Dead End: Midnight Hollow

by Penn Cassidy

“It’s a gift and curse.” She shrugged. “It seems we both have some work to do on ourselves. Go to the Society meeting and find out why your parents looked so happy in that photo. It was obviously meant to be.” She gestured to the framed photo of Mom and Dad as they embraced each other, smiling.

  “You’re right. I’ll go. I’m gonna get out of here. I think I’ll try raising the dead at least once. Maybe it will come to me eventually.” I pulled away, adding, “Oh, and the aunties want you at the house in a little bit for poisons and hexes lessons. And don’t think I didn’t see you using magic on those floating books.”

  She could hardly look me in the eye as she fumbled with the strings on my black hoodie she was wearing. “Yeah, about that… Apparently, my magic is going haywire and is only activated when I’m, um, turned on or emotional. It’s hard getting used to this, Toby, but I’m trying.”

  She bit her lips as she glanced away, and I knew it couldn’t be easy for her. She was a powerful witch who knew how to use the magic deep down, but was terrified of it.

  “You’ll get the hang of it, I know it. Maybe Baen can help you.” I hid my smile behind my hand. I knew we were both going to be okay as she shoved me lightly, but she couldn't stop smiling either.

  “Okay, get out of here because I’m sure by the time I find that sexy man, all the books will be floating in no time.” She giggled and hugged me quickly before skipping away like a love struck fool.

  “Oh, Mads! Have you seen Jessica?!” I called out to her retreating back.

  She turned, walking backwards to answer. “No, I haven’t, but I’m sure she’s just visiting all ten thousand of her cousins in the Hangry Forest.” She shuddered and waved over her shoulder as she left.

  Maybe that was where she’d scurried off to. She did say she missed her family, but I found it strange she didn’t tell me she was leaving. Oh well, I hoped she came back soon, because I freaking missed her already. Now, where oh where to find a body that I didn’t have to dig up?

  Mission accomplished.

  Earlier in the day, the rain pelted my windows as I stared outside, perched on my desk chair, debating what to do about this pickle I seem to have found myself in. With my arms folded over my desktop, I gazed down at the picture of the orange haired gal that had caught the attention of a monster.

  Why was he so obsessed with this broad? Was it because of her gift, which allowed her to raise the dead? Or was it something else I wasn’t seeing?

  “Marionette, I’m not paying you to sit on your ass.” He was here, leaning against my office door frame without an appointment, and his lips were tight in displeasure under the hood covering his face.

  He wasn’t paying me at all. He pulled my strings like any master does, but I would be damned if he tried to get me off my keester. I’d been working off the clock night and day, reporting back to him when he called. What’s a fella gotta do around here to find a new master that isn’t a complete boob?

  “I want you to get this letter to Mari and be quick about it. Time is wasting. I’ve got a surprise I think she’ll want to see.” He slid a letter across my desk with a sly grin pulling at his lips, and I pocketed the envelope without looking.

  “Mari?” I asked in confusion. This fella had me following the wrong gal this whole time?

  His grin dropped. “I mean October. Just get it done!” He swirled away, his cape swishing, and he left as fast as he came.

  I waited for the right time, the perfect time to give her the letter without her growing suspicious of me. I hid in plain sight and disappeared before she knew what hit her.

  And that’s how you do it, folks. All in a day's work.

  There's just something about a morgue that had you questioning how the hell you ended up there. Oh yeah, that’s right—to raise a freaking dead body and have a chat. Totally normal, no worries. No need to be scared. Just go inside the creepy room where they cut up bodies and store them in cold cubbies until they’re ready to be buried six feet under. No problem, I got this.

  I don’t got this.

  I stood outside the swinging double doors in the basement of the city morgue. The autopsy technician had taken his sweet time cleaning up, so I had to wait an hour before he left in a sudden hurry, his white lab coat billowing behind him as he ran towards the elevator.

  With a deep breath, I pushed the steel doors open and stepped inside, not knowing what to expect. I took a moment to adjust to the low fluorescent lights and how cold it was. It felt like an ice box. Like a typical morgue, the floors were cement with blue specks embedded inside and the walls were white cinder blocks that made the room seem bigger, colder.

  Three embalming tables were lined up in a row sitting in the middle of the space, with individual headlamps overhead, glaring off the shiny metal surfaces. Every few seconds, I could hear a drip of water splashing on the ground from the exposed pipes above. One must have been leaking. This was definitely the right place to store a body that wasn’t too juicy.

  Ew, I can’t believe I just thought that. ‘Juicy’ is just as bad as the word ‘moist.’

  I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill and scanned the room, spotting the selection of cubby drawers where the bodies lay to keep preserved. It smelled of formaldehyde, bleach, and the weak stink of death, reminding me of damp soil after a storm. It wasn’t the worst smell, but then again, I was a necromancer, so maybe an iron stomach just came with the job?

  I was about to find out. I crept closer on silent feet, almost scared to breathe, terrified of both getting caught and what I was about to do. It was generally frowned upon to wake the dead. I kept picturing a mob with pitchforks coming after me. But I had to figure this out before I hurt anybody living.

  I slowly reached out and grasped the cool metal handle, pulling it wide open just as a cold fog rolled out of the square hole. I so badly wanted to squeeze my eyes shut as I grabbed the metal tray with the dead body lying on top, but my eyes were glued to him as I slided him all the way out of the cubby.

  It wasn’t so bad. He was still preserved and hadn’t started decaying, thanks to the temperature and chemicals. He only looked like he was sleeping, his eyes resting peacefully against his pale sickly skin. Deep purple circles were around his eyes, and his lips were the same color. Maybe if I kept pretending he was napping, it would be easier. Thank the great pumpkin a white sheet covered his body from the neck down. I shivered in dread at the thought of discovering a death wound. I didn’t care what the stupid book said to do, I wasn’t probbing any holes to find out the way they died. If I could bring the dead back to life, then they could tell me themselves.

  It was time to get to work. I grabbed my Necromancy 101 book and flipped it open to the page I’d been reading earlier. So, you place your hand over the body, hovering just over the heart or head, and say a few lines. Easy peasy. Doing just that, I cleared my throat and started to read.

  “Spirits of the afterlife, come to me! Hear my voice call for you, come to me! Arise spirit, arise!” I said it in the deepest, most commanding voice that I could muster and waited for something to happen.

  My shoulders sagged when the body remained frozen in place, like I was expecting sparks or something magical to happen. Absolutely nothing.

  “Okay, October, you got this. You're a strong, badass woman who can do this without breaking a sweat!” I chanted to myself, bouncing in place on the balls of my feet as I cracked my neck back and forth.

  I ain’t scared of nothing! I got this! Necromancy powers, activate!

  Channeling my inner Jessica made my confidence sky rocket, until the moment I felt someone breathing down the back of my neck. I spun around so fast that my fist accidentally collided with something hard, and the person let out a surprised painful grunt. I was totally about to kick some booty when Michael’s ocean eyes clashed with mine as he held a hand to his crotch and wheezed in pain.

  “OMG! Michael you fucking scared me, you creeper! Oh shit, your balls! Are you okay?!” I was practically
shouting in his pain filled face as I shoved his hand away from the front of his jeans and ran my fingers over him, massaging a bit, as if somehow I could make the pain go away.

  We both froze when my fingertips skimmed over his cock. It was rising to the occasion suddenly. I realized at that moment that I was groping him like some pervy perv. I mean…it was an accident, but still.

  “This is nice and all, but fuck, October, let go so my balls can breathe,” he choked out, putting a small bit of distance between us when I let go of him.

  We stood there awkwardly. I wasn’t quite sure where to look, until I realized he was here at the morgue with me when I told no one where I was heading.

  “Are you stalking me?” I raised a suspicious brow at him and secretly kind of liked the thought of him following me. It was sexy in a creepy, stalkery way, but also kind of hot.

  Jesus, I’m messed up in the head for getting horny in the morgue.

  “What? No. I tried a tracking spell…” He trailed off like he was hiding something as he glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “And?” I cocked my hip out and glared up at him, sore balls be damned.

  “I only needed a small piece of something of yours, and I really like those cute ass hugging panties of yours. You know the light blue—”

  I smacked my hand over his mouth, and he grinned behind my palm, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Okay that’s enough out of you. If you wanted to see my panties that bad, all you had to do was ask.” I smiled coyly, edging my fingers down to the hem of my skirt and slowly dragging it up on my thigh.

  I let my palm fall away as he said wickedly, “October, can I please see your panties?” He couldn’t look away from the skin I was exposing…and I was feeling bold. Besides, he asked so kindly.

  I pretended to seriously consider it for a second, and his blue eyes lit up with hope.

  “No.” I giggled as I let go of my skirt.

  He started pouting like a big man baby. “Tease,” he muttered. “So what brings you to this lovely establishment? Besides, you know, the dead guy we’re standing next to.” He gestured to the body behind me and leaned causally against the cool metal box on his left.

  I allowed myself a second to really look him over. I’d say this life agreed with him. He looked good—like really good. His eyes were blue like the ocean, nearly a midnight color in the center, like a sunrise tide on a beach. His emotions tended to play across his face these days, veins of black creeping around his eyes, giving away his feelings.

  “Raising the dead and all that jazz,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “If I’m going to prove I have this handled and I’m not a bad person or that I can live in peace without having to run from this town like my dad did, then I need to do it.” I fiddled with the book in my hands, unable to make eye contact.

  “I’ve always thought you were amazing, little goth.” He raised my chin with his finger so I had no choice but to look at him. “What do you need from me?”

  What did I need? I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay, that I’d never be alone again and that they wouldn’t leave me.

  “Why are you being…well, not a douche canoe to me?”

  He stared at me hard for a long minute, his head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to figure me out. He opened his mouth to tell me, but we heard a door close with a bang outside the morgue door.

  “Shit! I can’t be caught in here! They’ll think I’m trying to raise an army!” I frantically searched for a hiding spot as the sound of footsteps could be heard clicking on the tiled floor outside the door.

  “Quick! Get in here. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time in this dark, closed box.” I glared at his grin.

  He snapped open a cooling box, his bicep flexing when he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing. I crawled inside, my breathing already picking up in panic at the small space and the thought of getting caught. I probably flashed some panties along the way, since my ass was practically in his face.

  He quickly slid in after me with ease, covering my body head to toe with his own, and grasped the metal door, closing it with only a small crack to keep it open. Enclosed in the dark, I gripped his waist as he held himself over me on his elbows, his minty breath fanning my face. Me and dark enclosed spaces didn’t do so well.

  “Well, this is cozy. Come here often?” His teeth gleamed white in the shadows as a smile stretched his smooth, wide lips. He started playing with my hair in a soothing manner that somewhat eased the scream wanting to crawl its way up my throat.

  “Not really, but you never answered my question. Why now?” I whispered softly, loving and yet hating the feel of him over me, of having the chance to skim my fingers along the hard ridges of his eight pack.

  Suddenly, with a snap of his fingers and a “quia ignis,” under his breath, a single flame appeared from the pad of his index finger. He grinned smugly at my upturned face. Didn’t know he could do that. He must’ve been practicing every night.

  “Who are you, October?” he asked softly. “And think really hard about your answer.” He waited patiently as I tried several times to think of anything intelligent to say to that. We were getting off topic, but I felt like he had a point to make.

  We had to whisper because of the mystery person on the other side making a racket, metal banging on metal. I wondered how long we’d have to hang in the death box.

  Don’t think about what’s all been in here, or you’re going to freak the fuck out.

  “I’m just a girl who doesn’t know what the heck I’m doing half the time,” I answered truthfully and watched in confusion as he shook his head, his upper lip curling as he leaned down towards my face.

  “You're wrong,” he whispered tightly. “I watched you push everyone out of your life after your parents died. I watched every single day as you fell further and further apart, becoming an empty shell. How do you bring someone back who doesn’t want any help dealing with their own pain?” he asked. I blinked at him as he said, “You make them live. You get them angry enough that they wake up every morning with the need to prove everyone wrong. You're a survivor of horrible pain, October, and you're the girl that’s finally trying to live again.” He glided his fingertips over the bridge of my nose and down over the slope until he reached my lips, tracing them with a small grin tugging his wide lips.

  I maneuvered to repeatedly smack his chest in suppressed anger. “Yeah, I heard about your dumbass plan from Jason, and now I’m mad all over again. How could you put me through that shit after everything?!” In the small box, my love taps barely registered.

  Tears gathered in my eyes as I stopped beating him up, and I weakly rested the palm of my hand over his fast beating heart. “Thank you for taking care of me when I couldn’t do it myself,” I rasped out, admitting that I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t made my life a living hell. “I hadn’t realized it was that bad…”

  “Anytime, little goth, but don’t fucking do that to us again. It killed me seeing you like that. And I held onto my own anger for a while too, when I had to hear about you going behind our backs. I hated having to hear it from their mouths and not yours.”

  He pushed the door open, surprising me, and wrapped his arm around my waist with his palm spread out over my lower back. He slid out with me plastered to his body and hopped us down gracefully for a man his height. I looked around but realized the danger of getting caught had passed because the assistant was gone again. Must be on lunch break? Who the fuck cared, because my heart was about to bust out of my chest as sweat coated my palms.

  “I-I couldn’t choose. I wanted you all.” I walked over to the clean, shiny metal table and picked up a bonesaw because I couldn’t look him in the face without feeling guilt.

  A shiver cascaded down my spine when he gathered my hair and swiped it to the side as he placed his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I felt heat instead of cold, love instead of hatred, and I hoped the feeling would last.<
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  “Wanted or still do?” His lips glided over my neck, barely touching but still causing goosebumps to prickle over my skin in delight.

  “Always want. There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t wanted all of you guys,” I confessed, dreading that he would push me away in disgust and call me a whore.

  “Can I keep you, Tobs?” He skimmed his soft lips over the shell of my ear as he whispered the question I’d longed for. “Can I finally make you mine? I’ll share with my brothers always, and I’ll never doubt what’s in here.” He placed his hand over my rapidly beating heart and just stood there holding me, rocking us back and forth.

  “Keep me? Michael, you had me the very second you shyly introduced yourself and asked if I wanted some of your ice cream. I’ll always be yours, even if you hate me. Even if I’ll never, ever share my favorite ice cream.” I leaned my head back against his shoulder and looked up at his handsome face.

  His eyes were closed as his chest rose and fell rapidly against my back. His lips slid into a slow, wicked smile before he opened his darkening eyes to stare down at my upturned face.

  “The things that does to me, the things I want to do to you. You should run away before it’s too late,” he whispered against my temple, his soft lips trailing down until his cheek was placed along mine.

  Was it possible for one's heart to punch its way out of the chest cavity and fly into the palm of the person who got it racing in the first place? Our breathing was the only thing filling up the silent yet peaceful space. I shifted my gaze down as I watched his long fingers skim along the exposed skin between my corset and skirt.

  “Show me,” I groaned. “Show me how bad you want me. Show me every single bad thing you want to do to me.” My voice came out rapsy, begging him to give me all the dark and dirty thoughts he’d always hidden behind those ocean eyes.

  He groaned as if in agony, tightening his now clawed, inky fingertips into my skin enough to leave bruises. He slowly dragged those magical hands up the silk material of my corset, until his fingers trailed over the racing pulse in my neck for a beat, just before wrapping his hand around my throat to angle my face towards his.