I took note of the address and kept walking.
Circling the block I tried to decide what the hell to do.
I considered the bold approach. You know, the insane one, where I just walked up to the door and knocked and the voodoo sorcerer answered. What I imagined happening next tended to involve hurled accusations and me on the receiving end of some extremely bad-ass spell.
After all, I always considered voodoo to be in a league of its own, and, at the very least, not something I personally ever wanted to mess with, and this from a woman who'd made a bond with Lilith, Queen of Demons.
Yeah, I thought, as the gnarled shadows of a buckthorn hedge passed over me, going home and ordering a pizza is sounding better and better. Even so, I kept my eyes trained on the house as I passed it. Which is probably why I bumped smack into William.
9
Sagittarius
KEYWORDS:
Philosophical and Pushy
"What the hell are you doing here?" we asked simultaneously.
I stepped back a pace and crossed my arms, giving William my best "boss" stare, hoping he'd cave under its no-doubt withering effect and start talking. The truth of the matter was that I didn't really want to start off our conversation with "I followed a crow here, you?"
"I live here," he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his low-riding jeans. The waist was so far down, only the tips of his fingers fit.
I looked at the house we were standing in front of. Pink flamingos. "You live here?"
William shrugged. "Mostly."
Like the car was "kind of" his. "Your girlfriend," I said, suddenly remembering the voodoo priestess. "Does Izzy know?"
He chewed on a cuticle. "She should. She introduced us." At my blank stare, he added, "Maureen is Izzy's cousin."
"Izzy's cousin is the voodoo priestess who's been making all the zombies?"
William laughed. "Zombies? I have no idea what you're talking about. Sure, she practices voodoo, but it's benign."
"Ha," said the crow as it landed in the silver maple on the boulevard; I tended to agree. Though I loved him dearly, William was hardly the best judge of character, especially when it came to girlfriends.
"Oh," I said, trying to cover my skepticism with a light tone. "Cool."
William's shoulders seemed to relax, and I caught the glint of a smile in the moonlight. "Yeah, I've been learning a lot from her."
I didn't even want to touch that.
"So, uh, you never did tell me what you were doing here," William asked. "You're kind of a long way from home."
A half a dozen vaguely plausible lies flitted through my head, but this was William. Looking into that earnest face, I had to tell him the truth. "A bird led me here."
"Aw," said the crow, as if it had hoped for a better answer, or maybe it objected at being identified as merely a bird.
The vehemence of William's response surprised me. "Those fucking crows."
"Argh," the crow replied and took off in a loud flapping of wings.
"Yeah, and don't come back," William muttered. To me, "You see how it is? They persecute us!"
Crows, it's true, generally have a bad reputation. They often get associated with destructive and/or battlefield Gods and Goddesses because they eat dead things, carrion. It doesn't help that they're smart, crafty, and have a fondness for other people's pretty, shiny things. But—crows are smart, some of the most intelligent birds. They also have a number of surprising traits, including expressions of grief. They (and their cousins, ravens) are trickster Gods in certain Native American myths. The Goddess Hecate, Queen of Witches, is sometimes associated with a crow. So it unnerved me to hear William curse with such anger at the crow.
And it made me more and more convinced that whatever this Maureen woman was teaching William, it wasn't good.
I wanted to punch her for corrupting William.
Trying very hard to keep all that out of my voice, I asked, "You're having trouble with crows?"
"Let's just say you're not the first person that damn bird brought here."
I was glad for the darkness because I had no idea what William would read in my expression otherwise. I wondered what happened to the others. Were they all Witches, like me? They'd have to, at the very least, be the sort to willingly follow a crow across town, which made them either crazy or some kind of sensitive.
"I can hardly go outside without being dive-bombed," William said. "And you saw it, if I even mention my girlfriend—" William twitched, looking up at the sky.
"Doesn't all this seem like a bad sign?" I couldn't stop myself from pointing out what seemed to me to be obvious.
William's shoulder's straightened. "Clearly, the magic we're practicing here bothers somebody."
Yeah, I thought, Somebody with a capital "S." "It's possible that maybe your girlfriend is…" I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence. The porch light flicked on and the screen door opened with the squeak of rusty hinges.
"Billy, honey? Is that you?" Despite the warmth in her tone, her voice made both of us jump in surprise. "Who are you talking to?"
William stepped a little closer to the porch. "Sorry I'm late, Mo," he said. "My friend Garnet's here."
"The one you went to rescue? Cool. Come on in," she said to me. "We're just sitting down to a late supper. Care to join us?"
I couldn't really see Maureen, silhouetted as she was by the light from her front room, but her voice was pure Southern charm. I could see why William/Billy-honey had fallen for it, since I surprised myself by saying, "Sounds delightful. If you're sure you don't mind?"
"The more the merrier, I always say," she said, and for some reason this made her laugh in a throaty, sexual way.
As I followed William up the sidewalk, my skin tightened along the back of my neck. The fly entered the spider's den.
Maureen, or Mo, as she insisted several times that I call her, was, in point of fact, gorgeous. It was irritating, actually, how much she looked like a model. She had the same mocha-colored, flawless complexion that always made Izzy look so much like Nefertiti, but her hair was a fascinating concoction of tight, blond corkscrews that fell just past her shoulders. Even at this hour and in the comfort of her own home, she wore a form-fitting tube dress in a glittery gold as equally artificial as her dye job, but just as striking. Really, Mo should have looked trashy prancing around in that dress and heels among the shag carpeting and linoleum, but somehow she pulled it off. Maybe it was her height or her slender build, but she almost seemed regal as she motioned for us to take our places around the oak dining-room table. I noted with no small amount of surprise that a place had already been set for me.
The whole house smelled of curry. A man—another lover?—came out of the kitchen bearing a big kettle, which he held with thick potholders in each hand. I looked at what I'd assumed to be an extra plate. Ah, I realized, this is his.
He smiled at me, and, once the pot was safely deposited in the center of the table, offered a hand.
"I'm Ethan," he said, as I shook. "Secondary."
"Garnet," I said, resisting the urge to say, "Primary," since I had no idea what he meant by his comment.
"I'll get another plate." Ethan was what my mother would classify as a "nice young man." In his early twenties, he was thin and reedy. His hair and eyes were the color of sandstone, and he had a shy, reserved nature about him that made me picture him instantly as an accountant or an Episcopal minister.
Could I see myself replicating this scene with Sebastian and his ghouls? Would I ever be able to politely ask for the butter from someone I knew was doing my boyfriend? How awkward would it be when sexual innuendos started bantering around the table?
I shook my head. I had to give William some credit; he dealt so maturely with all of this.
William inspected the contents of the ladle before helping himself to a large portion. From what I could tell, we were having some kind of curry fish stew. Ethan excused himself to fetch freshly baked bread from the ove
n.
When Ethan placed a slice of crusty French bread on my plate, Mo leaned close to me to whisper conspiratorially, "You see why Ethan's a keeper."
I smiled politely, but I couldn't shake the feeling that eating anything in the house of the voodoo priestess was an extraordinarily bad idea. Too bad my rumbling stomach couldn't keep its opinion to itself.
Mo laughed. "You sound ravenous, darling."
I didn't like the use of the familiar pet name, especially since it was a favorite of Parrish's, nor did I like the lingering way her hand touched my forearm. "I kind of skipped dinner," I explained, so as not to seem rude.
"Well, how fortunate you ended up here."
William snorted, and then completely busted me. "Crow brought her."
I kicked his shins hard under the table.
Mo frowned at me. "I see," she said coolly. She arched her frosted eyebrow to give me an once-over that set my teeth on edge and my Spidey sense tingling.
Somehow I knew she'd checked my aura. "Yeah, well," I said, "see anything you like?"
The lurid smile returned. "Oh, darling, you have no idea."
Lilith tightened across my stomach. I could almost hear Her growl.
Ethan sucked in a breath. A cat, which had been lounging on a nearby radiator, jumped up and hissed. Mo crossed herself.
And William obliviously poked at the fish and potatoes. "You know it totally annoys me when you flirt with new people when Ethan and I are sitting right here," he said, his eyes focused on his plate.
Mo laughed as though William's complaint delighted her. "You're so cute when you're jealous."
I looked at William. He gritted his teeth, and a blush bloomed in angry spots across his cheekbones. "I hardly get that much time with you as it is."
Oops. Then again, maybe William's maturity was a facade.
"I'm not exactly taking away from our time together by flirting," Mo countered.
"Actually," William said, meeting her gaze hotly, "you are. Whenever there's fresh meat, I might as well be invisible."
Well, William certainly had all our attention right now. I kept feeling like maybe I should excuse myself from this domestic squabble, but I was wedged between the dining-room table and a buffet. The physical act of getting out would cause a stir. Then again, maybe that's just what this party needed.
I pushed myself up from the table. "I just forgot. There's somewhere I need to be."
"Let me show you to the door," Ethan said, standing up nearly as fast as I had.
Before either William or Mo could open their mouths to protest, we were halfway across the living room to the door.
"Just another day in paradise," Ethan said under his breath. "It was nice to meet you."
I nodded, distracted by a sudden thought: where was the zombie I saw go in here? "The meal was delicious," I said, though I'd barely had more than a taste. "Did you cook it yourself?"
He shook his head. "I'm just the bread baker."
"Mo made it?"
"Look, I can get you the recipe if you'd like." He sounded a little irritated by my questions.
"No, that's okay. Just curious."
"Yeah, well, I have to go mediate World War III in there," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the dining room.
I gave him a sympathetic smile. "Why do you put up with it?"
"Are you kidding? I live for it. It's better drama than anything on TV."
I wished him luck and said good-bye. I walked out toward the street and kept going until I heard the screen door slam. I walked another few steps before turning around and edging my way toward the back of the house.
I snuck around a neighbor's hedge and peered into the kitchen window of Mo's house. All I saw was an empty kitchen filled with Holstein kitsch. Where had the zombie gone?
The other window revealed a fairly ordinary bedroom. A lamp had been left on near the bed, so I could see most of the room clearly. Mo, it seemed, had a penchant for gold and purple, as the bed was decked out in blankets and pillows of those colors. One wall held a shelf of creepy/cute stuffed animals, like the nearly realistic dog plushies with oversized heads, but still no sign of the zombie.
Where was she?
Tall boards fenced in the backyard. I scouted along the perimeter, looking for a knothole or some other way to see in. It was too dark for me to make out anything much, other than a concrete slab patio, a picnic table, and a gas grill.
The garage was detached, modern, and could easily fit two cars. It was almost as large as the house and completely windowless. Feeling a little guilty, I stepped over a calf-high chicken-wire fence and through some mums into the neighboring yard. I crept back to the alley along Mo's fence.
The bulb in the alley streetlight had been smashed, so the only light came from the moon. Brown tubs and tin cans of garbage lined the alleyway in clusters. The scent of something rotten lingered in the air. Then I heard it—the rustle of feet, and a low, sad moan.
Mo kept her zombies in the garage?
I tried the lift handle on the roll-up door. No surprise, it was locked.
I felt a sharp poke in the gut. Lilith reminded me there hasn't been a lock made yet that could stop a Goddess.
With my hand on the latch, I took a deep, slow breath, centering myself. I felt a tremor move up my torso to my shoulder and arm. Heat poured along my veins. The power felt like the rush of a drug hitting my system. Ah, it had been far too long since the last time I called on Lilith. I let the heady sensation carry me away. I fell into a black, welcoming oblivion.
When my eyes refocused, the handle was in the upright, open position. Tendrils of steam drifted from the back of my hand. Experimentally, I tugged on the door. It rolled upward easily. Lifting it over my head, I gave it a push and it continued to the ceiling.
Inside, zombies surrounded the black VW bug.
There must have been a dozen of them. They sat on folding chairs with their hands in their laps. They stared straight ahead, unblinking. I recognized the hockey jock, the deli waitress, and the hooded bus rider. None of them spoke or even registered my presence. Piled in the corner next to a tool bench was a collection of spades, pick axes, and shovels, all crusted with mud. There seemed to be a pile of something on the table. I took a step closer, my eyes trained on the zombies. None of them moved, though I noticed a number of eyes tracking me.
It was darker inside the garage, and much smellier. I held my breath and tried to determine what exactly was on the table, but my eyes failed. I reached out a hand and found myself holding rings and paper with the texture of and feel of currency.
A zombie moaned. I dropped what was in my hand. I wasn't sure I wanted to be touching it anyway. Given what Dominguez had told me about the money the zombie passed to me, it was probably antique, which, given its proximity to the muddy shovels, might mean it was plundered from someone's grave. To that, all I could say was, "Ewww."
I was getting William out of that house. Now.
Backing out slowly, I reached around by the edge of the door until I found the pull. I shut the door on the zombies. The latch hung at an angle that clearly suggested it had been broken, and I tried to straighten it a couple of times before I had to give up. No one was going to steal anything out of this garage. Not with all those zombies sitting there.
After pulling out an earring and tucking it into my pocket, I made a mad dash for the front door. I banged with my fist until I noticed a bell. Mo answered. "You're back? Is something wrong?"
"I think I lost my earring," I said. "I got to the bus stop and realized it was missing. It's probably not here, but—do you mind if I just check?" I touched the remaining skull bead with my fingertip. "These are favorites. Sentimental, really."
Mo didn't even look at me twice; she totally bought it. "Sure thing, honey," she said. "I know what it's like."
When I got inside, she gave me an appraising glance that made me feel almost naked, and a smile that said you-dropped-it-on-purpose-to-come-back-here,-didn't-you?
"Uh," I said, feeling a blush creep up my ears. "I'll just check around on the floor."
"You do that," she said, eyeing my backside.
William came out of the kitchen with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. When he noticed me, he had the decency to look chagrined. "Oh, hey, Garnet."
"She lost her earring," Mo supplied.
"Uh, let me help," he said. He flashed Mo a wide-eyed look that seemed to imply he wanted some alone time with me.
Surprisingly, she obliged. "I'll be in the kitchen," she said, with a disappointed last look at me.
The swinging door hadn't even shut before William said, "I'm sorry, Garnet. I completely gave into my baser instincts. It's hard to shake the lizard brain, you know? It's disgustingly instinctual—this whole desire to protect a mate from all other competitors."
Hello, yikes? "Uh, yeah, sure," I said.
"Seriously, Garnet. I acted like a Neanderthal… okay, actually Homo sapiens, which I technically am, since Neanderthals were a completely different species, but the point is, I'm sorry."
I spotted the salt and pepper shakers on the buffet. I could never remember which one was supposed to be the salt, the one with two holes or many. So, I grabbed them both.
"Are you stealing the silver?" William asked incredulously.
"No. Borrowing." I tucked the shakers into my pocket.
"Is that a euphemism? Because if you need cash or something I could help you out."
"I don't need money, William." I leaned in conspiratorially. "You need to come with me to the back alley. Tell Mo I enlisted you to help find the earring outside. Bring a flashlight."
"What's this about?" He whispered back. Though his tone was suspicious, his eyes glittered with excitement. "Is this some kind of vampire thing? Oh, or maybe the FBI?"
"Better," I assured him.
He smiled. He was in.
As I waited by the door, Ethan hunted up a flashlight for William. "Are you sure you don't want us to help?" he asked. "Four of us could cover more ground."
"That's sweet of you, but I don't want to, uh, interrupt anything." I gave Mo a little wink to let her know what I thought she planned to be up to.
Dead Sexy Page 17
