Now it seemed that some were uncomfortable enough for a serious threat down.
She’d once believed the guardians were “good” spirits. At least this type was supposedly better than some of the alternatives. Warm guardian spirits were in charge of guarding the living and helping souls cross over to another realm when the time came for their bodies to return to dust. A soul was lucky if one of these showed up, since the guardians guided that soul someplace nice—a place of peace and tranquility tailor-made and custom-designed for the soul. For Vivian, it had been a field full of gorgeous black-eyed Susans in full late-summer bloom.
It had been created for her the night she met Ezra, the night she was supposed to die.
When she’d come into her powers, she’d managed to travel there. She’d seen Ezra’s, too. If every human soul who ever lived a worthy life earned such a respite, surely there were billions of these small slices of paradise, numerous as the stars and just as infinite in variety and possibility.
And, conversely, there were probably slices of Hell for those souls who led less than worthy lives.
Cold spirits, reapers, transported souls to the dark realms. Vivian had taken a few trips to one of these places before, courtesy of Mr. Darkmore, and felt pretty sorry for the unfortunates whose fate included a stay there, even if most of them had done something to deserve their sentence.
At least some got out after a while, and the reapers weren’t necessarily to blame. Not entirely. But some enjoyed their work a little too much for her taste, not to mention their nasty habit of tormenting the living for their own amusement, as well as their energy needs.
Then again, the guardians were plenty happy to meddle in the affairs of mortals, which was how she’d come to be in her current situation.
The reaper emerged from the parking lot, all decked out in his preferred white suit and hat. It still surprised her that such a striking man with an odd wardrobe didn’t seem to attract much attention when they met in public. Odder still, unlike most spirits she’d encountered, Darkmore didn’t seem to mind appearing in corporeal form out in the open. He even tipped his hat and wished passersby a good day. He was handsome and poised. The reaper’s face and figure drew the gaze and enticed the senses. If she weren’t so scared of him, she’d even go so far as to think of him as charming. He could be mesmerizing, but she knew better than to let her guard down.
Yet he had helped her in the past, and he still came by from time to time to relieve her of the many burdens she carried from the living. Reapers liked pain. She hoped against hope that feeding Darkmore helped save some other poor souls from the pain he could and did inflict on the living and the dead. And, since he seemed to genuinely like her, she also hoped that he might be willing to help her out with this rogue guardian stalker business.
She hoped she could afford his price.
“Hello, Darkmore,” she said as she stood up and dusted off her skirt. “Thanks for meeting me. Do you like coffee? I wasn’t sure, but I grabbed one for you. Ezra and the others like food and drink, so…”
She trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassed. She’d never offered the reaper food or drink before. Normally she sought him out for a quick emotional essence dump and left his company as quickly as she could. But since she needed a favor, she’d brought him coffee.
Why hadn’t she thought to do so before? Didn’t he merit even basic courtesy? She’d have to think on it.
“Yes, I do enjoy coffee from time to time. Thank you,” he said, removing his hat and leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. She was used to that part, since it seemed to be his preferred method for collecting burdens, at least from her. His kiss came with a pleasant coolness that was part and parcel of the reaper’s presence.
It was the chill that gave her goosebumps, not his kiss. That’s what she told herself and would keep telling herself. He drew back and looked quite satisfied as the wisps of red light filled him. She sighed, relieved and a whole lot lighter.
“Hmm,” he murmured, apparently savoring what she’d offered. “Delightful, though not as much as I’d hoped for. Money troubles just aren’t what they used to be.”
“Oh, well, excuse me for being short on misery,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “The Ridleys seemed pretty anxious to me.”
Darkmore waved a dismissive hand. “Honestly, they have little to fear. I recall much steeper penalties for debtors in olden days. Eviction, prison, enslavement.” He appeared to be positively giddy at the prospect.
Vivian gulped.
“It really is all a matter of perspective. A good deal of reality is, you know,” he said, his icy gaze piercing her.
“So I’m learning,” Vivian replied with as much lilt in her voice as she could muster. “I’ll see if I can rustle up something a bit more savory next time.”
“No matter,” he replied with a small smile. “There’s plenty of misery out there for the reaping.”
That shut her down. Fumbling, she bent down to retrieve the extra latte that she’d brought along for him and placed it in his hand. He accepted and took a sip, raising his eyebrows after.
Uh-oh. “Not good?” she asked.
“Actually, it is quite delicious,” he replied. “The chocolate is a nice touch. Quite pleasing. A favorite of mortal women the world ’round, I’ve observed. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, and it really is wonderful stuff. There’s an old saying that goes, ‘Chocolate can be a substitute for men, but men can never, ever substitute for chocolate,’ ” Vivian replied.
Where the hell had that come from?
“I wasn’t aware, but I’ll have to remember that.”
They settled into an awkward silence, at least awkward for Vivian. Darkmore closed his eyes and inhaled the spring air. When he opened them, he regarded the Greek columns of the Parthenon before him with interest. “The materials are not authentic, of course, but I have to admit, it’s a decent reproduction. If you don’t have any more burdens to share, my dear, I think I should like to see Athena. It has been centuries!”
Now or never.
“I’m fresh out of burdens, but if you wouldn’t mind some company, there’s something else I’d like to discuss with you.”
Darkmore’s eyes widened as he said, “Oh my, the honorable Vivian Margaret Bedford, spiritual intercessor for the city’s downtrodden, wishes to consort with a grisly reaper? Tsk, tsk, what would Ezra think?”
“Never mind Ezra,” she said. “I have a big problem and I need some information from you and…possibly your help.”
There. She’d managed to ask for his help. Now she waited for the axe to fall.
“I take it that this ‘problem’ does not deal with the realm of the living. Very well. I’m intrigued, which may compensate for the paltry sustenance you brought today,” he said as he offered his arm. “Come along then, my dear.”
With a sense of falling, she placed her hand on his proffered arm, and before she could blink, they were standing before the impressive statue of the Greek goddess of wisdom, all forty-two feet of her. She felt Darkmore’s cool arm making its way around her back to support her as she shrieked. To her surprise, none of the other patrons turned in response, or even registered their presence.
Motherfucker!
“Now, now, Ms. Vivian,” he purred into her ear, his cool breath making goosebumps erupt over her flesh. “Do try to calm yourself. We are in the presence of divinity.”
“Couldn’t we just go through the fucking front door like normal people?” Vivian gasped. Spirit travel seemed cool in theory, but in reality it just made her nauseous. Not to mention nervous.
“But then we’d have to pay,” replied Darkmore.
When he was certain that she could stand on her own, he released Vivian and moved closer to the base of the statue. He seemed to be lost in admiration, as he didn’t even flinch when a couple walking hand-in-hand walked straight through him. She figured that Darkmore was trying to scare her, or impr
ess her, or both. Probably both. Vivian knew that guardians and reapers could pull off tricks like that with ease, though she wasn’t quite certain if his lack of a corporeal presence extended to her. She moved out of their way just in case.
“It is a pity to keep the doors closed. The goddess would shine with more splendor by the light of the sun,” Darkmore remarked.
He was right. Her headdress, toga, spear, and shield were gilded. Vivian was more than a little surprised, not to mention impressed. In all of her years living in Nashville, she’d never stepped inside the Parthenon. It was remarkable.
“I was expecting plain marble, and not so much makeup,” she said, staring in wide-eyed wonder.
“Oh no, it was ivory over bronze back in the day—I believe that’s the expression. Her very dress once held much of the treasury for Athens. Hence, the gold. The mighty did, and often still do, enjoy audacious displays of wealth. Though she isn’t quite on par with Phidias,” he said, inclining his head toward her and spoke in a low and confidential tone. “This likeness captures the pretense of her remoteness and frigidity quite a bit better.”
“Huh?” she said, astonished. Athena was real? She was going to ask him to elaborate, but was caught off guard once more when Darkmore transported them from the floor to the statue’s shoulder.
He laughed. “Parthenos indeed! She was many, many things, the goddess, but the title of ‘virgin’ was dubious at best. Now then, come a little closer and tell me all of your troubles,” Darkmore drawled, pulling her beside him.
Now that would be an interesting story.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She had to admit, being a little closer to the reaper eased her fear of falling. She didn’t think gravity would affect them in their current state, but decided to take no chances with that either.
“Of course I am,” he replied nonchalantly. “After all, it is in my nature. And your troubles are always most interesting.”
With a deep breath, Vivian gave her account of the attack on Father Montgomery at the hands of the unknown rogue guardian as Darkmore continued to examine the statue. She was a little annoyed by his apparent lack of concern, though he at least nodded from time to time to let her know that he was still listening. He only gave her his full attention when she got to the part about healing the priest.
“You’re a healer? You are full of surprises, Ms. Vivian.”
“I only just found out, and I still don’t know how it works or if I can heal people with regular ills as opposed to zaps from your kind,” she confessed.
“It wasn’t my kind who did this,” Darkmore said. He didn’t seem upset, but he waited until she nodded in acknowledgment.
“So why would a guardian want to hurt someone close to me?”
“To get your attention, of course.”
“No kidding,” Vivian said sardonically. “What I mean is, why does this one want me to stop what I’m doing? I’m on their side.” She blushed and put her head down then, realizing her faux pas.
Damn my big fucking mouth!
“What I meant is, um…I’m working with them, you know? For them. I didn’t mean…look, I know from experience that it’s not all black and white, and I sure as hell know that guardians aren’t always the good guys.”
“Which brought you to me,” Darkmore said. He didn’t seem smug, or angry, or even surprised. He just seemed…interested.
Good thing. Maybe he’d help her if she kept his attention and entertained him. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I need to know what I’m up against, and I’d like to find out who this so-called rogue guardian is and how to get him off my back. Can you help me?”
“That’s not the relevant question, my dear.”
“Then what is the relevant question?”
“You want to know if I am willing to help you, and what it will cost.”
“Well, yeah,” she answered. She was beginning to feel a bit ornery. “You don’t work for free, though I would have thought you’d be concerned enough about your meal ticket to want me safe.”
“Well, there is that,” he conceded, smiling.
Vivian was not amused. “So, will you help me or not?”
“Yes.”
“What will it cost?”
“I shall have to think on it. Do you trust me?” Darkmore asked.
“No more and no less than I trust any other spirit,” Vivian answered honestly.
“It’s a start. I’ll be in touch.”
With that, he disappeared, and Vivian found herself back on solid ground, left to wonder about what the going interest rate might be for her line of credit with Darkmore. She shuddered, knowing full well what sort of collateral he’d hold. She stared at Pandora on the statue’s pedestal. Well, I hope that isn’t a bad sign. Hope was definitely the key word.
***
“I’m perfectly fine, Vivian. I wish you would sit down and relax,” the padre said for the third time. He’d set a cup of coffee in front of her in apparent hope that she would finally sit. “It’s decaf, by the way. I’m sure you’ve had more than enough caffeine by now.” He glanced at his office clock. It was already five thirty in the afternoon.
She’d decided to pay a house call to check on the padre after his brush with death by guardian. Though small and modest, as was befitting a priest, Father Montgomery’s Cathedral office was as warm and inviting as the man himself. Natural light flowed through a window and illuminated the space, bathing it in golden rays fit for an emissary of the divine while dust motes swirled through the beams of light, lending an Earthly charm to the scene.
She had to admit, Father Montgomery did look great. His cheeks held a ruddy glow, and his eyes were as sharp and bright as ever. They were also full of mischief, which gave her a little surge of mischievous pride. It entertained her to no end to be a bad influence on the priest, though he maintained that one of his most important missions was to be a positive influence in her life. Seemed like they were both having some success.
“Any word from Ezra?” he asked.
“Nope.” She sighed. “But he never tells me too much anyhow.”
Father Montgomery nodded and took another sip of his coffee before asking, “So what do you plan to do?”
“Sniff around myself and see what I can find out.”
She deliberately declined to mention her meeting with Darkmore. The padre was leery of reapers in general, and Lazarus Darkmore in particular. He’d seen Darkmore’s dark realm and darker tendencies. Vivian had managed to keep her ongoing association with him a secret so far, and she planned on making sure it stayed that way.
Shifting the subject, she asked, “Are you up for an outing?”
“Woodlawn? The ICU?” he asked. Through their work with the spirit world, Vivian and the padre had learned that cemeteries and hospitals were, in fact, a good place to find residents of the spirit realms. They’d mediated a few crossings, and for those who weren’t quite ready, Vivian relayed a message of hope from the priest as well as an invitation to take refuge in his home church, making it one of the most pleasantly haunted sites in Nashville.
But today, Vivian had something a little different in mind. “Nope, I thought we might run to Nolensville this weekend and see what the spooks out there have heard. What do you say? Lunch is on me,” she said.
“In that case, you have yourself a date,” he replied with a wink.
“If you weren’t old enough to be my dad and sworn to celibacy, I’d have hooked up with you a long time ago, Padre.”
“I take offense to the ‘old’ comment,” he said with a laugh. “And besides, aren’t you taken?”
She hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I suppose I am. Which brings me to my next dilemma.”
Father Montgomery leaned forward and studied her, seemingly on the edge of his seat, so she plunged right in. “I’m thinking about telling Jace the truth about my situation. You know, with the spirits and all.”
No need to pussyfoot around. Besides, the padre was used
to confessions.
“I see,” he said, then raised his eyes to the ceiling as he mused. “If you plan to maintain the relationship, perhaps even solidify it, then you probably should.” He ignored a fair amount of sin on her part, but the relations she exercised with Jace fell under the auspices of “mortal” and “grave” in terms of Catholic dogma. He felt it his duty to encourage her to marry her boyfriend and bedmate.
Not that she hadn’t thought about it—marriage—but there were so many complications, so many risks, not the least of which was whether he’d even believe her.
“I just don’t know how. I mean, he’s going to think I’m nuts. And, if I have to toss some light to convince him that I’m not, he’s probably going to head for the hills quicker than green grass through a goose.”
His expression filled with understanding and more than a little empathy. “Do you want me there when you tell him? I can certainly vouch for the veracity of your claims, and I am trained in CPR.”
“That’s nice of you to offer,” she said and meant it. “But I think I’ll try on my own first. Keep your phone handy tonight, though, just in case.”
He nodded, and then almost jumped out of his skin when he turned and noticed Wallace sitting beside him. Since the padre joined her in her work with the spirit world, guardian spirits like Wallace no longer hid their powers from the priest as they did from regular mortals—powers that included assuming a corporeal form. Vivian barely flinched, though she felt for the priest. Wallace raised an eyebrow at her glare, but didn’t apologize.
“Something on your mind?” Vivian snapped.
“You should get going,” he snapped. “Jeanne is waiting for your assistance.”
“She can wait a little longer while I finish my coffee and make sure my friend the Padre here doesn’t have a coronary. What gives?”
She’d managed to get under the stuffy spirit’s skin, at least metaphorically, based on the elevation in the air temperature. Good. Wallace and old guard spirits like him worked Vivian’s nerves no end. She had encountered a few like them while working with Ezra. They didn’t take kindly to mortals interfering with what they perceived as “their” work. It seemed ironic, considering that they supposedly protected the living. Vivian figured Wallace saw being assigned to guard one of her mortal friends as a demotion.
Raising the Dead Page 6
