Honeymoon of the Dead

by Tate Hallaway

  He laughed in surprise. “Of course, the philosopher’s stone. Distilling it is my life’s work. What made you think of it?”

  “Something Apollo told me.”

  Sebastian opened his mouth, but then stopped. He frowned. “I’m sorry, did you say Apollo?”

  I bit my lip. I hadn’t meant to, since I’d planned to keep Sebastian far out of all this vision mess. “Uh, the doctors said I might say random things—you know, uh, kind of free-associate and stuff.”

  Sebastian shot me a skeptical look like he really wasn’t comfortable with that idea, even if it were true, which it clearly wasn’t. As lamely as I’d lied, I could hardly blame him. “They told me that sort of change was a bad sign,” he noted, standing up. “I’ll get the nurse.”

  “No, wait,” I said, grabbing for his arm and catching it. “I didn’t want to tell you. Thing is, I had another vision. Actually,” I let out an exasperated, pained sigh. “I’ve been having a lot of them.”

  Sebastian sat back down, his hand still holding mine. The eyes that searched my face were fraught with concern. “Why wouldn’t you tell me a thing like that?”

  I put my knuckles on my lip, as though I could hold back what I was about to say. “I didn’t want to worry you?”

  He lowered his head to the bed and began to bang it softly against the railing. When he was done, he looked up at me and said simply, “You make me crazy.”

  Yeah, see, that was the other reason I hadn’t wanted to tell him. Scratching my chin, I said, “Well, there’s some good news about my visions.”

  “There’s good news?” Sebastian peered up from his awkward facedown position near my elbow. He sat up slowly. “Pray tell, what is it?”

  “I might not know why I’m having them, but I think I know what they are,” I said. Seeing Sebastian’s encouraging expression, I continued hurriedly. “I think they’re, you know, everyone’s inner God or Goddess. Like your philosopher’s stone or divine spark or whatever it is.”

  I looked at him hopefully. Most of his face was shrouded in shadows. His long hair fell in loose strands, adding to the forbidding look. The fluorescent light over my bed cast a greenish, unearthly tint to his pale skin.

  When he didn’t say anything right away, I added, “What do you think?”

  He got up and walked over to the window. “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “But if that’s what it is, it seems perfectly harmless. It’s just another of your many gifts.”

  A gift? I’d been thinking of my visions as nauseating inconveniences, but maybe they were flashes of wisdom. And who was the Goddess of Wisdom?

  Athena.

  I wished I could see Sebastian’s divine spark. His arms crossed on the rails of the bed, he stared idly at the roses in my lap. Something about his posture made him seem very young and vaguely disaffected, kind of like his son Mátyás, and a sudden thought struck me: We were going to be married forever—were our inner Gods compatible?

  Lilith did like him; he was right about that.

  Would Athena? The Greek pantheon was rather famous for its bad marriages. Zeus was always catting around on Hera, and Aphrodite and Hephastus couldn’t have been a more unlikely couple. Did those Gods do anything other than have extramarital affairs?

  On the flip side, Lilith was supposed to be responsible for men’s wet dreams, and in some myths She was Satan’s wife, so it’s not like She was necessarily a better role model.

  I sighed, feeling disheartened.

  Misinterpreting my noise, Sebastian patted my hand. “We can’t figure anything out stuck here. I’m going to get that doctor so we can get out of this place.”

  I smiled as he headed off purposefully. I sipped a little milk and wished I’d been okayed for coffee, even if it was just that brown water stuff places like this tended to serve.

  Sebastian came back in forty-five with news we would be sprung. He’d brought my suitcase of clothes from the hotel and some good news/bad news.

  “The doctor will be coming shortly to get the discharge process started. But the Saint Paul Hotel threw us out,” he said, though he didn’t sound at all upset.

  “What?” I stopped in the middle of pulling on my black, sparkly, spiderweb hose. I’d brought them with milder Vienna temperatures in mind, but now I thought they’d make good insulation under my jeans. According to the radio, the wind chill was an arctic minus thirty-one degrees below zero. The actual temperature was something like minus ten. “What about your glamour?”

  “You know it only works in close proximity.”

  Yeah. They had to smell him. Glamour, as far as I could tell, was some kind of super-vampire pheromone.

  Sebastian lounged on my bed. Having kicked off his shoes at the door, he stretched his brown stocking feet over the edge of the metal railing. Today he’d dressed slightly more casually, in faded boot-cut jeans and a Harley Davidson T-shirt that invited us to “Turn Up the Heat.” The motto he’d chosen seemed only a bit paradoxical given the temperature outside and the fact that Sebastian had nothing else to cover up with other than a black leather jacket that he’d slung over the nearby chair. Even the nurses kept asking him if he was warm enough.

  “The official story is that they couldn’t find us a suitable replacement for the Ordway Room, but a hotel like the Saint Paul doesn’t really want guests that bring any kind of negative attention. While we were there, they had visits from Homeland Security, the police, and the FBI. Are you really surprised they balked?”

  “I thought money talked.”

  He gave me a little touché nod. “It does, but not this loudly.”

  I snorted a little gallows- humor laugh. I slipped into my pants, wishing I’d thought to bring my flannel-lined ones. “So now we’re homeless on top of everything else? Could this honeymoon get any worse?”

  He pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he hissed. “Don’t tempt fate.”

  Pulling a sweater over my head, I arched an eyebrow at him. Was he looking to start the drama-queen fight again? Instead of pushing the issue, I switched the subject. “So what do you want to do now? Go home to Madison?”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, his expression clouded. “I’ll tell you this for nothing,” he said, without meeting my gaze. “I’m not exactly getting what you see in this town.”

  With a heavy sigh, I plunked down on the side of the bed opposite him. I could understand his frustration, but I was disappointed. I really loved Minneapolis/Saint Paul and I desperately wanted to share my memories of it with Sebastian. Though I had to agree, things had not exactly worked out the way I’d planned. Hennepin County Medical Center was not on the must-see tourist destination list usually.

  Reaching out, I grabbed his toes lightly. “Hey,” I said, waiting for him to raise his eyes before I continued. I had to give his big toe a little squeeze before he did. “Let’s give it one more shot, okay?”

  He stared at me for a long time without saying a word. I tried to read his mind, because his expression wasn’t much help. His chestnut brown eyes had that cold fire I sometimes saw when we faced monsters together. The amber starburst around his pupils seemed to almost glow, despite the muted light of the hospital room.

  “As you wish,” he said slowly, deliberately, though for a moment I thought I caught the scent of cinnamon and baking bread.

  I squinted at him darkly, although there was a bit of teasing in my voice when I asked, “Are you trying to use your glamour on me?”

  “I really want to,” he admitted. “But that would be a bad way to start our marriage, wouldn’t it?”

  Hmmm, as opposed to all the secrets I’ve been keeping? I broke eye contact guiltily.

  Misinterpreting my response, he sat up and gave my knee a gentle stroke. “Hey, I’m sorry. How about one more day here?” he offered, and then, pointing to his chest, added, “Then I get to choose our next destination? Fair?”

  What could I do when he looked at me with those beautiful, big, pleading brown eyes? Glamour or
not, I had to agree. “Fair.”

  It still took forever to actually leave the damn hospital. There were release forms for me to sign, and, of course, they wouldn’t let me just walk out. Instead, an orderly arrived with a wheelchair.

  “You can’t be serious,” I muttered.

  “Hospital rules,” the mop- haired young man in Snoopythemed scrubs said with a shrug.

  Reluctantly, I sat in the chair. After a quick I’ll-see-you-in-a-second peck on the cheek, Sebastian went on ahead to fetch the car.

  “Your husband seems nice,” the orderly said, making conversation as we made our way down the hall. “He’s a little younger than you, huh?”

  I choked on my response. Sebastian was almost three hundred times my age!

  “I’m sorry. I’m probably not supposed to say things like that, but you know, I’m seeing more and more older women like yourself with younger guys.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Anyway, I thought Sebastian and I looked about the same age these days. What was strange was that Mátyás was starting to look older than Sebastian. I touched my face. Had even considering ditching Lilith aged me?

  I was still sputtering over being considered “older” when the orderly cheerfully deposited me next to a plastic potted rubber tree in the lobby. With professional ease, he engaged the brakes, making me feel completely infirm.

  Big, full-length windows looked out onto a partially covered, circular drive. Some people sat in square, indestructible-looking couches reading dog-eared, months-old issues of magazines like Newsweek and Sierra Club Watch. A gray-haired man slumped in his wheelchair also awaiting pickup. The orderlies nodded a greeting. “So how old do you think I am, anyway?” I had to ask.

  “Oh, I don’t know, thirty-five?”

  That was far too close for comfort. Sebastian came to the automatic doors just then, and I tried to see him with the orderly’s eyes. The leather jacket, the lean body, the brightness in his eye, the long flowing hair—yeah, Sebastian could easily pass for someone in his early twenties.

  So I might be immortal now, but I still looked like I was robbing the cradle?

  Just great.

  “You look grumpy,” Sebastian said as he took my hand to help me up out of the wheelchair.

  “I swear you get younger looking all the time.”

  The orderly nodded in agreement as he released the brake and headed back down the hallway to wherever hospitals keep their seemingly endless supply of wheelchairs.

  “It’s your love,” Sebastian said, kissing the top of my head. “It keeps me spry.”

  The sun shone brightly, which meant the temperatures were frigid. I could feel all the heat escaping from the top of my head in the three paces it took to get to where the car waited, just under the awning. Sebastian opened the passenger side door for me.

  Once he was in the driver’s seat, I said, “You know what I want right now? A decent breakfast and a whole lot of caffeine.”

  Determined to make the sightseeing thing work this time as we drove, I chattered nonstop about the cool things we could do for the day. I suggested all the museums: the Minneapolis Institute of Art, the Walker, the Weisman, the Science Museum, and even the Minnesota History Center. I thought Sebastian might also like the Conservatory and Como Zoo, as well as maybe a trip out to the “big zoo” in Apple Valley. There were tropics trails, indoors, at both zoos, and tons of other indoor exhibits. Besides, I remembered the polar bears at Como got really frisky in weather like this and were fun to watch.

  Finally, Sebastian raised his hand for me to stop and said he’d noticed a sign for a coffee shop. Since caffeine had been my first priority, I heartily agreed to circle back.

  We ended up back in Saint Paul between Summit and Grand Avenues. The narrow little place was wedged between a dentist’s office and a Birkenstocks. When I opened the door, waves of coffee-smelling heat hit my cold-stung face.

  “I like this place already,” I told Sebastian cheerily.

  He flashed me a look that suggested I might be overdoing the happy-to-be-here attitude and headed to the counter to place the orders. Meanwhile, I found a seat among the crowded tables on the wide-plank floors. Black-and-white portraits of chickens hung on the wall intermixed randomly with French nouveau prints. It was an odd combination, but it seemed to work. Each table had a cute little lamp with a primary color shade and beaded fringe. I felt very snug and at home here.

  Resting a hand on my belly, I felt around for Lilith. She was still there, though I sensed Her dormancy, distance. Reaching out with my mind, I tried to connect with Athena. Was She nearby?

  Out of the corner of my vision, I could almost see Her. Silver armor encased a muscular body rife with bulging calves and biceps and shoulders. Olive skin and dark hair stood in stark contrast to the pure white of Her toga. Mannish and strong, She stood erect and at attention. Her hand rested lightly on a sword buckled at Her side, and Her ever-present shield was up and ready for action.

  Athena was so much not like me it was almost funny.

  I’ve never engaged in a single sport in my life, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the gym. Nothing about me was martial or precise; in fact, just the opposite. My clothes couldn’t be more girly, from the thong wedging up into my butt to the sparkly hose under my jeans. My shirt was hot pink with sequins and was untucked, and, though I’d tried to make it less so, my hair was a rat’s nest of black-dyed spikes. At least I had fabulous makeup on. My lips were ruby red, and dark kohl rimmed my eyes. I’d even added a nice dusting of pale powder.

  Somehow I was certain Athena wouldn’t approve.

  If I gave up Lilith for Athena, would I have to turn into some kind of a sporty jock type? And would I age normally again?

  I had to remind myself that at least Athena wasn’t known for wrecking hotel rooms. She was a war Goddess, true, but a bit more staid and steady than the Queen of Hell.

  Sebastian returned to the table with a tall to-go cup for me and a tiny demitasse for himself. An exploratory sniff told me that mine was a honeyed latte, but I’d never seen Sebastian order anything so dainty in my whole life as the tiny cup he held now. I thought I caught the scent of cardamom, which confused me even more. After watching him lift it to his lips once and smile deeply, my curiosity got the better of me. “What is that you’re drinking?”

  “Turkish coffee. The young man behind the counter tells me it’s a house specialty. I haven’t had good Turkish coffee since I was last in Constantinople.”

  I started singing a half- remembered song from school: “Istanbul is Constantinople, Constantinople, Constantinople . . . many years ago!”

  “Yes, so I guess it’s been a while.” He smiled.

  “Was it worth the wait?”

  Sebastian’s satisfied grin was all the answer I needed. But before I could ask him if he wanted to tackle our itinerary or Alchemy 101 first, his contented expression collapsed. His gaze focused just behind my shoulder, and he snarled, “You again.”

  I turned and saw James Something pretending to read the sports section of the Pioneer Press. “Hey, it’s our stalker!” I started to say cheerfully, with a little wave, until I noticed Sebastian getting up out of his chair.

  His fists were balled at his sides. In two strides, he moved over to stand in front of James. James hardly had a chance to look up from his paper, when Sebastian grabbed his lapels.

  “Wait!” I said, but Sebastian pulled James to his feet.

  The coffee shop erupted in hasty commotion. People gasped. Some suddenly found things to do in the back room. One of the baristas shouted at Sebastian, “Cool it!”

  But Sebastian banged James hard against the wall and, with a sneer, said, “I should kill you for what happened to my wife. Kidnapping? Ransom? Are you out of your mind?”

  James seemed completely caught in Sebastian’s menacing stare. Believe me, I’d been there. The vampire evil eye was nothing to sneeze at. However, I would have thought a guy with medieval weaponry
in his trunk would be better prepared for—

  Thunk!

  Holy mackerel! James stuck a sharpened wooden stake right into Sebastian’s heart.

  7.

  Death

  ASTROLOGICAL CORRESPONDENCE:

  Scorpio

  Glancing downward, Sebastian stared at his lower abdomen where James’s fist still curled around the butt end of a wooden stake he’d jammed up under Sebastian’s rib cage to pierce his heart.

  James looked too. He seemed to be expecting something dramatic to happen next, like maybe a sudden shower of dust, à la a scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then, noticing the fangs that had descended in Sebastian’s mouth, James, at least, had the wisdom to appear extremely nervous.

  I guess those Illuminati guys knew jack about real vampires.

  Sebastian placed his hand over James’s fist. “You, my friend,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “have made a terrible, terrible mistake.”

  Meanwhile, at least one person besides me started screaming. I hadn’t really meant to shout, but when Sebastian suddenly jerked James’s hand and the attached stake out from his gut, blood spewed everywhere.

  The barista shouted for someone to call the cops. My only desire was to staunch the wild flow of blood that seemed to pour from the tear in Sebastian’s shirt, but a crowd had started to form.

  I still stood at our table, gaping openmouthed.

  Okay, I thought to myself, this is the moment of truth, girl. Ask yourself: What would Athena do? Athena was a warrior Goddess, strong, powerful, with a shield that had the severed head of a Gorgon that could turn people to stone. She’d start handing people their asses.

  I took a steady breath and closed my eyes. All right, Athena, I said to myself. I am your vessel. Commence with the laying out the pain.

  But I guess because no women were in peril, I couldn’t summon a single iota of butt-whooping. Instead, when I opened my eyes, things had taken a turn for the worse.