Better off Dead Book Two

by Odette C. Bell

  As I caved and accepted the inevitable, I muttered to myself. “I can’t frigging believe you’re going to do this,” I hissed as I marched up to my wardrobe. I dumped my ripped clothes on the floor. I selected a new outfit. All the while, that filigree cross glimmered on the hook. I went to close the door, but I couldn’t. At the last moment, my hand shot out, wrenched the cross off the hook, and threw the necklace around my neck, all before I was really aware of what I was doing. As I flattened my palm down on the filigree, I became calmer and more certain of what I had to do.

  Turning around, I closed my eyes, my fingers still clutching the pendant.

  I wasted no more time in heading toward the hole in my bedroom floor. I jumped down it, reached my library, scooted over to my chair, and sat. It was only then that I realized I was moving quickly as if.... “As if I really want to see Sonos.” I clutched the armrests, driving my nails in. One last time as I closed my eyes I repeated to myself that this was suicide. Then I twirled my finger around and forced my chair to shoot toward the correct atlas. I plucked it off my bookshelf and lay it on my lap as the pages fluttered to a detailed map of New York. I didn’t need to remember where the bar was. It was a common magical haunt. It was an old building right in the middle of the city. Art Deco in style, it had nevertheless been a popular joint since the founding of New York. It had been added to, changed, and redone almost every year since. Rather than alter rooms, it simply added them on. I’d heard tell that it was so labyrinthine, even minotaurs would scream in confusion. There were at least a thousand rooms. That made for a lot of bars and a lot of customers.

  “I hope you’re somewhere obvious.” Letting magic race around my finger, I tapped it on the correct location. Fortunately, considering the popularity of the bar, there was a portal node very nearby. I wouldn’t have to stride through the streets for particularly long.

  That was usually not a thought that set my teeth on edge, but I couldn’t forget that Hilliker and his nasty priest gang were out there, just waiting for a chance to tie me up and kill me for eternity.

  As my magic sunk into the intricate streets of New York, I felt a portal opening up behind me. My chair tipped backward, my hair ruffling. My clothes rustled, too. The only thing that did not move and stayed steadfastly pressed against my chest was the filigree cross.

  I clutched a hand to it as I was tipped back into the opening mouth of the portal. Magic rushed around me, and I had a chance for one final thought. This really was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

  With that warning ringing in my mind like a klaxon, I landed down on my knees in front of the New York portal.

  I dusted myself off. Beside me, revelers were arriving.

  It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the day. They looked as if they were ready for one hell of a night.

  There were quite a few of them. I made a confused face. Was I forgetting something? Was there a festival going on?

  Oh wait, there was.

  “It’s the damn Day of the Dead,” I whispered to myself as I brought up my wrist and checked my watch. Sure enough, my magically encoded clock had changed all the clock hands to little skulls.

  How the hell had I forgotten that?

  Yeah, okay, so I know I had a lot of other things to think about. But the day of the dead was one of the most important days in the Gregorian calendar. When it came to dark magic, anyway. All Hallows’ Day was good, don’t get me wrong, but the Day of the Dead had that little bit extra. It promised you that ghosts would rise out of their graves and walk the streets, searching for supplications from their families.

  And other ghosts would show up, too. The nasty kind. But I shouldn’t have to tell you that, ha? You’ve been paying attention, haven’t you? For every good ghost – for every good practitioner – there is always a bad one.

  I ignored the costumes of the surrounding revelers. I pushed into a trot immediately. I quickly ran out across a busy street. Cabdrivers in bright yellow taxis leaned out of their windows, banged their hands against their doors, and hollered at me for getting in their way.

  I usually had some sassy remark ready in reply, but I stowed it. With my hands in my pockets, though all I really wanted to be doing was clutching that cross, I quickly made my way downtown through Madison Square. From there, it was just one more street away until I found The Saints.

  The Saints was the bar in question. You’d think, considering it primarily catered to the darker side of magic – though everyone was welcome if they wanted to keep their merchant license – they wouldn’t be called something so ostensibly religious. You’d be wrong. They’d kept that name since their founding. And it did not simply celebrate the saints of the Abrahamic religions. Heck no – it celebrated those from the dark, too. Any general or denizen of Hell who had achieved something great had their picture prominently displayed in the main hall. As I walked through, after I’d proven my magical credentials by making my hand turn to flame, it didn’t take me long to stop underneath a picture of Sonos himself. I wasn’t the only person staring up at him. Several tourists from around the globe were snapping pictures of him on their phones. He was by far the most popular portrait.

  “Handsome, isn’t he?” I heard a couple remark with rich British accents. “Those green eyes and dark hair make him look so roguish.”

  Green eyes and dark hair?

  I caught sight of a couple of other people’s photos. In each one, Sonos looked different. For he looked however he wanted to look to whoever he pleased. He had the power to reach into someone’s mind, figure out what they thought was the hottest thing in the world, and offer it up on a plate to them.

  “Because he is manipulative to the core,” I mouthed to myself, not stupid enough to say that out loud lest I attract the ire of Sonos’s loving fans.

  With my hands still in my pockets, I went up to the main desk. There was a grim-looking lady there. While one half of her face was painted with a skeleton motif, no doubt to keep up with the festivities, the other half of her face was far darker than any deadly depiction. She had the kind of glower that would be able to strip someone of their secrets in a few seconds. “What is it?”

  “I’m....” I closed my eyes and sighed. “Here to see Sonos. I’m Eve marigold.”

  “Everyone is here to see Sonos.” She snapped her fingers up and gestured at the adoring crowds underneath his photo. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to tell you which booth he’s in? Get out of here. All drinks are half-price until 4 o’clock,” she added, probably because she was forced to.

  “Look, lady, I really am here to see Sonos. And he wants to see me.”

  She pointed a stiff finger at the front door and another finger at the door that led into the establishment, obviously telling me to make my mind up. I could leave or go, but she wasn’t going to tell me where Sonos was.

  I opened my hands wide in surrender. “Fine, whatever.”

  I walked away. I briefly thought of leaving, but I decided I’d already come this far.

  Grumbling to myself, I walked in past the crowds through the main entrance.

  I was met by the amazing foyer. It was huge. It was this massive, football-field of a room. Above it were all these mezzanine levels. There were about 100 – and you read that right. 100 damn levels. They had hotel rooms, sidebars, and pumping clubs. There was everything from beach resorts to ski lodges. Saints had it all. If you wanted a drink, you could have it in any area you wanted to.

  “Now where the hell would I be if I were Sonos?” I tilted my chin all the way back and stared up at the expanse above me. Meanwhile revelers broke around me like water flowing through a raging river. There were hundreds of them – and those were just the ones I could see in the foyer. The others would have peeled off to one of the hundreds of bars. Who knew how many people were in The Saints right now?

  “It could take me a year to find Sonos. Why didn’t he give me his direct room number? Because he’s screwing with you, Eve,” I quickly answered my
own question as I shoved my hands further into my pockets. Grumbling and scraping my teeth over my lips, I decided to start with the beach resorts. I didn’t know why. Sonos – at least my version of him – was pleasantly tanned and didn’t need any more sun.

  As for prejudices, I didn’t have them about demons. Demons as denizens of the dead didn’t mind roasting their toes under the glorious midday sun. Even vampires enjoyed it. Which meant Sonos could be anywhere.

  Trudging to the first beach bar, I walked out onto an open party in Goa. It was pumping. The glorious, golden sand was filled with lit pyres. It was night out here – because it was night at most of the bars regardless of the actual time of day in New York. Women sashayed past in long beaded saris while bare-chested men sipped piña coladas and played beach volleyball.

  The scene looked like it was right out of a film. Off to the side was a band that would play anything anyone wanted. That ostensibly meant that there was a massive cacophony. Because they didn’t decide to play one song after another but all the songs on top of each other. They then handed out selective little magical earbuds that would allow the listeners to pick whatever song they needed to hear. If they were truly off their faces, they just listened to all of them at the same time and gyrated on the spot in a mad sea of spasmodic limbs.

  Suffice to say, there was no hint of Sonos. If he’d been here, the somewhat crazed dancers would’ve lost their little minds. I saw more than a few demon tats, suggesting these revelers preferred the dark pleasures of life.

  I quickly exited before a barman brought over a tray of brightly colored drinks.

  With my hands firmly in my pockets, I continued. I headed to a broken-down bar. It was made out of the guts of an old, crashed plane with a few mangled buses around for any spillover of guests. It had the usual kind of crowd you would expect for torn-up remains like this. Ghosts and ghouls spilled down the sides of the broken plane, ghastly drinks and snacks in hand.

  I walked through the guts of the plane, ignoring the tables that were filled with the kinds of snacks ghouls adored. There was everything from mashed-up remains to.... Let’s face it – it was all smashed-up body bits. These were ghouls, after all.

  I quickly exited that place. The stench was terrible.

  I made my way to another bar. This one was set in a ski lodge. As soon as I opened the door that led to it, I felt a chill wind race across the barren landscape. There were a few pine trees that were so covered with snow, it looked as if they were being driven back down into the earth like tent pegs. The lodge itself was amazing. It was massive on the outside and even bigger on the inside. Before you question how a room within a building could have an outside ski area and a lodge that was also full of rooms, don’t even bother. When magic is involved, ordinary physics takes a back seat.

  There were snow coats lined up outside the lodge. I grabbed one quickly and pulled it on. You would think that the lodge itself would be warm and that there’d be raging fires and whatnot, but you’d be wrong. It was as cold as the outside world. Tables were made out of piled-up snow, and seats were carved right out of drifts.

  I was tempted to grab one of the drinks of warm eggnog as waiters walked by, but I declined. I did a quick tour around the lodge, listening in to a couple of conversations, but quickly decided that Sonos couldn’t be anywhere near here. I was relatively certain that he would have an entourage wherever he was, and every single patron who’d seen him would be spreading the news like crazy.

  I exited the lodge and gave up the jacket.

  I walked around on the first floor of The Saints. If I was Sonos, where would I be?

  It didn’t take me long. I clicked my fingers and rolled my eyes. That grim lady at the reception counter had inadvertently told me. She’d said that she wouldn’t let me know which booth he was staying in – which at least narrowed it down to booths. When I said narrow, however, there were hundreds of bars with private rooms.

  “But which one would you be in, Sonos?”

  Again, I could technically contact him by calling on my snow globe, but it just didn’t feel right. So I had to do this the old-fashioned way.

  I went to the first bar I could think of, but he wasn’t there. I went to the rooftop bar, too, but that proved to be a bust. The only other bar I knew of with booths that would be fit for a demon was also one a demon otherwise would not frequent.

  It was the light bar. It was right in the middle of the building, and it had a single theme – lamps and light fittings. Every table had multiple different kinds of lamps, and chandeliers hung from every centimeter of the ceiling.

  I’d automatically discounted the light bar, despite the fact it was one of the more well-to-do bars, because Sonos wouldn’t go there.

  Right? It was anathema to him.

  “I’ll try it anyway,” I commented to myself as I scratched my neck. My fingers trailed down to my top. I’d already hidden my cross underneath my T-shirt. You could technically see the shape of the pendant pushing out, but if anyone stared at it, they’d be forced to get up in my face. I still became far more self-conscious of the cross as I headed to the light bar.

  It was one of the few bars you couldn’t just walk into. You had to get past the bouncers at the front. Which is another reason that Sonos wouldn’t be here.

  ... Right?

  I stopped myself from saying I didn’t know shit anymore. Instead I pressed a pretty little smile over my face and tried to act good.

  The two bouncers – who were predictably dressed completely in white – looked me up and down, and their frowns said it all. One quickly jammed her thumb back in the direction of the hall. “Pick another bar, bounty hunter.”

  “Or pick a dive,” the other said as he looked me up and down, obviously not liking what he saw.

  “Just checking to see if a friend is in there, that’s all.” I smiled.

  “Your kind doesn’t have any friends around here. Now beat it.”

  I rolled my eyes. I turned around but stopped. “What would it take to get inside?”

  One of them scowled. “Do we really look like we’re the kind who can be bought?”

  I looked them up and down and shrugged. “Yes.”

  “Your kind can’t get anywhere near here—”

  A concierge walked up, placed a hand on the bouncer’s shoulder, and whispered in her ear.

  The woman quickly became pale. She took a step to the side, opened her arms wide, and bowed.

  I made a face. “Why the change in tune?”

  “Please enter,,” the same snide bouncer who’d told me to beat it and I was better off in a dive said that in the kind of voice that suggested I was royalty.

  I really did make a face now. “What—”

  “Please come with me. He’s waiting,” the concierge said. She was a pretty lady with flaming red hair. She smiled wide and gestured to the side.

  As soon as she said he, my stomach clenched.

  So I was right?

  What the hell was Sonos doing here?

  It took until I walked in to realize that not only was he in this bar, but he had the staff under his thumb.

  The concierge led me politely through the sea of lamps. I’d only seen this bar from the outside, but I secretly liked the style. It might be overly obsessed with the light – and any obsession that placed one’s shadow and light out of proportion was bad – but it sure as heck was cute.

  There was one little table ensconced on the side that was completely surrounded by lamps that were shaped like flowers. They let out this glorious ethereal glow. A couple kissed behind a globe shaped like a rose.

  I strode right past the main section of tables over to a staircase. I was led up to a long corridor with five doors. Above them were distinct lights. I stopped under one that was shaped like a cross of all things.

  “He’s waiting inside. What would madame like to drink?”

  I briefly thought of ordering some lethal alcohol, but I thought better of it. “Beer – whatever yo
u’ve got. Actually, just water,” I corrected quickly, knowing that I needed a clear mind to deal with the Seventh General of the Damned.

  Fortunately the concierge didn’t open the door for me. It meant I had the time to get myself in order. I spent a few seconds just chewing on my lips as if I was trying to train my mouth not to say anything stupid. But it was my brain I really had to worry about. It kept questioning what I was doing. Worse than that, it kept questioning if Sonos... if he really could be on my side.

  He’d saved my life twice. He....

  “Don’t lose sight of what he did to you.” I growled that as I opened the door without knocking.

  There was Sonos sitting back on a leather couch, his arms spread over the back of it, his posture about as casual as anything I’d ever seen.

  In front of him, seated in a recliner, her ankles crossed, her habit always neat, and with a gold fob watch in her lap, was none other than Sister Mary.

  As far as I was aware, she was the only other person who’d survived the orphanage fire.

  ... And she was sitting next to the main perpetrator.

  I became cold and white-cheeked. My past caught up with me in a chaotic jumble of memories. I couldn’t recall the exact details of what had occurred all those years ago. But the deep-seated feelings of trauma were the strongest sensations my body could withstand. Whenever I was stupid enough to close my eyes and recall my sixteenth birthday, it felt like swallowing acid.

  “You’re finally here,” Sonos said as he leaned forward, snapped his fingers, and waited for a drink to appear in them. Judging by the color of the golden liquid, it was my favorite beverage. But unlike with me, it would not take years off his life span. He didn’t have one.

  “You didn’t tell me where you were. There are thousands of bars in The Saints,” I shot back.

  Mary rose slowly. She was getting old now, but she still had a grace about her body. She held onto her fob watch tightly. It had always been with her. She’d used it to keep the time in her classes. She’d also used it as a morality prop. Whenever I’d gotten out of hand – which had been most of the time – she would point to the clock face and say that I had a limited time on Earth to make up for my sins. Unlike a lot of the other sisters, however, she hadn’t just focused on everything I did wrong. Her favorite saying by far was that I had a limited amount of time to do good.