He put a knee on the bed. The mattress sloped downward as he slid his arms around me, lifting me toward him. After the kiss, he drew back only inches from my lips. “I mustn’t keep doing this.”
“No,” I agreed. “You should leave.”
“I should.” He dipped down to kiss me again. I clutched at the collar of his duster. “I should go.”
My lips lingered on his. “Or…” I said softly, “you could stay.”
“I could.”
I ruffled the coat collar. “You’d have to take this off.”
“And you’d have to remove that ridiculous outfit of yours.”
I looked his duster over. “I wouldn’t start calling what I’m wearing ridiculous.”
His affronted expression made me chuckle.
But he took the coat off anyway.
Chapter Thirteen
Erasmus was gone before I awoke. He might be a terrible demon in every other way, but he was certainly good at…that.
Thinking lingeringly about last night, I showered, dressed, and went downstairs to open the shop for the day. I hadn’t expected Jeff, but there he was. Again.
“Hey, Jeff,” I said as casually as I could. “I know you’re stuck here for a while, and I don’t mind loaning you some money occasionally when you need it—”
“But you can’t afford to hire me. I know. I just don’t have much else to do. I already cleaned up your grandpa’s place, and I’m kind of going stir crazy. As for money, my shop and the rentals are doing okay, at least that’s what my bank account says. And you putting me up at your grandpa’s house is saving me loads of expenses, so…if it’s okay with you, I don’t mind helping out. For free, you know. I still feel I owe you.” He smiled. It was that old Jeff smile. I had no doubt he’d be able to charm the female customers as much as Erasmus did.
I shrugged and went back to looking over the herb inventory. This was my life right now; the man I left California to get away from was now working at my shop in Maine.
After a while, I checked my watch. Ed was supposed to come by so we could go over to see Doug. I was steeling myself for that encounter. The Ordo wanted to be so big and bad but really, how bad could they be? They were two-bit bikers from a small town. They wanted to seem scary, but I just didn’t think they could pull it off. If the Booke hadn’t given them special powers, they might have just faded into the woodwork. Now they were in everyone’s faces, summoning Baphomet and performing other dangerous black magic. All the while remaining completely clueless.
At least the Booke gave my coven power, too, so they could work to counteract the damage the Ordo was doing. What would happen when the Booke was finally closed again? Would that power vanish? I kind of hoped so. But maybe I’d never know. No, Kylie, don’t think that way. I wasn’t going anywhere. If anything was getting retired, it was the Booke. We all had to get that into our heads.
“Did you call the coven?” asked Jeff, startling me out of my reverie.
“I texted them. I kind of hoped I could leave the shop to you this afternoon so I can get over to Grandpa’s place when Jolene gets off school.”
“Seraphina too?”
I stopped. “Jeff…she’s old enough to be your mother.”
He shrugged and gave me one of his crooked smiles. “She’s still got it going on, though.”
I shook my head. Jeff Chase never changed. “I’m waiting for Ed to pick me up. Remember, we close at six. Then you can come on over to Grandpa’s.”
* * *
Ed was fifteen minutes late, but he finally arrived with his fur-collared coat and Smokey Bear hat. He acknowledged Jeff with a chin raise before looking down his nose at me. “This is against my better judgment.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not up to you.”
Burn, mouthed Jeff from across the room. Ed sneered at him and followed me out the door.
He drove the Interceptor slow and easy up the highway. “Last night,” I asked, “what was the damage?” I had been afraid to find out.
“It wasn’t pretty. Three farms. Houses blasted nearly down to the foundations. Only one survivor, and he’s barely holding on.”
“Oh my God.”
“I managed to convince everyone it was probably a gas leak. Crews are tearing up the roads now. People are being evacuated. I’d feel better about it, but some aren’t going far enough away. Just to their neighbors’ houses. I wish I could get everyone out of harm’s way.”
“Me too. Can’t you get the county to—I don’t know—declare a state of emergency?”
“I tried to suggest it, but they’ll want proof, and of course, there isn’t any.”
“You’ve done the best you can.”
“Is this going to be a nightly thing now? Is he going to swoop down and snatch people off the streets?”
“God, don’t say that! I hope not. But… I just don’t know.”
He gripped the steering wheel and frowned. “Can I just say right now that I hate that book of yours?”
I did too. But of course, my emotions were warring with each other. I hated the Booke with all my heart…and wanted to grow closer to it. So fucked up.
I sat there, quiet, lost in my own thoughts. Ed was too, I guess. I certainly didn’t relish going into Hansen Mills, but we had to. I almost wanted to take Jeff with us, so he could follow the ley lines. Erasmus told me he’d only be able to see them at night. Of course, Erasmus could see them all the time. But he wasn’t with us either.
We didn’t pass many cars coming from the other direction, which made it a leisurely cruise through the dense growth of trees on either the side of the road. Dark pines cast their shadows interrupted by the bright splash of hornbeams, alders, and maples. It was all so beautiful. I couldn’t fully enjoy it, wondering what lay beyond the trees. Worrying that at any moment Baphomet or Andras could come after me and hurt the people I had come to care about.
“Andras showed up last night too and attacked Baph—uh, Goat Guy, and we just slipped away while they were fighting. The good news is that I got the ghoul last night. Wrote it in the Booke and everything. The coven is going to meet tonight at my grandpa’s house on Alderbrook Lane to go over our next steps.”
“Where?”
“It’s that street that doesn’t exist…unless you think about it hard enough.”
“Oh, yeah…” he said dreamily. “God, that’s weird.”
“It’s a spell.”
“I can still hardly believe that stuff exists and that it works. But…I’ve sure seen a lot in the last few days.” He flicked a glance at me. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“I suppose…that Erasmus guy is—”
“I don’t think you want to finish that sentence.”
He lightly touched the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Doug’s place was just up a dirt road—a mobile home with a barn. Both were in poor shape, especially since we sort of trashed the barn the last time that we’d been here. Though it wasn’t entirely our fault. Goat Guy had a lot to do with it. But there was Doug’s brand-spanking-new bike parked out front. And it looked like he was alone, which was good news.
We pulled up, Ed refraining from hitting the lights and siren. His jaw was stiff and tight when he got out of the car, grabbing the rifle from its holster in the seat. It looked like one of those semi-automatic army-issued guns I kept seeing on TV.
“Really?” I asked. He said nothing and gripped it by the barrel, carrying it by his thigh. I rolled my eyes and followed him to the mobile home door.
“Police. Open up, Doug.” Ed pounded on the door.
I could hear approaching steps before Doug threw the door open. “You’re two weeks early for trick-or-treating, Edward. And it’s a lousy costume.” Then he noticed me. “Hey, sweet thing. Now you’re welcome to come in. Don’t happen to have that book on you, do you?”
“Nope.”
Doug stepped aside as Ed pushed his way through. “I don’t sup
pose you’ve got a warrant.”
“To visit my one and only brother?”
The place smelled like dirty carpet and skunky weed. There were the remnants of a joint in an ashtray. Doug smirked at Ed’s frown of disapproval. “Hey, bro, it’s perfectly legal in the great state of Maine.”
“I’m aware.”
“So what do I owe the pleasure? Gonna illegally turn over my place again?”
“Kylie wants to talk to you.”
“Oh really?” Doug sat down on his Naugahyde recliner and leaned back, hands laced behind his head. There was an enormous big screen TV on the wall and an old-timey popcorn machine that looked like a cart next to it. Both looked brand new.
“Come into some money, Doug?” I asked, glancing around.
“It’s just good old-fashioned hard work, sweet thing.”
“I’m not sure that I believe that. What is it you do for a living again?”
“I resent the implication. I’m a man who repairs cars and rebuilds engines. It’s patient and precise work.”
“You are so full of shit, Doug,” growled Ed.
“Bro, that’s just the kind of attitude that will send you to the hospital with an early coronary. You need to relax more. Get yourself some therapeutic vegetation.” He gestured toward the bag of weed beside the ashtray.
“No thanks.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. How about you, Kylie? Or does your boyfriend here disapprove?”
I pulled up a footstool and sat…and then was sorry I touched it. “Look, Doug, we’re here for a reason. You haven’t come across a stash of gold lately, have you?”
Something passed through his eyes but he hid it in his jovial manner. His smile was broad under his mustache and beard. “From a Leprechaun? Who even says ‘stash of gold’ these days?”
“I don’t care where you got it. I don’t care that you got it—new bike, big screen TV, bags of weed. All I know is what comes with it. You ever go out after sunset, Doug? You and your Ordo pals? Have you noticed the mist lately?”
His smile faltered. “What are you talking about?”
Ed tightened his grip on the rifle. “Remember the Warrens? They’re dead now. All of them. Down to the dog on the porch.”
Doug scrambled up from his chair. “What are you talking about? We didn’t have anything to do with anything like that.”
I pushed past Ed. “They’re dead just the same. And the ones you stole the gold from, the Draugr? They’re ancient zombie Vikings. They want their gold back. Whether you found it or conjured it or whatever, you have to give it back before anyone else gets killed.”
He stared at us incredulously. “Zombie Vikings? I know what I’m smoking, but what are you smoking?”
“Cut the crap, Doug,” said Ed, “and listen to her, for pity’s sake.”
He waved his hand at us and retreated to his dingy kitchen, in all its 70s goldenrod glory. “We didn’t steal anything.” He opened the fridge and popped the top off a can of beer, slurping up the overflowing froth.
“Then where’d you get the money?” asked Ed, standing over him in the doorway.
He shrugged. “A little here, a little there.”
I folded my arms and did my own glaring. “You got it from Shabiri.”
“You called?”
Scared the hell out of me. But there she was suddenly behind us, catsuit and all.
Ed held his rifle at his shoulder, aiming. Shabiri gave him a silky appraisal like she had the first time she’d seen him.
“Where’d you get the gold, Shabiri?” asked Ed. It was likely the same tone he used in the interrogation room. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the other end of that.
Doug’s eyes widened. “How do you know about her?”
“Kylie filled me in. On a lot of things.”
“Well…shit.”
She made a point of walking all the way around him, examining him. If a guy had leered at me the way she was leering, I’d be calling the cops. He really had no choice but to lower the gun, not that it would do any good anyway.
“You didn’t say please.” She poked him in the chest.
Maybe he wouldn’t slap a lady, but I wasn’t above it. “Spill, Shabiri,” I said. “We’ve been dealing with Draugr.”
Her salacious smile vanished. “Draugr? Darlings, that’s nothing to joke about.”
I might have knocked Ed sharply out of the way to get in her face. “No shit. People have died. Give back the freakin’ gold, already.”
She exchanged a sly glance with Doug before she shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I reached out and grabbed Doug’s demon amulet, dragging him forward by the chain. I squeezed it and twisted. Shabiri cried out, cringing. “Stop touching that!” she snarled between gritted teeth.
Doug snatched it back out of my grip. “Hands off, lady.” Vaguely, I remembered when Doug tried to steal my amulet…and got a burned hand for his trouble. I looked at my palm. No damage.
The roar of bikes echoed out in the yard. Looked like the rest of the gang was pulling up in front of the mobile home. I saw Charise swagger off her new bike as Dean and Bob made their way up the steps, barging in.
Charise swept in after with leathers similar to Shabiri’s. “We saw the police car—” She smiled and looked Ed up and down. “Look who’s here!” she said cheerfully, until she spied me wiggling my fingers at her. “Oh. You too?”
Ed’s body language looked all kinds of uncomfortable. What? Please don’t tell me—
“Your old girlfriend’s here, Edweird,” said Doug, frowning. “I guess this is awkward. New girl, old girl.”
“Shut up, Doug,” he muttered.
I stared at Ed. His reddened cheeks said all I needed to know.
Charise sat on the arm of the chair where Doug was sitting and leaned into him. “I don’t go for cops anymore.”
Shabiri shook her head and hung back, eerily similar to how Erasmus would have behaved; staying in the shadows but missing nothing.
Ed threw his shoulders back, rifle across his chest in a show of force. “Listen up, everyone. We know damn well you all came into some money. I don’t care where it came from, but you’ve got to give it back. We’re being attacked by what Kylie calls the Draugr. They’re undead Vikings, and their sole purpose is to protect their magical hoard of gold. And when they don’t get it, they kill. An innocent family was slain, all because of your greed. So whatever you have to do, bring the gold to the police station, and we’ll return it to them.”
Everyone was silent…then burst out laughing.
“Right, Ed,” cackled Charise. “That’s just what we’re gonna do. Bring gold to the police station. I mean, if we had it.”
“That’s dumb, even for you, sheriff,” said Dean of the pentagram tattoo.
“I’m not kidding. If I have to trash every one of your houses, I’ll do it.”
“Get a warrant, maybe,” said Bob, smiling at Charise.
Ed stomped over to Bob and grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him only inches from his face. “I don’t do warrants for supernatural shit. I just barge in and do what I have to do, get it? And if it means beating your ass to a pulp, I’ll do that, too.”
“Okay, okay,” I soothed. “Ed, we can go about this more reasonably.”
“Back off, Teen Barbie,” said Shabiri, nudging me aside. “I like this rough and tumble sheriff. It’s oh-so-sexy when he takes charge. Dougie, how come you never told me about him?”
“I didn’t know you cared. Well, look at this big happy family. It’s too bad you can’t stay, bro.”
“I’m staying right here until you turn over that gold, Doug.”
“And I have a bone to pick with you,” I said.
Doug grinned. “Anytime, baby.”
Charise frowned. Bob looked ready to swoop in and comfort her if only she’d notice.
“Your goat god is trying to kill me. Are you concerned at all that he’s loose and ready to
strike at anything he doesn’t like…including any of you?”
Doug’s jovial expression dimmed. “I call that your problem.”
“No, it isn’t my problem. It’s your problem. Or more accurately…” I spun and pointed at Shabiri. “It’s her problem. This gold belongs to the Draugr. She’s brought them down on you, and you don’t even know how much you’ve been played.”
“No, sweet thing.” Doug rose, all humor wiped from his face. “I’m not being played. I’m just getting my own back.”
It happened so fast no one was prepared. He snapped his hand out and grabbed Ed’s rifle. But even as Ed tugged it, Doug cold-cocked Ed square in the jaw. He went down like a crumbling wall. I lurched forward to catch him, but Shabiri sunk her talons into my arm and yanked me back.
“Tie him up,” said Doug, turning away with a wince and rubbing his knuckles.
Shabiri kept a death grip on my arm as she slammed a hand over my mouth. “We can’t have you calling for Erasmus, can we?” she hissed in my ear. “Anyone got any duct tape?”
Chapter Fourteen
Ed and I were quickly duct-taped to chairs, though Ed was sort of out of it, lolling next to me. Shabiri had made sure my mouth was covered. Charise had placed a big piece of duct tape over my lips with smirking satisfaction. The whole thing was ridiculous.
“Shabiri,” said Doug. “What is the Draugr?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
He grabbed the demon amulet with the green stone eyes and held it up to her face. “Maybe I want to worry about it. What the hell are they?”
She sighed and leaned against the wood-paneled wall. “They are undead warriors who guard their gold hoard for all eternity. Anyone who stands in their way gets crushed to death.”
“So, this gold you helped us get.” He flicked a glance at Ed. The sheriff was coming back to his senses and seemed mad as hell about the duct tape on his mouth. “Where did it come from?”
“I told you not to worry about it.”
“And I told you to answer me. Are the undead out there killing people?”
“What do you care, Doug? I thought you wanted to be feared. I thought you wanted to be respected. Everyone respects a man who holds their life in his hands. You’re going to have to put your big boy pants on to earn the respect you claim to want. You’re going to have to do some bad, bad things.”
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