A Kiss Before Doomsday

by Laurence MacNaughton

  “Freaky.” Rane nudged the clay-caked thing with her metal toe. “So what’s the big mystery?”

  “Well, I’ve read that a large enough glob of undead scourge can wrap itself in sort of a web cocoon, and lie in wait indefinitely. Like, thousands of years. You find that a lot in ancient tombs. But I’ve never heard of webbing around an actual undead creature. That’s just weird.”

  Opal took off her ruined platform mules and sighed at Dru with mournful eyes. “These shoes were only a day old. It’s a tragedy.”

  “At least they went out like heroes,” Dru said.

  Opal brushed handfuls of clay off her purple silk shirt and glared at Dru. “Told you everything was gonna go bananas. I knew it.”

  Dru took her by the dusty shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’ll get it all dry-cleaned for you. And I’m really sorry that I got you into this.”

  Opal glanced away for a moment, and when she met Dru’s gaze again, Dru knew that she was forgiven. Mostly. “I know this is what I signed up for. Just freaky, is all.”

  “I know. Sorry.” Dru chewed on her lower lip, not liking what she had to say next. But there wasn’t any choice. “Here’s the bad news. There’s probably a connection between Greyson’s disappearance and this creature. I don’t know why it was here lurking at his place, and I don’t know if this is the same creature that attacked Salem. But there could be more of them. I can’t ask you to go any deeper into this.”

  “But you know I will.” Opal hugged her, sending up a cloud of dust. “I’m always there for you.”

  Dru nodded, glad that they were all alive and unhurt.

  Rane rolled her eyes back and jabbed a finger at her own gaping mouth, making a gagging motion. “When you two are done having a Hallmark moment, we’ve got to figure out what to do with Mr. Bony here.” She nodded her silver chin at the undead creature.

  It still lay on the garage floor, covered in clay, arms pointed at the ceiling.

  “Won’t it just turn to dust?” Opal asked hopefully.

  They all waited. Eventually, Rane nudged it with her toe again. Nothing happened.

  “Nope,” Rane said, and turned human again with a sound like metal scraping across concrete.

  Dru thought that one day she would get used to Rane’s transformation from a shining metal statue back into a six-foot-tall blonde bodybuilder in pink shorts. But somehow, it was always startling.

  “Well, we can’t just leave this thing lying here,” Dru said. “It’s too dangerous. Not to mention weird. What do you usually do in a situation like this?”

  Rane shrugged. “Just dig a hole and bury it.” She poked around the clay-blasted garage. “Greyson’s got to have a shovel in here somewhere.”

  “Just hold on a sec. Considering that the scourge is currently soaked into the clay, you don’t want to get that wet. If you bury it, and it rains again, maybe the scourge could escape. I don’t know for sure, but we can’t afford to take the chance.” Dru’s mind raced. “I can’t think of any spells that would work in this particular situation, though. On a living person, yes, but not this thing.”

  “Know any chemicals we could use?” Opal asked. “Anything that would react with the clay and turn it into concrete?”

  “Or maybe some kind of acid to dissolve it,” Dru said.

  “Ooh!” Rane’s face lit up. “Let’s have a bonfire!”

  Dru winced. “Under no circumstances. No.”

  “Let Salem have it,” Opal said. “He’s the one who took the scourge biohazard bag from us anyway. He wants it so bad, let him deal with it.”

  “But what worries me is why he wants it,” Dru said. “What’s he up to?”

  “Let’s totally give it to Salem.” Rane pantomimed ringing a doorbell. “Ding-dong. Zombie delivery. Where do you want this? Oh, right here in the kitchen.”

  Opal made a disgusted face. “That’s just not right.”

  “True,” Rane said. “But at the same time, it’s awesome.”

  “You would say that. Come on, it’s going to get dark soon. Let’s just call it a day and go home. We can tell Salem where he can come find this thing.”

  “No, no, let’s drive it over there right now.” Rane’s features lit with a wicked smile. “I need to see his face when we bring Mr. Bony to his doorstep.”

  “What, in my car?” Opal’s voice went shrill. “Nuh-uh. You are not putting that thing in the back of my Lincoln.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll wrap it in plastic first, so it won’t mess up your precious disco-tastic shag carpet.”

  “It’s not my carpet I’m worried about, honey. It’s the idea of putting a freaky-ass evil, web-shooting zombie in the trunk of my car! Okay? People just don’t do things like that.”

  “Speak for yourself. I do this kind of crap all the time.” Rane crossed the garage and pulled a folded blue tarp off a shelf. “Trust me.”

  Opal turned to Dru, her expression pleading. “Are you going to talk some sense into that girl, or what? No zombies in my trunk. That’s a new rule.”

  “That is a good rule.” Dru nodded, thinking.

  “What about Ruiz?” Opal asked. “Ruiz has got a van. Let’s call him.”

  Rane gave a noncommittal grunt. “Too many cooks in this kitchen already.”

  Dru drummed her fingers. Why did Salem have such an unhealthy interest in the scourge? Was this the same creature that had attacked him? Were there more of these creatures roaming around the city?

  He had said something about the fifth seal. About the dead rising.

  “Guys, this is big,” Dru said, goose bumps running up her arms. “Salem has been studying all this doomsday stuff for a long time. He probably knows more about the apocalypse scroll than we do. If the dead start to rise all around the world, if hordes of these things start filling the streets, can you imagine? It could mean mass destruction. The end of everything.”

  “Doomsday,” Opal said quietly. The word seemed to fill the garage.

  Dru circled around the creature. It lay with its frozen arms raised as if reaching for the ceiling. “We need to find Greyson, break his curse, and stop doomsday.”

  As she talked, Rane wandered around the garage. “Well, lookie here.” She bent down and picked something up from a dark corner, then brought it back to them, holding it high like a trophy. “Guess who’s been doing extra credit homework?”

  Rane held a black silk top hat, now half covered in clay dust. Just like the one Salem always wore. Until today, when he showed up at the Crystal Connection without it, his shirt slashed open by the scourge-ridden claws of an undead creature. It had to be Salem’s hat.

  It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. Salem definitely knew something he wasn’t telling, and whatever it was couldn’t be good.

  Opal folded her arms. “Huh. Looks like our man Salem was here after all. How about that?”

  “Apparently.” Ignoring the horrible sinking feeling inside her, Dru pursed her lips and made a decision. “For now, let’s leave the creature here—”

  “Oh, man.” Rane kicked a clump of clay.

  “—and let’s go home and get cleaned up. It’s getting late. In the morning, we can go ask Salem some truly uncomfortable questions.”

  Opal seemed skeptical. “How uncomfortable, exactly?”

  Dru chewed it over. “You’re going to want to wear your kick-ass shoes.”

  Opal lifted her clay-crusted eyebrows. “Dru, honey. All my shoes are kick-ass.”

  9

  THE WAY IT NEVER WAS

  Opal wasn’t kidding about the kick-ass shoes, either. She showed up at the Crystal Connection the next morning wearing plush wedge sandals the exact color and sheen of perfectly ripe peaches. She had an amazing velvet skirt to match, which shimmered as she walked by. “Huh. Where’s Rane?”

  “Not here yet. I assume she stopped to get some food,” Dru said absently, rearranging the merchandise on the shelves. Salem’s spell had picked up everything, but it was completely disorganized. On
the nearest shelf, behind a cluster of candles, statues, and jars of powdered herbs, lay a pair of dead moths. Apparently, Salem’s spell had gathered up the dead insects, too.

  Anxious about the impeding confrontation with Salem, Dru went into shopkeeping overdrive. She got out her feather duster and worked it toward the back of the shelf, trying to sweep out the dead moths. Preferably without knocking any fragile statues or glass jars to the hard floor.

  The bell on the front door jingled as someone came in. Inwardly, Dru groaned with frustration. Now was not a good time for customers. She couldn’t see anything over the tall shelves, but she could clearly hear the sharp tapping of Opal’s fashionable sandals as she came back up front to greet their visitor.

  A man’s deep voice said, “Does Drusy work here?”

  “Drusy?” Opal repeated, sounding amused. The air reverberated with her musical laughter. “All right. I’m here to tell you, that’s a brand-new one on me. Drusy, really?”

  At the sound of her name—her real name—Dru felt her cheeks flush.

  Whoever was up there, he was certainly from somewhere deep in her past, where right now she would prefer he remained. She was already terrified enough about the present and the future. She couldn’t handle dealing with any uncomfortable history on top of all that.

  She set down the feather duster and considered an escape route, but she wasn’t quick enough. With slow footsteps, Opal appeared at the end of the aisle, eyebrows quirked up. “Drusy?” she said pointedly.

  “Fine, whatever.” Face burning with embarrassment, Dru brushed dust off her clothes as she passed Opal. “Just don’t ask, okay?”

  Opal’s face bunched up with suppressed laughter until she was ready to burst. “No, that’s fine. Doesn’t matter to me.” Then she added, “Just so cute. Drusy.”

  Dru shot her a warning look that was entirely wasted.

  Waiting at the front counter was a tall, lean man in an expensive-looking shirt and black designer jeans. His messy ash-blond hair and slender sideburns didn’t look at all familiar, but his magnetic gaze zeroed in on her instantly, as if he had always known her.

  The angles in his face softened, and his thick eyebrows flashed up for a moment in recognition. “Drusy. Hey, darling.” His baritone voice resonated through the shop, making him seem even taller than he already was.

  No matter how hard she tried, Dru couldn’t place him. When he opened his long arms for a hug, she intercepted him with a quick handshake. “Hey . . . you! I’m sorry. This is a bad time. We’re just about to have a . . . meeting.”

  “Meeting?” He held her hand tight. His grip was strong, but cold, and his cologne hinted at deep pine forests. “Titus,” he said, releasing her. “That’s all right. It’s been a while.”

  A bolt of recognition hit her. “Holy Hasselhoff, yeah. Titus! Wow. It’s been, jeez, ten years?”

  “Eight,” Titus corrected her. “Almost.”

  “You look . . .” She didn’t know what to say. He had completely changed. The Titus she remembered had been troubled and withdrawn, shy and depressed. He had rarely peeked out from beneath his tattered hoodie.

  In contrast, the man standing before her seemed happy, eminently confident, and completely at ease. And he’d obviously been working out.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” she lied, wondering why she didn’t just tell him he looked great.

  And then she remembered that it was best not to encourage Titus.

  His gaze roamed up and down Dru, and he smiled as if he’d just been handed a tall piece of cake.

  Trying to hold off the tidal wave of awkwardness that was doubtless headed their way, Dru pivoted to Opal, who slid onto her stool behind the cash register. “Titus was one of my first customers.”

  “The very first, I believe,” Titus added, not taking his gaze off Dru. “And a good friend, I hope.”

  Which, for some reason, just made Dru feel guilty. Because to her, he’d just been a good customer. They’d chatted a bit sometimes, maybe had a couple of drinks, but that was it. No matter how openly he had admired her, she had refused to cross that line with a customer.

  “You’ve come quite a long way from selling crystals out of your apartment,” Titus said. “This place looks truly amazing.”

  “Thank you.” Dru avoided his gaze at first, then risked a glance up. He was checking out the shop, looking genuinely impressed. But there was something else in his gaze, something intentional. It wasn’t just idle curiosity. He seemed to be searching for something in particular.

  “So . . .” Opal examined her newly painted cotton candy–pink nails. “Drusy, hmm? Haven’t heard that one before.” Only then did she give Dru a slyly amused look.

  Dru sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid this now. At Titus’s puzzled look, she explained. “It’s just Dru these days. But yes, my given name is actually Drusy Jasper. Named after a rock, which comes as a surprise to exactly no one. Anyway, jasper, when it’s covered with a layer of fine quartz crystals, it’s called drusy jasper. It sparkles.”

  “Aww,” Opal said, smiling broadly. “So sweet.”

  “And quite beautiful,” Titus said.

  Dru cleared her throat. “And also proof that my mom was always a complete weirdo.”

  “How is your mom, by the way?” Titus asked, hitting on a subject that Dru truly, desperately didn’t want to talk about. “I remember, you were having . . .” Whatever he was about to say, thankfully he changed his mind. “How is she?”

  “No idea.” Dru shrugged, trying to pretend she didn’t care. “Haven’t heard from her since she met Blaine the yacht captain and sailed off aboard the USS Midlife Crisis.”

  Titus’s thick eyebrows drew together in disapproval. “That is a truly unfortunate name for a boat.”

  “My first thought, too.” Dru chewed on her lip, trying to decide how to handle this. It wasn’t as if anything serious had ever happened between them. But still, the way he looked at her now, there was clearly something he wanted to say, and she was absolutely certain it was something better off left unsaid.

  The phone rang twice before she realized just how close she was standing to Titus, and how strangely familiar that felt. And how intently Opal kept watching the two of them.

  Dru glanced pointedly at the phone. Then, when Opal didn’t take the hint, she head-tilted toward it. On the next ring, she finally pointed.

  Without taking her eyes off Dru, Opal picked up the phone. “Thanks for calling the Crystal Connection, where we make all kinds of connections. How may I help you? Oh, hola.” She put one hand over the mouthpiece and said in a stage whisper, “I’ll just be over there.” She slid off her stool and wandered down one of the aisles, smiling into the phone.

  Dru quickly came around the cash register to take her place, putting the counter between her and Titus. His very presence seemed to radiate an intensity that rattled her, and even having a few more feet between them made her feel more in control.

  She covered her nervousness by pulling her bottle of water out from under the counter. “So. Gosh, it’s been so many years. What brings you in today?” She took a sip.

  Titus settled one sinewy arm on the counter and leaned a little closer. His dark eyes bored into hers. “The seven Harbingers.”

  Dru choked on her water. Coughing, she turned away, her mind racing. Something about the way he said their name gave her the heebie-jeebies.

  “Just a sec,” she croaked, holding up one finger. She bent down under the counter to grab a tissue, and at the same time she palmed her trusty dagger-shaped wedge of spectrolite. The sharp-edged crystal with a rainbowlike shimmer was the best all-purpose defense she had against dark magic.

  Not that she believed that Titus had somehow turned evil. But these days, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  She casually slipped the spectrolite into her back pocket and stood up, blowing her nose. “Sorry about that. Went down the wrong way.”

  Across the shop, Opal wandered from one aisl
e to the next, still on the phone. The click of her heels and the murmur of her voice was soothing. Opal giggled.

  Titus looked apologetic. “Didn’t mean to shock you. But lately there has been so much talk about the Harbingers, especially considering all of these troubling signs around us. The incessant clouds. The strange air. The meteor showers.” He seemed to study her, as if looking for any sign of recognition.

  The way he stared at her made her unwilling to trust him. She couldn’t put her finger exactly on why. Yet at the same time, his sheer presence was impossible to ignore, and a small part of her wanted to give in to that, to tell him everything.

  She resisted that urge and did her best to keep her face neutral, but she knew she was a terrible liar. Instead, she hedged. “When you say ‘talk’ about the Harbingers, who’s talking?”

  His face showed surprise. “Other sorcerers. People in the know.”

  She affected a shrug. “So, just rumors. Nobody knows anything for sure. Could be total hooey. Right?” She hated the way her voice rose when she was nervous. “So, okay, let’s back up a sec. Back when you first came to me, all those years ago, you were actually trying to get rid of your powers.”

  His smile had a wolfish hint to it. “You were always so good to me. I’ve never forgotten that.”

  “Well. Thanks. But here’s the thing.” She had to be as honest with him as possible, because when it came to magical problems, honesty was crucial. But she could sense an incredible tension within him, and that told her to be careful. “You can correct me if I’m wrong, but if I recall, you used to be kind of miserable with the whole concept of magic. You actually hated the idea of having powers. I’ve never met anyone else like that. Still, to this day.”

  He watched her intently, without saying a word.

  She took that as tacit approval to go on. “Most people, when they’re born with powers, they do everything they can to develop them, make them stronger. Personally, I wasn’t born with much. Opal doesn’t have any. But I always knew that you have some unbelievable magical potential within you. Here, I can tell you right now—” She reached across the counter for her ulexite crystal, intending to look at his aura, but his large hand caught hers.