Dead Sexy

by Tate Hallaway

  I waited for the lewd rejoinder about how irresistible he was or some such, but instead he shifted upright and moved out of my path to the door. "I'll wait for you."

  I hefted my bike, but Parrish said nothing. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the wall, which hummed lightly with the sound of the neighbor's Grateful Dead tunes. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. At that moment, I knew he wouldn't push it. He'd ask no questions or make any demands. He'd sit here and wait for as long as it took.

  "Izzy could be in real trouble," I said. "Your bike is much faster."

  * * * *

  Of course a motorcycle, especially one as loud as a Harley, is no place to have a conversation. We rode in silence with me clinging to his back, my face pressed into his leather jacket to try to stave off the cold and biting wind. It was one of those fuzzy gray October nights where the heavy cloud cover reflected the yellow lights of the city. There was moisture in the air, as though it might snow. The street-lamps were surrounded by a halo of haze.

  Since State Street was a pedestrian mall, we had to park the bike and walk up the street. Both shops were closed and dark. Peering into the window of Holy Grounds, I couldn't see any obvious signs of struggle. I let myself into the store using my key. Izzy had reprogrammed the security lock, and when I noticed that I felt instantly relieved. She hadn't left in a hurry or under duress.

  "She's okay," I told Parrish, as I relocked the store. "She probably forgot to recharge her battery again."

  "Do you want to swing by her place just to make sure?"

  I did. I knew Izzy could take care of herself and the locked door was deeply reassuring, but it never hurt to be sure.

  Ten minutes later we cruised past Izzy's house. It was an Arts and Crafts bungalow on Mason Street between Hoyt Park and Forest Hill Cemetery. I expected the place to be shuttered and dark for the night, but there was a light on in the kitchen. I thought I could make out two figures sitting at the table.

  Parrish pulled up to the curb, but I shook my head. Everything seemed all right, and, besides, I'd forgotten my gloves, and my hands were raw with cold. I wanted to go home.

  "You'll feel better if you talk to her," Parrish said.

  "It's almost one a.m.," I said, feeling another twinge of Minnesota Nice. I mean, Izzy and I were the call-after-midnight kind of friends, but show up at the door? Somehow it seemed ruder.

  He cut the engine. "Go on."

  I pulled myself away from the relative warmth of the bike. Icy frost clung to the long expanse of grass in front of Izzy's house. A sheen of white covered the sidewalk, sparkling like glitter under the streetlamp. The front of the house was dark. The doorbell on the exterior of the three-season porch was broken, so instead I walked along the paved driveway toward the side door. I'd taken no more than a half dozen steps when a motion-sensitive light snapped on and illuminated a crow.

  The bird stood in the center of the frosty drive, one beady black eye trained on me. Taking a bold hop toward me, it bobbed once like a deep bow, and proceeded to yell at me. Or caw. Whatever. It felt personal.

  Then apparently finished, it took off in a flutter of oily wings.

  As someone who takes this sort of thing seriously, I watched the crow disappear into a tangle of oak branches.

  I looked at Izzy's house. Clearly, the crow was some kind of sign, but what did it mean? Was Izzy in trouble?

  I took another step toward the door. The crow cawed once, loudly.

  So, I wasn't supposed to go to the door. I sidled up to a window. Through it, I could plainly see Izzy. She was sitting at her kitchen table eating a bowl of Froot Loops. I raised my hand to rap at the window, and I felt something grab at my hair. Wings hit my ear. The damn crow was dive-bombing me.

  "You're making me think Izzy is in real trouble," I hissed at the crow. It perched on one arm of one of those old metal clotheslines in the neighbor's backyard. The crow puffed up its chest feathers and shook its head.

  "No? She's not in trouble?" Creepily, it bobbed its head in affirmative. I reminded myself I was a Witch and tried to roll with the fact that I was clearly having a conversation with a bird. "Why won't you let me talk to her?"

  Maybe the question was too complicated, because it cocked its head at me.

  After taking one last look at Izzy, I told the crow, "Okay, but when I get home, I'm going to call her."

  I turned on my heels and headed back to where Parrish waited on his bike. The crow flew overhead, its cries of "Ah, ah, ah" echoing in the night.

  Parrish gave me a long look. From where he sat, he'd seen everything. "Crows at night. That's so wrong," he said. "This place is creepy."

  Somehow that seemed more ominous coming from a vampire.

  "Yeah," I said, clambering on the back of his motorcycle. I slipped my arms under his jacket and hugged him tightly. Wordlessly, he started the engine, and we drove toward home.

  As we turned up the street, I watched perfectly spaced rows of white granite headstones roll past.

  I thought I saw something moving between the trees, but decided it was just a deer… or more likely my nerves imagining things.

  * * * *

  Back at home I invited Parrish upstairs. The apartment stank of burned coffee. The pot Sebastian had made now had a black ring of sludge stuck to the bottom. I set it in the sink to soak while Parrish settled himself down at my kitchen table.

  Parrish crossed his arms on the scarred wood of the oak table and watched me. On my way to the refrigerator to offer Parrish something to drink, I accidentally kicked Barney's food bowl and scattered some kibbles.

  "Shit," I said louder than I intended. I bent down to pick them up, feeling ready to cry.

  Suddenly, there were hands on my shoulder guiding me upright. "Leave it," Parrish said. "It can wait."

  "But," I said, gesturing to the mess on the floor. "I know how to fix this."

  Wordlessly, Parrish pulled me into a bear hug. I allowed my head to sag against his chest. I needed to be held much more than I realized. Letting him support me, even for a moment, made it all better somehow. Even as I was comforted, I couldn't help but notice how the autumn chill unnaturally permeated his skin. His arms were powerful and capable, but I strongly felt the absence of his heartbeat. It was like being surrounded by a statue of a man.

  I broke contact. Parrish hugs were dangerous. They just implied clothes coming off and guilty mornings after. Parrish was temptation walking. If I ever wanted to patch things up with Sebastian, which I did, now would be such a bad time to relax my vigilance in this department, despite how good it felt to be held. "I'm okay," I lied.

  He gave me a sad little smile that said he'd let me get away with saying so for now. His hands held my shoulders. "I'm sure you are. But you don't have to be so strong with me."

  That almost broke my resolve. I held the quiver of my lip in check by act of supreme will. Parrish had seen me at my worst. He'd seen my hysteria, my grief, all the ugliness of that night and he still loved me. I took in a deep breath, intending to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

  Instead, he pierced me with those storm-gray eyes and said, "We'll get through this."

  As much as I appreciated him throwing his lot in with me, I had to say, "It's me the FBI is after."

  "My dear lady, I am an accomplice after the fact, or at the very least a coconspirator or an abettor." When I frowned at him in confusion, he said. "Garnet, we drove them to Lakewood Cemetery in my van. Forensic evidence is going to point to me as clearly as it will to you."

  "What forensic evidence? You're a vampire."

  "Just so, but I have hair and skin and fingernails. I leave footprints. My clothes shed fibers. The tires on my car make tracks. I can be witnessed by passersby. I am not so entirely formed of magic that I can defy natural laws."

  Yet, somehow, I thought he could. "Do you really think they're looking for you too?"

  He let his hands fall off my shoulders and cracked his neck in that
way guys do when they're thinking about something uncomfortable. "Most certainly, though my connection to the agents' death is slightly more tenuous. Anyone who knew us as a couple would likely be aware of the fact that you broke things off with me the night before the murders. Officially, we were no longer romantically linked. Of course, most of the people who knew us well, namely your coven, are dead. So it wouldn't take much to connect the dots given that I've followed you here."

  I shook my head. I'd only partly heard all Parrish had said, my brain having stopped working after "murders," I repeated aloud, feeling my knees tremble slightly.

  Parrish steered me over to a chair and sat me down. He knelt beside me and cupped my face with his still-cold hands. His eyes sought out mine. "I shouldn't have used that word. Forgive me."

  "It's what it was, though, wasn't it?"

  Parrish flashed me a quirky grin. "There's murder in self-defense, and then there's killing people and sucking their blood. I'm hardly a firm moral compass on this issue, my love."

  "What am I going to do?"

  "First of all," he said. "You're not going to panic. We don't yet know precisely what led this lawman to our door. It is within the realm of possibility that he has no hard evidence at all, but is merely attempting to flush us out."

  I nodded. Dominguez had said something about me not yet being a suspect.

  "Second, you're going to remember that you did nothing wrong. You're guilty only of defending yourself. If you must confess to anything at all, it will be to responding as any reasonable person would—in self-defense."

  "But…"

  Parrish put a finger gently on my lips to stop my protest.

  "Stay out of the second-guessing game, Garnet. What's done is done. Doubts will damn you. You must believe in your innocence."

  He made it all sound so reasonable; I felt half convinced. I nodded absently, not really believing.

  His hands gripped the sides of my face and compelled me to look into his eyes. "You are innocent, Garnet. Completely. Lilith did the killing, not you. I'm not asking you to believe something that isn't true. This was not your doing."

  It wasn't, was it? I was the vessel Lilith had used, that's all.

  "Yeah," I said, this time with more conviction. "I didn't ask Her to kill anyone."

  He gave me a looking over, as if checking my resolve. He nodded in approval and let his hands drop. "That's my girl. You're going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about."

  Except I did. There was all that forensic evidence he mentioned earlier. "What about you?" I asked. "What are you going to do?"

  Parrish shrugged and stood up. Leaning against my refrigerator, he said, "Normally when the constables show up, I go to ground."

  I nodded. Then I suddenly wondered if he was being more than very British at that moment, "Wait. Do you mean literally?"

  He flashed me another mischievous smile. "You can't hang a dead man twice."

  "You can't hang a vampire at all," I noted. "Aren't public executions usually daylight activities?"

  "I was being metaphorical," Parrish said with an exasperated eye roll. Pulling out a chair, he sat. "Anyway, the point is still the same. Being dead has its advantages. Justice is considered served if the criminal is already a corpse."

  "Yeah," I said distractedly. I'd used a similar idea to distract the Vatican Witch hunters who'd come after Sebastian and me several months ago. I cast a spell to convince them they'd successfully killed us. I could consider something like that with Dominguez, I supposed, but since he wasn't actively trying to kill me, I wasn't sure it would work. It was one thing to redirect energy already in motion, another to cast an illusion involving an unexpected outcome.

  Besides, unlike the Vatican organization, which operated in the shadows, the FBI would probably expect Dominguez to return with things like a death certificate or an obituary. Those things were much harder to fake.

  While we both sat silently considering my options, Barney hopped up on the table and presented herself for some love. Parrish obliged by scratching her neck ruff. She leaned into it, purring. Barney had always had a soft spot for Parrish.

  "You're a Witch, Garnet. Couldn't you put a hex on him?"

  Barney's teeth snapped at Parrish's fingers. He pulled back, surprised. I shooed her off the table. "That's kind of my plan. Barney doesn't approve."

  Parrish held his fingers close to his chest, as though protecting them, and he eyed the cat warily as she stalked off. "Clearly."

  I didn't want to think about FBI agents anymore. I got up and wandered over to the fridge. I rummaged around halfheartedly and settled on a super-green smoothie. What I really wanted was some caffeine, but the thought of coffee made my eyes water. "I really screwed things up with Sebastian," I said, closing the refrigerator door.

  Parrish let out a sigh of breath and nodded. "He'll come around."

  Sitting down, I pulled the plastic ring off my drink. I felt strange not offering something to Parrish, but unless his fangs were descended he couldn't eat or drink.

  "I don't know. We said some things…"

  "Sebastian's been around a long time, my darling," Parrish said kindly. "Doubtless he understands the concept of a heated exchange of words. I'm sure this isn't the first time someone he loved said something they later regretted, or vice versa."

  "He doesn't fight hot," I said. "He's very measured. Very cold."

  "Hmm." Parrish gave me a pitying look. "That's unfortunate."

  I nodded, taking a swallow of the smoothie.

  "It was about me, wasn't it?" Parrish asked a little too gleefully. "Your argument."

  He knew it was, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "Not everything is about you."

  "Sure it is," he teased. "How much does he want to kill me?"

  "A lot," I admitted.

  "I'll be careful. After all, he has me at a distinct disadvantage."

  Sunlight killed Parrish. Sebastian could easily drag Parrish's coffin into the open and expose him. Even though I wasn't entirely convinced Sebastian would really do it, the thought of how easy it would be scared me. "You should move into my attic."

  Parrish laughed. "Do you want to finish with him for good? Because you should know I will take you up on this. I'd move back into your bed if you'd let me."

  I thought about that a second too long. So, even though I shook my head, Parrish flashed me a wolfish grin as I said, "That would be a bad idea."

  "Let me know when you change your mind."

  I chuckled. It was so like him to say "when" and not "if." Parrish was nothing if not sexually arrogant. I hated myself for how attractive that made him.

  "There's that smile I love," Parrish said, touching the corner of my mouth with a thumb. "I still love you, you know."

  I knew, but I couldn't deal with this now, here in this kitchen that smelled of Sebastian's coffee and reminded me of the hurt in his voice and all the stupid things I'd said and done. "Parrish," I started, though I wasn't sure where I was going so my voice just trailed off into a sigh.

  He let my halfhearted protest hang in the air between us. Then his fingers plucked playfully at the short hairs above my ears. "I'll never get used to this no matter how many times I see you."

  I tended to be thrown by pictures of the old me. I hardly recognized myself as a blue-eyed blonde. That person no longer felt like me. The spiky hair, on the other hand, suited me. I'd convinced myself that maybe I'd had a perky Goth hiding deep inside me all along. "I don't know, Parrish. I was very Marsha Brady before, don't you think?"

  Parrish gave me a blank look.

  Then, I remembered that despite being two hundred years old, he had almost none of the shared TV culture. The Brady Bunch had had a squarely afternoon time slot, and while he might be able to catch them on Nickelodeon reruns, why would he bother? Parrish spent his nights on the hunt, not catching up on cheesy TV shows.

  "Pollyanna?" I tried.

  "Ah! I read that one, but I don't remember Pollyan
na's hair."

  "Never mind." I gave up. Sometimes trying to communicate over the age barrier stumped me. Sebastian and I had the occasional moment like these, but, being on the daytime schedule like the rest of the world, he was much more plugged-in. Plus, Sebastian had an affinity for gadgets, which made him seem very modern. He'd even bought his classic car off eBay. Sebastian claimed his fondness for electronic stuff came from the scientific inquiry of an alchemist, but I secretly believed it was because he had the heart of a geek boy.

  Crap. I missed him.

  I stood up. "I really need to get some sleep," I told Parrish. "Work tomorrow."

  "Of course," he said.

  We walked to the front door together. Before he headed down the stairs, he turned to me. "You'll let me know if you need help with the police, eh?"

  "You're always the one I think of when the cops are after me, Parrish."

  Parrish smiled just enough to show off the tips of his sharp canines. He tousled my hair and gave my cheek a quick peck. "Brilliant."

  I returned his smile warmly. But after he slipped down the stairs and out of sight, I retreated to my bedroom. I tore apart my closet until I found one of Sebastian's old sweatshirts. Snuggling into it, I breathed in his scent and cried myself to sleep.

  * * * *

  I woke up in the morning to a driving rain and a pounding headache. It was so dark outside that I checked the glowing red numbers on my alarm clock twice hoping for a reprieve. Thunder boomed in the distance. I grudgingly pulled myself out of the warm folds of my comforter.

  My eyes ached. My head hurt. Brushing my teeth helped, as did the scalding shower. Discovering the coffeepot soaking in the sink did not. I tried to be cheerful as I scrubbed it out, and I flipped on the radio only to discover it was still tuned to Sebastian's favorite country and western station. I quickly turned the knob on Patsy Cline before she broke my heart all over again. The college station was playing something weepy by Tonic, so I switched it off.

  As I poured a bowl of flax flakes for myself and some kibbles for Barney, I decided to get coffee at the cafe.