I went and checked on our zombies. We’d need to put them to rest tonight. The one who I’d taken the note from was on the floor, and not moving at all. He’d slid down from where I’d seen him this morning. If we left him much longer, the other zombies would have a go at him, and I didn’t want that.
We knew where they were headed. The ghosts confirmed what our graveyard patrol had already discovered—these weren’t Deadwood folks. So it was time.
As I climbed the stairs, I thought about how to manage this. Normally, it was only the three or four of us. There were five of us, plus Zane—
Shit. I couldn’t do it tonight. I had a date.
“We need to put them to rest,” I said to Deirdre and DeAnna quietly. There were customers in the shop.
“What? Now?” Deirdre whirled around. “Because we don’t have enough going on?”
“Note guy is out. Stretched out on the floor. Whatever was holding him together isn’t there anymore.”
Deirdre sighed. I didn’t have to explain it to her. “We can go tonight.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“What—oh, that’s right. No, you can’t. And we won’t let you, will we, DeAnna?”
DeAnna shook her head. “No way, missy. You’re not missing your date.”
They both grinned at me.
I threw up my hands. “Fine. I know you all can handle it.”
“Oh, blessed by the great Desdemona,” Deirdre intoned, rolling her eyes. “Such praise.”
“Shut up,” I said. “Give me something to do. I can’t go home yet. I’ll go crazy.”
“Go find some herbs that may work for the spray,” Deirdre said. “Then go home and see if you can help Dee and Daniella. We’re on a deadline for Deana.”
“Please,” DeAnna said. “Dee’s going crazy.”
“And you’re not?” I teased.
“I have great faith in my granddaughter,” DeAnna said proudly. “She’s the strongest of the three of us.”
“She was,” I said. “You two are evening the playing field.”
DeAnna looked surprised, and then pleased. “Thank you,” she said. Her cheeks pinked at the praise. “Go, Desdemona. Go see what you can find, and then go help her.”
I nodded, and went to the storeroom. It took me an hour to pull things I thought might work, but I bagged up the herbs in sample bags, and went back out to the front of the shop. “All right. I’m headed out.”
I drove home, thinking about the spray. Vampires weren’t alive, which kind of threw a lot of normal herb lore. But I thought we might have a solution, particularly if it was combined with some Nightingale magic.
When I pulled into the garage at Pearl street, I went straight the basement stillroom. Dee and Daniella looked up.
“Well?” Daniella asked.
I gave them the updates, and told them about the ward set up in Deadwood Gulch. As I expected, that pissed of Daniella as well.
“Nervy bastard.”
“The ghosts think it’s a he.”
“What?” Dee asked, confusion in her expression.
I told them about meeting Nadine and Gordie.
Daniella sighed. “This all points to a necromancer, Des.”
“Or a mage,” I said.
“OK, could be a mage, too. But necros like zombie help.”
Now it was my turn to sigh. “Yes, they do. I have more good news,” I said.
“Why do I think you don’t have good news at all?” Dee asked, her lips curving up a little.
“You’re learning,” Daniella said.
“The zombies need to be put to rest tonight. One of them is down—the one with the note,” I added.
“Did you get the note?”
“I did,” I said, and told them about that.
“Good grief,” Dee said. “There is so much to take in.”
“When this kind of thing hits, it all tends to be related,” I said. “The thing with Ashlar? And then the curse? All related to Granny. I’d bet this is all related too, and we just haven’t seen it.”
“Take off the tinfoil,” Daniella said. She didn’t concur with my general thoughts that everything usually ended up tied together.
Even though they did, and I was usually right.
“I have no idea what the note means, although Deirdre is working on it. But the zombies need to go. One’s down, and you know that’s a bad sign for the rest of them. Plus, it will mean so much cleaning for us,” I said.
“Oh Goddess, yes. Too much cleaning,” Daniella said. “OK, we’ll get the zombies back in the ground tonight. You’re not going near it.”
“I know, I know. The date. But that’s not for a couple of hours. I have some ideas for the spray.”
“We’re open,” Dee said. “We’ve put together a few things, and they don’t even knock me out.”
“You’re testing on Dee?” I turned on Daniella.
“Well, they need to be tested. Dee’s fine.”
“Are you fine?” I looked back at Dee.
“Yes. Although I’ve been struck with a need to go to the bathroom more,” Dee replied.
“Too much dandelion,” Daniella said.
“And that was part of it why?” I asked. “No, don’t,” I said, holding up a hand. “Listen, vampires are dead, right?”
“As far as we know,” Daniella said.
“So a lot of the things we’d use to affect the body. But their body functions don’t work like a human’s anymore.”
“Right,” Dee said.
“What do they do that we do?” I asked.
“What? Oh, sleep!” Daniella said.
I nodded. “An enhanced sleeping potion. One that is temporary, but immediate. Knock out spray. So if you needed to get away from one, you’d spray them, and have the time to haul ass.”
“It would need to be as much time as possible,” Daniella said. Her eyes were unfocused, which meant she was turning the lists of herbs over in her mind.
“But not too much,” I argued. “We don’t want them waking up and missing tons of time. Or getting caught in the sunlight. It needs to be seen as something a clever human thought up, but not enough to set their pride totally on fire.”
“Good thought,” Daniella said.
“What does their pride have to do with it?” Dee asked.
“They’re very proud, and have huge egos. You offend them, and that’s like the worst thing ever. You get one over on them because of cleverness, you have a better chance of not being dinner.”
“Or turned,” Daniella said. She saw Dee’s face, and reached out for our niece. “I don’t think that’s going to happen to Deana. They know who she is. They know she’s one of us. They know we’d pull up stakes and ruin them, if they hurt her.”
“Do they?” Dee’s lip trembled.
I nodded. “They do. We’ve only had to pick a fight out of Deadwood once, and we won. Even without the power of Deadwood behind us, we won.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it,” Dee said. She still looked upset.
“Later. Let’s get to work on this,” I said. I knew what she needed, having used the technique for myself many times. She needed to keep busy.
By five-thirty, we had a mixture that we felt had promise. I wanted to try it out, but Daniella and Dee sent me upstairs to get ready.
“Because you stink,” Daniella said.
I didn’t dignify her insult with an answer, and went to shower. Once I got out, after spending longer than normal in the shower, I went to my closet. I had no idea what to wear. I hadn’t had a date in decades. I wore clothing for whatever we were dealing with, which usually included jeans, boots, and a tee shirt.
Which is all Zane had seen me in.
Did I want him to see me differently? I didn’t know. He already saw something in me—and I had to admit, I wanted to see those eyes light up when he looked at me.
Moving the hangers along the rod, I found a black dress toward the back. It was a sleeveless sundress kind of t
hing, and it had a little sweater that went with it. That would cover most of the burn marks that looked like weird tattoos that were on my arms and part of my neck and collarbone area. “Thanks, asshole,” I said without heat, thinking about what I’d had to do to get out of hell. That’s where the burn marks had come from.
Back to clothes. Black flats—I didn’t like heels, because it was hard to run in them if you needed to—and some jewelry, and I’d be good. I’d look somewhat different from my daily garb.
I took time drying my hair, noting all the red that was in it. When I’d escaped from Hell, my hair had taken on red and amber highlights. I found that I liked it. I left my hair down, letting the natural wave do its thing. I put on a little makeup, but not much. Again, it wasn’t my thing.
Gold hoop earrings, a gold necklace with a locket that had a picture of Meema in it, and I was ready.
I took a breath. My heart was beating faster than normal. I looked at my phone. It was six thirty-seven. I had enough time to get downtown and find parking. Since it was summer, the restaurants were starting to get busier.
As I walked into the main kitchen area, my sisters and Dee and DeAnna were sitting around the table.
“You look great,” Deirdre said.
“Have fun,” Dee said. She smiled.
Doc materialized. “Darlin’, you’ll knock his socks off.”
“I’m not sure that’s what I want,” I said in a moment of complete honesty.
“Whatever it is you want, you can have it,” he said quietly, his hand brushing my cheek like a focused breeze.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You look hot,” Daniella said. “He’s going to cry when he sees you.”
It was the right thing to say, to remind me that no matter what, I was a Nightingale.
“I have to go,” I said. I escaped down the stairs to the garage, revving the 911 out onto the street.
It didn’t take long to get downtown, but parking was more a challenge, and I walked into the door of Saloon No. 10’s restaurant side with three minutes to spare.
“Hi, Desdemona,” Tasha, the hostess said. “Your friend is already here.” She smiled, and turned to lead me to a table.
Zane stood up as we got close. He pulled out a chair, and pushed it in as I sat down.
“Your waiter will be right over,” Tasha said. She smiled again, and disappeared.
“You look beautiful,” Zane said.
“So do you,” I looked over at him. He was wearing a black suit, with a black shirt, and black tie. I found that I liked the all black look on him. It made his eyes stand out even more.
Speaking of which, I looked right into his eyes, and I saw admiration, and desire, and… a warmth pooled into my midsection.
Oh, holy hell.
Chapter Nine
We talked quietly, as Zane asked me about how things had gone in Deadwood Gulch. When I told him about the ward that stretched across the gulch, and then the note that I’d gotten off the zombie, along with the magic that I’d felt—his face darkened.
“What do you know?” I asked.
Zane sighed. “I really didn’t want to talk about this tonight. Could we table it for a little while?”
“I guess. Tell me about how you grew up,” I said.
“That’s another mess,” Zane said.
I turned to face him. “Something’s up with that,” I said. “I’ve noticed that something is off with you, and I feel like you’re not telling me something. I mean,” I realized that I was in full-on interrogation mode, “Your life is your business. I respect that, appearances notwithstanding.”
He smiled a little, and I felt the tension between us lighten up.
“But if you know something about what’s going on, and honestly, it’s looking like a necromancer is involved, this is where you have to take a stand, Zane. I know it’s got to be hard, but if you really want to live here, want to live where there are rules, and people that see the rules are followed,” I was quoting, sort of, something he’d said to me when I asked him why he wanted to be here, “Then you have to be on the side of the rules and the people who make sure they’re followed.”
Zane looked at me with those green eyes, and then looked away, leaning forward on the table on his clasped hands.
Shit. This wasn’t good. “What?” I asked, leaning closer to him. I put my hand on his arm. “Zane, we’re on the same side. We’re all on your side.”
“You are?” He looked at me, and his eyes looked bleak. “Even though I’m a necromancer?”
“When I told my family we were having dinner, the whole house burst out cheering.”
He smiled, the look in his eyes lightening. “Really?”
I nodded.
“I would have liked to have seen that.”
“It was something,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat at the memory.
“That makes me feel good. I really like you. I always have,” he said.
“Even when I nearly blasted you when you came at me in the bar?” I asked, smiling.
“Even then. I could feel the magic swirling around you.”
“Why’d you continue, then?”
He shrugged. “I really do like Doc, and I like the idea of helping souls move on, if that’s what they want.”
“Where did you learn that?” I asked. “I know that’s not how you were raised.”
His face shuttered then.
I sat back, surprised. It was like watching someone close a door right in front of you. But I kept quiet, wanting to see what he’d say.
Our dinner arrived then, and we both focused on our meals for a few moments. After he’d taken a couple of bites, Zane took a long drink of his wine, and looked directly at me. “Remember I told you that I’d broken my ties with my father?”
I nodded, drinking my own wine.
“It was because he tried to bring my mother back.”
“What?” I whispered. “Why?”
“He thought she had information he wanted. She was a witch,” he smiled, lifting his glass at me. “My dad fell hard for her, and she apparently fell for him as well. But she died, and it was though part of the good in him died with her. He stopped caring about the cost of what he did. It was all about what he wanted. That was the only thing he took into consideration. And he decided that she had information he needed, and he went to her grave, and he brought her back.”
“Oh, my Goddess,” I said, putting my hand over my mouth. “How did you find out?”
“I walked into his workroom, and there she was,” Zane looked over his wineglass, and I knew that he was back in that workroom. “I yelled at him, asking what the hell he was doing, and he didn’t even look up from where he was writing, and told me to either help, or go away.”
He fell silent.
I kept silent. This needed no conversation from me.
“I said, Why is she here? And he said, That’s my business. You can help, or get out. He didn’t even look at me. So I turned, as though I was going to go back to the house, and I grabbed an axe that was next to the door, and I took three steps—they felt like the longest steps I’d ever taken—and I chopped off her head.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.
It was as though the restaurant had faded away, and it was just me and Zane sitting together. I reached across and took his hand. “I am so sorry,” I said.
He looked at me then, and I could see the shimmer of tears in his eyes. “I never thought, in all the crazy shit I’d done, and might have to do, that sending my mother back to her death was going to be one of them.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and placed his other hand on top. As though he needed the reassurance of touch.
This, I got. Sometimes you had to do things that felt horrible. And you questioned your very humanity. In all my years, however, I’d never had to do what Zane had done.
“As you can imagine, my father paid attention to me then. He came at me, and punched me in the face. All the while, he was yelling, calling me a stupid bo
y, telling me I didn’t know what I’d done—and I yelled back, telling him that I’d allowed my mother to rest as she deserved to. Then he slapped me, and told me to get out of his house.”
Zane looked at me. “Until then, I didn’t think much of raising zombies. I felt like they were a useful tool and that was all I thought. When I saw my mother, rotting from the grave, I realized what they were, what we were doing. What we were. We were monsters.” He looked down.
“What did you do then?” I asked.
“I went to my mother’s best friend. Her name was Kyra, she’s a witch. I told her everything, and told her I didn’t want to be like my father, and I asked her how to escape what seemed like my only path at that time. She let me cry, and then she told me that she’d show me another way. I was with her for five more years before I went out on my own.”
“How old were you when you left your father’s house?” I asked.
“Sixteen,” he said. “I left Kyra’s when I was twenty-one. I travelled, and helped with magical messes when I could. I heard of Deadwood, and how you three—well, four, then—kept things on the straight and narrow, and how you didn’t put up with anyone’s shit. And I knew that’s the kind of place I wanted to be. Somewhere where things were clear. Black and white.”
I squeezed his hand. Zane always seemed so calm, so controlled. This was raw and honest.
We finished dinner, and when he’d paid the bill, Zane turned to me. “You want to go for a walk? I know you live here, but I want to pretend, just for tonight, that this is a normal date.”
I stood up, smiling. “This is a normal date.”
He smiled, and as he stood, he took my hand.
I let him. We walked out into the night, holding hands. It felt… nice.
Something had shifted for me when he told me about himself. He didn’t have to reveal that, but he’d chosen to.
“Is that what’s been bothering you?” I asked, not looking at him. “That this is like your dad?”
“This is exactly like my dad. Using zombies, not really caring about who might get hurt—whoever is doing this knows what they’re doing, and they are focused on that, without care for anyone else.”
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