Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1)

by Kerry Blaisdell

“Death is not the worst that can happen to men.”

  ~Plato (ca. 428-347 BCE)

  Eric grabbed me as I swayed—my vision silvered—this couldn’t be happening.

  “Sit,” Eric ordered and, surprisingly, Claude seconded him.

  “Your dead friend is right. You should rest a moment.”

  That answered one question, anyway. Claude could see Eric. Jason still couldn’t, though. His gaze searched roughly the space where Eric stood.

  Jesus. Jason was a demon—shouldn’t he be able to see the Dead?

  I couldn’t breathe—the Dioguardis had Geordi—and he’d been delivered to them by a demon. My head cleared, and I launched myself at Jason.

  “You bastard! Where the hell is my nephew?”

  He staggered when I hit him, surprise turning to rage as his hands clamped on my arms, pinning them while I flailed. I needed to punch him—gouge his eyes out—do something to ease the ache of knowing I couldn’t help Geordi. But Jason was still a helluva lot taller and stronger than me—he lifted me off the ground, and I was helpless.

  “Geordi is somewhere safe,” he snarled, “from you.”

  “I am not a demon!” I shouted.

  “Neither am I!” he shouted back, his eyes going dark again.

  “There,” Claude said conversationally. “You see? The true hallmark of a demon. The eyes go black when the shield goes down.”

  As though to prove the point, Jason shot Claude a murderous look, and his eyes blackened further. Eric took a step forward, but Claude waved a negligent hand, and Eric stayed rooted to the spot, struggling against some unseen force.

  “Bâtard—release me!”

  “He will not harm her. I will bring her to Jacques.”

  Claude’s utter calm chilled me more than Jason’s fury. Apparently, it got through to Jason, too. His face cleared, his eyes going blue again, and he set me on the ground, gripping my arms tight.

  “If you aren’t a demon,” he said slowly, “then what are you? And why are you here?”

  “Why are you?”

  He held my gaze a moment, then leaned close and inhaled deeply, exactly as though sniffing my scent. Then just as fast, he released me. “Thank God—I believe you.”

  “Gee, thanks. I don’t believe you. How the hell do you explain your eyes?”

  But Claude had decided the show was over. “Enough,” he said and clapped his hands once. And that’s the last thing I remember for a long time.

  ****

  “Hyacinth…?”

  I came to groggily, head pounding, tongue thick. I felt worse than I had on being reborn. Hungover and sick to my stomach, red fire behind my eyelids.

  “Hyacinth—thank God. It will wear off. Listen to me—you’ll be fine when it wears off.”

  Jason. It was Jason’s voice. I heard the underlying fear, and for a moment, I forgot what he was. Then it all came rushing back and I sat up, forcing my eyes open.

  Too fast. I swayed, and he reached out to steady me.

  “No.” The word came out a dry croak, and I scooted away. My vision was blurry. I kept seeing double, but when I shook my head to clear it, I wished I hadn’t and shut my eyes again.

  “Try to stay still,” Jason said, but he didn’t come near me.

  After a sickening, woozy minute, I tried my eyes again. They decided to cooperate, and I looked around. A room. We were in a room. A pretty nice one. Oriental carpets, rich wood furnishings, expensive art throughout. The Rousseaux’s villa.

  I twisted until I saw the door. Forcing myself up on shaky legs, I rushed toward it.

  “Hyacinth! Don’t!” Jason scrambled up after me, but he was too late.

  About a meter from the door, I smacked into something hard yet invisible, my forehead ricocheting off it, and I fell back, Jason catching me before I hit the ground. I shook off his arms and dodged away again, my temple throbbing.

  “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again!”

  He lifted his hands, palms out. “Hyacinth—I’m sorry.”

  “For what? Being a Dioguardi—or a demon?”

  “Jesus Christ. For the last time—I’m not a goddamn demon!” He paused. “Shit. Damn. Fuck.” He dropped his head to his hands. “I said I wouldn’t lie to you. Maybe you’re right—in your eyes, I am a demon.”

  Hearing him say it was a shock all over again. I expected denial, lies, attempts to persuade me. My stomach roiled and my skin crawled and I couldn’t give in to any of it. Incredibly, finding out my neighbor, friend, and almost-lover was a creature from Hell was not my biggest problem.

  “I have to get out of here.” I looked around for a clock and, not finding one, made my way to a set of French doors that opened onto an iron balcony.

  “The windows are protected, too.”

  “I know that!”

  I skirted around him, ignoring the hurt in his eyes, then put out my hands and felt through the air until I found the barrier. Not even a shimmer gave it away, and it made no sound when I smacked it with my palm. But it was hard as diamonds and just as impenetrable, curving toward the wall on either side of the doors. I looked through to the outside. Merde. I couldn’t see the sun, but the light was warm, the shadows slanted. Late afternoon, then.

  Oh, God—Geordi.

  Icy-hot sweat beaded my face and hands. I rounded on Jason. “Are the Rousseaux here?”

  “No. They left after sealing us in. Took their pets with them.”

  It took a moment to figure out he meant their thugs. Another creepy reminder that this was Jason’s world, not mine. “How long?”

  “Four hours.”

  “I was out for four hours?” Ohgodohgodohgod—I had no time—less than three hours, and I still had to get to Colossae.

  Jason looked at me curiously. “You should have been out until Claude released you. You aren’t a demon. I believe you on that. But…what are you?”

  Ha. Wouldn’t he like to know?

  “I don’t have time for this. Tell me how to get out.” He started to shake his head, and I lost what little control I had. “God damn it! I know you know—tell me how to get past your little demon friends’ invisible walls!”

  A muscle in Jason’s neck corded, and I could practically feel him force his temper down. “I’m not the one who’s friends with the Rousseaux. That’s you, remember?”

  “Screw you. I’ll find my own way out.” I turned to the wall, feeling for the join between it and the barrier.

  I had no warning. Jason moved that fast, yanking me around and pinning my shoulders to the wall. “Hyacinth, listen to me! I know you’re pissed—you have every right to be. But if we work together, we have a shot.”

  “Then help me, for God’s sake!”

  “I’m trying to! But you won’t tell me who you are, or what the fuck you’re doing!”

  He released me and took a step back and I sagged against the wall. I’d felt so safe with him, so protected. Now everything was quicksand in an earthquake.

  “I’ve been patient,” Jason continued. “But if you won’t tell me the truth, I can’t help.” He had that earnest look, and his voice was so reasonable. He exuded trustworthiness.

  “Drop it. I know how good an actor you are. Or maybe you’ve been using your magic on me this whole time. Is that what you did to the girl at the library? Used your Demon Arts?”

  “We don’t have time for this—when your friends get back, they’re going to—” He stopped, like he didn’t want to finish the thought.

  “What? Kill us? Nice try. Whatever they do, I’m sure you’ll help.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ—I am not one of them!”

  “But you are with the Dioguardis!”

  “Damn right! They aren’t all what you think.”

  Fear fueled my rage until, like Eric, I was about to pop.

  Eric.

  I shoved Jason in the chest. “Where the hell is Eric?”

  “Fuck that—who the hell is Eric?”

  He glared down at me, doing hi
s towering routine. I had too many other things scaring the crap out of me, though, to let him intimidate me. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to feel Eric.

  Nothing. Not even a frisson to tell me where they’d put him or if he was safe. In fact, I couldn’t sense anything outside myself, other than Jason breathing down my neck, his heat almost unbearable. I should have pushed him away, but my concentration was so deep, I didn’t want to disrupt it. Besides, in a very junior high way, I didn’t want him to think he mattered.

  I opened my mind, trying to recreate what I’d done at the Plutonium. There, Eric had started out nearby, and we’d already established a connection. Wherever he was now, it must have a ghost-proof barrier, since Eric could dematerialize through “normal” walls and escape.

  Why Jason couldn’t—or wouldn’t—just magic us out also crossed my mind. Was he really not a demon? But he’d admitted it…

  Focus.

  Beyond this room, the house was…black. Muffled, like soundproof walls surrounded us. I pushed harder, sending a thread of thought into the void.

  Eric—where are you? I’m here—I’m not going to leave you.

  Nothing.

  Nothing-nothing-nothing.

  While I was at it, I tried calling Michael down, but the thought felt like it landed in cotton, absorbed before it left the room. However Claude had sealed us in, he’d done it well.

  My shoulders sagged, and I opened my eyes to find Jason watching me, which pissed me off even more. I couldn’t beat Claude up, but Jason was a—relatively—safe alternative.

  “Stop staring!” I said and shoved him in the chest for emphasis. Childish, maybe. But not any more so than his response, which was to snatch my hands and grip them tight. I wanted to cry with frustration, which only fueled my determination more. I closed my eyes, shutting him out, and sent another tendril into the void, drawing on everything I had, and then—

  There.

  A pulse, pure and true, reaching through the blackness. Eric. I caught the thread with my own, testing it. Weak, but seemingly undamaged. Then—dear God—he put a sense of irony in it. I gave a half-sob, half-laugh, and started to send a pulse back, when Jason jerked back and dropped my hands. My eyes flew open to find him staring at me in shock.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  Something was off here. I mean, really off, not just trapped-in-a-demon-villa-with-another-demon off. Why was Jason—a demon—upset that I sensed a dead guy in another room?

  “That was Eric.”

  “I got that—I meant what you did. What in God’s name was that?”

  Jason breathed hard and fast and his eyes were coal-black. What had Claude said? A demon’s eyes go black when their shield goes down? I didn’t know what a “demon shield” was, but evidently, Jason had dropped his.

  That should have scared me, but I didn’t have time to let it. “None of your damn business.” I closed my eyes again, trying to reconnect with Eric.

  But no matter how many tendrils I sent out, I got nothing back. Not a damn thing. Feeling lost and shaken, I tried to remember what I’d done—how had I reached him? What was the key?

  And then it hit me and I opened my eyes again. “Give me your hands!”

  Jason looked at me in confusion, but I grabbed his hands and held on tight, then closed my eyes. Instantly, my thread grew, glowing bigger by the moment. I thought of Eric—sent my thread out—and just like that, his thread appeared. Jason’s hands jerked, and I gripped harder, concentrating, feeling him. Whatever he had was different than Eric—hot and bright, but not exactly evil. It burned, strong and sure, and I took it and joined it to my thread, then flung it forward, searching for clues to Eric’s situation.

  “It was you,” Jason said in a low voice. “On Malta—the farmer—you saved us.”

  The truth hit me, and my eyes snapped open. “You lied. You knew all along he wasn’t a Dioguardi, didn’t you?”

  Jason shook his head. “He was a demon. I didn’t have my shield up. Stupid of me. I should have known, but the stones blocked him, and I didn’t realize until he attacked.”

  I dropped his hands, suddenly needing distance again. “So he wasn’t after me.”

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “I tried to put my shield up, but I fell, and then…I felt you. I know it was you—but I don’t know what you did.”

  “Neither do I.” I couldn’t help the admission. He was close, and I’d trusted him for so long, and whatever he was, I needed him to find Eric and get out of here. “I thought at first he was trying to hurt me, and you and Geordi were just in his way. I didn’t think, I just saw a barrier, and tried to make it stronger.”

  “That was my shield. You saw it?” I nodded, and he sucked in a breath. “You saw my shield—and you helped me with it. Jesus, Hyacinth—what are you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have time for this. How do we break the barriers?”

  He opened his mouth to argue, then shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “We can’t. We need someone on either side.”

  “We’ve got that. Us—and Eric.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It would be better if your…friend…wasn’t trapped also. Hyacinth—please. At least tell me who he is, or how you can communicate with him. Give me something to go on.”

  I hesitated. Screw it—I couldn’t even feel Eric without his help. “He’s dead. I met him the night all this started. It was his car we took to the docks.”

  He jerked back. “Jesus. He’s been with us the whole time?”

  “Mostly. Look, I need to get him out, and I need to get to the Rousseaux. Just tell me how to break the barriers—please.”

  “Tell me first—why?”

  “I tried to tell you before. The Rousseaux took something, and if I don’t find it by sunset, I have to…leave. I can’t—I have to help Geordi. No matter what you say, I’ll never believe the Dioguardis are good for him.”

  Seconds ticked by, before Jason nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right. We aren’t all bad.” His mouth curved in a sad half-smile. “But…some of us are worse than you’ll ever know. As for Geordi…I just don’t know if he’s better off with you—or safer where he is.”

  He wasn’t going to return him, then. I blew out a breath. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t get the rock back. I needed Jason to get out of here, but I didn’t need him to get to Colossae. If I succeeded there, I’d hunt him down until I found Geordi, or Michael made me stop, whichever came first.

  “Show me,” I said. “Show me what to do, and I’ll show Eric.”

  Jason shook his head, as though not believing what he was about to do. He took my hands in his, then hesitated. His eyes were dark, but not fully black. “I have to let my shield down the rest of the way. To use my ‘demon magic,’ as you call it, I can’t shield it at all.”

  “Okay. Go for it.”

  “Hyacinth—whatever you feel while we’re doing this, or whatever happens afterward—it’s not me. No matter what you think, I’m not like the Rousseaux.”

  His words made no sense, but I didn’t have a choice, so I said “Okay, I get it. I’m ready.”

  “No. You’re not,” he said, and squeezed my hands.

  And the room shattered. No. My mind shattered—black and sharp and shiny, like Jason’s eyes. They hurt to look at and I shut mine in self-defense. But that opened my mind to him more. The tentative threads that were Eric and me twisted, tore apart, rejoined with something I knew came from Jason. Something so terrifying and powerful I wanted to run, to hide and never come out, but there was no escape. The threads wove together and grew, bulging into a light so blinding, the blackness burst into clear crystals that pierced the backs of my eyelids.

  Whatever had happened on Malta was nothing like this. Then, I’d unwittingly helped Jason put his shield up, reinforcing whatever blocked his demon-ness. Now, everything was loose—his powers or magic or essence—it roiled in waves, pulsing, throbbing through me, boiling hot, like a mil
lion needles jabbing me from the inside out.

  Jason let go of my hands and instead wrapped his arms around me, and I threw mine around him—the one steady thing in a world exploding with chaos and annihilation.

  “Pull him out!” Jason shouted. “Use me to pull him out!”

  Through the black-red haze, I saw the threads and twined them into a rope until they writhed together, pushing against the chaos, forcing it back like snakes from a torch. And then all at once I lost control of it—the rope flailed away—the blackness surged forward, shiny-sharp and eating into my soul. Jason stumbled, then sagged against me, and I screamed silently.

  No—you have to hold on! Help me, damn it!

  There was a pop! followed by a roar of air, like an airplane’s roof ripping off. I felt the wind—hot, sucking at me, pulling me away from Jason. Everything tunneled—I was losing them—losing myself—the threads slipping through my grasp, like hot oily ropes.

  Then the thread that was Eric separated, reaching out to me, and I grabbed it, held on for dear life, clinging to Jason’s body and Eric’s soul and my own sanity. And then Jason’s energy was there, pulling us to him, and I grabbed on with my mind as well as my arms, feeling him like a magnet, keeping me close while I guided Eric as he rushed toward the physical me, stronger, surer, as he had at the Plutonium, momentum building, faster and faster, until he was in the hall, outside the door, pounding at it.

  Jason pounded back. I don’t know what they did, or how they did it. Now that Eric was here, Jason took control of the threads. He shuddered, and I felt him harnessing…something, so horrifying in its sheer strength, his earlier power paled in comparison. It hurt like knives in my bones, my whole body ached, but I couldn’t escape. Clinging to him, I tried to stay out of the way as they fought the barrier, squeezing it, pressing and pressing until with a sonic boom! louder than the one on Malta, it imploded into a million particles of dust.

  Eric burst through, falling to the floor at my feet, and Jason let go, staggering back. I dropped next to Eric, took him in my arms, held him tight.

  “Mon ange…” His hold was weak, but it didn’t matter, because he was here.

  “Thank God—are you all right?”

  “I am fine. Truly.” He managed to sit up and looked toward Jason. “Him, I am not so sure about.”