Dead Sexy

by Tate Hallaway

  It was probably too much to hope for, but with the love spell gone, it was all I had.

  Okay.

  I could sleep now.

  Hmmm, warm and fuzzy.

  I tried to roll over, only to be quite painfully reminded that was impossible. I let out my breath with a sigh, wishing I could hear the sound of Sebastian's even breathing beside me, but, of course, I couldn't. He made no sound at all. Not even shifting in his seat.

  "I thought we were on a break," I said into the darkness.

  "Tell Lilith that."

  Right. Sebastian would have felt Her rising. That was probably how he'd known where to find me.

  "Besides," he said with a dark chuckle. "I'm mad at you because I love you, not because I want you dead."

  I struggled to sit up a little straighter. A sharp pain stabbed deep, but I ignored it. The wind shook the window. "You love me?"

  "Uh…" Now I heard the creak of the leather seat. "Hadn't I said that before?"

  "No."

  "Oh." Sebastian clicked on the lamp beside the bed.

  I squinted painfully, waiting for my eyes to adjust, which they never quite did. Great. The drugs Sebastian had fed me must keep my eyes dilated. I could see well enough to take in the sorry sight that was Sebastian. He looked rough. Sebastian wasn't some kind of neat freak, but he always managed to look composed, even when grubbing around the undercarriage of a '58 Mustang. Now, he looked disheveled. He needed a shave, and his shoulder-length hair hung like a limp curtain in front of his eyes. Okay, actually, it was kind of a sexy look. Very rock-star-the-morning-after. Still, it wasn't his usual style.

  Then, I noticed all the stuff. He'd totally been camping out by my bedside. There was an open bag of potato chips at his stocking feet along with an empty twenty-ounce plastic bottle of soda. An afghan was wrapped around his legs and torso. One of those dusty tomes Sebastian favored sat open on the end table at his elbow, an origami crane marking his place in the text. I started to wonder how long I'd been out and who, if anyone, had been feeding Barney.

  "Well, I'd meant to," he said, peering at me intently. "Certainly before now. You're absolutely positive I never?"

  "Never. Hey, did you feed my cat? Has anyone?"

  "Your cat nearly goes into apoplectic shock when she sees me." He chewed on his lip, exposing the sharp tip of a canine, and made thoughtful noises. "Perhaps I planned to say 'I love you' on your birthday?"

  "That's months from now. Do you think Barney's okay?"

  "She's a cat. She'll find a mouse or some bugs or something. Besides, she's not exactly rail thin," Sebastian said dismissively.

  Barney was a big gal—fourteen pounds of fur and jungle pouch.

  "Anyway," Sebastian continued. "Is it really such a surprise? I do, you know. Love you, that is."

  I can't explain it, but there's something inherently charming about a flustered guy with a British accent. I tried to act immune. "Sure," I said mockingly. "Now that I'm on my death bed."

  "Garnet," he said, pulling his hair back from his face. His tone had turned serious. "I've been in love with you for some time now. I may not have said so precisely, but you must have known it. Why do you think all this unfinished business you have with what's-his-name bothers me so much?"

  I don't know why, but Sebastian's flip dismissal of Parrish bothered me. Even though it tugged at the bandages, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "You can't even say Parrish's name?"

  "I don't like him much."

  "I figured that out."

  "Did you? Because I don't see you staying away from him. I wonder what happened that you ended up under some bridge like a vagabond, half dead. And with handcuff marks."

  I looked at my wrists, noticing the tightly wrapped gauze bandages around each. I looked like some kind of bad suicide attempt.

  Okay, so the handcuff welts did seem a little like Parrish. Did I mention he was a bad, bad boy? Anyway, to be fair, I could kind of see how Sebastian made that assumption given that the first time they met Parrish was doing the whole S & M vampire master thing with a mostly naked babe in chains in front of an audience. And, let's just say, that wasn't much of a stretch for Parrish. The whole whips and chains thing came very naturally to him.

  I suddenly realized I'd been smiling to myself, and Sebastian was waiting for my answer. Damn drugs. "It wasn't Parrish."

  Sebastian shot me a look of pure skepticism.

  "Seriously! Parrish sleeps all day, remember?"

  Sebastian's expression didn't change.

  "I was shot, Sebastian. Parrish didn't do that. He doesn't even own a gun. At least, I don't think he does. Well, actually, he probably has one being a bank robber occasionally, only you know he'd never use it on me."

  Sebastian continued to glare at me for a long moment. Had I said all of that out loud? The drugs were making me even more chatty than normal, if that was even humanly possible.

  "It wasn't Parrish," I said again, just in case I hadn't said so before.

  Sebastian's frown deepened, and he turned to scowl at the wallpaper.

  "It was Dominguez," I said.

  A twitch of an eyebrow broke Sebastian's scowl. "Who?"

  "The FBI agent."

  With a series of tics, Sebastian's frown morphed into confusion. "I'm sorry? You're in love with who?"

  I shook my head a little spastically thanks to the drugs. "No, no, not in love. Lust. It was a spell." I reached for the amulet to show him, only I couldn't find it. Or my sweater either. "Hey, you took my clothes."

  "I had to clean and dress your wound; besides, that sweater is ruined," he explained hastily. "Why on earth did you cast a spell of lusting on the FBI agent?"

  I pulled the comforter more snugly under my arms. "So he'd listen to me."

  "Listen to you… ?" He repeated, obviously trying to work through the crazy logic that got me there. He must have twigged my plan, because Sebastian's gaze flicked to the bandage covering my shoulder. "I take it things didn't work out the way you'd hoped."

  "No," I admitted grumpily.

  He gave me the that's-a-shame pat on the knee.

  When he didn't immediately remove his hand, I let out a breath I'd been holding. I put my hand over his and squeezed it tightly. I missed him so much. I didn't like when we fought, and this had really been our first nasty one. I hoped this was a sign that the fight was over.

  "Dominguez accused me of being a liar too," I added without meaning to, though it had been on my mind. Sheesh, what was in this stuff Sebastian slipped me—truth serum?

  "Oh?"

  There was a bit of ice in his tone, so I knew I needed to tread carefully. "He seemed to think Parrish and I were an item also." Okay, that wasn't terribly helpful.

  Sebastian took his hand away. "Can you blame him?"

  "Yes! Why does everyone keep thinking Parrish and I are some kind of couple still? I broke up with him a year ago."

  "I can tell you why."

  "Go on then," I said. "Enlighten me."

  Sebastian sat back in his chair. His eyes drifted over to the rain-streaked window. He took in a slow, steady breath I knew he didn't need. He spoke in a flat voice, without looking at me. "I feel it, Garnet. When you look at him… at Parrish. I feel all of it. I'm talking about… the emotion. Do you know how creepy and painful it is to look at that man the way you do?" A sad little smile played at the corner of his mouth. "He's my strong protector, isn't he? The one I run to when there's trouble. My goddamned knight in shining armor. Fuck me, I feel really insane when the three of us are in the same room together. I alternately want to slug him and kiss him. How fucked up is that?"

  It was weird. I'd feel more sorry for him if I didn't have a similar problem when I saw a woman on the street who looked… tasty—to Sebastian, to me; it got all very confused. "What do you think it's like for me when you feed on a ghoul?"

  His eyes snapped back to mine.

  "I'm not going to let you derail this conversation with your petty jealousies."r />
  "Petty?" I sputtered. "You're the one obsessed with my ex-boyfriend."

  Sebastian stood up as if to leave. Except he glared down at me, his jaw muscles jittering with what I could only imagine were restrained thoughts. "You need to decide, Garnet. Are you going to live in the past with him or in the future with me?"

  "With you," I said. "I've already made that choice. Why can't you accept that?"

  "Because you still feel so much for him. You run to him in times of crises." Then, quietly, almost as if he didn't quite dare say it out loud. "Instead of to me."

  Sebastian wanted to be my knight in shining armor. I loved that impulse in a man. It was so alpha. "You already are my hero," I said, even though I knew it wouldn't help. "This is an unusual situation—the whole FBI thing. It's not always going to be like this."

  "Yet it's very clear that you've turned to him before, and recently too. You seemed to have some kind of Bat-Signal," he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Meadow Spring. What the hell is that, anyway? It sounds like the name of some cheap hotel."

  "That," I said, through teeth clenched with a combination of irritation and embarrassment, "was my craft name."

  A craft name is more than just an alternate moniker, it's meant to be a reflection of your true self, a way to consciously step out of the mundane world. Yeah, okay, Meadow Spring isn't nearly as cool as Coyote Moonspirit, but it meant something to me. When I'd chosen it, I'd just started down the environmentally conscious road; in fact, I was super green—fanatic about recycling, hybrid cars, low-impact living, and restoring native prairie. I wanted something that reflected my inner earth mother.

  "Oh," Sebastian said sheepishly. Then, with a hint of his earlier peevishness added, "Another something I didn't know about you."

  "That's because I'm not Meadow Spring anymore. She died that night along with the rest of my coven."

  "No, you're wrong. She lives in Parrish," Sebastian quickly corrected. "That's why you can't let him go."

  My mouth opened, but no clever rejoinder spilled out.

  We both waited for me to say something for several minutes. I thought Sebastian might be right, but I didn't know what to do with that information. After all, if letting Parrish go meant releasing the last bit of the surviving part of me that was Meadow Spring, wouldn't that be like losing my coven all over again?

  Sebastian walked to the door, but stopped at the threshold. Without turning to face me, Sebastian said, "I'll just be across the hall. I'll always be close at hand if you need me, Garnet. Always."

  With that, he closed the door behind him and I was alone.

  Depressed, I flopped into a more prone position. I instantly regretted the sudden movement as pain lanced through my shoulder and back. Pain obliterated coherent thought for a good fifteen minutes. All I could do was lay still and focus on the cracks in the plaster ceiling until the ache subsided.

  Then I wished Sebastian had left whatever herbal cocktail he'd cooked up laying around. I desperately wanted to alter my state of consciousness. There wasn't even an In Touch magazine or chocolate ice cream pint for miles. I had no way to distract myself from the mess of my relationship, but I was damned if I was going to cry anymore. Besides, I already had to dab the blanket with tears that had sprung to my eyes from my stupid move.

  I decided to attempt to sleep.

  Our argument and the pain had taken the fuzz off the drugs and I now felt wide awake.

  I shut my eyes and listened to the sounds outside the window. Crickets chirped. A cow lowed, long and mournfully.

  Blinking my eyes open, I glanced at the window. A cow? Sebastian didn't have any animals, only herbs. He did, however, live right next to a cemetery.

  After turning off the lamp Sebastian had switched on, I hauled my legs over the edge of the bed. Unsteadily, I pulled myself upright. My shoulder protested severely, but I still didn't hurt as much as I thought I should.

  I froze when the moan came again. This time it sounded less like a cow and much more like a zombie to my paranoid ears. I kept telling myself it couldn't be. Sebastian lived miles away from the city. Why would there be a zombie here?

  The cemetery across from Sebastian's farm was old. A stark highway lamp illuminated white gravestones speckled by moss and mold. The markers that hadn't fallen over listed crookedly at the head of sunken rectangular patches where simple pine coffins had long ago rotted away beneath them. Though the lawn was neatly trimmed, a number of markers were completely obscured by cedar bushes that had overgrown the simple offering they'd originally been.

  There was no fence around the cemetery. It had probably been a family plot at some point in its history and was now a mostly forgotten piece of land wedged between cornfields. I scanned for any movement, but saw nothing.

  Then a ghostly face materialized just on the other side of the glass, inches from my face.

  I yelped and jumped back. Given my awkward position, being crouched between the bed and the window, it was more like I lurched off to the side, banging my shoulder in the process. In between gasps of pain, recognition dawned. "Benjamin," I said. "You scared the living crap out of me."

  Benjamin let out a dry laugh, like rustling leaves.

  Benjamin was Sebastian's house ghost. He haunted the place. Plus, thanks to an obsessive-compulsive disorder he'd probably had while alive, he also cleaned. My understanding was that Benjamin had killed the former lady of the house and then himself at some point before Sebastian bought the place. Benjamin didn't much like me (or women in general), but ever since I cast the spell that made the Witch hunters take me for dead, Benjamin started treating me like kin. Or, at least he no longer tried to kill me whenever I came over, and for my part I pretended to have meaningful conversations with him.

  "Were you the one moaning out there?" I asked him.

  Maybe if I had one of those ghost recording devices, I would have heard an answer on playback. Instead, I felt cold air brush past my arm. I decided that meant: "yes."

  I carefully pulled myself back up onto the bed and watched in rapt fascination as things around the room began to tidy themselves. The afghan Sebastian had abandoned arranged itself in a precise fold over the back of the chair. On the end table, the book closed with a snap. The soda bottle made its way to the garbage can. Crumbs disappeared.

  That last one kind of bothered me. Where had they gone, exactly? Did he eat them? I decided I didn't want to know.

  A disembodied voice said: "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

  Benjamin had only ever spoken to me once before, and this experience was just as chilling. His voice was calm and clear, but just low enough to be almost inaudible. Plus, given that the book Sebastian had been reading was worming its way along the floor toward the bookshelf it came from, I'd have thought Benjamin was across the room. The voice sounded like it was just behind me, on the bed. I turned and saw an indentation on the mattress.

  I stared at the spot on the bed where I thought Benjamin must be sitting. I wanted to be able to promise this murderous, protective ghost that Sebastian wouldn't be hurt by me, but it seemed equally unwise to lie. "Right now," I said in my most cajoling, explanatory voice, "Sebastian is just a tiny bit obsessed with Parrish…"

  I heard a hiss, and a picture frame on the end table crashed to the floor.

  "Oh, so you don't want me to say his name? What is it with you guys?"

  The hollow on the bed had smoothed out. It made me slightly more nervous not knowing where Benjamin was, but I found myself bubbling over with frustration.

  "Okay, so Parrish means something to me." Crash. A porcelain bowl threw itself on the floor and shattered. "So what? We were friends. What's wrong with that? Yeah, I kept my relationship with Parrish—" Bang. Six books tumbled off the shelf. "—a secret. Look how Sebastian reacted!"

  Just as I was about to start shouting, "Parrish, Parrish, Parrish!" in my best schoolyard tease, the do
or banged open and Sebastian rushed in.

  "Benjamin. Out. Now."

  A pile of magazines slammed to the floor, and then there was silence.

  "I have no idea what you were saying to anger Benjamin, but taunting him," Sebastian said to me, "will only lead to beds levitating in the middle of the night or, worse, wallets and keys disappearing for good. Trust me, you want to play nice with the poltergeist."

  I pouted. I didn't need the lecture from Sebastian; I knew all that, the hard way. I mean this poltergeist was known to wield a knife on occasion.

  Sebastian stood just outside of the door, his chest heaving slightly from the mad dash down the hall. I loved the pajamas he had on; they were my favorites. The cotton pants had brightly colored cartoon images of classic VW bugs all over it. A Limp Bizkit T-shirt clung fetchingly to his broad chest. If only he didn't look so angry, he'd be darn right hot.

  "Sebastian," I said, with what I hoped was a come-hither stare. "Can't we just forget all of this stuff?" I sat down on the mattress and patted the spot beside me. "Come to bed?"

  I watched him consider it. The way his eyes lingered on me, I knew he wanted to. I thought for a second he was going to capitulate, but then he shook his head. "No, Garnet. This is what we always do. We just 'forget' about things and nothing gets resolved. I need… Crap, I need 'closure' on this issue, Garnet."

  "Just sleep beside me," I said. "Hold me?"

  He came to sit beside me. Sebastian encircled my shoulders lightly with his arm, and I winced a little from the pain of my bullet hole despite his gentle touch. His lips brushed my cheek. "I do love you," he said. "But I can't sleep here. Every jostle and bump is going to aggravate that." He lightly stroked the bandage. "And you know I'm a restless sleeper."