Song for the Dead: An Ada Palomino Novel

by Karina Halle

  “Max! Move!” I yell, running as fast as I can as the Kia starts picking up speed on its roll backward down the hill. I run for the door, throwing it open and jumping inside the car, nearly cutting myself on the sword as my feet try to find the brakes, knowing this thing is about to run him over.

  I manage to find the brake and the hand brake at the same time, slamming down on one while I yank up the other, the wheels grinding to a halt, locking, sliding down along the gravel until it stops with a bump.

  Fuck!

  I get out of the car, my heart in my throat, running and slipping on the gravel to the back of the Kia, to see Max on his knees, his shoulder pressed up against the trunk.

  “Max!” I drop to my knees, ignoring the rocks cutting into my leggings, putting my hands on his shoulder, on his face. I can barely see him in the shadows. “Are you okay?”

  He nods, licking his lips. “I’m fine.” He pulls away from the car and holds his shoulder that was pressed against the back. “Might have a sore shoulder tomorrow. Nothing some Advil won’t fix.”

  “Jesus, you’re insane,” I tell him. “You almost got run over by a car. Twice.”

  He gives me a strained smile. “Good thing I have you around.” He groans as he tries to get to his feet and I put my hand under his arm to help, even though I know I’m pretty useless when it comes to hauling him around. I’m strong but not that strong.

  We both get up and he shakes out his shoulder, walking up the hill to peer in the Kia. He shakes his head and then reaches in, taking back his sword. “Knew this would come in handy,” he says, raising it up in the headlights, flipping it back and forth, the blood gleaming red before turning black. Then he looks back at me. “Can’t believe you jumped into a moving car. More so the fact that you just sat down in demon ash.”

  “What?” I turn around in a panic so my ass is facing the headlights, looking down to see ashes all down the back of me.

  “Ew, ew!” I cry out, trying to wipe it away. I wasn’t even thinking when I jumped in there.

  Max rests his sword against the hood and walks over to me. “Allow me,” he says, running his palms down my back, my ass, the back of my thighs and calves. It would feel nice if the circumstances were different. It’s been a long time since someone’s touched my ass, even in passing.

  “There,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Might wanna burn those clothes though, unless you want to wear demon residue.”

  “My favorite sweater,” I whine.

  “I’m sure you have other options,” he says tiredly, then reaches out and grabs my hand, holding it tight. Heat travels from his palm up through mine, igniting something in my veins that makes me feel shaky. “Thank you, by the way. Not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.” He pauses, then smiles sheepishly. “Actually, I know exactly what would happen if you weren’t here. So I guess thank you for that too.”

  I give his hand a squeeze right back. “You’re welcome,” I tell him, but my words come out hushed.

  He keeps holding my hand, leading me back toward the car, letting go only when he goes to his side. He glances at the crack in the windshield and shakes his head. “Total horseshit,” he says. “I promised I would bring it back in one piece.”

  I clear my throat, trying to get sense back into my head. Way too much just happened at once, and I’m totally discombobulated. “I’m sure you can convince the dealer to just let you keep it when you’re done.”

  “Sure, but it’s the principle of the matter,” he says, walking back to the trunk and putting the sword in.

  I get in the car and buckle up, taking a moment to just breathe, calm my heart, and settle whatever strange and unwanted feelings are churning away inside me.

  Then Max gets behind the wheel, buckles up, and gives me the once over.

  “You okay?” he asks softly.

  I nod, staring at him. In his leather jacket, one large hand on the gearshift, his wrist draped over the steering wheel, and a smudge of dirt across his strong jaw, he looks like James Dean come to life, if James Dean had dark red hair, was built like a tree, could leap straight up on top of a moving car, and plunge a sword straight down into a demon with as little effort as possible. Not to mention drive this car like he was born to do it.

  I swallow and look away. “I need some wine.”

  A moment passes and I swear I feel him smile. “Coming right up.”

  Eight

  “You don’t want to miss your chance, a near-life experience.”

  – The Evil Has Landed

  An hour later we pull into a Best Western, right on Gold Beach. I wait in the car while Max manages to get us a free room, and when he comes back, he’s gotten us two beds with an ocean view, which is about as perfect as it gets here.

  The room is nice enough and it has a balcony overlooking the ocean. Of course, it’s pitch-black out save for a few lights presiding over a wooden path that makes its way through dune grass down to the beach. No view tonight.

  “Too bad we missed sunset,” I tell him, closing the sliding door. The air is cold and damp but feels refreshing after a day in the car, and after almost dying a few times.

  “There’s always tomorrow,” he says, throwing his suitcase onto his bed. “So, where did you want to eat?” He points at his jacket and red flannel shirt underneath. “This acceptable?”

  I let out a small laugh. “Yes. I’m sure it’s acceptable. You look good.”

  He eyes me like he doesn’t believe me. “What? You’re being nice to me?”

  “Hey, I’m always nice to you,” I tell him, putting my hands on my hips. “And I’ll be extra nice if you can get us some free steaks with the best wine they have.”

  He bites his lip as he stares at me, brow quirking up. “Oh yeah? And what’s extra-nice Ada like?”

  “I don’t know,” I tease. “We’ll have to see.”

  I turn my back to him, zipping open my suitcase, and oh my god, was I just flirting with him?

  Bad, Ada, bad.

  Clearly I’m not myself tonight.

  I brush that out of my head, trying to concentrate on finding some clothes to wear. It really fucking sucks I have to burn this shit. They were expensive.

  “Do I have to burn my shoes? They’re Chanel,” I tell him.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says absently.

  I glance over my shoulder to see Max sitting on the edge of his bed, aiming a remote at the TV. CNN comes on and he watches, perplexed.

  I sit on the end of my bed and take off my shoes. They’re positively filthy with ash, the pink now grey. “I guess this is still weird, huh?” I say.

  “Huh?” he asks, and I motion to the TV.

  “The news. To see how the world has changed since you’ve been gone.”

  He nods and then switches it off. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It’s just better if I ignore it. If I think about it too much…well, it’s like everyone’s in on a joke I know nothing about. Everyone’s experienced a past that I never got to. I’m telling ya, if you ever wanted to feel like you weren’t part of the world anymore, dying and coming back is the way to go.”

  Something in my heart squeezes. “No one forgot you, you know.”

  He turns his head to face me, eyes searching mine. “Someone did.” He swallows thickly. “The only person I had counted on not to.” He looks down at the remote in his hands.

  The more he talks about Rose, the angrier I get. It’s not even on his behalf, because he seems more sad than anything else.

  I get up and sit beside him. “Hey.” I reach over and take the remote from him, tossing it behind him on the bed, then nudge him gently with my shoulder, leaning into him. “You’re going to be okay.”

  He manages a weak smile, glancing at me briefly. This close, I can count all the different greens in his eyes, the emerald, mint, moss, and my favorite, the color of alpine lakes. “I’m starting to think I got the shit end of the stick, Ada,” he says softly.

  “I
know you did. You’re stuck with me now, and the love of your life got engaged to someone else. And while we can’t do anything about me at the moment, maybe Rose just…maybe she just needs to see you again. She thought you were dead. People react weird when people die. She probably needed to move on. The thought of you being gone was too much for her to bear.”

  “Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe she was just ready to cut me loose.”

  “You’re breaking my heart, big guy,” I tell him, putting my hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Part of me is hoping that this contact with me might give him some kind of boost, recharging the battery so to speak.

  He eyes my hand for a moment before he closes his eyes, brow furrowed, breathing deep through his nose. Holding my hand right back.

  And I take the opportunity to stare at him, since he’s not looking. Like I said, he’s one handsome dude. His brow is low-set, forehead lined, his eyes heavily lidded, which always gives him a slightly sleepy or sly look. He’s got a nice straight nose, strong jaw and chin. Plus, one hell of a mouth, and the best hair I’ve ever seen.

  To think this face has been around since the Renaissance. I have to wonder if he was the subject of any artists. Maybe he was an artist himself. I have so many questions, but thankfully this is day one of the road trip and we have a long way to go.

  Yeah, and if this was day one, how much worse is it going to get? a voice pops up in my head.

  “Max?” I ask gently, wondering if he’s fallen asleep.

  “Mmmm,” he says. Then he opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling, stretching his neck back before he looks at me. “Sorry. My mind totally went blank there.”

  I lift up my hand with his in it. “Did this do it?”

  He shrugs lightly. “Maybe.” Then he gives me a close-mouthed smile, eyes looking bright. “You hungry?”

  “Starving,” I tell him, letting go of his hand and getting to my feet. “Let me quickly get changed so I don’t have demon dust on me.”

  I grab a few things out of my suitcase while he says, “Demon dust. Now if I was a musician, I reckon that could be an album title.”

  I pull out my favorite Ulla Johnson paperbag jeans and a small white sweater. I’d be very upset if I run into any more demons tonight. “Aren’t you a musician? You were in a band with Dex, in college, right? You played bass.”

  “I play instruments, but I don’t consider myself a musician.”

  “Just a man of many talents, huh?” I say, heading to the bathroom.

  “You could say I’ve accumulated a lot of them over the years. I have one hell of a resume.”

  I’m about to make a remark about him having supernatural babysitter on his resume, though in our case I’m not sure who is helping who here. If anything, I feel like we’re equals, which was definitely not the case with Jacob or Jay. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that Max physically needs me, and I need him too.

  I quickly shove on my clean clothes, tossing the rest into the bathtub, then slip on a pair of boots, grabbing my wallet on a chain. Thank god I didn’t get any demon dust on this, I think I’d actually cry.

  We leave the room and get into the car, the restaurant only a couple of minutes up the road. It’s not too busy when we arrive, and the hostess seems to think we’re on a date, so she gives us a nice table in the corner by the window.

  I sit down and look around, hoping no demon seniors appear and that Max’s eyes stay emerald green.

  We order the best bottle of red wine and filet mignon, though I tell Max the next time we eat I’m paying because this manipulating business has me feeling just a little bit guilty.

  That said, we totally enjoy the dinner, especially the wine. We end up getting two bottles, with Max drinking most of the second one. He’s in a mood, and by the end of the night, he’s all broody and quiet and shit.

  Which means he’s not really in the right frame of mind to do his mind tricks on the waitress, which means that I end up paying for it. Thankfully, it’s a pretty cheap roadside steakhouse, so my bank account isn’t getting hit too badly.

  Then Max grabs the rest of the wine and we head out to the car and I’m putting him in the passenger side—no way I’m letting him drive.

  “You sure you can drive stick?” he manages to say, slumped in his seat.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I tell him, starting the engine. “If my cousins Tony and Matt are good for anything, it’s for letting me drive their manual truck around my uncle’s property.”

  The car purrs beneath my hands. Oh baby. There is no way I can go back to the mini after this. I make a mental note to get Max to let me drive again this trip.

  I get us to the hotel in one piece, though it was totally tempting to just let it rip down the highway, all the way into California. Then I have to get Max out of the car and to the room.

  Luckily, it’s fairly late and there’s no one in the parking lot. I take the half-finished bottle of wine from him in case he drops it, and then with his arm over my shoulder, I guide him to the room. He’s so drunk, he’s stumbling, almost all his weight on me. He wasn’t kidding when he said Hell made him a lightweight.

  I get him in the room and over to the bed, where he falls down on it face first. I sigh, putting the wine on the side table, saving the rest for myself.

  “Okay, drunky,” I say to him. “You can’t just pass out like that.”

  He mumbles something into the mattress.

  I slip off his black Vans, tossing them across the room, then I try to remove his leather jacket, one arm at a time.

  “All right,” I say, folding his jacket on the back of the chair. “Are you okay like this, or do you want me to take off your pants too? Because I’d rather not.”

  He mumbles something again, and then starts to move, pushing himself up until he’s rolled over, head back against the pillow, eyes closed.

  His flannel shirt looks a little tight and uncomfortable from the way he’s resting, and I have a feeling he’s going to pop a button in the night. Which I’d be able to sew of course, but I don’t think I can handle any more ruined clothes tonight.

  So I sit on the side of the bed beside him and start undoing the buttons of his shirt, revealing a white tee underneath. Well, at least I’m not trying to get him shirtless.

  He stirs, moving his head, and opens his eyes to look at me while I’m on the third button.

  He licks his lips. “What are you doing?” he whispers, brow raised comically.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I warn him. “You’d ruin the shirt if you slept in it.”

  “I thought you hated my shirts.” He stares at me so expectantly and sincerely that I have to laugh.

  “I don’t hate them,” I tell him, smiling as I continue to unbutton the rest of his shirt. “They’re very much you. And because they’re very much you, I don’t want them ruined. K?”

  I feel his eyes on me and I don’t look up until I’ve undone the last button. When I do meet his gaze, he’s smiling lazily at me. He shouldn’t be such a cute drunk.

  Then his expression turns serious, brooding even, and he reaches out with his hand and places it at my cheek. So big and warm, I feel small against it, and I suck in a breath, the whole room seeming to come to a standstill.

  He holds his hand there, his eyes roaming across my face, and my gaze drops to his lips, and then I’m met with fear. Pure fear. Like, is he going to kiss me? Because that’s going to make things way too complicated to handle. I’m not ready for that.

  Especially if I end up liking it.

  I gulp uneasily, my pulse racing against my palm, my skin feeling hot.

  Oh no.

  Then he smiles again, a sweet smile, gazing up at me.

  “You’re a good egg, Ada,” he says.

  Then he closes his eyes.

  His hand drops away.

  And he passes right out.

  I stare at him for a few moments, making sure he’s breathing and alive, before I go back to worrying
about my own breathing. It feels like I can’t get enough air, like my heart is beating too fast, like the world is in my stomach and it’s tilting off its axis.

  I slowly get off the bed, snatch the wine off the dresser, and drink the rest of it right out of the bottle.

  Good-egg Ada, I tell myself. That should be my new nickname.

  I sigh and take a sip of my coffee, wrapping my jacket closer around me as the waves pound the shore, sea spray floating in the air.

  It’s the next morning, just after nine, and I’ve come for a walk on the beach, the last taste of my home state until we cross over into California today. I got up just after dawn, not feeling too great because of the wine, but definitely better than Big Red in the bed next to me.

  He was snoring like a banshee all night long, which had me jamming several sets of ear plugs into my ears, and when I tried to wake him up this morning, he wasn’t even budging.

  So I had a shower and got dressed, packed, and came out to the beach to try and clear my head. It’s pretty out here, reminding me of my Uncle Al’s property, a long expanse of sand, some rock formations off the shore, a cold and violent surf. I stand there for a long time, feeling the ebb and flow of the waves take some of the confusion and negativity away from me until I feel my soul has been cleared a little.

  Then I head back along the little boardwalk that snakes between dunes and tall grass, passing other guests with coffee walking their dogs, giving them polite smiles.

  Funny thing is, while normally I wouldn’t give these people a second thought, now that Max told me hybrid demons are everywhere, I’m giving everyone an extra look. I assume if there was one around me, my senses would come to attention, like it did in the restaurant, but what if that’s not the case? What if they can really read my thoughts like Max predicts? They could get me before I could get them. Sure, I can put up walls, but it’s draining to have to do it all the time and what if they can see right through them?

  I push that horrifying thought out of my head, just in case, and then head to the hotel’s breakfast room where I get Max a fresh cup of coffee. It’s not the best, but it’s better than the coffee in the room and I figure it’ll be enough to get him going. Hopefully there’s a Dutch Bros somewhere before we hit Cali.