Not Dead Yet

by Alice Bello

  Abbey still felt guilty about tricking her a couple months back, and accidentally raising every dead body in the graveyard behind their two houses. She’d almost gotten them both killed, and the implications of over a hundred uncontrolled zombies traipsing around, snacking on her neighbors, made her stomach lurch. She didn’t know any of them well. She kept them all at bay with her extreme style and her abrasive personality.

  All except Lucy.

  Abbey pushed the last crocodile tooth down into the ground until she felt it touch the first she’d buried. The instant they touched, the magic snapped and she chanted the short yet potent ward she’d learned from a voodoo practitioner she’d met in Sacramento. She’d taught her to do the spell with dove feathers stuck in tiny balls of a simple dough—hers had been noodle dough. But Abbey knew her magic better than anyone else. It was steeped in necromancy, an odd and nightmarish after effect of raising the dead using Lucy’s necromancy. It had tainted her small talent, and had opened a door that would never close.

  She would always be linked to death, to dark magicks. She accepted this. But it didn’t make it any easier. She was the weird girl, so strange that she couldn’t show her face unless it was masked by enough pancake makeup to make her look like an albino.

  The spell spun, it pitched in her hand, and railed against her power for an agonizing moment. It didn’t want to be obedient. It wanted to be lethal and take its hunger out in blood. But Abbey didn’t need it to do that. She needed it to be a warning signal. So she pushed back against the nearly sentient magic of the ward she’d built, and ground it back down into the teeth she’d planted. The magic coalesced and then faded, sleeping with one eye open, waiting for something seeking violence to cross its path.

  She felt the strength slide out of her and into the ground on which she knelt. She knew that a spell as intricate as this one would cost her more than the usual headache or a bloody nose. So she wasn’t surprised when she drained.

  As the spell paled to nearly nothingness, Abbey heard the scuff of someone’s shoes on her grandmother’s driveway. She snapped her head in the sound’s direction and almost fell over at the sight of Oz standing there, a warm smile lighting the dark feature of his face. He wore all black, except for a dark blue t-shirt that sported a white outline logo of Stewie from The Family Guy.

  She gulped in a breath and quickly pocketed the canvas sack that had held the crocodile’s teeth.

  She wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing there. But she was afraid he’d ask her what she was doing in return. She was also pretty sure her voice would make that annoying high pitched squeak teen-aged girls the world over made whenever they were around a guy they liked. And she flatly refused to be one of those girls... even if she really, really liked this guy.

  He was tall and exotically handsome, and he made her feel pretty for the first time in her entire life. He saw through her makeup and bravado, and actually liked what he saw. Or so that’s what she’d told herself all day, thinking about the moment when their hands had touched as he’d given her his phone number.

  She’d almost thrown it away... but she very much wanted to see him again, so she’d committed it to memory before stowing it away in her jewelry box. The dinky little satin lined kind with a plastic ballerina that popped up and danced in a circle. Her parents had given it to her on her sixth birthday, and she would never, ever part with it.

  With a start she realized she hadn’t said anything, and they’d been standing there, just silently staring at each other.

  I’m such a dork!

  She took a breath to say something... what? She had no idea. But Oz beat her to it.

  “So you’re working some sort of spell, huh?”

  Oh shit! Abbey turned her head and tried to think up a retort, but stopped herself. “Who the hell are you?” It came out more acidic than she’d planned, but he was at her home uninvited, and throwing around knowledge he shouldn’t have been in front of a perfect stranger. So he was in the wrong, not she.

  You could cut the condescension in his voice with a knife. “I’m Oz. We met earlier today at the Wal-Mart I work at.”

  Abbey was about to snap at him when he cut across her.

  “You know, where you dumped a big, honking TV monitor on some psycho-with-an-axe’s head.”

  Though she liked him, he was scaring her. How did he know about magic? And how could he have guessed that she had worked such things? He was obviously in the trade, and that alone made him dangerous in her book. Not to mention she’d just shoved a butt load of her power into the ward she’d just built. So if he was there for a fight, he’d probably be able to slap her down with little trouble.

  But Abbey always carried pre-mixed ampoules of defensive potions on her person. There was a particularly nasty mace/dust-devil potion in her right boot. If she could just reach it before he made his move...

  Oz held up his hands and backed up a big step. “I’m not here to fight or anything else you might be thinking.” He got this devilish grin on his face. “Well, there are a couple things that I would be most interested in doing with you, but I mean you absolutely no harm.”

  Abbey pulled her fingers out of her boot, leaving behind the ampoule of potion. This was stupid, but she didn’t feel like he was a threat, and something in her told her he wasn’t lying.

  Of course that was probably just her hormones talking, and she knew from endless research that most of the world’s problems were caused by hormones.

  “Then what exactly are you doing here, in the middle of the night?” Abbey had started the ward spell at exactly half past eleven, and it had taken the entire witching hour to build the ward and chant the spell. She’d needed not only the midnight hour, but the peace and quiet it afforded.

  “Looking for you.”

  That surprised her; though why she had no earthly idea. “So you just searched all over southern California until you found me. You should be a private investigator of something.”

  “Or a psychic,” he said, his dark brown eyes piercing her straight through. “I felt you out, sort of.”

  Psychic... and he felt me out... talk about creepy.

  He looked over Abbey’s shoulder, a puzzled look making his expression pricelessly handsome in the waxing light of the crescent moon. He breathed in deeply, and let it out with slow deliberation. Then he looked down at her. She was still kneeling and suddenly felt rather silly.

  “Are you finished with your spell, there?”

  “Well... yes, I was just—”

  “Great.” He moved toward her and helped her to her feet, and then took her hand in his and led her quickly to and through her back yard. That’s when a little warning voice piped up in Abbey’s mind.

  He’s leading you straight to the graveyard! You can’t go in there.

  She hadn’t dared go near the place, for any reason. But the truth was that she so very much wanted to go back. It called to her every single night, and she dreamed of walking through it, the night wind cool and tickling as she swept her hands over the tombstones, as if they were flowers in a garden. The dream was so strong—so intoxicating—it made her ache to do it in real life.

  But that was in dreams. This was real life, and the very thought of returning to where she’d so nearly killed herself made her panic. She halted her stride and tried to pull Oz to a stop. And to her surprise he did stop.

  He turned back to her, his face limned by moonlight and shadow. He leaned into her as if he were about to kiss her. She could feel the warmth of his flesh hovering just apart from her own. She could feel his breath against her lips, and so wanted to cross that distance and taste his mouth.

  But he spoke instead. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

  It wasn’t at all what she’d thought he’d say. “What?”

  “A couple someones, actually.” He pulled away from her, letting her hand go. She felt so cold and alone the instant their hands parted company. It was insanity, but it was undeniable. She felt
a connection to this guy, this total stranger.

  But how… and why?

  There was always a reason.

  He went ahead a few yards, turned back and beckoned with a wave for her to follow. She looked back and could still barely see her grandmother’s house. But when she turned back he was still patiently waiting for her to decide to follow him.

  Like a crocodile patiently waits for its dinner just under the shallow water...

  She took one step toward him, and then another, until only a foot of ground separated them. He stepped into a cloistered area of trees and brush, and started walking down a narrow path. She followed, and realized with relief that he was leading her away from the graveyard.

  Less than a minute later he stopped by a large, arching tree. It was too dark for her to see what kind of tree it was, but the moon touched its branches eerily.

  Oz waited for her to catch up. He was tracing something with his fingers, something etched into the bark of the tree.

  “So what do you want to show me?” she whispered. The night was so still, she could barely speak.

  Oz smiled a little smile. “Put your hand where mine is on the tree.”

  “Okay,” she said, but didn’t move at all until nearly a minute had passed. When she did place her hand where his was, she felt a small shock as their hands grazed. It almost made her yelp, but instead she just made a wheezy little breath sound.

  Oz cleared his throat and looked down into her eyes; his gleamed black and silver in the moonlight.

  “Do you feel that?”

  “W-what?” Abbey sputtered. Was he asking her if she felt the shock when their hands touched—it was probably static electricity... but it hadn’t hurt. On the contrary, it had felt divinely good.

  His eyes slid away from hers to where her hand rested on the tree, and then back. “Do you feel what’s carved in the bark?”

  Abbey gasped, and felt her face turn warm from embarrassment. She was so glad it was dark, and that moonlight wouldn’t betray her blushing to him. She pushed away her unease and focused on where her hand was on the old tree’s bark. There was something carved into the wood. It took a moment before the letters started to make sense, and that they were surrounded by a heart. When the letters finally made sense, it was like she’d been slapped in the face. A completely overwhelming flash of pain throbbed up through her chest, cold and searing hot all at once.

  She pulled her hand from the tree, clamping her eyes shut on the tears that had swelled up in her eyes without warning.

  The letters were JA & JC. James Adams and Julie Carmichael: her parents' initials before they’d gotten married. The world spun and Abbey was close to falling to her knees. But she refused to let the pain take her, not even once more. She’d almost killed her best friend to make that long suffering pain end, and she would forfeit to it no more.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice was harsh and angry, and she meant it to be. It felt better to be angry than to be hurt. And she no longer cared that Oz made her feel anything. He was there for something... to take something from her, of that she was now sure.

  “I’m here to show you something. That’s all.”

  She felt a wave of her dark magic flood up through her feet and into her chest. It pushed the cold pain away, easily taking its place, ready to attack the boy before her—if he was a boy at all. She hadn’t been at it all that long, but she knew very well that things were seldom what they looked like.

  Oz held up his hands in surrender. “I swear, on my power—”

  Dear goddess, he was in the trade. Only a witch or sorcerer... or a demon or fae, would make such a promise. To renege on such a promise would take a huge chunk of one’s power away, permanently.

  “—that I mean you absolutely no harm.” He stopped and stared Abbey in the eyes for a long while to let what he’d said sink in.

  What the hell was he? Any which way it turned out, being with him in the dark, alone, anywhere, was a very, very bad idea.

  His gaze drifted away from her once more, and that look of being lost and hurt returned to his face. He shook his head and then looked back to her. He held out his hand to her.

  “You’ll be able to see them here... I think. This place was very special to them. But you’ll have to touch me for it to work.”

  “For what to work?”

  He didn’t answer. He simply stood there in the dark, in the moonlight, and held out his hand to her. Slowly she reached out and slid her hand into his. That surge of power, so very delicious and familiar, yet so alien in a way, swept through her like a summer breeze, making her toes curl. She closed her eyes, savoring the pleasure of this magic, and when she opened them moonlight started to gather and streak the air before her. In a moment two shapes came into relief against the shadowy backdrop. A heart beat later they shimmered and came slowly into clarity.

  Abbey stared at her parents with complete silent awe. Her mother smiled and her lips moved, but no sound came out.

  “Maybe if you touch her,” Oz said in a soft voice. “Maybe then she’ll be able to hear you.”

  Abbey stepped back and pulled away from him, snapping the magic that had joined them. Her parents’ apparition faded in the blink of an eye.

  “What are you trying to pull?” she hissed, turning on him, her magic roaring to life again. If he thought he could trick her with a little glamour, she’d make him sorely regret it.

  “I’m not trying to pull anything over on you.”

  Abbey swiped a hand at him and he flew back against the tree. He hit hard enough to make the wood crackle, and let out a surprised groan.

  “If you try and use illusions against me again, I’ll pull out your rib cage and wear it as a hat!”

  Oz grimaced and pushed himself back off the tree trunk. “That’s pretty gross imagery there, Abbs.”

  Abbs! The jerk was nicknaming her now.

  “And that wasn’t an illusion. I’m an ectomancer.”

  The word sounded familiar. She’d read it somewhere before.

  “You know, kinda like your friend Lucy. But instead of having an affinity for the physical dead, I have one for the spirits of the dead.”

  “Spirits of the dead,” she murmured, and then a shiver ran up and down her spine. “So what I just saw... ” She couldn’t say it, it hurt too damn much.

  “Those were the spirits of your parents.” He looked over to where they had been glowing only moments prior. “They’re never far from you. They worry.”

  Panic sliced through the din of her thoughts. “You mean they’re stuck here, because they’re worried about me?” Oh god, oh god, oh god...

  He shook his head. “Not all of them. Just a small part of what they were. But it’s stronger than most manifestations. I saw their shadow back at Wal-Mart, and then really got a good look when we were talking out front.”

  Abbey shook her head and looked again at where they had stood. It couldn’t be. “My grandmother told me that I couldn’t bring them back... that they would be just mindless zombies.”

  “As I said, I’m no necromancer. Similar, but I deal in spirit, not flesh. They’re not the sum whole of what your parents were, but they are what lingers. And they stay for only one reason.” He stopped to let Abbey catch up with his line of thought.

  They stayed for me...

  Tears flowed before Abbey could catch them, and she clasped her hand over her mouth, afraid she would start screaming. Her parents were stuck in this world because of her. Somehow she’d brought them back and they couldn’t escape her now.

  “I brought them back somehow... I’m torturing them,” she rasped. I’m a monster... I really am a monster.

  Oz turned his gaze away from her to where her parent’s apparitions had stood. He nodded and turned back.

  “They say they’re here of their own free will. That part of their essence stayed behind because they wanted to stay with you, always. They stay out of love. They are not being tortured.”

  Abbey b
linked the tears out of her eyes. Those weren’t the exact words she’d yearned to hear from her parents the night she’d hijacked Lucy’s powers and raised their corpses… but it was eerily similar.

  They stayed because they love me...

  Slowly she reached her hand out to Oz. He took this as his cue, taking her hand in his. The night glimmered and the glowing figures of her parents appeared once more. They were closer now, so close she could reach out and touch them. They were arm in arm, and held out their free arms to her.

  Oz moved behind her, letting go of her hand, yet placing his other hand on the bare flesh of her neck, keeping skin contact. Abbey moved forward and into her parents’ embrace. They felt perfectly solid, but there was a little tingly shock on contact.

  She suddenly could hear their voices. “My sweet, sweet girl... ” her mother sang. “We’ve missed you so much,” her father’s voice ached with remorse. “We never wanted to leave you. We would never have left you.”

  Abbey gasped and sobbed as they held her close. She pulled them to her all the harder.

  “But you didn’t... ” she cried out with joy tinged in grief. “You were here all the while.”

  Chapter 6

  What in the name of all that’s holy am I doing here?

  Lucy stood at the front gate of a faux antebellum mansion—the home of the Psi Delta Beta sorority. She remembered feeling so happy a couple weeks ago when she was getting the pre-rush invitations to all the most elite sororities on the UCLA campus. It was part of her dream, part of her master plan—it was how she wanted most to spend her life: in the upper echelon.

  She had accepted five invitations, and tonight was the first of the rushing parties. She knew there would be some hateful, rather territorial bitches she would have to deal with—there were more than a few in every crowd, but she had decided she would overcome them, if not downright wow them with her enthusiasm...