Dead Girls Don't Sing

by Casey Wyatt

  “Ye-ss,” she said.

  I faced Ian. “This doesn’t make any sense. We’re vampires. Louis said Kyshmar looked like the zombie goddess. Which implies Kyshmar could be a Founder. Kasia and Kyrene could be Founders too. Three scientists. Three Founders.”

  “You’ve lost me, lass.” Ian placed a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t speak for Louis, but Kyshmar resembles my maker’s maker.”

  “What? I thought your Sire was a druid.”

  “He was. But his maker was from the sky.” Ian studied the vid-screen. “They could be the same.”

  Consider me officially freaked. I sat on the damp grass and leaned against a headstone. “None of this makes any sense.”

  “Perhaps I can assist,” Kyshmar said.

  “Sure. Fire away,” I said. She reminded me of the talking app on my phone, wanting to be helpful, but in reality wasn’t. It didn’t tell me anything I couldn’t find using a standard search engine.

  “They are both correct. I am the Lost Ship. The source of your kind.”

  “What?” Ian knelt, staring at the avatar. “How is that possible?”

  “I was sent to earth to safeguard my people’s genetic legacy.”

  I sat up straighter. “And Kasia and Kyrene? They were sent away.”

  “Yes. Like three puzzle pieces. We are keys to each other.”

  “Do you know anything about the Ancients’ disease?”

  Kyshmar blinked. “The planet was dying. We attempted to modify our genetic code to live in the changing environment. We failed. The cure began to break us down. Everyone and everything died. Except us. We downloaded ourselves for future generations. But we also each took a ship, preserving our physical forms, hoping some part of us would survive.”

  “Who is Herne?” He’d been the catalyst for this entire nightmare.

  “I do not know. The name is unknown to me.”

  My hopes sank like a lead balloon. “And what about the Ancients trapped in a computer on Mars?”

  Her expression hardened. “They are the damned. Criminals doomed to spend eternity in limbo for their crimes.”

  Horror crept across me. We’d opened that chamber. Those nice, helpful Ancients sent me into the time stream.

  “What did they do?”

  “They unleashed the calamity that hastened our demise. They were a sect that had vowed to destroy our planet as an offering to their angry gods.”

  “Would these gods happen to be as tall as buildings?”

  “Yes.”

  Double shit.

  IT SEEMED FITTING. Surrounded by fake graves, hearing the news that I’d been sent into the past by a bunch of murderous fanatics.

  Ian remained quiet. I needed a moment to digest Kyshmar’s story.

  In my mind, the first order of business was to find Kyshmar’s resting place before the Not-Mother did. Then get my brother back. Last on the list, do something about the Not-Mother.

  “The creature must be eliminated,” Ian said.

  “As in killed?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Ian, I can’t. What if that cuckoo didn’t kill my mother? What if she’s trapped in there somewhere?”

  Ian’s expression softened with sympathy. He rested his hands on my shoulders. “Your real mum... She’s gone. I’m sorry, Cherry, but anything else is a fantasy.”

  Not wanting to believe it, I turned away. “I won’t take that chance.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” Kyshmar piped in with her cold, clinical tone.

  “Killing should be the last resort,” I snapped. I’d had my fill of death in the last year.

  “No matter. The truth is the truth. She’s been infected with a consciousness. A parasite,” Kyshmar said, making me wish she had an off switch.

  “One problem at a time. We need to secure your body.” I almost added, or what remained, but thought better of it.

  “Could the creature learn about Kyshmar?” Ian asked. “If we go racing after it and ignore Edwin, whom I’m sure she expects us to fetch, won’t that be suspicious?”

  Damn. I hadn’t thought of that possibility. The creature once known as Lady Pembridge didn’t strike me as stupid. In fact, its behavior to date had been rather Machiavellian. Kind of like Jonathan.

  “I wonder how long this game has been going on between them?” I mused, unable to escape the feeling that we were pawns in a much larger plan. My entire family was caught up in a web of intrigue and deceptions. But why?

  Ian folded his arms, gaze fixed on the center of the cemetery. A sizable hump of dirt rose around the markers. “A tree once stood here. Old and majestic even in my day. After the massacre in the grove, it withered. Its decline took centuries.”

  “Oh Ian.” I waited. Ian seldom spoke of his past.

  “The point, which I know you’re wondering about,” he tapped his temple, reminding me of link between us, “old things, when they fall, often don’t go without a fight. And sometimes, like performers in love with their own magnificence, don’t know when to leave the stage.”

  I understood what he meant. It happened from time to time with members of the troupe. They lost their edge or maybe their confidence. Even among the undead, the ages took their tolls on our psyches. Many of us ditched our pasts and our former selves.

  “Kyshmar, could the thing that infected my mother be insane?”

  “Insanity implies a lack of ability to scheme and carry out those plans. I would say, no. Not in the way you mean it. Time is relative when you’re trapped in the void.”

  “Wait. Is that like the Veil? The area that we passed through to get to Mars faster?” I remembered that part of the journey. Mind-bendingly weird couldn’t cover it.

  “I suppose one could see it that way,” she said.

  “After it captured me at the library, a memory unlocked of that day in the attic. I witnessed it take my mother’s body. Why would it have remained hidden for so many years?”

  Kyshmar asked, “Are you sure it was a memory?”

  The question struck me like a body blow. I pressed my palm to my heart. “A vision. But I only see the future. Not the past.”

  “A past that has not happened yet. Think upon the implications.” Kyshmar glanced past my shoulder and smiled appreciably. “Your mate is undressing.”

  Ian had removed his socks, shoes, and shirt. I turned in time to see the pants drop. No surprise, he went commando.

  As much as I enjoyed the show, it didn’t seem wise for him to be buck naked in a cemetery. Anyone could come along and see us.

  “Ian. What are you doing?”

  “Summoning the spirits. Now be quiet, woman, and let me work.” Ian settled cross-legged over the mound and closed his eyes. A calm-centeredness filtered through, relaxing my tension.

  While he communed with the earth, I thought about Kyshmar’s revelation.

  “Kyshmar, if the parasite hasn’t taken my mother yet, how can it be in 1969 with us?”

  “It hitched a ride with you on your cuff.”

  “No, that’s imposs—” I shut my mouth. I’d been seeing Jonathan on Mars. He’d hinted that he’d been with me all along.

  I never got a chance to noodle that thought because Kyshmar spoke again.

  “I understand that you are more focused on saving the colony on Mars. But have you considered that you need to save the people right in front of you?”

  The Not-Mother had said the same thing. My brain may have melted a bit from the sideways logic.

  “I hear your words, but they don’t make any sense to me. Oh God, we’re not going to have one of those screwball discussions. Like if I go in the past and kill Grandpa will I ever be born? But how can that be true if I am already here?”

  “You are describing a paradox,” she said.

  “You know what? We are not going down the rabbit hole.”

  I thrust the tablet in the duffel bag. Pacing back and forth helped center my mind. I may have tugged on a bit of Ian’s Zen master conc
entration too.

  When I felt like I wasn’t going to smash the screen into a million pieces, I pulled it back out.

  “Listen, I don’t want to hear about time travel. Or think about how the Not-Mother is going to find me as a child and make my life even worse. One problem at a time. Can you or can you not help me?”

  “Of course, I can.” Kyshmar looked insulted. “I’ve called for help.”

  “What do you mean you called for help? Who—?”

  Footsteps trod toward us. The gate creaked and shut, the noise deadened. Damp fog rose around us.

  Oh shit, fog could be more revenants.

  When nothing happened, I relaxed. Ordinary English fog.

  “I told you to make peace with your past, Charity,” Aunt Cass said, stepping out of the mist. “Now look at the mess you’ve created.”

  Was it fair to lay the entire situation at my feet?

  Maybe not. But my aunt’s words stung.

  Ian emerged from his trance with a frown. The tree’s barely alive root system had no recollection of where the sky god had landed.

  Not the news I was hoping for. Aunt Cass was more forthright.

  “If you had come to me, I could have told you where you needed to go. Bunch of stubborn fools. Come on. Get in the car.”

  She crammed us into her tiny VW Beetle and informed us that our destination was a makeshift archeological lab tucked away at a remote field site.

  “They’ve been digging an alleged Celtic burial for the last few seasons.”

  Ian won the shotgun seat, though I use that term loosely, because his knees were smooshed against the dash. He said, “It made the news in London.”

  “What makes you sure that Kyshmar’s body is there?” I asked, wincing when my head hit the ceiling. Somehow, I expected that the potholes wouldn’t be so bad on modern roads.

  “Easy. I found her myself and hid her capsule there.”

  Her reflection grinned at me through the rearview mirror. Unlike the last time I’d seen her, she’d replaced the shabby Miss Havisham look with something more sixties stylish. Her fair hair was smooth and sleek, held in place with a wide headband. A jumpsuit made of sturdy faded denim, bell bottoms, and heavy clogs completed her bohemian look.

  She cleaned up pretty nice. I could see the family resemblance in her pert nose and sculpted cheekbones.

  “Why didn’t you say so when I came into your shop?” I wanted to knock my head against the car again from sheer frustration.

  “Because even I can’t see everything, dear,” she said, explaining nothing. Typical.

  “What happened to you after they took you away?”

  I’d wondered for long time. Over the years, guilt would sneak up on me. I may not have remembered the specific events, but I’d always felt like her confinement was because of me.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Your Sire found me and set me free with the understanding that I would stay away. I made my own path from there.”

  A low growl rumbled from Ian. “How far back does his entanglement go?”

  I’d always believed Jonathan had met me for the first time in India. To learn that he’d lurked in the corners of my childhood unsettled me.

  “That I can’t say. But I do know he’s worried about everyone’s safety,” she said.

  Now it was my turn to snort. “He has a funny way of showing it.”

  “No ever said love was easy, dearest,” said my aunt, so sweetly it made my teeth ache.

  “Is there an end in sight?” And did I want to know that answer? Maybe I wouldn’t like it.

  “Ah, here we are!” Aunt Cass squeaked with excitement. She cut the wheel a hard left, banging my head against the tiny VW window.

  Nausea built in my belly. Too many injuries, combined with blood loss and being in a cramped space. Not a good recipe for me.

  “Woman! Who taught you to drive?” Ian muttered what I’m sure were a few Celtic swears under his breath.

  “Does it matter? We can’t die short of decapitation.” Cass smiled as she said it.

  “That may be true, but we can still feel pain.” And I’d grown rather averse to it, especially since I’d recently healed bones.

  One of the things I’d loved about Aunt Cass was her free-spirited nature. She’d drawn me and Edwin to her like a moth to a bug zapper. Now I viewed it as reckless.

  When had I become so mature? Maybe it was motherhood. But I was also a Sire. I had people who were depending on me.

  The Beetle screeched to a whiplashing stop. Ian popped out of the car before she turned off the ignition. Flinging the front seat forward, he reached over to give me a hand out. Once I unfolded myself and took a breath of fresh air, my stomach settled down.

  “Thanks.” I tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow, happy for the assist.

  He handed me the bag containing the tablet, shaking his head. “Are you sure she’s related to you?”

  Aunt Cass skipped her way to a metal barracks building.

  “Yeah. I’m sure,” I said, studying the building. The rust and decay spoke to the time that had passed. Graffiti covered most of it.

  “Come, come.” She waved us forward, then fumbled with a padlock. “I have the key somewhere.”

  Ian reached over and snapped the heavy lock like it was a pretzel stick. “We don’t have time to wait around.”

  Aunt Cass narrowed her eyes at him, ready to argue but then deflated, remembering what we were doing. “Of course.”

  She heaved the door open. Dust and mildew assaulted my nose. “How long has it been since this place was aired out?”

  She ignored the question and walked into the murky darkness. Ian and I followed. The light from the outside disappeared ten paces ahead. Aunt Cass was nearby, muttering to herself. There was a loud thud, then silence.

  Ian raced forward leaving me alone. His footsteps cut off, swallowed by the gloom.

  I froze, straining to see in the abysmal dark. “Ian? Aunt Cass?”

  No response.

  I half spoke, half whispered. “Hello?”

  The air thickened, growing closer. Driven by instinct, I crouched to the ground, making myself a smaller target. A shrill, short beep came from the duffel bag. The sudden noise scared the crap out of me. Well, not literally.

  Unzipping the bag with shaky hands, I debated if I should take it out. The light could give away my position. I was positive I wasn’t alone.

  Kyshmar seemed more aware of the situation than I was. A green cursor blinked on a black screen. Type appeared.

  Run. Now.

  I hesitated. I couldn’t leave Ian and Aunt Cass. Not to mention, the exit was blocked.

  Use the time stream.

  I typed back, How?

  She’d better not tell me to click my heels three times or to clap my hands if I believed in faeries either.

  “Come out, my dear daughter. You have something I want,” the Not-Mother said.

  Focusing on her voice, I located her behind me. Which meant the exit was blocked.

  “If you want to see them again, tell me where you are.”

  I remained silent. If I could have been sure of the height of the ceilings, I’d float upward. But not knowing the layout would make that a monumentally stupid idea.

  “Fine.” Lights clicked on, one fluorescent strip at a time.

  I used the short interval between clicks to check the area above me. There was nothing up there other than the curved ceiling. I fisted the bag and the tablet and shot upward, positioning myself in the shadowy space between the lights. I hugged the tablet and bag to my chest, not moving a muscle.

  The space below was divided into neat aisles of extra-long wooden tables. Some of the tables held dozens of wooden boxes partitioned into smaller cubbies. Each of the cubbies contained bits of broken pottery, metal, and other shards of assorted shapes and sizes. Some of the tables had larger artifacts or were covered with canvas tarps.

  One thing was clear, without Aunt Cass, I di
dn’t know where to search for Kyshmar’s remains.

  “I know you’re here.” Not-Mother walked down the aisle, guiding Edwin by the back of his neck. His head hung to his chest, eyes closed. He moved woodenly like a puppet under her control.

  Ian and Aunt Cass were nowhere that I could see without moving.

  How did she know to find us here? Aunt Cass said she’d hidden Kyshmar’s body. Edwin couldn’t have told her because he didn’t know. Unless Cass was lying...

  Not-Mother continued down the aisle, Edwin moving by her side.

  Doubt tugged at me. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Ian was nearby. I could sense him. Another stronger bond flickered to life in my mind.

  Jonathan.

  He was coming. And boy, was he pissed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fight the Power

  Relief coursed through me. For once, I wouldn’t have to defeat the villain on my own.

  Not-Mother’s head whipped around, facing the entrance. A wicked grin curved her lips.

  Dread gut-punched me. Jonathan was walking into a trap. She’d taken Ian, who was no slouch in the power department, and she’d managed to surprise Aunt Cass. Guess her gift of sight hadn’t see that one coming.

  I concentrated on the Sire bond and sent what I hoped were be careful vibes. The bond isn’t an exact science. It’s not like a two-way radio. We can’t communicate exact thoughts.

  If he received the message, I couldn’t tell. Intense emotion continued to pound against my skull before retreating.

  Laughter pealed, reaching the rafters. “So much for your grand rescue, my daughter.”

  I wasn’t her daughter and hearing it annoyed me. But not enough to reveal my position.

  The Not-Mother strutted forward, confident. She reached for a tarp covering one of the tables and yanked it, revealing a coffin-shaped tube. With a snap of her finger, a green mist appeared and settled against the metal. “Looks like we won’t be needing this.”

  I figured the joke was on her. The Martian material would resist whatever she threw at it.

  A sharp odor reached my nose. The metal dissolved. For a brief moment, Kyshmar’s body, decked in some kind of pressure suit appeared. The mist devoured her remains.