Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1)

by Kerry Blaisdell

  The clock—I had to crane my neck around him to see it. Merde. It was nearly eight. I jumped off the bed, noting I still wore my grubby tank and shorts from last night. I needed to change—no time for a shower—and call Michael down, both of which required I be alone.

  “Get up!” I said to Jason. “Go back to your room—I need to change.”

  He yawned and stretched. “What’s the rush?” He paused, coming more fully awake. “Never mind. You aren’t going to tell me, just like you won’t tell me where you went last night or who you were with.”

  “Please—I don’t have time for this.” I hesitated. “It’s today—the thing I have to find—I have to get it back by sunset. If it all works out, I’ll tell you about it then. I promise.”

  His gaze flicked to the rock on the dresser. “That’s not it?”

  I shook my head.

  “But…you thought it might be. That’s what you were doing last night—picking up a rock.” His tone implied what his words left out, that I was a looney-tunes for risking my life, and his and Geordi’s, hunting down boring little bits of stone. “And…these rocks have something to do with you and the Rousseaux.”

  I nodded.

  “Fuck, Hyacinth!” He got out of bed, towering over me. “Are you working for them? God damn it—tell me! Are you one of them?”

  The attack was so far out of left field, I staggered. “Why on earth would you think that? They killed my sister!”

  “How the fuck should I know? Maybe they got their teeth into you—sucked you into their world—you got in too deep.” He grabbed my shoulders, digging into my skin, his eyes almost black with fear-fueled rage. “Get out—it’s not worth it. Whatever hold they have on you, it’s not worth it.”

  “No—it’s not what you think!”

  “Then why are you looking for these damn rocks for them?”

  So that’s what this was about. I should have told him sooner. If not everything, then I should have been clearer about what I did say. No wonder he was freaking out, if he thought I’d hooked up with the demons who killed Lily. Not that he knew they were demons, but still.

  “I promise,” I said, “I am not working for the Rousseaux.”

  “Then you’re working with them.”

  “What? Are you insane?”

  “No, but I’m finally starting to think you are.”

  I forced myself to take a breath. If he already thought I was crazy, I might as well tell him the truth. His reaction to that would have to be better than this. Or maybe I’d just had it with lying. Telling Eric worked out. Of course, he was dead, and already part and parcel of the Crazy New World of Hyacinth Finch, while Jason still had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

  “Look,” I began, “I am not working for or with the Rousseaux. Okay? I’m—”

  There was a sharp tap on the door, so startling, I jumped. Jason’s gaze snapped to the door and he placed a finger over my lips. I suppose, since I was the one both the Rousseaux and the Dioguardis had an interest in, it made sense to let him do the talking.

  “Quoi?” he called out.

  A muffled male voice said, “Message for Ms. Finch.”

  So much for our cover as the Leclercs. Not only had the man used my real name, he’d spoken in English, not French—not even Turkish. I glanced at Jason, who looked as worried as I was. Of course, he probably thought it was the Rousseaux.

  “Expecting someone?” he asked in a low voice.

  “No. Nobody knows I’m here—I swear!”

  He searched my face, then squeezed my shoulders in a clear order to stay put. He went to the door, the lack of a peephole forcing him to open it a crack to see out.

  “Je regrette,” he said, “qu’il n’y a pas de Finch ici.”

  “Are you certain? I had thought this was the correct room.”

  Merde.

  Okay, one person knew I was here, and with the door open, that deep, booming voice was unmistakable. I moved quickly around Jason, ignoring his attempt to keep me hidden.

  Sure enough, Michael stood in the hall, dressed in long robes and a very Turkish turban. Unfortunately, the costume only emphasized his lack of resemblance to the Turks. He was too pale, too bulky—he filled the hall, his beard flowing down his robe, his brown eyes twinkling. Great. Like Satan, the Angel of Death also had a sense of humor.

  At least I wouldn’t have to call him down.

  “It’s all right,” I said to Jason. “This is…” I looked at Michael, whose grin widened. I’d get no help from that quarter. “A…friend. I need to talk with him.”

  Jason glared at me. “Alone? No dice.”

  “Please—just…please…” Damn Michael anyway, for putting me in this position. Not only did Jason think I was nuts, he thought I’d gone over to the Dark Side. And here Michael was, popping up out of nowhere, dressed like some giant, hairy Biblical figure—which technically, he was—making me a liar for saying no one knew I was here.

  “I assure you,” Michael interjected, “Hyacinth will be perfectly safe with me.”

  Even I wasn’t sure of that. Jason’s eyes narrowed, and he said, “Who the hell are you?”

  “A friend. Of her partner, Vadim. I helped him with his, er, final journey.”

  Luckily Jason still stared suspiciously at Michael and missed the shock no doubt spreading across my face. Michael had sent Vadim on his way? But Vadim was an atheist. Now I had even more questions. For one thing, it occurred to me after all this time that if Vadim was an atheist, he should still be on Earth somewhere. Maybe I could find him—ask him about the rock, the accident, everything.

  But did Michael mean Vadim had actually gone to Heaven, or, quite possibly, to Hell, and was lost to me forever? That had to be it—Michael had said repeatedly that he didn’t interact with souls who chose to stay here. Damn, damn, damn.

  I looked at Jason. “It’s okay. Really.”

  Jason stared down at me, several emotions warring in his eyes. Anger, fear, and…hurt. Like I’d betrayed him. Maybe I had. But—why did he think it now? What in the last few minutes drove him over the edge? He turned wordlessly and went through the bathroom to his room, closing both doors as he went.

  I felt his leaving like a physical blow and took an unconscious step after him before remembering my giant, oddly-dressed visitor standing in the hall. Jason would have to wait. But I made a promise to myself then and there. I’d started to tell him the truth, and I’d finish, at the first opportunity. I’d earn back his trust if it killed me. Again.

  Feeling the first real hope I’d had in a while, I motioned Michael in and shut the door.

  “Well?” he said promptly.

  With everything else, I’d nearly forgotten the rock shard. Might as well get the hard part over. “I didn’t find the rock yet. Not the one I had in Marseille, anyway. But I did find this.”

  I picked the shard up off the dresser. Its hum was stronger now, and it practically glowed with happy energy. When Michael saw it, his eyes widened, and he looked as surprised as when I’d told him I sensed the first rock. He took it from me, turning it in his hands.

  “Child—how in God’s name did you retrieve this? It is so small—even I can barely sense it. Where was it? How did you get it back?”

  “Does it matter?” If he could withhold information, why shouldn’t I? It was a gamble, given his power over me. But something in me still wanted to keep Eric a secret, and I couldn’t see how to tell Michael about the Plutonium without revealing Eric’s part in it.

  Michael studied me. “Very well,” he said at last. “It does not matter. But I am impressed—such a small piece.”

  “Then…we’re good? This fulfills my obligation to you?”

  “No.”

  Merde. Not exactly unexpected, but still. “Please—it’s a piece of your sanctuary. I got it back, from Satan himself. Surely that’s good enough?”

  “You stole this…from Satan?”

  Oops. So much for evading the truth. “From the Pluto
nium at Hierapolis,” I admitted. “That’s basically Satan’s foyer, right? Or one of them. He had to know it was there—maybe the Rousseaux were going to send it through to him, with the other shard.”

  “Child, you never fail to amaze me.” He saw the hope in my eyes and shook his head. “But no, this does not satisfy our bargain. You were to find the rock the Rousseaux took from you. While it is beyond incredible that you are able to sense shards so small, this one won’t do.”

  “Why? For pity’s sake—tell me why you need the rocks, so I can do my damn job!”

  He seemed surprised. Maybe he wasn’t deliberately withholding information after all. I suppose the more knowledge someone has, the less it occurs to them that others might not have that knowledge, or that it could be useful.

  “It is less that I need them, and more that Satan wants them. You mentioned my sanctuaries. I assume you know the story of Colossae?” I nodded, and he continued. “After I split the rock, the waters of the Lycus became forever holy. Satan hates that—hates that I stopped him and brought something better to the world in place of what he tried to destroy. He wishes to find the shards of rock, so that he can piece them back together.”

  “I thought he wanted to destroy them—to finish what he started.”

  Michael shook his head. “The ritual the Rousseaux will perform—it is to seal the rock’s energy, before they send it to Satan.”

  “So it won’t affect him—harm him in some way?”

  “Precisely.”

  “But if that’s the case, wouldn’t destroying the rocks make more sense? They really couldn’t hurt him then.”

  “Think, child. What would happen if, instead of destroying the rock shards forever, Satan found enough pieces to rebuild the slab?”

  It took a moment, working backward through the legend, for me to hazard a guess. “I suppose he could force the river back to its original course. But, would that be enough to un-sanctify it?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But that is not the only consideration—as I’m sure you’ve guessed, the rocks hold some of my power. While the pieces remain separate and on Earth, they are harmless. What do you suppose would happen, should they be reconnected?”

  He waited expectantly. I think he wanted to see how I worked it through, and I tried to remember any knowledge I’d gleaned over the years, that might be relevant.

  “Logically, piecing the slab together with your powers in it would recreate your sanctuary, and increase your strength on Earth.”

  “True. That is one logical conclusion.”

  I blew out a breath. Not that, then. What would be the flip side?

  “Okay. If putting the rocks together doesn’t increase your strength, it must…” That’s it. I turned to him excitedly. “The ritual—it cloaks your energy in the shards, in small chunks. If Satan finds enough pieces and links them together, he can seal off that much of your power.” I felt a sudden sick understanding. “Not seal it off—he can use it for himself. The power will become his, not yours, destroying the balance you’ve maintained since the dawn of time.”

  “Exactly.”

  Unfortunately, now I understood why finding this shard didn’t help. “This piece is so small, it won’t make a difference, will it?”

  “That is correct.” He turned the shard over, rubbing his thumb tenderly over the rough side. “This is a beautiful piece. To me, they all are. But it is an edge piece, and not critical to the structure.” He placed the shard in a pouch on his belt, then raised his gaze to mine. “I do not make bargains lightly. I am sure you can understand that what I have done, allowing you this time on Earth, puts me at great risk. If I let one soul return, all may want to. That is neither possible, nor right. I could be banished forever, even as I banished Satan so long ago.” His tone was sad, but firm. “You have until tonight, to retrieve the original rock.”

  What could I say? I might help my clients steal and backstab their way to extraordinary art collections, but I had a code of honor. I couldn’t blame him for holding me to my word.

  “Can you at least tell me where at Colossae the ritual will be performed?”

  Michael shook his head. “Truly, I do not know. Believe what you will, but I am still neither omnipotent nor omniscient.” He thought for a moment. “I would say near the river, but as that is the site of Satan’s failure, he may find it too humiliating. My best guess would be at my church.”

  “And where on the site is that?”

  “Child. It is thousands of years since these events occurred. Much has changed the land—not to mention my memory. But I believe there is a bend in the river where, if you face the mound at sunset, then look to the west, it will appear as though the river pours directly into the sun. I am fairly certain the church would be due south from there.”

  “Great. Thanks a bunch.”

  He gave me a sympathetic look. “I am truly sorry. I know how impossible this seems. However, I am beginning to think you are even more resourceful than I first thought.” He shook his head in wonder. “How ever did you survive the poison gas?”

  Damn, I’d hoped he’d forgotten that part. I hedged. “Maybe being reborn helped. I didn’t have to go far, and I wasn’t in there long.”

  Michael examined me for a long moment. “Perhaps. As I’ve said, there is much I do not know of your situation. Still—stealing from Satan himself. Incredible.” He paused, and when he spoke again, there was genuine concern in his tone. “Have a care, Hyacinth. Satan does not like to be cheated.”

  And with that, he vanished.

  Disappointment washed through me. Despite my better judgment, I’d allowed myself to hope this shard would be enough. On top of that, I’d forgotten to ask about Vadim. Not that I could focus on him now anyway. I only had a few hours to get the original rock back, and unfortunately, the most likely place left to look was the Rousseaux’s villa.

  But thanks to Michael, they weren’t even the worst I had to worry about. Call me crazy, but it really hadn’t occurred to me just how pissed the Prince of Darkness might get at being robbed. Even if I’d only taken the first rock, Satan probably wouldn’t have been too happy with me. Stealing from him twice—I shuddered to think what would happen if I were caught.

  If we were caught. Because now I’d dragged Eric into this with me. I hadn’t asked exactly what happened to him in the Plutonium, but if he was almost sucked into Hell, it couldn’t be good. I wondered how close he’d gotten. Close enough for Satan to sense him, maybe even recognize him if he came near enough again?

  Best not to think about any of it. Best to focus on the immediate task: finding Eric, so he could take me to the Rousseaux. I needed his help with that, at least. But first, I needed to make sure Jason would stay with Geordi.

  I changed into fresh clothes, then headed through the bathroom, pausing at his door to gear up for another fight. He’d be pissed that I wanted to run off alone, again. But I couldn’t risk Geordi’s life, or his. Me, I didn’t have a life, unless I got the rock back. Of course, Jason didn’t know that, and I was sure we’d end up in another shouting match before I got away. I took a deep breath, heart pounding, palms sweaty. I had no time—I prayed that however unpleasant this was, it would be over fast.

  I knocked once and pushed the door open—only to find when I got through that Jason was gone.

  And so was Geordi.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Man’s enemies are not demons, but human beings like himself.”

  ~Lao Tzu, ca. 6th century BCE

  “Bâtard. Espèce d’salaud—fils d’cochon—j’vais l’niquer la guele. Je—”

  Eric continued in this vein for a solid minute, creatively insulting Jason and describing in great detail what he’d do to him when we found him. If we found him.

  Panic rose and I shoved it down. I did not strike a bargain with the Angel of Death, and agree to rob demons and Satan, only to have the reason for it snatched from under my nose.

  After discovering Jason and Geordi g
one, I’d raced down to the street, hoping I’d catch them or find some clue to their whereabouts. The car was still here, so they couldn’t have gone far, but there was no sign of them on the crowded block. Right about then, Eric had rounded the corner and found me on the curb, head in my hands, trying not to throw up. He, on the other hand, looked none the worse after almost being sucked into Hell eight hours ago.

  “They went to the store,” I said. “The car’s here. I’m sure they just walked to the store.”

  “Without leaving a note?”

  “If they did, I deserved it. I did it to Jason first.”

  Maybe that’s what this was—Jason had finally decided I deserved some payback for all I’d put him through. If that was his plan, it was working fine, thank you. I was pissed and scared and—I hated to admit it—hurt. All of which Jason had felt toward me at one time or another. Maybe most of the time since we’d left Marseille.

  Problem was, at no point in our relationship had he ever been petty. Mad as hell, yes. But he’d stuck around, been there for me, no matter what. Why leave now? And why take Geordi, when he knew it would kill me?

  “The store—it is within walking distance, non?”

  Eric was right. I jumped up. “Jason said it’s near the place where he got the burgers.” I turned in that direction, and Eric followed.

  It wasn’t hard to find. I asked the manager of the restaurant, since I assumed that’s what Jason had done, and he told me where to go. Unfortunately, it was a dead end.

  “I remember them from last night,” the store owner said when I asked. “Tall man and a small boy, dark-haired, yes? But I have not seen them this morning. I am the only one here. I would know.”

  I swallowed my disappointment. “Thanks. Can you at least show me where the apricot delight is?” If nothing else, I’d get Geordi more sugary slugs. An affirmation of sorts that I would see him again, and soon.

  “Certainly.” The man led the way down an aisle. “Your tall friend—he asked for apricot delight as well. It is a favorite treat of your son, yes?”

  I started to correct him about Geordi being my son—and then my blood froze and I stopped in my tracks, Eric bumping into me. “What did you say?”