on our own lumpy cushion requisitioned from Hecate’s chaise lounge. I clicked my fingers and lit all the soy candles at once. It was a simple energy transfer, but it was something I’d always done in my paid séances because it seemed to give people the sense that I knew what I was doing.

  In reality, my idea of what I was doing was sketchy at best. Most of my séances were just for show, and to allow me to charge people more money for contacting ghosts, when in reality I usually just had to call their names. Satan had taught me the basic fraudulent séance, but hadn’t really gone into details beyond ‘make them pay up front, light the candles with your energy, and if the ghost doesn’t show up tell them it can be a long process and they should come back next week and keep trying.’

  The actual process of channelling energy from a group wasn’t new to me – I’d done circle magic before. The thing was, I’d only ever held séances with non-magical folk (because the other magicals would just contact their dead directly). Non-magicals weren’t great at channelling their energy. They just didn’t quite get it. So I’d kind of only ever done a séance where I channelled my own energy. In this circle, I’d be able to draw energy from everyone. I didn’t know how much energy I could control.

  And after the incident in the woods, I didn’t know how much energy I could be trusted with.

  I sat at the head of the circle. I know that may sound like a strange statement, but I was wearing the strongest artefact – a large ruby talisman charged with seeking energy – and hence was in charge, meaning I would become the conduit for the energy. Hecate sat to my right, wearing a generic crystal amulet to give me aid without stealing energy from me. To my left sat Ed, who was next to Henry, who was next to Daisy. They all wore the same crystal pendants as Hecate.

  My fire magic had drawn an approving whistle from Ed, who, it seemed, was easily impressed. (Kill three guys in a forest? Nice. Light some fire? Wicked.) Henry simply raised his monkey eyebrows at me. I kept forgetting that I’d told him I wasn’t magical.

  “It’s a simple energy transfer,” I said defensively.

  Henry just looked at me, expressionless.

  Hecate placed the thread sample from the carpet in the centre of the circle gingerly, as if it were some ancient piece of china that might shatter at the lightest touch.

  “You got the cancelling herbs ready?” I asked her. She nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”

  Everyone joined hands and began channelling energy towards me. Within a few seconds, I was already giddy on power. This was sort of like before, in the woods, when the purple maniac magic had taken me over. I felt incredibly strong, but this time I was in control. The magic flowing into me was lighter, calmer – and I was getting drunk on it.

  I knew I needed to start channelling it into the search, hone in on the piece of carpet, before it got too much and I passed out. But I also didn’t want to do that. I let it go on, just for a second more… OK, a few seconds…

  And…

  Suddenly I was underwater. What? What was happening? Everything was whooshing around me. It was like I was hearing voices under the sea. I knew it was the sea, because I could smell Ocean Mist. Oh, wait, that was a candle, right? Where was I?

  The séance! The magic! I wasn’t underwater, I was…

  Holy shit.

  I was in the ether.

  This was not what I had been expecting. The point of this séance was to magnify my energy sensing capabilities so that I’d be able to feel the energy of the carpet, not to become part of the energy. That was not how I normally operated – I reached out for the energy with my mind, but I’d never left my body like this before.

  Concentrate. Concentrate on the voices. What are they saying? Do any of them have anything to tell me about the magic carpet?

  Gladesta Caves…

  Oh. Thank you, strange disembodied voice in the ether. Of course that’s where the vampires would be. In the creepy old bat caves just outside town. Good. Now we can go there and get ourselves killed. Wait, uh, how do I get out of this ether? Not that it’s uncomfortable or anything, it’s just –

  Doomstone…

  Wait, what? Can you say that again please? I would very much like to hear anything you have to say about the Doomstone, if you’d please –

  Hidden… Only one left… But two…

  Sorry, ether, could you be a little clearer? I didn’t quite catch that.

  Stay safe, King.

  Oh, I think you’re mistaking me for someone –

  Trust only Death, for he has but one motive.

  Is that like a general statement? Or a Nessa-specific one? Because that’s all very philosophical, but could you please tell me why exactly I can’t trust anyone? It’s very hard to know what to do when you can’t trust anybody. I mean, even Satan –

  Stay safe, King.

  No, I’m pretty sure you’re mixed up, you see –

  I didn’t get to finish that thought however, because at that moment I looked up and saw the ether filling with green energy. The green energy that was chasing us everywhere. How was it here? How had it penetrated our circle? How did I get out? The ether around me was turning black, like it was dying as the green got closer. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe, I was…

  Long live the King.

  Chapter 14

  “Is she dead?”

  Good question. The voice sounded slightly muted, like I was hearing it through a door. Somehow I’d ended up lying flat on my back on the floor. I could still feel the cushion I’d been sitting on, so I must have just passed out and fallen backwards. I was lucky I hadn’t landed on a candle and caught fire. Or maybe I had. I couldn’t really feel most of my body.

  “Of course she’s not dead, Ed.”

  Well, that was comforting. Sort of.

  “But you just said you couldn’t find a pulse! Give her CPR or something! I don’t think my ghost lungs have actual air in them! Wait, do I even have lungs anymore? Or am I just hollow? Oh god, I’m a shell in an Ed suit…”

  “Even if she were dead, you would still be able to talk to her, Ed. You’re a ghost. Besides, I’m not sure she’d like to wake up with a monkey’s mouth on her face.”

  “Hearing one half of this conversation is not something I’ll ever get used to.” I think that was Daisy. The voices
were getting clearer over time, but my own mind wasn’t. Thinking was like wading through syrup. Did that even make sense? Who knew? “We still haven’t figured out why we’re clouded against seeing Ed. Maybe that’s a lead we could look into.”

  “Not now. Carpet recon first. Murder investigation later,” said Hecate.

  “It’s nice to see that you’re so concerned about Nessa lying unconscious on the floor not breathing after your stupid séance. ‘I don’t care if she’s dead, my blanky is missing.’ You’re ridiculous!” said Ed. “Henry, get one of them to do the CPR if you won’t. They might as well do something.”

  My brain felt soggy, like a biscuit dipped too long in tea, just about to disintegrate. I didn’t dare open my eyes for fear of the blinding headache that was about to hit. Less experienced magicals sometimes got ‘hangovers’ from the over-exertion when they took on spells too difficult for them. I’d never had one before – probably thanks to my purple inner demon – but I suspected that entering the ether might do it.

  I hadn’t actually heard of anyone living through that before.

  Ed continued, “You know as well as I do that if she’s dead, I won’t necessarily be able to talk to her. Death hasn’t been here to harvest her soul yet, and she might not even want to hang around after death anyway. Did you ever think of that? No, you didn’t, because –”

  “Shh,” I whispered. “My brain… it’s a biscuit. Dunky…”

  There was a moment of silence, before Ed whispered, “OK, so she’s alive, but she might have some brain damage. Is there a spell for that?”

  I didn’t argue. My brain was feeling very damaged.

  “Nessa? What happened?” Henry asked gently. I thought I heard some relief in his voice.