Romancing the Dead

by Tate Hallaway

  “Look,” he said. “I know what you’re getting at, but my mother simply isn’t capable right now. I don’t know if she ever will be. She spent a long time . . . in the darkness. She’s not well.”

  Trapped between life and death for over a hundred years could easily make a person insane. “But she’s awake?”

  His lips pressed even tighter. “Some days.”

  Did that mean that sometimes she was alive and others she was dead again? Things sounded very complicated, to say the least. I began to understand why Mátyás didn’t want to talk about this.

  I suddenly had a pang of sympathy for the guy. As if his life wasn’t bizarre enough—he had a vampire for a father, whose blood had made him a perpetual teenager, cursed to wander through other people’s dreams—now his dead mother was back from beyond, kind of.

  I started to say something supportive when we heard the impact. All the lights went out with a pop. The house shook with noise. The door between the kitchen and the living room banged open, bringing with it a cloud of plaster dust and oak leaves.

  “What was that?” Mátyás asked, pulling a keychain flashlight out of his pocket and shined it into my face.

  I blinked helplessly. It sounded like my living room had just exploded.

  A gigantic tree killed my couch. Its massive trunk smooshed the frame into two separate halves, and stuffing erupted from the tears in yellow gobs. The tree’s branches also took out three windows, half of a 150-year-old lath-and-plaster wall, my end table, a lamp, and knocked over my bookcase.

  Cold, rainy breeze ruffled the pages of my Mountain Astrologer and In Touch magazines, which now littered the room like confetti. The room had a strangely pleasant smell of tangy sap, like a forest. Oak leaves blanketed the floor.

  I couldn’t believe it: a tree had crashed into my living room.

  Barney, having appeared from somewhere to survey the damage with us, twined around my ankles. She paused, taking a sniff, and let out a delicate, wet sneeze.

  Magic?

  Mátyás apparently had a similar thought. “Shouldn’t this have happened a half hour ago, when there was actually some wind?”

  Barney crouched low and took a step toward the branches, as though she was stalking the tree. She sneezed again, more forcefully. I scooped her up, afraid I’d lose her in all the debris. She sneezed on my shoulder and rubbed her nose in my armpit. The rain continued its gentle tippity-tap through the hole in the wall onto my hardwood floor.

  Stepping over scattered books and a shattered statue of Kali, I touched a gnarled branch. I half expected the wood to evaporate like a dream, but it was solid, real.

  There was a knock at the tree-blocked door. “Are you okay, fugitive girl?”

  “Fugitive girl?” Mátyás asked, an amused smile twitching across his lips. “Another persona?”

  “I’m okay,” I shouted to Soul Patch, ignoring Mátyás. “A tree fell into the house.”

  “No shit, man. Where the hell’d it come from?”

  Then I heard another voice from behind the door. “Tell her about the light.”

  “What light?” I asked.

  “Before the tree hit,” Soul Patch said. “We saw a buzzing purple light.”

  “Lavender,” came the other voice.

  “Mauve.”

  “Whatever, it was spooky,” Soul Patch said. “How’d this tree come down, anyway? I thought the storm was over.”

  “It was over,” Mátyás said as he gave me a hard this-isn’t-what-it-seems glare. “This was deliberate. You’re under attack.”

  “What? I didn’t catch that,” asked Soul Patch. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and stuff. Oh, hey, and I called the landlord.”

  “Thanks,” I shouted back.

  I heard a muttered “No problem” and the clomp of heavy shoes on the stairs.

  Mátyás had his cell phone to his ear. “I’m calling the utility people about the electricity. You’ve got a breaker box in the basement.” I nodded. “I’ll head down there and make sure everything is off. I’ll shut off the gas too just to be safe.”

  I nodded, happy to let Mátyás deal with that sort of stuff. I shut Barney up in the bedroom and came back to try to salvage what I could from the living room. By the time he came back, I’d cleared up most of the books and was sitting on the floor trying to decide if the statue could be rescued with some glue or if it was beyond repair.

  Mátyás knelt beside me and handed me a silk handkerchief. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying, but his kind gesture crumbled the remains of my resolve. I sobbed and leaned heavily into an awkwardly offered hug.

  When I finally pulled away, we didn’t talk about it. Mátyás silently helped me shift the important things into my bedroom and out of the way, and he waited patiently while I packed Barney into a kitty carrier and put together a bag for myself. How ironic that I’d been so reluctant to move in with Sebastian. Now his was the only place I really had.

  “We can come back for the rest tomorrow,” I said.

  “Of course,” Mátyás said softly, taking my duffle bag from my hands. “Let’s get you home.”

  If he didn’t stop being so understanding, I was going to start bawling again.

  At Sebastian’s, Barney refused to come out of the carrier. She crouched flat with her ears pressed against her head and kept up a constant growl that occasionally morphed into a pitiful-sounding moan.

  Mátyás watched my attempts to cajole and comfort her from where he lounged on the leather couch with his stocking feet propped up on the glass coffee table. He tipped a martini glass in the direction of the carrier and said, “Sometimes I quite agree, my dear.”

  I placed a bowl of tuna several steps out into the open of Sebastian’s living room. “You know you want it,” I told her teasingly.

  She hissed at me.

  The house ghost, Benjamin, who apparently felt similarly about the feline intrusion, rattled the windows.

  “You guys are just going to have to learn to get along,” I said to them both. Giving up with a sigh, I took Sebastian’s favorite chair near the fireplace.

  I eyed Mátyás’s martini with a touch of envy. He’d offered me one, several actually, but the thought of going to work with a hangover again didn’t appeal to me. Still, the sharp, evergreen smell of juniper reminded me of Christmas trees, which in turn made me think about the oak that tore through my apartment . . . and suddenly, I wanted to drink until I couldn’t see straight. Which was something, apparently, Mátyás already had on the agenda from the peaceful, vacuous look in his half-lidded eyes.

  “Someone magical wants you dead,” he said distinctly, twirling the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Given that you said he stole Lilith, I’d guess it was that coyote friend of yours.”

  “He hardly qualifies as a friend,” I snapped. “Anyway, Micah got what he came for.”

  It was hard to believe that Micah had set me up to steal Lilith. He’d offered to take her from me, but I didn’t realize he wanted her so badly that he would just take her. I hugged myself around the waist, feeling small and hollow. Mentally, I kept reaching down within to feel her presence. Every time it was a surprise to find nothing but emptiness.

  “He’s the only deity after you right now, though, right?” Mátyás asked, lifting an eyebrow and his martini glass in my direction. “Because it takes damn strong juju to uproot a tree and hurl it with that kind of force,” Mátyás continued. “If he’s not a God, then your enemy is one serious sorcerer.”

  We hadn’t spoken about the whole killer-tree incident in the car. Mátyás had let me chatter away to Barney about how everything would be okay, and how the landlord was sure to fix things up soon, we’d move back in, it would all be normal, and did I mention we’d be okay? Even though it was clear to me that it could take months to finish the repairs on the apartment, I kept inanely repeating myself because I still couldn’t deal with the fact that the place I lived in was ruined, gone.

  �
�Well, they’re not that good,” I pointed out. “They missed.”

  Mátyás grunted an amused assent. “Although you’re assuming what they want is for you to be dead. You have to admit they’ve scored a lot of points.” Setting his drink down, he held up fingers as he counted, “One, they kidnapped Papa. Two, stole your Goddess. Three, destroyed your house. And in your column, you’re ‘still alive.’ ” He held up his other fist to indicate zero. “I’m not sure you’re winning this one, Garnet. Especially given the state of your neck.”

  “Bleah,” was all I could think of for a reply. Leaning my head against the back of the chair, I accidentally pressed into the welts on my neck. I winced.

  Absently, I magically reached for Lilith again. When I noticed myself doing it, I stopped. She wasn’t there. No matter how often I looked for her, I wasn’t going to find her. She was gone. Possibly for good.

  “You’re shrinking,” Mátyás noted.

  “What?”

  He tipped his martini glass at me. “Can you actually crawl inside yourself, I wonder?”

  I’d pulled my feet up onto the couch in a fetal position. My arms held my knees so tightly they ached. Even with Mátyás smirking at my uptight body language, it was difficult to unwind. Without Lilith, I felt so exposed and vulnerable. “Sorry,” I murmured as I shifted a bit, trying to act as though I was a lot more comfortable than I felt.

  Mátyás pulled at his lip. “I should say something useful here, like ‘there, there,’ shouldn’t I? I mean, your apartment, it’ll get fixed. I know it’s upsetting. But it really will be all right.” He swallowed a mouthful of martini, draining the glass to the dregs. Mátyás looked at the empty glass for a moment before setting it on the glass-topped coffee table between us. “Are you sure you don’t want one? Being numb is really the only coping skill I have a lot of practice with.”

  My lips quirked into a feeble smile. It was sweet of Mátyás to try to comfort me, but it only served to make me miss Sebastian even more. He’d have some plan of action right now, some idea to try to figure out who wrecked my place or how to get Lilith back. Best, he’d offer to do it all himself while tucking me into bed.

  “No, I’m okay,” I lied.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, getting up to refresh his glass.

  Once again I noticed myself poking around mystically for Lilith. I started to feel a bit pathetic, like a junkie who unconsciously rubs at the crook of their elbows when they’re jonesing. I had to pull myself together. Sebastian needed me this time.

  My fingers absently stroked the cool leather of the chair. Glass clinked in the kitchen as Mátyás refilled his drink. The central air conditioner hummed.

  If Sebastian and I were under attack, I needed some kind of protection. I couldn’t walk around so exposed. What I needed was another Goddess, someone whose expertise was protection.

  Benjamin, or maybe the wind, screeched around the gables. Cool breeze ruffled my hair, despite the closed windows. Lightning lit the sky.

  I closed my eyes. When I’d called Lilith before it had been completely unconscious, a gut reaction born out of desperation and fear. There had been no complicated spell weaving or bells or whistles, just me crying out for help with every fiber of my being.

  I needed help now too. There might not be anyone with a pistol pointed to my head, but I’d lost my house, my lover, and someone very powerfully magical was gunning for me.

  Instead of trying to suppress my fears, I let them grow. I allowed myself an unadulterated moment of sheer panic. My muscles began to tremble, but I pushed myself even deeper. I imagined the worst. Sebastian dead. The Witch with the vendetta ready to kill me . . . or Barney. Then, I opened my astral body and my mouth and screamed, “Help!”

  Thunder clapped. Dishes fell to the floor as Mátyás swore and shouted my name. Then, without warning, my skin felt afire. Pain seared along my nerves, concentrated in a knot in my abdomen. With a cry, I doubled over.

  8.

  Saturn

  KEYWORDS: Limitations, Sorrows, and Delays

  In my peripheral vision, I saw Mátyás leap to his feet. He was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of my own agony. Air swirled through the room, picking up newspapers until they danced around me like my own personal tornado.

  Barney yowled and streaked back into her kitty carrier.

  Newspapers crinkled in the air. They bent and shifted, circling me, until the form of a woman’s face pressed through them in relief. My stomach clenched again, and I doubled over, but not before recognizing wide screech-owl eyes.

  Lilith had come back.

  The house shook on its foundations. Lights flickered, and then went out.

  No doubt thinking that I was under attack, Mátyás tried to step into the circle of spinning air—only to be tossed out like a rag doll. The force of the gale sent him crashing into the stair railing. I heard something break, and I hoped it was a rail spindle and not one of his ribs. He lay where he fell, moaning.

  Out of the magical corner of my eye, I sensed Benjamin entering the room, called by my cry. He looked ready to try to come to my defense as well, but I didn’t need help. Though the expression in the newspaper face mask hadn’t changed, somehow I understood that Lilith was still being held to Micah in some way. She needed a magical boost.

  I faltered. It had been a long time since I’d done magic like this solo. Did I have the strength? I’d called Lilith here, but a capital-letter God held the other end of the leash.

  Static electricity crackled along my limbs as I lifted my arms into the Goddess position. Blue and silver sparks flashed out from my body like a mini electrical storm. I took a deep, welcoming breath, turned my palms upward and said, “Come to me, so mote it be.”

  The wind whirled faster, but the image of Lilith’s face began to break up. Holes appeared in her image as sheets tore off. Her mouth opened up into a wordless scream, as she continued to collapse in upon herself.

  I was losing her.

  I didn’t know what to do. Lilith had been the source of my magic for so long. My hands grasped uselessly at the air. I swore the hollow of her eyes looked disappointed as the swirling air ceased. A bang rattled the air, like the rush of thunder, and then quiet. Newspapers drifted slowly to the ground, landing in a perfect circle around my feet.

  The lights snapped back on.

  Inside her carrier, Barney hacked up what sounded like a gigantic hairball. Then she let out a dainty sneeze and a quiet, mournful meow.

  Mátyás groaned, pulling himself upright. He held on to the railing, as though it were a crutch. “What the hell was that?”

  “Me,” I said, trying to sound plucky, “being a loser.”

  “Ah. Right.” Mátyás’s jaw twitched, as he ran a hand through his hair. The same nervous gesture Sebastian had.

  My plucky façade cracked. I crumpled onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. Hot tears constricted my throat. “Oh God, I don’t have the strength to get Lilith back. I’m never going to see Sebastian again.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Mátyás said. He came and sat beside me. Despite my loud sniffles, he plopped down as though we were settling in to watch the game. His feet went up on the coffee table and his arm flopped loosely on the back of the couch. “I think I might have a solution, though I’ve never tried it before and . . .” He coughed into his fist and looked away. Mumbling, he added, “I might need your help.”

  I shook my head and wiped broadly at the tears that streaked down my face. “Didn’t you just witness this disaster? I’m not going to be much help to anyone.”

  When I’m upset, I clean. Pulling myself upright, I started picking up the papers and tucking them under my arm. Consciously, I started in the east and worked my way around counterclockwise, as though opening a circle. I reveled in the simple physical actions—bend, pick up the smooth, slick newsprint, straighten, tuck, repeat.

  “Don’t you even want to hear my brilliant plan?” Mátyás sa
id, lifting his legs as I grabbed for a sheet that had fallen between the couch and the table.

  “Sure,” I said. “Whatever.”

  The truth was I was despondent. I couldn’t stop the tears leaking out of my eyes and I felt exhausted. Beaten.

  “I take the fight to them. Use my powers for good,” Mátyás said.

  I’d gotten a huge wad of newspaper tucked under my arm. I looked around for somewhere to deposit it. Seeing none, I clutched the crumbled ball to my abdomen. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you can figure out who might have Papa, I’ll invade their dreams. The unconscious is a funny thing. The guilty often dream of their crimes. Maybe with a little magical nudge from you, I can get them to show me where—or how—they’re holding Papa.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. I sat down again, this time on the couch kitty-corner from Mátyás. I tucked the newspaper between me and the arm of the couch. “The problem is I don’t have a clue who it might be.”

  “You must have a list of suspects. Let’s do a little detective work.” Tapping his feet, he twiddled his thumbs. He looked at the bookcase crammed with books. “What we need is a whiteboard.”

  “What?”

  “You know, like they always have in those crime shows.”

  I smiled. “We can probably just think this through.”

  He tapped his index fingers together thoughtfully. I got the feeling Mátyás enjoyed the idea of being a detective. His socks made a soft padding sound on the rug.

  “What we need is some kind of motive that ties all the events together. Who do you know that has a reason to be rid of Sebastian and hates you enough to want to kill you or at least damage everything you hold dear?”

  Chewing my lip, I considered. “Well, Xylia and I got into kind of a fight about Lilith. She implied that it was kind of unfair that I had a Goddess because it automatically meant I’d probably be chosen to be the High Priestess of the coven. She seemed kind of down on vampires too, for that matter.”

  Mátyás brightened. “A lead. Okay, anyone else?”

  I heard the sound of wet munching coming from behind the couch. Barney, apparently, decided to come back out to sample the tuna. My fingers touched the welts on my throat gingerly. “Well, Marge was in the store just before the wind chime jumped me and was looking for books on Lilith.”