Honeymoon of the Dead

by Tate Hallaway

  Apparently, acting like things were decided made it so. As soon as he could, Sebastian turned us toward the Mall of America.

  When I lived in the Cities I was never a huge fan of the place my friends called “the Sprawl.” But Sebastian had earlier confessed to secretly wanting to see the place that had been originally built to be the largest shopping center in the United States, so I knew it would be an easy sell. As an environmentalist, I tended to be ambivalent about the concept that bigger was better, and though I liked to shop as much as the next girl, there was something about the fluorescent lights and polished, slick surfaces of the mall that always made me bone tired after too long.

  Still, I seemed to have postponed the whole hotel disaster. I could put up with the mall for that.

  The building didn’t seem all that huge upon approach. It wasn’t any taller than four stories, and the empty, underdeveloped land all around confused my sense of proportion.

  “Is that really it?” Sebastian asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

  “Afraid so,” I agreed, as we pulled into the parking area of the mall and found a spot near the doors of the very top ramp, named after the state of Pennsylvania.

  Once inside, the volume of stores was much more apparent. We found a coat for Sebastian, a fun winter hat for me, and, miracle of miracles, something half decent to eat at the food court that fit my vegetarian diet. Only briefly did I think I saw the bulky image of a troll or some otherworldly creature staring at us from behind the cash register at Long John Silver’s.

  By the time we were back in the car headed for Courtney’s backyard full- moon ritual, Sebastian and I were smiling and laughing again.

  It was amazing what a little retail therapy could do for a body.

  Finding Courtney’s house from memory, however, proved slightly more difficult. Luckily, Seward isn’t all that big, and it hadn’t changed much in the years I’d been away. In fact, the neighborhood probably hadn’t been substantially altered in decades given the size of the cottonwoods, silver maples, and other trees on the boulevard.

  The area was largely residential. A lot of the houses were bungalows, mingled with two-story working class Victorians. The streetlights were on, casting pale yellow light on neatly shoveled sidewalks. Nearly every yard sported a campaign sign for a city council race, though there didn’t seem to be much contention, except to see which candidate was the most liberal. I even saw several Green and Socialist party supporters.

  “This was your old neighborhood, wasn’t it?” Sebastian said. The dash lights illuminated a crooked, appreciative smile.

  “You can tell, huh?”

  He nodded.

  As we turned the corner, I spotted my old apartment. The lights were on, and the shadows of people moved around inside. “Slow down,” I told Sebastian.

  He pressed the brake. “Did you spot it?”

  “Not exactly. That’s my old place,” I pointed at the brick house with the wraparound porch. “I lived downstairs.” Where there were new curtains and new tenants and no trace of anything to connect me, but I could almost still smell the basil herbs from my garden drying in bundles over the porcelain kitchen sink and hear Barney sharpening her claws on the eight-foot tall “kitty condo.”

  “Looks nice,” Sebastian said, his foot tapping the accelerator. “Any sign of this place we’re looking for?”

  I glanced behind me one last time, and wondered if old Mister Pete, the landlord, ever fixed the downspout so the basement didn’t flood every time it rained.

  We drove around the block one more time, and, this time, as we scanned the narrow spaces between the houses, I spotted the flicker of firelight. We pulled into the first open spot we found.

  Having seen my old place, I wasn’t in a hurry to get out, however. A sense of foreboding, almost like a Spidey-sense, tingled at the back of my neck. Courtney’s house looked both familiar and very different. Had she painted the trim or was it always that deep shade of purple and I had never noticed when I lived here? “Are you sure about this?” I asked.

  “I thought you wanted to go,” Sebastian said, his hand hovering over the key.

  “I do, but I haven’t seen any of these people in years.” And there was the whole scandal, but I didn’t mention that.

  Sebastian nodded, waiting. “Honestly, I’m just as happy to go back to the hotel, myself.”

  The hotel. That cinched it. I reached for the door. “Yeah, well, the ritual won’t last longer than an hour or so. I suppose it’ll be fun.” Pretty much anything would be more fun than the moment Sebastian saw the mess Lilith made of the room.

  As we made our way down the block, Sebastian grabbed my hand. “Is everything okay?”

  What to say here?

  I mean, I hated to lie, but if I’d wanted to get into this before we’d already be on our way back to Saint Paul. “Uh, well, I suppose you’ll find out if I don’t tell you,” I started.

  Before I could go on, Sebastian took me by the arm and spun me so we faced each other. His face was shadowed with concern under the streetlight, and his breath came in a white cloud, “What? What?”

  “I used to be lovers with one of the guys in Courtney’s coven. I kind of broke up his relationship with my friend Liza, and, uh, people might remember because of the whole love spell deal. Bad witch. Dark magic. I feel terrible.”

  The tension evaporated from his posture, and he gave me a vaguely quizzical look. “Oh, is that all? The way you’ve been acting I was convinced it was something much more serious.”

  You mean like the hotel? But I just shrugged. “It was a pretty big deal at the time. The coven ended up hiving off over me!”

  “Trust me, no one remembers.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I tucked my arm into his and we continued making our careful way toward Courtney’s house on slippery sidewalk.

  “Because. There’s always a new ‘it’ scandal. Most people’s memories for that sort of thing are mercifully short. If everyone remembered every inappropriate sexual encounter I ever had . . .” He shrugged. “Please. It’s yesterday’s news.”

  Now I was wondering what constituted “inappropriate” to a vampire. I resolved to ask him about it later. We’d come to the door. Courtney or one of her housemates had made an ivy wreath in the shape of a pentacle. Sprigs of mistletoe were scattered among the dark, spiky leaves.

  It was totally the sort of thing I would have done in my craftier days.

  “I hope you’re right. I hope they’ve forgotten everything.”

  The moonlight suited Sebastian, of course. Somehow the darkness glowed on his skin, and deepened the color of his hair. Such a beautiful creature of the night, my husband.

  “I could use my glamour and distract them,” he said.

  “Not necessary. They’ll like you,” I said. I rang the bell and hopped anxiously up and down on my toes. Sebastian put an arm around me to quell my nervousness. He was just kissing the top of my head, when the door swung open. It was Courtney. She squinted at me in that do-I-know-you? look, until I remembered how much I’d changed, what with the dyed-black pixie cut, Goth outfit, and purple eyes.

  “It’s Garnet,” I said, untangling myself briefly from Sebastian to point to my chest. I tried to look like the blond, natural-fiber-wearing Green witch I used to be. “Garnet Lacey.”

  Her nose wrinkled for a moment, and then she clapped her hands excitedly.

  “Garnet! Oh! I’m so happy to see you! Larkin said you might come!”

  Much about Courtney was an exclamation point. She had big auburn curls, a large smile, and a brilliant green gown. Dimples punctuated a pleasantly round face, and she had an ample, though not overly large figure.

  “This is my husband, Sebastian,” I said.

  “Oh, my, my!” Courtney nearly drooled as she scooped an arm under Sebastian’s and all but dragged him inside. “Oh, do come in, darling.”

  The door would have slammed in my face had I not caught the jamb with my toe. I rolled m
y eyes: Courtney hadn’t changed much, it seemed. Sebastian twisted in Courtney’s grip to give me a help-me glance.

  Meanwhile Courtney was busily introducing Sebastian around as if he were the returning prodigal, not me. After leaving my coat in the pile on the built- in parson’s bench, I trailed about two steps behind, mostly because the circle of friends seemed to close around them before I could squeeze in.

  Like Courtney herself, the house was cheerful and exuberantly homey. The walls were painted bold colors, deep maroons and dark gold, which were probably historically accurate as the woodwork had been painted glossy white. Eleven-foot ceilings held tulip-shaded chandeliers. Likewise, her furniture was large, overstuffed, and comfortable looking. She had a collection of witchy-related knickknacks tucked into wall alcoves and on shelves of glass-fronted built-in buffets. She had glass unicorns and statues of delicately winged fairies that held tiny magic wands. An ammonite fossil was propped next to a reproduction of the squat, lumpy form of the Venus of Willendorf.

  The house was crowded in more ways than one. People milled about, and I expended a lot of energy trying not to get jostled.

  I was also sort of grateful that my complete change in appearance made me somewhat less recognizable. A few people squinted in my direction, when Courtney gestured, but their gaze never quite landed on me, like they couldn’t discern the old me under my new look. My overtly Goth attire was catching a few disapproving stares, though, and I tugged at the lace on my shirt trying to hold back the desire to explain in a very loud voice that it was just a disguise, honest! Smoothing the cap of my short, dark locks self-consciously, I fell further behind Courtney’s procession as I avoided the press of people.

  Though there was no music, there was plenty of noise. Everyone chattered excitedly and now and again laughter would erupt from some corner.

  I felt very left out. I’d been expecting a grand reaction, and all I got was indifference and blank stares. Sebastian was right. My old crowd had moved on, forgotten me. Much like Minneapolis and its changed landscape, it made me feel disoriented and lost.

  Sebastian kept bending around, trying to find me in the crowd. I’d drifted farther away than I’d meant to, sort of hoping to see a familiar face of my own, some kind of sign that this world wasn’t completely lost to me.

  Lilith rumbled protectively.

  As though prompted by jealousy, Athena’s strength settled around my shoulders. The combination made my stomach unsettle even more, and I sat down on the edge of a sofa. Hard.

  “Well, if it isn’t Garnet Lacey. I hardly recognized you under all that tarty makeup, although I guess I should have. Showing your true colors finally, girl?”

  It was, of course, Liza. My old, good friend from whom I’d stolen Larkin. I guessed I was going to get that big reaction I’d wanted, after all.

  I wished Larkin had told me she’d be here. If I’d known, I never would have come, wrecked hotel or not. Where was that weasel Larkin, anyway? I needed to give him a piece of my mind.

  “Uh, hi, Liza,” I said, cringing as I awaited the firestorm of her fury.

  She hadn’t changed all that much in the years I’d been away. Though still quite slender, Liza was a little plumper in the hips, like maybe all the trauma of the breakup had led to a lot of late- night, desperate ice-cream pints. She’d changed her hair; it was longer now. Plus, her dark brown locks were now shoulder length with highlighted stripes of auburn and burnt gold. It was a good look on her, honestly. I wished her face wasn’t all blotchy and scrunched with anger, so I could tell her so.

  “Surprised to see me?”

  “I should never have come here,” I admitted. “I’m really sorry.”

  Liza’s grumpy expression crumbled deeper. “What? No ‘It was a long time ago,’ or ‘He was never right for you anyway, ’ or ‘Fuck you’?”

  Was that what I used to say in situations like this? I didn’t remember ever being quite such a bitch.

  Lilith stirred warmly in my belly, almost like a deep, happy sigh.

  Was that why Lilith chose me?

  “No,” I said, shaking my head violently, as if to reject the mere idea of myself as so hateful, so spiteful. “No, I’m not like that.” And then to Liza’s quizzical eyebrow arch, I added, “Anymore? Anyway, it was a long time ago, but I am still sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  She put her fists on her hips. “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you screwed up my life.”

  Maybe I should think a lot more generally before I act. Perhaps I needed a shirt that read: What Would Athena Do?

  “You’re right,” I said, stifling the urge to cower. What else could I say? Liza seemed baffled by my response and stood there staring at me like she’d just discovered me under a rock.

  “Damn straight,” she muttered, her anger seeming to dissipate.

  Twiddling my thumbs in my lap, I found myself wanting to ask after old friends or find out what was new in her life. Knowing that the happy-chatter avenue was permanently closed made me feel even more awkward about the whole situation. Staring at her was no fun.

  Though Liza blocked the most direct exit, I opted to scramble clumsily off the side of the couch in order to make my escape. “I’ve got to check in with Sebastian, make sure he’s okay. Maybe we can talk more later. Bye!”

  And then, despite the queasiness of all the human contact, I pushed my way deeper into the crowd, making my way toward the kitchen. I left Liza in my wake, her mouth moving in some response I couldn’t hear. I didn’t really want to know what more she might have to say; I just wanted to hide.

  I knew, however, I couldn’t escape for long. Now that Liza had recognized me, the word would spread through the crowd. I found the bathroom, which was surprisingly unoccupied. Stepping inside, I closed and locked the door behind me.

  Oh, this sucked.

  Most people did seem to have forgotten all the drama, but the two injured parties hadn’t, and somehow that was worse.

  Courtney’s bathroom was a riot of color. Though it was a small room, the walls were painted a soft blue and she’d stenciled happy little cartoon fish everywhere. There were fish on the shower curtain, fish-shaped toothbrush holders, and a night-light in the shape of an angler fish whose bulb glowed when you turned the light off.

  I sat down on the fuzzy, yellow toilet-seat cover, and stared blankly at the pink yarn rug with . . . yes, more fish. I couldn’t help but smile a little at it all, even as I continued to fret. When I saw Larkin again, I was really going to give him a piece of my mind for setting me up like this, especially since, as far as I could tell, he hadn’t bothered to show. It had been kind of shocking, though, to hear what Liza thought I’d say when I saw her. Had I really been that mean and unthinking when I lived here?

  My own image of my past self had more to do with natural fibers and living simply, than with all these scandals and dramas. But when I really considered who I used to be, there was always Parrish . . . and Larkin . . . and I could easily think of a dozen or more other dubious choices that had brought chaos swirling into my life.

  Maybe Sebastian was right. Perhaps there was something about me that engendered this particular kind of crisis. I mean, there was that time I accidentally conjured a djinn and it took the coven two months to track it down and send it back to the other side. Oh yeah, and those faeries I thought would be so cute? Turns out Irish Tuatha de Dannan are actually Gods and not something to be trifled with. Who knew?

  Is it really any wonder that when I called for help, it was answered by a Goddess known for death and destruction?

  Lilith warmed my skin with a soft tingle, as though She were saying, “There, there.”

  I ignored Her. How could I be so wrong about who I thought I was? I always thought I was more of a do-no-harm sort, and it turns out I’d been blithely causing damage at every turn!

  With my hands clasped between my knees, I hung my head. Lilith didn’t help. She was always making thin
gs worse, drawing bigger, nastier consequences to my innate stupidity.

  I frowned thoughtfully at the Finding Nemo toothbrush holder. In my mind’s eye, I saw an image of Athena: upright, steady, and calm. I felt myself standing up, as though ready to rise to any challenge.

  Yeah, this is more like it, I thought, stopping for a moment to encourage the pathetic-looking woman in the mirror. You can be who you want to be, I told myself that classic affirmation. The past is gone. The future is ahead.

  With those brave words and the sense of Athena striding boldly alongside me, I went back into the party in search of Sebastian.

  Though I was ready for a battle, everyone seemed to be heading outside for the ritual. I grabbed my coat from the quickly dwindling pile in the front hall and I made my way through the kitchen and followed the flow of the crowd into the backyard. Even in the dead of winter, you could tell that Courtney had an enviable garden. The back door led to a cedar-plank patio. A path to the stairs had been shoveled. On either side of the steps, dozens of solar lamps in the shape of dragonflies cast a soft, purple glow on snow-covered strands of ornamental grasses. Along the edges of her property were artistic, nonlinear mounds of what were probably bushes or hedgerows. Here and there seed heads of some kind or other poked through the deep snow. Snow clung to the curves of a concrete statue of the Nile goddess, her crescent-shaped arms raised in a circle over her slender, serpentine head.

  We followed a paving stone path someone had brushed clean. A fire had been started in a simple stone pit on the far end of the lot under the wide branches of a huge, gnarled red oak. Sebastian waved frantically at the spot next to him. I scurried to join him.

  “I thought I’d lost you for sure,” he said, tucking an arm around me.

  “No chance of that,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. Courtney, who was standing on Sebastian’s other side, gave me a jealous, yet mischievous smile.