The car didn’t budge.
Teeth gritted, muscles straining, Greyson kept pushing until his veins pounded and his vision narrowed to a pale tunnel. His legs began to shake, then his back and arms. Slowly, the car tilted a few inches, but it wasn’t enough.
With a painful gasp, Greyson let go. Hellbringer settled back on its roof with an awful crunching sound.
Breath burning in his lungs, Greyson sagged against the side of the car, trying to think up a new plan in a hurry. There were more of those motorcycles out there, and it wouldn’t take them long to catch up.
Behind Hellbringer, a long path of flattened grass and bushes marked their departure from the road. Among the scattered bits of motorcycle wreckage that dotted the path, something stirred.
Greyson watched with sinking disbelief as a blackened bony arm rose up from the grass, followed by a cobweb-shrouded helmet. Inexorably, the helmet turned toward him, revealing cracked goggles and a web-wrapped skull. Its jaw stretched wide with a bubbling hiss.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Greyson muttered.
If he couldn’t run, then he had to make sure that these creatures were in no shape to follow him. It was time to finish this.
He searched for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Nearby lay a bent wire motorcycle wheel, sheared off by the force of the crash. Traces of cobwebs still clung to it.
It would have to do. Greyson picked it up in both hands and marched toward the creature.
He was still a dozen paces away when the thing raised its bony fingers and summoned up a gauzy haze of webbing.
Greyson stopped in his tracks. He’d forgotten about that part.
A stream of web shot out of the thing’s clawed hand, straight at Greyson. He blocked it with the motorcycle wheel, but the creature pulled its arm back and yanked the tire from Greyson’s grip with uncanny ease.
As he watched the motorcycle wheel sail away into the grass, Greyson realized that he had only ever run away from a fight maybe twice in his life.
Right now might make a good third time.
All around him, more hissing limbs clawed their way up out of the grass, reforming into skeletal creatures. Some of them were missing arms, some legs. But all of them crawled directly toward him, closing in with relentless hate that he could practically feel against his skin.
There were just too many of them. And he didn’t know how to fight them. Not yet. But he intended to find out.
As he turned to sprint back toward Hellbringer, a streamer of web shot toward him. He dodged to the side, but another web caught his ankle, jerking his foot out from beneath him. He stumbled, hitting the edge of the wet asphalt with his shoulder.
Ignoring the pain, Greyson rolled to the side, trying to get his boot off. More webs hit him, pinning one arm, and then his other leg.
Without any other options, he crawled, pulling himself out onto the wet road with his one free arm.
And then a web caught that arm, too.
He struggled, but the web was too strong. It held him down so tightly that he couldn’t turn his head, or even lift it from the wet pavement that dug into his cheek.
Every breath took effort. The web constricted his chest, choked his lungs. With every movement of his ribs, it seemed to grow tighter.
Footsteps approached behind him, clicking on the blacktop. He couldn’t turn to look. All he could do was listen.
Boots. Not motorcycle boots, but expensive ones with leather soles. Before Greyson could see who the boots belonged to, the air around him rippled. Magical crackles of energy sizzled all around him, electrifying the webs like a bolt of lightning.
For one terrible moment, Greyson felt nothing but searing pain.
And then he felt nothing at all.
5
THE DAMAGE DONE
Dru gasped. A sharp pain shot through her entire body, fiery and yet cold. She leaned against the wall of the shop to keep her balance.
Opal laid a warm hand on Dru’s shoulder. “Honey. You okay? You want to go upstairs, lie down for a few?”
“No.” Dru winced as the pain faded to a dull ache, leaving her strangely nauseous. She knew it was magical, but it wasn’t from her spell. She didn’t know what had brought it on. No matter how much that worried her, she had something more important to worry about.
She met Opal’s gaze. “I saw Hellbringer. I think Greyson is alive.”
“Alive?” Opal’s eyes went wide. “How? What happened? Where on earth is he?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” She turned to Rane, whose muscles flexed as she held onto Salem’s arm, steadying him. “Make sure he gets home in one piece, okay? Opal and I are going looking for Greyson.”
“We are?” Opal said.
“Right now?” Rane said.
Salem accosted her. “Not one of your better ideas, sweetheart. And in the grand scheme of things, that’s saying a lot.” He shook his hair out of his face, revealing his usual crazy stare. “Actually, I take that back. Could be a brilliant idea. For someone else. Leave the field investigation to the experts.”
Rane snorted. “Yeah, like you’re one to talk. Look at you, all messed up.”
Dru nodded. “Salem, I don’t have time for any verbal ninjutsu. Opal, you remember where Greyson’s place is? Let me find my purse.” Somewhere in the shop, on one of those piles of wreckage, Dru knew her purse was waiting. She just had to find it.
Rane followed her with a squeak of running shoes. “Dude, hang on. You’re going to need me with you, too. In case.”
“In case what?”
“In case anything.”
Dru hesitated. Maybe Rane was right.
Salem came up behind them, putting one hand on Rane’s back, the other on Dru’s. He leaned close between them, as if sharing an embarrassing secret. “I’m only going to say this once. I know you helped me quite a bit, Dru, which you didn’t have to do. And I appreciate that. So let me return the favor.” He stared deep into Dru’s eyes. “I suggest not going looking for your ersatz demon beau.”
Dru traded glances with Rane, who was clearly as puzzled as she was. “Why not?” Dru asked slowly. “What do you know?”
He sighed. “The situation is a little out of depth for you and the Brady Bunch.” He shrugged. “Just stating a fact. You’re big on rules, Dru, so here’s a new one for you: no more boyfriends from beyond the grave. Generally unhealthy. Not to mention unwholesome.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Dru studied Salem’s angular face. Now that the color was coming back into his defined cheeks, he was starting to look like his old self. For the briefest moment, Dru could see why Rane was so drawn to him. Despite his snarky attitude, there was something enigmatically inviting about Salem’s presence. The closer you got to him, the more it seemed as if he had layers and layers of secrets that he could share with you, if you were worthy enough.
Provided you could stand his attitude without strangling him.
Rane nudged him. Hard. “Hey. Are you messing with my best friend? Because, dude, that’s not funny.”
“Just ignore him.” Dru broke out of Salem’s reach and went back to looking for her purse. “He’ll live, I’m pretty sure. As long as none of us murders him. There are a few crystals I’d like to send him home with, but there’s no way I can find anything in this place right now. So just keep an eye on him for a while. Call me if his condition changes.”
“You mean if he starts acting funny? Dude, that’s all he does.” With a satisfied smile, Rane draped herself over Salem. She was a full head taller than him.
He ducked out from beneath her. “Hmm, too cozy. I don’t do cozy anymore.”
Rane bristled. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Just this.” Stepping back, Salem pointed back and forth between himself and Rane. “This is not happening again.”
After nearly giving up on her purse, Dru finally spotted it atop a pile of wreckage, right between Salem and Rane. Without making eye conta
ct, Dru awkwardly tiptoed between them and picked it up. “Sorry,” she whispered, then headed for the front door, motioning to Opal that it was time to go.
Outside, tall boot heels clicked on the wet pavement. They splashed through the rain, coming closer.
Just as Dru reached for the broken door, it flew open and in stepped a dark-skinned woman in a long black leather coat and ripped leggings. Her eyebrow piercings flashed above thick, dark eye makeup as she threw back her hood.
Ember. Salem’s new girlfriend.
Ember wasn’t her real name, of course, but sorceresses rarely went by their real names.
Unusually fiery, unsettlingly dark, and often mercenary in her allegiances, Ember was one of the few sorceresses Dru actually feared. Not because she was so powerful—most of them were more powerful than Dru—but because Ember was so unpredictable. Add in a frightening dose of relentless ambition, and that made Ember a dangerous aggressor, hungry to take what she wanted from anyone in her way.
“Finally.” Salem crossed the shop toward her. “I thought you’d left me stranded here at the kiddie table.”
“Had a little trouble on the road,” she said quietly to Salem, but despite her thick Arabic accent, her voice cut through the shop. “And you?”
He merely shrugged.
The vulnerability Rane had revealed only moments before instantly vanished, hidden under a steely glare. Rane visibly puffed up, biceps flexing. “He almost got his candy ass handed to him by a zombie. Where the hell were you? Why didn’t you have his back?”
Ember’s dark complexion flushed. “You cannot possibly speak to me that way.”
“Sticks and stones.” Salem motioned Ember toward the door. “Just ignore her, and she’ll go away.”
With both hands, Rane flipped him the bird. “Get over your fancy self, dude. If it wasn’t for Dru and the rest of us, you’d be zombie numnums right now. You need to pay her back.”
Salem rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll just go to the ATM and wait in line behind the unwashed masses who didn’t devote their lives to conquering the celestial forces of magic.”
“Not money,” Rane said. “I mean start spilling everything you know about the undead.”
He squinted, as if pretending to think it over. “Hmm. No.”
At the mention of money, Dru had to try hard not to think of the stack of unpaid bills buried somewhere beneath the wreckage of the shop. But at this point, she was pretty sure she was out of business anyway. She just hadn’t had time to process that fact yet.
For a moment, the sudden recognition that she was going to lose her shop threatened to overwhelm her. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she blinked to clear them.
Now was not the time to lose it. Not here, in front of everyone.
She was so focused on calming herself down that she almost tuned out the rising argument between Rane and Salem.
“Dude, quit acting like you’ve got some kind of higher calling and the rest of us are beneath you. Dru is the one who makes this all possible.” Rane jabbed a finger in Dru’s direction. “She’s the one who’s here every day, twenty-four seven. Reading the books. Brewing the potions. Charging up the crystals. You think that’s a cakewalk? She had to sell her house to open this shop.”
All eyes went to Dru, and she squirmed under the sudden scrutiny. “Well, um, not a house, exactly.” She swallowed down the thick lump in her throat. “But I did sell my car. Does that count?”
“See?” Rane said. “This girl has sacrificed. Now she has to ride the bus.”
Opal frowned. “I’ve never seen you take the bus.”
Dru held up a finger. “And I am very grateful for the fact that you own a car.”
“D!” Rane barked. “Stop helping.”
Dru knew she had to shut this down before it spiraled out of control. “That’s enough, everybody. Just forget it and go, Salem. Really no big deal.”
Rane poked a finger at Salem. “She’s right. You’re no big deal.”
Dru held up her hands. “Um, no, that’s not what I . . .”
“No big deal?” Salem had turned to go, but he stopped. A cold fury swept over his chiseled features. “No big deal?”
“Uh-uh,” Opal said under her breath, shaking her head side to side. “Gone too far this time.”
Salem’s twitching gaze swept across the wreckage of the store. “Let me show you what it means to be a big deal.”
Like a raven spreading its wings, Salem threw his arms wide. His black trench coat rippled in the silent winds of magic, and sparks of energy flared between his spidery fingers.
An unearthly light suffused the shop, like daylight breaking through a thick fog. The hairs on the back of Dru’s neck prickled with the intensity of immense volumes of power flowing in invisible waves around her.
Up and down the length of the shop, toppled bookcases groaned and drunkenly rose up from the wreckage. Like fallen dominoes righting themselves, they shifted back into position and stood straight.
Broken shelves mended themselves. Cracked boards straightened, and splintered wood crinkled as it knitted itself back together.
Dru’s breath caught in her throat.
With a hushed clatter, thousands of objects rose into the air around them. Jars of herbs. Bottles of essential oils. Stacks of tan handwritten papers bound together by old twine.
Like a flock of birds taking flight, it all soared and swooped, then landed on the shelves.
The musty smells of herbs and incense swirled and faded as containers reassembled and flew onto shelves. Bottles sucked up their spilled multicolored powders, and corks popped back into place. Open boxes flipped closed.
Wrinkled old maps snapped straight and plastered themselves to the walls. Stacks of books glided through the air and fluttered up into neat rows, lining up one after another. Crystals and fossils tumbled and jostled their way back into divided trays.
Papers uncrumpled. Ribbons slithered. Jars swooped.
Dru stared in awe. She knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t close it. She didn’t dare move as the contents of her destroyed shop swirled around her, like snowflakes in a just-shaken snow globe. Through it all, the deep hum of Salem’s spell thrummed through her bones.
His thin fingers kneaded the air, sending out unseen waves of magic, warming the shop with an electric tingle. His long coat billowed around him. His face lit with an unearthly glow, making his eyes shimmer white.
The whole time, Ember stood silently behind him, smirking with triumph as she watched everyone’s wide-eyed surprise.
Objects flew onto the newly restored bookcases without any rhyme or reason, as if Salem’s magic simply plucked the nearest items out of the air and shelved them at random. Apparently, although Salem’s restorative powers were incredible, organization was not his thing.
As everything flew back onto random shelves, the sharp contours of the shop emerged from underneath the vanishing mounds of debris.
In moments, the entire mess was put away, more or less. The light fixtures overhead, hanging by their wires, nestled back into place. The shattered light bulbs reassembled and flickered to life. Every surface gleamed, clean and polished.
Sparkling bits of broken glass streaked up from the floor and reassembled into cracked windows. The twisted metal frames straightened and smoothed out. With a squeal like thin ice breaking, the cracks in the glass erased, leaving the windows clean and whole again.
Insulated from the dank outside air, the shop quickly grew warm. The air pressure inside built unnaturally high, making Dru’s ears ache, as the unstoppable force of the spell reached critical mass.
All at once, the diffuse light of magic drew back, swirling around Salem like a horde of fireflies until it disappeared back into his long fingers with a sizzling whisper. He lowered his arms to his sides, now so pale and gaunt that Dru feared he would pass out again.
As he swayed, Ember stepped up behind him, steadying him before Rane could. The two women traded glar
es.
It took Salem a moment to recover. Then he shook himself free, straightened the lapels of his black trench coat and stepped closer to Rane. Everything in his posture radiated aggression. He stopped inches from her, looking up, his pale, crazy eyes locking with hers. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer.
“I am a big deal.” He bit off the words. Then he turned to go again, and almost as an afterthought, he added, “Are you?”
He locked gazes with her a moment longer, then shifted his cold look to Dru. “You and I? We’re even now. I owe you nothing.” He turned and marched out of the shop. Ember followed him, sparing only a glance at the rest of them, her dark gaze triumphant.
A shocked silence filled the newly restored shop after the door closed behind them.
“Holy Fantasia!” Dru said finally. “Did you know he could do that?” She turned in a slow circle, staring around at her packed shelves, unable to process all of the emotions she felt. Relief. Elation. Anger. Indignation. Awe.
It was all too much. She had to let it go. Accept it as another day in the incredible life of magic.
“Was he talking about us?” Opal said after a moment. “I think he was talking about all of us. Not a big deal. You believe that?”
“He’s just overcompensating.” Dru pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Honestly, I don’t even try to understand Salem anymore. I just try to save his life every once in a while and ignore his power-hungry, prickly weirdness.”
“Well, his prickly-ness needs an attitude adjustment. The man has some kind of Napoleon complex, and that’s going to be the death of him someday if he doesn’t turn it around.” Opal sighed. “Everything’s out of order, of course. Take us forever to organize it all. And when I say ‘us’ of course, what I really mean is me.”
“Well, you are especially brilliant at organizing,” Dru said. She turned to Rane.
Rane stood stock-still, fists clenched at her sides. Though she didn’t even blink, a violent tension radiated from her body.
Dru’s heart went out to her. She wasn’t sure if she should give her a hug, or a moment of breathing room. She knew full well that an inevitable outburst was on the way. Hopefully, it wouldn’t involve any collateral damage. Especially not now, the moment things in the shop were finally getting back together.
A Kiss Before Doomsday Page 5