The Resurrection Game

by Michelle Belanger

  “I thought I could handle it,” I said.

  Lil emitted a sound of strangled fury. Sunny peeled back one lid and glared disapprovingly, resettling herself into a more comfortable position. “This—exactly this—is why you need a few hours to rest and regroup,” Lil said. “Even with your memory in shambles, the Zack I know wouldn’t have let things escalate like that. You’d have checked yourself.”

  “If the point is to relax,” I grumbled, “the lecture’s not really helping.”

  “Then shut up and pet Kabuki,” she said. The little pinpricks of claws kneading my thigh signaled the cat’s approval of this plan. Sullenly, I laid a hand across the back of the petite calico. She was so tiny, my palm alone nearly covered her from shoulders to haunch. “Have you even considered what kind of damage control you’ll need in order to handle the guy running around with your face?” Lil prodded. “And I’m not just talking his magic. I’m talking mortal-world issues.”

  “I’m working on it,” I responded. The soft rumble of the tiny beast, combined with the warmth of her soft fur against my palm, did seem to help clear some of the fog from my thoughts. Not that I was going to admit it to Lil. “I’ve got keys to Marjory’s place. I was going to head home, get some rest, and then track him from there.”

  “And then what?” Lil pursued.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Her daughter’s still missing. I’ve got to find her. I’ll figure the rest out as I go.”

  “Because that works so well for you.”

  “You’ve got a better idea?”

  “Of course I do,” she said.

  Beleaguered, I let my head drop against the high back of the chair. I missed the cushy part and whacked rattlingly against a flourish of carved wood. I was too exhausted to give a shit.

  “Go ahead,” I sighed. “Enlighten me, oh Great and Powerful Oz.”

  “That’s Ozma, to you,” she quipped. I was surprised she even got the reference. Lil scooched forward on her own chair, gray eyes glittering intensely as she ticked off points on her fingers. “First, you need to change the locks to your apartment. The wards you’ve got are potent, but why make it easy?” I couldn’t really disagree with that, although I still felt the niggling impulse to do so. Burying my fingers into Kabuki’s thick fur, I briefly slid shut my eyes, doing my honest best to just shut up and hear Lil out. I came perilously close to dozing.

  “After that, you need to report the theft of your Vulcan. Thanks to whatever spell he’s using, this Zuriel has your looks, but that kind of magic has its limits. Scent, fingerprints, DNA—those are all harder to reproduce, and that’s a good thing—especially if his point is to ruin you.”

  “Ruin me?” I asked thickly.

  “Think about that spell for a minute, flyboy,” she said insistently. “You have a life among the mortals—it’s the strength and weakness of your tribe. A life on record, with all the pros and cons that go with it. Friends, apartment, even a day job at the art museum, when you bother.”

  “Since when do you care whether I go to work or not?”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t. You do,” she said. “And that’s my point. A façade like that is ridiculously delicate. Think of all the hoops you have to jump through just to keep your name out of police reports. That’s why you’ve got your pet detective.”

  “Hey, Bobby’s a friend,” I objected. “I don’t just use him.”

  “That’s not the issue here, flyboy. What if he goes on a crime spree, wearing your face? Riding your bike? Until you report that it’s missing, any crime he commits will lead them right to your door.”

  Kabuki stretched under my hand, the soothing thrum of her purr making my skin tingle. Suddenly I realized that I’d closed my eyes again. Jerking upright, I blinked rapidly, trying to focus.

  “Are you ready to jettison the persona you’ve built?” she asked.

  “All right,” I conceded thickly. “You’ve got a point.” Stifling a yawn, I stretched against the high, stiff back of the chair, wings ghosting through the floral upholstery. My eyes threatened to slide shut again. I squinted until they watered. “I’ll have to make up some shit, though. As far as the Collinwood cops are concerned, I’m the one who rode off with the Vulcan at the gas station last night.”

  Dragging a hand across my eyes, I grimaced at the trail of cat hair this left behind. Kabuki lightly dug her claws into my thigh.

  “I should really count my blessings,” I added. “The cops let my doppelganger leave an active homicide investigation. If they’d been dealing with the real me, my smart mouth probably would’ve landed me in the back of a squad car.”

  “Which brings me to my next point,” Lil said. “You need that police report.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I know what happened, and whatever Zuriel told them, it couldn’t have been the truth. They wouldn’t have let him go if he’d blamed it all on demons.”

  “Again, you’re making my point, Anakim,” she said. At my blank look, she reached across the table and flicked me on the forehead. “Think it through, Einstein. There were dead people, and cops, and a witness. At some point, they’ll have a trial. That’s what mortals do when they find people with blood running out of them.”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I suppose.” Absently, I rubbed the spot where her finger had connected, my thoughts lurching to keep up. Mostly I ended up fixating on the cat hairs still stuck to my face.

  “What if you get called to testify?” Lil pressed. “Unless you know what was in that report, you’ll look like an idiot.” When I still didn’t look as distressed as she clearly thought I should be, Lil raised her hand again. I flinched away, but instead of hitting me, she smacked her open palm hard on the table. The tea service leapt, and the impact rocked up her arm to the cat snoozing on her shoulder. Sunny sneezed in protest, flicking her tail against Lil’s cheek. When Lil ignored her, the cat hopped down, ears stiff with annoyance.

  “Worse than an idiot, you’ll look like a liar,” Lil continued, “and cops tend to think liars are guilty. In this case, ‘guilty’ means fifteen to life. You may take it for granted, but for you, life is a good, long time.”

  Finally, I followed—and couldn’t find any holes in her argument. I just wished she didn’t look so damned smug about it. So I decided to change the subject.

  “Isn’t a tea room supposed to come with tea?” I asked. “I could really use some caffeine or something.”

  “I could pinch you,” Lil offered wickedly.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” I grumbled. The little cat under my hand abruptly pitched over, wriggling to position my fingers on her belly. Sleepily, I complied, then found myself pierced by half a dozen needle-sharp claws as she gripped fiercely with all four paws. With a hissing intake of breath, I yanked my hand back, but she clung like a fuzzy burr, purring even as she gnawed on the tip of my thumb.

  “Gah!” I cried.

  Lil snorted. “Awake now, flyboy?”

  The calico loosened her grip just as I was tempted to hurl her to the floor, switching from biting to grooming my thumb as if that was what she’d intended from the very beginning. Grumpily, I glared first at the cat and then at Lil. Both regarded me with Sphinx-like expressions.

  “You did that on purpose,” I accused.

  “Oh?” Lil perched her chin upon her hand, red hair swinging forward. With exaggerated care, I pried my shredded fingers free of the cat.

  “Admit it,” I said. “You made her do that.”

  Lil’s smile only widened. “There’s nothing I can do to improve on the nature of cats,” she said. “They do fine without outside encouragement.”

  I was searching for a fitting comeback when the soft sound of steps distracted my attention. They minced down the carpet along the hall, pausing just outside our door. A woman’s muffled voice called from the other side.

  “Knock, knock.”

  “Shareen!” Lil cried with undisguised pleasure. Fluidly, she rose from her chair, practically leapi
ng the few feet between the tea table and the door. Throwing it wide, she greeted the woman beyond with a beaming smile. “Thank you so much for doing this on such short notice,” she gushed, filling the doorway. All I could see of the woman beyond was the curve of one shoulder and her small, bare feet. A bright silver ring adorned one of her toes. “The cats have been great, but we could really use your special skills.”

  The woman in the hall laughed warmly. From the sound of clinking plates, she bore a tray of breakfast foods. The rich scent of coffee, not tea, wafted past Lil into the room. Heartily, I approved.

  “I take it he has a high-stress job?” Shareen asked in hushed tones.

  “Law enforcement,” Lil said glibly. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “He hasn’t had a break in ages. Last night was especially rough, not that the bandages won’t give that away. He could use the works.”

  Suddenly, I wondered if my original impression had been closer to the mark than Lil had led me to believe. That notion gained greater currency once the Lady of Beasts stepped aside to usher her friend through the door. The woman wore nothing but a tight halter top of a sheer beige material, and a pair of what looked like flowing harem pants. Glossy black hair fell in heavy waves to her shoulders and her smooth brown skin was dusted with something that shimmered warmly of gold. With her heart-shaped face and huge, dark eyes, she looked startlingly like Lailah.

  Accusingly, I glowered at Lil.

  “You don’t play fair,” I growled.

  The Lady of Beasts twisted her lips into a Mona Lisa grin. “You should never expect otherwise.”

  21

  Shareen set down her tray, leaning past me to arrange a plate of pastries on the table. The silken fabric of her halter top rustled as she moved, and I stared stalwartly at a spot on the far wall to avoid ogling the enticing curves her movements brought so close to my face. Oblivious to my awkward tension, she nudged the silver teapot to one side, setting the carafe of coffee in its place.

  She hummed softly to herself as she worked, brass bangles on her wrist gently clinking. A scent like roses and cardamom wafted from her richly colored skin and I crushed further and further back into the padding of the chair to avoid accidental contact.

  The cats were neither awkward nor polite. Sunny sauntered across the table to investigate the rearrangement of her domain, quizzically sniffing the edge of the pastry tray. Determining that the pastries were not, in fact, intended for cats, she strode boldly to Shareen with her tail in the air, loudly chattering her complaint. The woman ignored her, intent on her task, so the tabby settled onto her haunches, reaching out with one paw to pat repeatedly at Shareen’s bare arm.

  This, too, Shareen ignored with the determined air of a mother inured to the begging of a child. Drawn by the activity, Kabuki stirred on my lap. Ducking out from under my hand, she slunk closer to the table, placing two paws on the edge so she could draw herself up and peer at her garrulous roommate.

  Her antics would have amused me if not for a persistent thread of creeping horror wending its way through my sluggish brain. Shareen’s heady perfume, her uncanny resemblance to Lailah, combined to give the impression that she and Lil might be related.

  I found the prospect unnerving.

  It should have been easy enough to check by peering across to the Shadowside, but I was worn so thin I could barely muster even that tiny show of power. Nevertheless, I gave it my best—and was rewarded with an instant stab of blinding pain that started over my left eye socket and drilled its way through the back of my skull. It was all I could do not to utter a sound.

  In the wake of that brilliant agony, I was left to stew in mute conjecture. Asking Lil would have been laughable—she never gave straight answers, especially not where her family was concerned. I only knew there were more sisters than Lailah—how many more, I’d never been able to determine. At best, I had a vague notion that each of Lil’s spirit animals held some essential tie to one of her siblings. An owl for Lailah, soot-gray, with silent wings. The lioness was Lulu, and somewhere in the world there stalked a fierce and tawny woman who was her living counterpart. That left the two ferrets whose names I’d never caught, a fox that I had only ever seen in Lil’s aura, and half a dozen more similarly cryptic creatures.

  Shareen could be any one of them. From her willow-thin frame and lithe, hypnotic movements, I’d have put money on her animal being a serpent. As she finished emptying her tray of breakfast, she turned those huge, dark eyes on me. All I saw was my own reflection in their depths.

  “Cute cats,” I managed.

  She chuckled, and her smile could melt glaciers. “That’s why we keep them around.” Lofting the carafe of coffee, she indicated a nearby teacup. “I had a feeling you were more a coffee guy. You want some?”

  “Yeah,” I said stiffly. “That’d be great.”

  As her friend poured, “Lucy” sat back in her frilly chair, amusement stamped across her bronze features. Every ounce of pleasure she felt was being extracted at my expense, and that only heightened her enjoyment. She nudged her own little cup into Shareen’s orbit, murmuring her gratitude proactively.

  “Ivy said this was your first time at a place like this,” the woman continued, deftly pouring the steaming black brew first into my cup and then into Lil’s. Although there were four teacups on the little table, each perched on its own matching saucer, she didn’t pour any coffee for herself.

  “Yeah,” I replied uncertainly. At a loss for anything further, I filled my hands with the tiny cup—it was hardly up to the task—peering pensively into the rising steam. Kabuki, half-forgotten, levered herself onto the table and stared reproachfully, squatting on her haunches to my left, the tip of her tail tapping with impatience.

  “Someone’s upset you stopped petting her,” Shareen observed. She set the carafe down, stepping lightly behind me. “Be careful not to spill—I want to see what I’ll be dealing with.” Without any further warning, she grabbed the flesh between my neck and shoulders and started kneading with surprisingly strong fingers. She was careful to avoid the cuts. “Oh my, Lucy’s right. You are tense.”

  I nearly dropped the teacup.

  From the other side of the table, Lil smirked at my dismay.

  “I must have forgotten to tell you,” she said. “Shareen’s certified in massotherapy. You’re getting a rub-down.”

  “I’ll get you back for this,” I promised. The words came out strangled as I struggled not to melt. The corded muscles along my shoulders and neck telegraphed both their unhappy state of tension and their stupefying pleasure at having someone—anyone—finally offer some relief.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.” Lil’s grin grew rictus-wide—less a smile and more the baring of predator’s teeth.

  Shareen thoroughly misinterpreted our exchange. “It’s nice to see you looking out for each other,” she said blithely. The grinding pressure of her hands was a stark contrast to the soft lilt of her words. “More people need to practice kindness, you know? Spread some joy now and then.”

  “Nnggh,” I responded as her fingers found a particularly nasty knot. My hand twitched as tingles of sensation jolted all the way down to my fingertips.

  “Oh, poor Zack,” Lil cooed. “You can ask her to stop at any time, you know.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry,” Shareen said in a rush. “You looked so tense sitting there, I totally forgot to tell you the ground rules.” She paused in her ministrations long enough to step around and make eye contact. I tried to respond in kind, but it was a struggle just to focus. Bonelessly, I slumped against the chair. Kabuki took advantage and crawled back into my lap, further distracting me with the soporific thrum of her purr.

  “This morning’s all about you, Zack. Only what you want, nothing that you don’t. There’s a massage table in the spa room, and once you’ve relaxed a little longer with Sunny and Kabuki, I can take you there for a full-body treatment.”

  “Full… body?” I asked thickly, groping for why I even wanted
clarification.

  “Mm-hmm.” Shareen nodded. “Feet and facial, neck, back, legs, and hands—not necessarily in that order.” She ticked off the body parts on her fingers. I tried to offer some meaningful response, but a yawn overtook me. Belatedly, I covered my mouth with the back of one hand. She smiled tolerantly.

  “He’s been up for a while,” Lil supplied. “Add insomnia to the list of his issues.”

  “Insomnia, too? You poor dear,” Shareen said.

  “It’s a long list,” Lil sniped.

  “Well, Zack, I’m certified in crystal therapy and aromatherapy, too, so if you’ll let me, I’ll whip up a little take-home sachet you can put under your pillow to help with your sleep. Do you have nightmares?” Vaguely, I nodded, but she might as well have been speaking Cantonese at that point—I could barely follow. Then an oddly hesitant look creased her otherwise smooth brow.

  Chewing her lip, she cast a furtive glance toward Lil.

  “What?” I asked, instantly suspicious and much more awake. Lil offered no help to either of us. Shareen didn’t exactly squirm, but some internal debate played out clearly across her features.

  “Well,” she began. “I’m a Reiki Three also, and, with your permission, I’d like to do some work on your energy.” She hesitated again, eyes flicking once more to the redheaded schemer seated across from us. Lil’s only response was her usual Sphinx-like smirk.

  That just left me annoyed—and more awake.

  “Spit it out,” I said.

  Shareen looked briefly miserable, then gave a sigh of surrender. When again she spoke, her whole attitude had changed, moving from easy-going to guarded. Her honeyed voice was half apologetic, half patronizing.

  “I know a lot of people in law enforcement, and I understand that your world can be pretty black and white,” she said. “I get it. It kind of needs to be.” Cautiously, I nodded, urging her on. After a pause, she continued haltingly. “And… some of the things I do might seem pretty hippy-dippy to you—seriously, it’s impressive that you even agreed to come here, to try and find some peace and mindfulness among all these blessed little creatures.”