The answer had already dawned on her a couple of blocks back, but she refused to acknowledge it. Even if she had wanted to contact that gun-waving asshole, she didn’t know how.
As she passed a courthouse, Edie glanced over her shoulder before slipping into one of the stout alcoves carved into the stone on either side of the stoop. They were only tall enough for her to fit in one if she sat hunched over, but maybe that could be an advantage. Maybe they wouldn’t find her.
With her knees pulled up to her chin, she tried to think of other solutions, but they all led back to Calcifer. Edie would never in a million years have thought she would be counting on a zombie to save her from zombies, but nothing that had happened in the past few days made a whole lot of sense.
She balled her hands into fists and pressed them against her eyes, shaking all over. Tears slicked her wrists, and she pulled at her sleeves to wipe them away. She couldn’t stay, she couldn’t go. She couldn’t fight, but she couldn’t keep running. She just sat and listened to the booming of what she assumed was construction nearby.
Turned out, it wasn’t.
Eventually, she heard footfalls. Heavy footfalls against the pavement. She froze mid-wipe, her eyes instantly drying. It had to be around nine o’clock. So who was coming to the courthouse?
The footsteps didn’t drag or shuffle, but they still slowed as they reached her. She dared a peek past her fists and saw the thick rubber soles of a pair of brown Carolinas, trailing blood and buckshot, then watched as the stranger flicked a cigarette butt to the pavement and stamped it out.
“Get up,” Calcifer said as he dragged her from her hiding place. His grip was iron. “Get in the fucking car.”
Chapter Ten
Edie sat, rigid, across from the zombie in a vinyl booth. Outside the window, a neon sign flashed: “Dolores’ RESTAURANT,” it said, only the light in some of the letters had gone out, so it just said “res’ TAURANT.”
Calcifer hadn’t said a word in the car, but he had burned through a good half pack of cigarettes. Thank god the top of the car—some kind of convertible—had been down. At any rate, he seemed a lot calmer now, and he wasn’t waving a gun around. Him bringing her somewhere so public, with all these bright lights, was probably a good sign.
She hoped so, anyway.
Still, once in the diner, she’d refused to sit down until he convinced her he’d gotten the zombies off her tail. He hadn’t gone into detail, but he’d made it clear he’d destroyed them such that they wouldn’t be coming after her—or going anywhere, considering one needed functioning limbs to locomote.
Feeling a confusing mix of gratitude and bone-deep terror, she’d finally relented and taken a seat.
“So, I guess we’re at an impasse,” Calcifer said finally, after Edie had been awkwardly swirling her ice around in her soda for a few minutes. He hadn’t even opened his menu, just tossed it to the edge of the table and leaned forward with his elbows on the table.
She looked across at him, then glanced around the diner and leaned forward. “Um, Calcifer … why are we here? Can’t people see … you know… what you look like?”
“No. Magic isn’t really my bag, but I have a glamour I control. It doesn’t work great on anyone besides humans, and you won’t see it at all, considering our bond.” He said the word with disdain. “But they all see me as a regular guy.” He gestured to the waitress and the few other late-night patrons, then added: “And don’t call me Calcifer.”
“Sorry. Cal.” Our bond? Edie watched the waitress’s feet as she came over to their table.
“All decided on what you want to eat?” The woman was young and cute, a brunette with dark eyes and pretty cupid’s-bow lips.
Cal reached across the table and took Edie’s menu, stacking it on top of his own discarded one. “Nothing for me, sweetheart, but get the kid a plate of fries.” He flashed a grin that, from Edie’s perspective, looked pretty horrifying.
The waitress, however, blushed and smiled. “Coming right up.” She gathered the menus and made her way back to the kitchen with a spring in her step.
Edie couldn’t help but snort. “Aren’t you a charmer.”
His grin died as he looked at her again, and he just grunted. “Cut the shit. You and I both know we had a pretty close call last time, but I’m hearin’ you out against my better judgment.” He crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Why did you raise the hamster? Think it’d be fun?”
Edie balked, almost snorting diet soda up her nose. “What— No. It was an accident. I came home and he was … prone, but when I touched him, he … wasn’t, anymore.” She didn’t give him time to reply, pressing her question: “And what the hell are you supposed to be? You’re like ... you’re like a zombie?”
Cal growled and leaned back in his booth. “Come on … really?”
Okay. So zombie wasn’t PC. “What are you, then? And why did you come for me?”
“You think they’ll let me smoke in here?”
“What are you?”
“Oh, for the love of god.” Then, slowly, as if coming to a realization, he said, “You really don’t know anything about what’s going on, do you?”
She didn’t know why that was such a surprise. What normal person would understand all of this? The only reason she had kept her composure this long was because she dreaded the alternative. But somehow, his presence … helped. She got strange vibrations from him. It wasn’t a bad feeling; it was almost soothing. It was like, even though she didn’t know him, her soul did.
When she didn’t answer, Cal grabbed a cup full of creamers and started to stack them. “Where the hell do I even start....” He stopped and considered her for a moment. “You remember anything about your father?”
What a loaded question. She remembered that he’d loved her harder than anyone in the whole world; she remembered that he’d really understood her. She remembered all her surprise birthday parties, how he’d always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. Their long walks, their adventures, how she could talk to him about anything.
She held on to those tightly. If she didn’t remember them now, who would?
But now, thinking harder about it, she also remembered he hadn’t been around as often as she would have liked. She remembered there were long stretches of time where he would go away for work; she remembered he’d fought with Mom. She remembered the night he hadn’t come home, and the morning after. She remembered the funeral.
Cal could see the question had affected her. He just waited for her to answer.
“You said that in the apartment, too,” she said softly, finally. “What does this have to do with my father?”
The dead man looked back up and held her gaze for a moment. He looked so angry—as angry as he had when they’d first met. She really hoped this wouldn’t end in another stand-off.
He must have noticed her shrinking back from him, because he softened up a bit. His jaw unclenched and relaxed, and eventually he said, “Whatever you thought—whatever lies he told you—your father wasn’t who he said he was.”
This was unreal. There was a stranger in front of her—a stranger who appeared to be deceased—presuming to know about her life and telling her she hadn’t known her own father. It was too much. She avoided his eyes, propping her forehead against one fist. She didn’t know whether to cry or launch herself across the table and punch him.
After another moment, Cal asked, “You feelin’ all right?”
“What is happening to me?” Her voice finally cracked, betraying her fear.
When he heard it, his low brow wrinkled. He studied her for a while, expression equal parts confused and concerned.
Edie still didn’t look at him. “Did you know my dad?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but the waitress approached with a plate full of fries. Edie didn’t look at her, just mumbled a thank-you. The thought of eating right now made her want to throw up.
“Thanks, darlin’.” Cal picked up Edie’s glass and h
anded it over. “How about another soda?”
“Sure thing!”
Once the waitress had gone, Edie dared a glance at the plate of fries. Ugh. “I don’t want any. You can have them.”
With a frown, he said, “No, I can’t. You shoulda told me before I ordered them.”
“Oh.” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she doubted she wanted to know what he did eat.
“I know what you’re thinking. I just can’t digest this stuff.” Cal gestured to the fries and the new soda as the waitress dropped it off. “There are, uh, a few things I can digest … but I don’t need them to survive.”
Well, that’s a relief.
“And, yeah, I knew your dad.” He grunted and crossed his arms. “Better than I’d’ve liked.” When he was met with a look of confusion, he became exasperated and said again, “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you? Fuck me.”
“No thanks.”
“Easy on the attitude, sister.” Cal knocked over his pyramid of creams and started stacking them again. “Richard Holloway wasn’t a, a ... auditor, or whatever you thought,” he said, waving a hand.
“Accountant,” she mumbled.
He either didn’t hear her or ignored her. “He was a necromancer. Part of a faction called the Reach. I’m—I was—his revenant.” A pause. “Since he’s dead, and now that you’ve got your powers ... according to your blood, I’m yours. I’m bound to Holloway’s lineage.”
Reach? Revenant? Swimming in new jargon, she let her gaze drift out the window. Cal was quiet, just letting her think it all through. She was surprised to find that his company was actually sort of calming. The strange power flowing between them seemed to slow her heart rate, sharpened her focus. Revenant. What did it mean? And what did he mean when he’d said she had gotten her powers?
“How did I…?”
He sighed and gestured to her. “I figure you’d never touched something dead before, right? Then you did. Then … well, you know the rest.”
She picked at the rubber siding of their table. “You’re telling me that my dad was some kind of … wizard?”
“Necromancer. Among other things. And so are you.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table again, then pointed to her bare arms. “Use the magic enough, and it’ll start to show. When Holloway died, he was covered in runes.”
Now that he said it, she thought she recalled her dad having some strange tattoos … but when she was young, she hadn’t questioned it. For her part, she didn’t have any, magical or otherwise. Not because she didn’t want one—most of her friends had at least two or three; Mercy had fish scales tattooed up her thighs and flanks—but because she had no idea what to get. It seemed silly to spend money on something she wasn’t a thousand percent enthusiastic about, even for the aesthetic.
She was about to ask him more when she realized he wasn’t carrying any of his weapons. “Do zombies usually pack heat? I thought you guys liked eating brains, not splattering them.”
He grimaced. “What’d I say about the attitude?” When he continued what he’d been saying earlier, his tone was harsher: “Holloway raised me—from the grave, that is—before you were even born. I don’t remember anything about who I was before, and if he knew, he didn’t tell me. He was a bastard, and once he was dead, I could do whatever the hell I wanted.”
Edie didn’t know what to say. What he claimed was so completely the opposite of everything she’d ever known about her father that it didn’t seem like it could be possible. “My father was a good man,” she said, though she didn’t sound convinced.
“Anyone who enslaves another person’s soul for his bloodline ain’t a good man,’ kid.”
“If he was so bad, why did you come back?”
Cal’s clenched his jaw and looked away. “Well, ’cause ... better me than the other people who’ll be looking for you. I thought about killing you—that’d be better, too, trust me—till I realized you really didn’t know what the fuck you were doing.”
“Why would anyone be … looking for me?”
The revenant rolled his shoulders. “Necromancy is just the beginning. Some of the darker shit your dad could do ain’t for everyone, and it’s not something that can be learned like vanilla necromancy or pyromancy or whatever. People’ll want you for different reasons. Because they want your power on their side, or because they think you’re scum and wanna kill you.”
“Listen, Cal.” Edie rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The closest I’ve ever come to casting a spell is playing Bubble Witch Saga. Now I’m supposed to be some kind of specialized wizard?”
He turned one of the creams over and checked the expiration date. “I think mage sounds cooler, but all right.”
“I can see why my dad kept you around. You’re so helpful,” she said sarcastically. “You said he was a member of some … Reach?”
“Hmph. The way I’ve always understood, there’s light and dark magic. The Reach is the in-between. Holloway always said balancing light and dark was what made the old Reachers so powerful. I think he was just jerking himself off. He was obsessed with the Reach. Always talking about how it used to be bigger than either the Aurora or the Gloaming, like, a thousand years ago or something.”
“Aurora and … what?”
“The Aurora. The ‘light’ part of that equation. They’re uptight SOBs who think they’re better than everyone else. You could save their asses and they’d still call you evil ’cause of what you are. So you and I can go fuck ourselves. They’re probably looking to kill you. The Gloaming suck, too, but at least they’ll let anyone in. Wights, wraiths, undead, shifters. They’re into some seedy shit, but they’re organized, so if you’re willing to give up your freedom and learn your place, you’re at least guaranteed protection.” He spread his hands. “Most are bastards and slavers. But the Reach pretty much died out. Can’t give nobody protection these days. So, no one bothers.”
Edie shut her eyes for a second. Okay, so there were two factions—light and dark—and the currently-unorganized neutral. “So what do I do? I can’t just keep running forever.”
Cal looked her dead in the eye. His expression had become serious, and his face was so frightful anyway that she felt uncomfortable. “Trust me, I’d love to hop in the car, drive back across the country, and never see you again. But now we’re here, and I don’t have any choice but to stay and see this through. And neither do you.”
Edie was quiet for a long time, still struggling. She could barely keep herself alive living a normal life; what the hell was she supposed to do with all of this? “So … you’re staying. Those people after me, they’ll leave me alone now?”
Cal snorted. “Fuck no. They might have to regroup, but I’m only one guy.” After a thoughtful pause, he said, “But—” before stopping again.
“What?”
“I guess I know someone who might be able to help,” he finished, shrugging.
Edie took another look at the untouched fries and shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“Fine,” he said, waving the waitress over and asking for the check. When he turned back to meet Edie’s eyes, he looked angry again. “And one more thing….”
This time, he actually stood up, hands planted on the table as he leaned forward and got right in her face.
“When you made me leave your apartment, I couldn’t resist. Because of what I am, I had to do what you said.” He stabbed a finger at her, his voice dropping low. “Don’t. Ever. Do that to me again. I don’t like it.”
She heard the warning loud and clear. He hadn’t even sounded so serious when he’d pointed his gun at her. “Okay,” she mumbled through sudden nausea.
He’d had to do what she said? That was what she’d done in the apartment? Forced him to comply?
But she didn’t want that. She wasn’t that kind of person. What kind of person would keep someone, even a dead person, like a slave? That was … evil.
Edie crossed her arms over her turning
stomach. But her Dad….
“Good.” Cal sat back down, rolling his shoulders and relaxing a bit. “By the way, you’re paying.”
Chapter Eleven
Edie paid for the food with some loose bills in her coat pocket and followed Cal outside to the car.
It was late—probably around eleven—and dark, but for some reason, she felt safer the more she got to know her new companion. That was unexpected, considering he’d almost killed her the first time they’d met, but nice.
She’d been a bit too traumatized to notice anything special about Cal’s car before, besides the fact that it was white. Now she saw that it was some type of muscle car, with long fins on the end, a glossy finish, and leather interior. It stood out in the dark like an apparition.
“You drove cross-country in this?”
“Yep. This is a ’63 Cadillac Eldorado. Custom paint job and interior. A few modifications, but nothing major.”
“Where did it come from?”
Cal picked at some flaking skin on his jaw. “She was Holloway’s. He won her off some guy and was just letting her sit around and rust in a storage unit. So, when he died, I took her for a joyride to Vegas. I’ve been taking care of her ever since.”
Edie ran a hand along the hood of the convertible. She didn’t know much about cars, but it seemed to be in really good shape. “Cool.”
The car beeped twice and flashed its lights, and the passenger door popped open.
Edie retracted her hand, her gaze flying to Cal. At first, she assumed he’d done it somehow, but that was impossible; this car was way too old to have automatic locks or anything like that.
The revenant just smirked.
“Okay … mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Meet Ghost.” He gestured to the car like he was introducing her to a friend.
Edie looked back at the car uncertainly. “Uh … hi?”
The car flashed its lights two times, and the engine purred to life.
Rune Awakening Page 7
