Caught Dead

by Patricia Mason

  Jonah gave a wan smile. "Derek says he's not crying, but he's crying.”

  Long seconds of silence passed with mother and son close, but not close enough. Jonah took Belinda's hand and she squeezed his in return. In that moment, Jonah felt impossibly lucky to have the one he loved within his reach.

  Eliza glanced at their joined hands, and, after dashing away a tear, rose to her feet. She went to the desk and touched the glowing ornament containing Derek's soul. "I didn't think it was possible, but she really did it."

  "Who?" Jonah crossed to stand beside her.

  "Your grandmother." Eliza's gaze met his with eyes almost black with the intensity of emotion within. "About a year before she died, your grandmother came to me to find a solution to her problem. I couldn't cure her but I—”

  "You gave her the ritual?" Jonah's brows furrowed. Why hadn't his grandmother told him?

  "Not exactly," Eliza replied, fidgeting as if she'd suddenly become uncomfortable. "I just loaned her one of my Great-grandmother Rayna's books."

  "I thought you burned those books, Mama," Derek shouted. "You promised me."

  Of course, his mother couldn't hear him.

  Jonah didn't have time to ask Derek what upset him so because Eliza continued, "Your grandmother must have a powerful love for you to fuel that ritual, to defy death that way. Is she here now?"

  Hands jammed into his pockets, Jonah's glance fell to the ground in what he knew was a sheepish gesture. "No."

  Belinda joined them at the desk. "Go back, Mrs. Devoe. You said Jessica came to see you. What did she want?"

  "Why didn't she kill you?" Jonah asked, his head whirling with all this information. Eliza kept bombarding them with so many new shockers, he could almost suspect she was doing it deliberately to keep them off balance. But why would she do that?

  "She tried to kill me, but I held her off." Eliza returned to her seat. "Like I said before, she has a plan and it includes you, Jonah."

  "Why me?" Jonah asked.

  "You're her maker. You raised her. So you're necessary to her for what comes next."

  "Necessary how?" This conversation felt to Jonah like a square dance with him lagging two steps behind everyone else. "And what comes next?"

  “She said something about a cycle.” Before she could continue, Eliza began coughing. Her eyes rose to Jonah's, wide with distress as her hand flew to her throat.

  "Mama." Derek moved to hover at her side.

  Belinda joined her on the sofa and put an arm around Eliza. "Get her a glass of water."

  Nodding, Eliza managed croak out, "Water."

  We're never going to get any answers. Jonah immediately felt guilty at his selfish thought. The poor woman couldn't help choking.

  * * * * *

  Seeing his mother, a helpless feeling overwhelmed Derek. He couldn't do anything. While he hovered around, Belinda could at least try to sooth his mama with a combined pat and rub on her back.

  Once Jonah stepped from the room to get the water, Mama's coughing subsided a little.

  Mama cleared her throat several times. "Perhaps tea...ughh," she said, sounding as if she'd gargled gravel. "Hot liquid." Then the coughing began to take her over again.

  "Oh yes, right." Belinda nodded and sprang up to follow after where Jonah had gone a few seconds before. At the doorway to the kitchen, Belinda glanced over her shoulder. "I'll be right back."

  Mama nodded and waved her out, continuing to cough.

  But the moment Belinda's back disappeared so did Mama's cough. It cut off like a dropped cell phone call. After leaping to her feet, Eliza quickly moved the coffee table, pulled back the braided, multi-color, area rug and then took out a piece of chalk from her knapsack and an old leather-bound journal.

  Derek recognized that journal as his great-grandmother’s.

  His mother opened the journal and crouched down before drawing a circle on the hardwood floor.

  "What are you doing, Mama?" Derek knew she couldn't hear him but couldn't help the words that tumbled out. He should tell Jonah and Belinda his mother was preparing for a spell, a curse...something, but it felt disloyal.

  When his mother began to sketch out symbols within the circle—copying from a page in the journal—he searched frantically for a way to reach her. He tried moving the coffee table, but even with his strongest exertion, it wouldn't budge. Finally, he managed to ruffle a pile of magazines on a sofa side table, even toppling one to the floor.

  That stopped her.

  Eliza's head jerked up as she zeroed in on the magazines. "Is that you, Derek?"

  He ruffled the magazines again.

  She smiled but returned to drawing. "Just you hush now and let your mama work, baby boy. I know what's best."

  She finished the drawing by adding a pentagram. Then, chanting words in a language Derek didn't understand, his mother rose to her feet.

  Oh my freakin' God. I have to tell Jonah.

  But when he tried to move, Derek found his legs anchored to the floor. With his arms locked to his side, he opened his mouth to shout, but nothing emerged.

  Mama. She'd done something to stop him from sounding an alarm.

  * * * * *

  Jonah stood at the sink, filling a glass from the tap when Belinda hurried into the kitchen.

  With his back to her, the sexiness of him struck her anew. He'd be perfect for a Calvin Klein underwear ad. The fit of his black tee over muscled chest and back and the way his jeans hugged his fantastic gluteus maximus would make him big money in New York.

  Not wanting to be caught watching his butt, she pulled her eyes away from Jonah and examined the kitchen instead.

  The galley-style space spanned probably no more than seven feet by five. From the lace curtains on the window above the sink to the white linoleum flooring, it could have qualified as a display in a history museum recreation. A red Formica countertop above white cupboards, shelves mounted above the counter holding dishes, glasses, mugs and pantry items. A bulbous icebox refrigerator, with a Post-it note reminder of the need to buy ice cream, and cat food, stood next to a four-burner stove. Belinda took it all in. Overall the kitchen was neat and clean. Some would have called it shabby, but to her it seemed old fashioned, comfortable and homey, a perfect setting for Jonah.

  Sensing her presence, he glanced over his shoulder at her with an expectant look on his face.

  Crap she'd totally been distracted from why she was here. "We need to boil some water," she said to his unspoken question.

  "Why? Is someone having a baby?" Jonah's deadpan delivery made the line all the funnier.

  His joking, especially under the circumstances, showed how far he'd come out of his self-imposed prison in just a few days. This time last week there'd have been no way he would've behaved this way even with her, and Belinda couldn't have been prouder of him. She loved this new side of him.

  "No, silly," she replied with a giggle. "Eliza wants hot tea. She thinks it will soothe her throat."

  "Thank God for that. If somebody gave birth right now the kid'd probably turn out worse than Chucky." Jonah placed the glass on the counter before grabbing the teapot and placing it under the tap.

  Belinda leaned one hip against the counter. "Don't tell me you're a fan of those awful horror movies?"

  "Yeah," Jonah replied, taking a mug with a cat face from the shelf and placing a tea bag inside. "The awfuller the better, I think."

  Belinda tsked, shaking her head but then smiled. "Me too. I actually love the really terrible ones." Placing the teapot on the stove with one hand, Jonah twisted the burner knob with the other. Just that small movement made his biceps flex and her mouth went dry.

  What were they talking about? Oh yeah, horror movies. "My favorite is They Saved Hitler's Brain," she added.

  After three clicks, the gas flame ignited the burner.

  "Classic. How about Terror Vision?" he asked.

  "Love it."

  His task finished, Jonah turned back to Belinda with a grin on h
is face. "Once all this is behind us we should definitely do a cheesy horror movie marathon, Bunny.”

  "Definitely." Belinda returned his grin. “But don’t call me Bunny.”

  Their eyes met and held, their smiles slipping away. The whirring of the burner, hum of the refrigerator, and simmer of the water in the teapot filled the void of silence that hung between them for long moments.

  Finally, Jonah spoke. "Is it weird that we're talking about watching horror movies when we're living one?"

  Belinda nodded. "But good weird." She couldn't deny that she wanted a future with Jonah. A normal future where they could cuddle together on the sofa like an average couple.

  "I don't care what we do after this, as long as we're together," Jonah's said, his words perfectly matching her own thoughts.

  "Yeah," she nodded.

  Jonah paused, his eyes watching her for a moment almost as if he expected her to change her mind about him, as if she'd say: "Just kidding. I want nothing to do with you once this is done."

  "I'm really counting on getting that second date you promised me," he finally added.

  Slowly, she took a step to him and put her palm against his chest. Beneath the black tee his chest rose and fell, the beat of his heart accelerating under her hand. After running her hands up his chest she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  "I'm pretty sure we've had more than one date," she whispered. "It's like college credits. We've got experience equivalency allowing us to skip ahead a few."

  Jonah's eyebrows arched. "So we're on like the fourth date by now?"

  "At least," she said with a smile. "More like sixth."

  "No." Jonah turned away, out of her arms and shaking his head.

  Belinda's breath caught in her throat. What? Was he suddenly going back to the old Jonah? The one too afraid to take a chance on a relationship with her? She'd thought they were past that. No other boy or man had ever affected her as deeply as Jonah. She'd tried to harden herself to him...to give him up, to escape him and his strange baggage, but she couldn't. She already felt too much.

  Leaning back against the counter, his brown eyes stared at her with an intensity, such focus that her insides fluttered and clenched.

  "No," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's not a date unless there's a kiss at the end and we've only had two kisses. We can't have had six dates without six kisses."

  Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

  "Well, we can fix that pretty easily, can't we?" Belinda asked, the emotion in her throat making her voice husky. "We only need four more kisses."

  Jonah needed no other invitation, springing forward in one long step. He took her face between his palms, immobilizing her with both his hands and his gaze. He slowly leaned in and then stopped, his parted lips hovering less than an inch away from hers. Their quickened breaths mingled and became one for a second before he brushed his nose against hers, then softly, all too briefly, touched his lips to hers. But that brief touch had set off tingles from her lips to her toes.

  He released his hold on her and stepped back, a small smile lifting the edges of his lips. "One."

  His whispered word pierced her core. Belinda's knees buckled and her legs went to the consistency of oatmeal.

  Reaching out, she grasped his hand and tugged him back to her. He came willingly and she wrapped her arms around him. She wanted to touch him everywhere at once but settled for exploring his back, up to his shoulders, before tangling her fingers in his hair to urge his head back down to hers. As soon as their mouths melded, his tongue licked at the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth and his tongue slipped inside for a mind-blowing caress.

  This time she pulled back, breathing heavily. "Two."

  Jonah walked her back to the wall, pressing her there with his big body. He brought her arms over her head. She wriggled against him, trying to get closer. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

  He moaned...or was it her?

  The sounds of their breathing, moans, and whimpers mingled with the rumbling in the teapot.

  The whistle of the teapot interrupted and Jonah jumped back, releasing her.

  "Three," Belinda murmured pressing her fingers to her lips. They buzzed with energy. Her entire body churned with adrenaline and...lust.

  Jonah grabbed the teapot and switched off the burner. "To be continued," Jonah said shooting her a smile over his shoulder.

  Belinda grabbed a Post-it note off the refrigerator and when he turned back to pour the tea, she slapped the Post-it note onto his chest.

  "What's that for?" he asked.

  "Consider it a bookmark," Belinda said. "I don't want you to forget where we left off."

  "Don't worry." Jonah winked as he handed her the mug. "I couldn't possibly forget."

  * * * * *

  Continuing to chant, his mother replaced the rug over the top of the circle and moved the coffee table to its original position. After removing dried sage and a box of matches from her knapsack, she lit one end. A stream of faintly purple smoke streamed out. His mother waved the smoking bundle around the room before placing it atop a dish on the sofa table.

  Oh, Mama. You swore you'd never turn to dark magic.

  Jonah and Belinda returned, Jonah carrying a steaming mug and Belinda a water glass.

  "What's that smell?" Jonah asked, glancing first at Eliza then Derek.

  Bro, something’s not right. My Mama's doing a spell. All the words were in his mind, but he could only give Jonah a shake of his head.

  "I'm burning sage to ward off evil. I hope you don't mind," Eliza replied.

  "We can use all the help we can get," Belinda said, stepping forward to hand her glass to Eliza.

  Don't walk on that rug, Derek tried to shout, his face contorting in an effort to communicate. Sending all his energy to his right arm, Derek struggled. At first nothing moved. But just when he’d almost given up, his thumb twitched. From there the hand came loose. Eventually he pried his entire arm away from his body and lifted it to wave frantically at Jonah.

  "What's wrong with you, Derek?" As he spoke, Jonah stepped forward to place the mug on the coffee table.

  Derek focused on blasting energy to his voice and that energy shattered through the soundproof encasement that enveloped him.

  "Aghhhhhh." As if he'd finally shattered through a soundproof glass encasement, his scream burst out just as his body broke free and he shot forward. "Get off that rug. Mama is doing black magic."

  "Black magic?" Jonah asked.

  Standing stoically silent, Eliza didn't move as Jonah and Belinda attempted to step off the rug, but an invisible barrier prevented their escape.

  "What are you doing?" Belinda cried. Like a mime her hands felt for the limits of her transparent cell.

  All at once, with a crash, the cottage front door flew inward as if kicked, and Jessica—or the rotting body of Jessica Bundy—marched inside. "Mrs. Devoe is helping me.”

  "Damn." Derek edged as far away from the killer as he could.

  Still, Jessica noticed his look of horror.

  Waving a hand from head to foot, Jessica said, "Yes. I know this body is getting quite battered up and hideous. That's why I need something new. And I think Miss Belinda Cruz's body will suit me just fine."

  At Belinda's gasp, Jonah struggled to get out through the barrier and get his hands on Jessica. "You'd better not hurt Belinda."

  "Or what?" Jessica asked, placing a hand on hip, half a lip curling into a smile.

  "Or I'll destroy you," Jonah yelled.

  Jessica gave a snort as she sauntered closer. "Jonah, you couldn't protect your parents when I came for them. And you’re just as weak and impotent now as you were then."

  Reaching for Belinda, Jessica's blackened fingertips collided against the barrier.

  Eliza stepped in front of Jessica and shoved her back.

  Eyes wide, as if she couldn't believe what just happened, Jessica snarled, "What do you think
you're doing, witch? You know what I want."

  "I've trapped them here, just like you wanted. But you ain’t getting either of them until you bring back Derek like you promised."

  "Stupid woman," Jessica spat. "He'll need a body won't he? I'm going to have to free one up for him to use."

  "No, Mama," Derek shouted even though he knew she couldn't hear him. "You can't do this. Tell her Jonah."

  "Derek doesn't want you to bring him back. Not like this," Jonah said.

  "He'll change his mind when he's breathing the air, feeling the ground under his feet and when he’s—"

  "Cutting someone's throat?" Jonah demanded. "What will Derek be if you bring him back?"

  A nasty smile curved rotting lips. "What is he now?" What did you make him? A slave? A pet?"

  Jonah flinched as if her words struck a blow. "Derek's here as my friend. I wanted to protect him."

  His mother's gaze darted between Jessica and Jonah. Finally, she shook her head as if clearing it. "My God. What am I doing?"

  "Saving your son," Jessica said, casting her a glare.

  "No." Eliza backed away and dropped the journal, which landed with a thud against the area rug. "I musta been crazed. Trying to make my baby boy into some kinda undead monster just to have him back?"

  "I can put him in Jonah's body," Jessica said. "No one will ever need to know."

  Belinda's eyes went impossibly wide. "You'd kill Jonah and take his soul?"

  "That's part of the bargain," Jessica snarled.

  "No," Derek shouted. At least his mother seemed to finally be waking up, but too late?

  "I'd be damning myself...and Derek," his mother muttered.

  "You can't stop me, witch. I can just kill you and then deal with them." Jessica grabbed the water glass and smashed it against the table edge to make a jagged shiv.

  Derek could only look on as his mother rummaged inside her knapsack and whipped out a long cylinder. A flare.

  Jessica lunged at his mama. Derek flew between them, but she passed right through. The feel of putrid meat and evil essence would've made him hurl if he'd had a stomach.

  Mama batted away the glass, sending it flying to the corner of the room, but not before it sliced through her palm. Blood gushed from the wound, causing her to drop the flare.