Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between

by J. A. Saare

  “They are quite the pair.” Goose words echoed my own thoughts.

  “If we can’t have it ourselves, at least we can live vicariously through them,” I yelled back, grinning.

  Within minutes, the crowd thickened. Every square inch of the room was covered. I glanced at the mirrors above the dance floor.

  “Do you see Adrian and Nala?” I leaned closer to Ethan so we could hear one another.

  “They were on the floor, but I don’t see them now,” he hollered. “No wait, here they come!”

  I scanned the crowd and located an angry Adrian pushing his way to the bar with Nala close behind him. I laughed and turned to Goose, but the smile evaporated when I found a scowling Evan in his place.

  Evan grabbed my arm and pulled me off the stool. “The reprieve is over.”

  Goose stood, coming to my defense. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

  “Piss off.” Evan pushed him into the wall and yanked on my arm again. A warm haze of outrage spread through me, and I lost my shit.

  I’d had enough of this asshole.

  I lurched back with all my strength, pulling him up short. Lifting my right foot, I brought my weight down on my heel and planted it into his toes below. Grasping his arm tightly, I drove my left knee into his groin. If he’d been a human male, it would have left him cockeyed for days. I guessed the family jewels were either non-existent or just plain vampire durable.

  He snarled and wrapped his fingers around my throat. I gasped as he applied enough pressure to cut off my airway. I rifled in my pocket for my butterfly knife, fluttered it open effortlessly, and flipped the heavy handle in my grip. I knew they healed quickly, so I chose a decent location. I plunged the blade into his neck between his shoulder and collarbone.

  He cursed and let go of my throat. Grasping the handle, he pulled the blade free. Blood poured down his skin and into his shirt in a dark red current, and then trickled as the wound closed.

  I straightened, gasping and heaving. I was fucked. I was out of weapons, and num-nuts was back for round three.

  “You’re going to regret that in about three seconds.” Adrian’s voice came from behind as Nala’s hands gently enveloped my arms.

  Paine appeared out of the bodies, obsidian eyes furious. His hand shot out in a movement too fast for my eyes to see and Evan dropped to the floor. Nala pulled me out of the way as his face connected with the floor with a resounding thud.

  “I told you to stay with her,” Paine snapped at Adrian and Nala. He walked over and pushed my hands away from my neck. Peering down at my throat, his fingers gently explored my sore skin.

  Adrian stared at Paine with a baffled expression. “I checked ahead. She was in the clear until the floor overflowed and I saw him coming. It’s not my fault you have so many people in this shit hole.”

  I slapped Paine’s hands away, and he narrowed those dark eyes at me. “I don’t know if any of you noticed, but I had his ass.”

  Retrieving my knife, I wiped the blade on Evan’s shirt before flicking it closed and sliding it into my pocket. I didn’t like the uneven playing field. Being small and female was bad enough. Adding another physical handicap, like inferior strength, sucked.

  “You three can get rid of him.” Paine pointed at Evan and held out his hand. “Come with me, Rhiannon.”

  Goose, Adrian and Nala appeared shell shocked, but recovered quickly. Adrian grasped Evan by the arm and dragged him across the floor. I eyed Paine warily, but did as he asked, sliding my hand into his.

  He took me back to the hallway, past the restrooms, and released my hand to unlock the door to the back area. He pulled the door open and motioned me inside, locking the door behind us.

  He leaned against the wall across from me. His dark hair fell around his face, but didn’t obscure his ebony eyes from view. His black shirt hung loose around his pants, the top buttons undone, exposing a portion of his chest and throat. His skin glistened, pale and luminous.

  He looked as alluring as he did lethal; a dangerous combination.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked after a lengthy silence.

  He answered by stepping forward, large hands grasping my face, eyes focused.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelped and struggled to get free.

  “I can’t see your future.” His black stare locked with mine, filling me with trepidation. “I can see your past, and I can see your future through the eyes of others, but I can’t see it from you.”

  I stopped thrashing, the meaning of his words sinking in. “You can’t?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t touched anyone in over one-hundred and forty-years without seeing how they die or what tragedies will touch their lives. But you… you’re totally blank.”

  “You’ve seen me through the eyes of others? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He dropped his hands and stepped away. “I can’t answer that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not beneficial to know anything about the future, especially events that you would be tempted to change.” He leaned against the wall, watching me.

  “But you can save the lives of the people you care about. Isn’t that worth something?”

  “Every action, every choice we make, has an impact on the future. There is such a thing as free will, but there is also fate, and the two do intersect.” His tone changed, the chilling tenor creeping up my spine. “If someone cheats death, then everyone in their life will be affected by the ripple that follows it. Every decision by a dead man becomes a new form of the future, with different outcomes and tragedies. Most of the time, those you care for will suffer because they are in the path you’ve created that was never intended to exist. So no, it’s not worth something. All I can do is shoulder the truth alone. I can’t intervene, no matter who the person is, no matter how much I want to.”

  Now, I knew why he was so detached. Hell, I would be too.

  I murmured lamely, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m only telling you this because”—he paused—”I want you to understand that I’m not a magic eight ball. I can’t deviate from the given course.”

  “Well shit.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Does this mean I can’t shake you to find out if I can expect to make it home before the sun comes up?”

  He smiled, chuckled softly, and his cold eyes warmed. The change was baffling and took me by surprise.

  “Ask again later.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Disco and Joseph came to the agreement that from this point forward it was a combined effort. That meant Rainbow Brite, Goose and I, had to get together for a play date. Since I’d broken rule number one of happy fun-time etiquette—thou shall not hit—I didn’t think it was going to be a fun day, but we’d see.

  I was willing to forgive her dumb ass for attempting to pull one over on us if she wasn’t holding a grudge about the power drive to the chin.

  I hopped off the seven at Bryant Park and walked over to 5th Avenue. Most people ventured to the New York Public Library to get their reading fix, but there was always one group of tourists who had to see where Ghostbusters was filmed. Screw history, they wanted movie magic, damn it! I once saw an overzealous fan straddle the lion statue only to fall off into the barrier along the side. I almost felt sorry for her, but let’s face it—no one forced her to be a moron.

  The library was beautiful, quiet, and unlike the movie depicted, the ghosts in residence left you alone. Most of them walked along the rows of desks, completely content in their own little universe. One in particular always roamed around the McGraw rotunda, fixated on the Moses mural. I dubbed her Zippo after Moses’s wife, Zipporah. I hoped I didn’t burn in hell for the discrepancy.

  I arrived early, too anxious from the previous night to sleep or sit still. Paine was surprisingly easy to talk to, and seemed excited at the prospect of having someone nearby that wasn’t susceptible to his ability, but I didn’t have the opportunity to heckle him with more questions. Disco and Jose
ph called everyone back upstairs within minutes to lay out the master plan.

  The blood supply was to be diverted through Dexter, and he wasn’t happy about it.

  In the meantime, Lorence, Chris, and Marcus couldn’t deal anymore until they got the go ahead, unless they wanted to become chew toys. They also couldn’t leave town, forced to wait and offer any help we felt necessary.

  Sonja, Goose, and I were to pool our resources, and hopefully, stir up some ghost juju. The hope was we could make contact or unearth new information before the heart snatchers chose to move on.

  The people seated at the tables were scattered about—most with books and pencils—scribbling notes and ideas for new inventions that would make them millions. I placed my elbows on the desk and braced my chin on my palms, daydreaming of what life might have been.

  A camouflage satchel barreled in front of me, stopping just inches from my arms. I pulled back and looked up in surprise.

  Sonja looked completely normal. Sure, her hair was in a vast assortment of the rainbow, but it didn’t look too bad cascading with the long blonde strands over her shoulders. Her beautiful light blue eyes shone through her thick, dark-rimmed glasses. No wonder the contacts from the night before were so vivid, there was barely any pigmentation behind them.

  She was dressed down in faded blue jeans, a navy blue sweatshirt tied neatly around her waist. Her simple grey fitted T-shirt had NYU across the chest in a coordinating navy color.

  The only thing that gave away her nightly activities was the mark on her throat.

  “You’ll catch bugs with your mouth hanging open like that,” she informed me haughtily, hands on her hips. Her fingers nails were painted perfectly; in bubblegum pink no less.

  “Touché.” I nodded my head in admiration, daintily closing my mouth. A girl after my own smartass heart. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. I looked her up and down one more time, motioning at her pep rally best. “I take it Mommy and Daddy don’t know their little girl moonlights in leather with vampires after dark?”

  “My parents are dead, if you must know.” She pulled out a chair, eased onto it, and tossed those multicolored strands over her shoulders. I was tempted to ask how in the hell you’d get a dye job like that. Was it even real hair? “Do yours know about your nasty penchant for violence?”

  “I’d imagine they do, if that business about looking down from heaven holds any water.” I returned her smile, rubbing my knuckles under my jaw. “How’s the chin?”

  She glared at me through the dark frames. “Fine, no thanks to you.”

  “I’m just trying to be polite,” I said, unable to suppress a grin. I was trying to be polite, but also maintain my dark sense of humor.

  “No, you’re not,” she hissed, drawing a quiet reprimand from a person two rows over. She crossed her arms over her chest and fumed in silence.

  Our play date wasn’t going well, and I did promise Disco I would be on my best behavior. I leaned over to whisper, “Of course I am.” I pointed at the NYU shirt and tried to start a lukewarm conversation. “What are you going to school for?”

  “Archaeological Anthropology.” Her eyes flittered up and down my torso, accessing me. “What about you? Do you attend college?”

  I had taken classes when I arrived four years ago, but it didn’t last. Not after I fell into the pitfalls of rent, utilities, and food. Somehow, I didn’t think imparting the knowledge I’d maintained a 3.9 GPA during that time would impress her all that much.

  “I graduated from Dilligan’s in the Bronx with a degree in bartending. I work over at the Black Panther now.”

  Her nose crinkled and her lips pursed together. Barbie didn’t know whether to run for the nearest shower, stick around and hope for the best, or haul ass out the door and tell Joseph ‘fuck it’. I could sympathize. If she pulled out rollers and fingernail polish, I was liable to upchuck all over the polished wood floors. We were hardly the yin to each other’s yang. Sometimes you just have to see the bright side of the situation. In this case, we both knew the sooner we got the job done, the sooner we could bid each other a not so fond farewell.

  “How… ambitious.”

  I shrugged, refusing to take the bait, and sat back in my chair, waiting for the Goose to arrive. He and Ms. NYU would fit together like peas and carrots.

  We didn’t wait long. Goose came into the room calm and relaxed, a navy satchel slung across his chest. I felt out of place. All the cool kids had nifty bags, and all I brought were my pockets.

  “I hope I’m not late.” He slid into the seat next to me.

  “Nope.” I offered a smile.

  Sonja didn’t comment, reaching across the table and pulling her bag into her lap like a sullen teenager. Goose had plenty of experience dealing with this sort of behavior recently, so if he noticed, it didn’t bother him.

  He sorted through his bag for a heavy tome and placed it on the table. “I’ve been thinking. Why is it we haven’t been able to communicate or locate the spirits of any of the twice-dead through our own natural outlets, or by ritual? Why has it only been by chance?”

  I frowned and answered, “I assumed it was because the spirits had passed over.”

  “That’s what I thought too. It would account for the reason we haven’t seen any other souls besides Baxter and Jacob. But what if it’s because their souls were exorcised, forced over to the next plane so that no one would have the opportunity to seek them after?” He flipped through the pages until he found the underlined passage he sought. “It isn’t uncommon after we raise the dead to order them permanently to rest. Of course, that is invoking necromancy to the fullest extent of the word, not the sciomancy we are more prone to use.”

  “I don’t see a spell.” I whispered back, glancing over what appeared to be one of his personal journals. His handwriting was more difficult to read this time.

  “That’s just it,” he said. “There isn’t one. When we reanimate a body, it requires oils, blood, incantation, and a circle to return a form to life. Ordering the spirit on to the next plane would require someone aligned with the church. Someone ordained to exorcise spirits.”

  “It would make sense.” Sonja joined in the conversation, sounding excited. “That would keep whoever is doing this hidden.”

  “You think a priest is killing vampires?” My voice rose in alarm, and I got the dreaded ‘shh’. I cringed in apology, lifting my finger to my mouth in embarrassment.

  “It would also explain access to unlimited holy relics. Someone could bless enough rope or silver to contain several victims at once,” Goose explained in a rush.

  Sonja cast a glance around the room. “With that kind of power, there is no limit to what someone could do.”

  “Explain this one to me,” I began. “Who can trap a vampire? Holy relics, demonic priests, and logic aside. How would someone lure one in? Think about it. After the first few vanished, vampires got wise. There wouldn’t be easy targets anymore.”

  “So far, they only share one connection, and that’s donating to the blood market,” Goose said.

  “No. They also share the”—I crooked my index fingers into bunny ears for emphasis—”big connection. As in, they suck blood full time for a living.”

  “I don’t see your point.” Goose stared at me dumbly, and I rolled my eyes.

  “And you’re supposed to be smarter than I am?” I sighed. “You told me that some necromancers have the power to control the dead, right? Why haven’t we considered the possibility that vampires are easy to target because they are, you know—dead. Why haven’t we accounted for the fact that maybe one of us is lending a hand here?”

  “If that’s true, the ramifications could be devastating.” Alarm crossed Sonja’s delicate features. “The only vampires that would conceivably be immune would be masters with familiars, and that’s not a guarantee.”

  I looked from one to the other. “Why would they be immune?”

  “You really should read a book sometime,” Sonja
snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” I snipped back, keeping my voice muffled, “The local Barnes and Noble is all out of Necromancy for Dummies, but I’ll be sure to stop by this afternoon and see if they’re back in stock.”

  Sonja leveled a stare at me. “It’s because they are tied to the living through us, just as we are connected to the dead through them. They can’t be lured or controlled by something with power over the dead if there is a spark of the living inside them. Still, a necromancer that powerful is a danger to all of us, especially if they are unmarked and unmonitored.”

  “I need to call Sharon,” Goose said. “If we can pin down the name of someone that left L.A. around the same those murders went down, then we might get lucky.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked half-jokingly. “Call up for a list of the necro-trekkies in the area?”

  “Actually, yes, I am.” He glared at me and I writhed in my seat. I hated that look. It sent me back twenty-years, to Mrs. Adams first grade class. It was the first evil look of my existence, and the most indelible.

  I glanced around the library and asked, “And what do we do in the meantime?”

  We could always ingest a bundle of knowledge while we waited. Actually, the walking encyclopedias didn’t need to beef up their ghoulish knowledge. That hardship would fall directly upon me.

  “We make emplacement charms.” Sonja sorted through her bag. “I brought all the necessary items. We just need to find a place to invoke them.”

  Goose pushed his chair away from the table and rose. “We can go to the park.”

  He led us out of the library, past the ropes, and out the door. He hooked a left at the base of the stairs, walking to Bryant Park from 42nd Street. The streets weren’t crowded, and when we entered the cover of trees, we easily found an empty table. The weather was amazing, a nice brisk seventy-degrees and sunny.