It was a thirty-minute drive to the shop in Saturday traffic, accompanied by the occasional burst of whistling from the hole in the SUV. Of course, there were repair shops closer to me, but I trusted the crew at Samir’s. The small podium outside the front glass window was actually staffed by the rental company that day. Samir had a stroke of genius when he partnered with them and offered rentals on his own parking lot. The weather was getting hot, but the skies were beautiful, crisp blue with a handful of clouds.
I parked to the right of the podium and the attendant’s eyes widened as he saw the side of the car. He straightened the tie on his suit and crouched down to look a little closer, his scalp showing through short-cropped blond hair. I slammed the door and smiled, dropping the keys into the man’s hand.
“What the hell happened?”
I shrugged, “Not sure. I came out of the movies and it was like that.”
“Jesus.”
“Glad I bought the insurance.”
The attendant blinked at me and ran his fingers over the tablet computer in his hand. “Yes, yes you did.” He deflated at this new and terrible knowledge. “Sign here.”
He handed me a stylus and I signed.
“Thanks,” I said.
He only nodded as I walked toward the front doors. Samir himself was working the front counter when I walked in off the hot and somewhat pungent blacktop. He glanced up and smiled, putting his pen down. The day Samir stopped using pen and paper would be the day the world would end.
“Vesik, my friend, welcome, welcome.” His accent was thick but I never had a problem understanding him.
“Hey Samir,” I said as I shook his hand. “How’s the car doing?”
“Good, good, four new whitewalls, no extra charge.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And the catch is?”
“No catch, you’re my best customer. Enjoy them. I’ll have James bring your car around.”
I paid Samir, after a gratuitous round of thank-yous, and left the shop several hundred dollars lighter. I stared at my wallet and muttered to myself. “Ow. Off to the tux shop for more damage.” The rental clerk was already pulling the Blazer into the body shop. I tried not to laugh.
James pulled Vicky around the corner; the deep rumble filling a musical void I hadn’t even realized was there. My lips pulled up at the sight. With four fat white walls on Vicky, the financial damage didn’t seem so unbearable. James gave me a nod as he got out and headed back into the shop.
I ran my fingers around the steering wheel and put Vicky in gear. The trip down Manchester Road wasn’t too bad for a Saturday. I think I may have even hit twenty-five a few times. It was always surprising how much smoother a ’32 rode with thick new tires. Of course, having the suspension gutted by Frank’s friend when he rebuilt it probably didn’t hurt either. He’d introduced me to Samir as someone who loved to work on older cars and hot rods. I was thankful for his advice about Samir, but I couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. James, Jason, Jackson? I’d have to ask Frank sometime.
Parking was tight so I headed up to the top of the West County Mall parking garage. There generally weren’t many people on the roof, unless it was the holidays. I’d highly recommend staying the hell away from any mall during the holidays, but West County always seemed worse than most.
It was a short walk to the tux shop. Auntie Anne’s was flooding the area with the enticing smell of fresh pretzels. My willpower wavered but held out as I walked by and entered the tux shop.
I stood ever so patiently in front of the counter waiting for the salesman to hang up the phone. I know, it’s shocking, but I really didn’t care if he got so smashed he ‘couldn’t remember anything past the first five minutes of the movie last night.’ He hung up the phone a few minutes later. Customer service is dead.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes!” I said as I raised my eyebrows and pointed my finger at him with what I’m sure was an insane grin.
He jumped so bad he almost fell off his stool. It made me smile.
“I have a tux reserved for Vesik.”
The salesman nodded and continually shifted his eyes toward me in quick glances as he flipped through a little box of index cards. Index cards? Who the hell doesn’t use a computer to run their shop these days? He pulled out a card, scanned it on the computer I hadn’t noticed before, and headed into the back. A minute later, he came up with a black bag filled with my torture device.
“You’ll need to try this on before you go.”
“Ah, no,” I said as I squinted at his nametag, “Bobby, I don’t think so. I’m in a hurry.” His smile fell.
“My name is Robert.” He tapped his fingernail on the nametag.
I just smiled and blinked a few times.
His voice turned into a thin, plastic replica of its former glory, “Well, sir, I apologize, but it is store policy. You try the tuxedo on, or you don’t take it with you. I can call the manager if you’d like, but he’s out to lunch for the next twenty minutes.”
I guess I deserved that, but still. “Well, since you’re such a charmer, Bobby, and gave me such prompt attention.” I grabbed the tux and headed to the fitting rooms. Had I stayed with Bobby much longer, I may have tried pulling his skull out through his scraggly red hair.
I let out a slow chuckle as I closed the fitting room door before catching my reflection for the first time all day. With the t-shirt, pale skin, circles under my eyes, and rat’s nest of black hair, I looked like the poster child for Old Gothic People Incorporated. I sighed, hung the tux up on the wall hook, and stripped.
The scars on my chest pulled my eyes back to the mirror. I touched the diagonal line of four slashes from a vampire that ripped across my left bicep, carried over to my chest, and down to my navel. Rough skin adorned my right shoulder, where I’d been caught off guard by a pyromaniac blood magus. Some people don’t like bartering. I sighed and ran my fingers across the scars on my wrist from Sam’s first night as a vampire. I shook my head to clear it and started pulling on my fancy wear.
Sam had ordered the tux for me and it fit like a glove. After strapping all the pieces on, I couldn’t help but laugh. I think she was trying to torture Beth. I wasn’t scrawny, but I was by no means an Adonis. The tux accented my already broad shoulders and the jacket cut down in a loose V to accent my waist. The rest just worked.
I’ve had a lot people compliment my eyes over the years, usually noting their color. Almost everyone thinks they’re blue gray, but they are actually the pale gray of a born necromancer. I’d groaned when Sam added a shiny gray vest, but I must admit, it made my eyes stand out like bloody gemstones. “Not bad, Sam. Not bad.” I ran my fingers down the lapels and grinned.
I modeled the tux for Bobby, who shook his head and waved me off. I changed back into my Army of Darkness getup.
Bobby eyed me from head to toe and said, “You should really purchase the tuxedo insurance, sir.”
“Really, Bobby?”
“It may be a little expensive for someone of your, well …” he paused for a moment. “It covers all incidental damages.” He picked up a pair of scissors and continued his sales pitch in a drop dead monotone voice. “It’s only seventy-five dollars, and even if you take these scissors and cut a sleeve off right now, we won’t charge you.”
I nodded and signed off on the tux bill. Oh, hell yes, I bought the seventy-five dollar insurance. I was tempted not to buy it just because the jackass salesman was offering it, but I’d lost too many clothes over the years to worry about having to pay for a whole freaking tux. It was right about then I realized I’d left the wedding present at my shop.
“Fuck!” I slammed the pen down on the counter and turned toward the door.
My exclamation garnered a few nasty glares from the mothers in the area. Bobby was already on a personal call again by the time I walked through the door. I stepped back into the thick smell of fresh pretzels and my frustration managed to dismiss what little willpower I had left. I climbed back into Vicky with t
wo cinnamon pretzels in tow and hauled ass back to Death’s Door.
* * *
I stopped dead in my tracks when I found Cara on the counter talking to Frank. Not threatening him or throwing him across the room, or even giving him a nasty glare. I took a huge bite of pretzel on the way in and said, “This one’s for you, Mom.”
She looked up and smiled. Her wings fluttered in silence as she said, “Ah, cinnamon. Would you like half, Frank?”
I almost choked on my pretzel. First Sam, now Cara? As in Frank’s about to die, Cara?
Frank nodded enthusiastically as I handed half the other pretzel to him and set the rest beside the register. “Thanks, Damian.”
“No, um, no problem.” I held Cara’s gaze a bit longer until she smirked at me. I sighed and turned to Frank. “So, any sales today?”
He nodded and continued chewing.
“Any good sales?”
His eyebrows rose as he smiled—it was a really weird look, like a clown’s head exploding in slow motion. “Did you notice anything missing?” His eyes glanced over to the wood and glass display case for gemstones and crystals.
I rubbed my face. “I’m kind of late here.” My eyes perused the rows of stones anyway, until they settled on a hole. “One of the amber necklaces sold?” It had some of the nicest preserved insects I’d ever seen running through it and I never thought it would go with a price tag in the hundreds. “Damn Frank, that’s almost a month of rent.”
He laughed at me. “Take a closer look at the case.”
“Think big,” Cara said.
“No fucking way.” I stared at the gaping space where the amber pillar with the three prehistoric feathers used to be.
“I gave them a little break on price with Cara’s approval, but it was only a few hundred off.”
The pillar Frank had picked out the day before for two thousand dollars sold for more than double its cost. I worked my jaw a bit, but no sound came out. We’re talking months of rent. I continued staring at the blank space.
“Miss Hu bought it. She came in a couple days ago and wanted a unique amber piece.” Frank shrugged and I caught his grin as I finally tore my eyes away from our suddenly profitable display case.
I pointed my finger at Frank and said, “You, sir, are my new buyer.”
Frank smiled and Cara laughed.
“Go get some lunch, Frank,” Cara said.
“I have to get to the wedding, and I need Frank to look after the shop.”
“This will only take a few minutes,” she said as she turned her head to Frank. “Go get some lunch.”
He nodded and left with a goofy grin plastered to his face. I watched him disappear almost as quickly as my ever-dwindling time frame to get to the wedding. My eyes swept back to Cara and I cocked an eyebrow.
“Boy, come here.”
I glanced around slowly, turning my body toward the front of the shop and then to the register and back to Cara. “Me?”
She looked slightly amused.
I took a step toward her and raised both eyebrows in an unspoken question. I also failed miserably in hiding my grin. Cara was the only person besides Zola ever to call me “boy.”
“I’ve been thinking.” She drummed her fingers on the golden hilt of the dagger in her belt. “I’ve been thinking you may be able to use Fae magic.”
I felt my forehead furrow as I stared at the fairy.
She smiled. “Some basic growth spells for example.” She unsheathed the dagger, twirled it, and dropped it back in the sheath with unnerving precision. “After that stunt you pulled a couple years ago, stitching your sister back together, I think you may be able to do a lot more than you realize.”
My heart tried to crawl out of my face as my pulse hammered. “How umm … how did umm … what makes you say that?” I tried for nonchalant, but I think the squeak in my voice gave me away.
Cara howled in laughter. She pointed her finger at me and grinned. “I’ve heard the story, boy. You stitched your sister back together with the flesh and aura of another vampire, but tell me, why would binding two vampires together allow either of them to enter a church?” She shook her head and lowered her arm. “You bound her aura to a fragment of your own and sealed it with a piece of your soul.”
My eyes widened.
“Soularts are quite forbidden, if my memory serves me well.” Cara brushed her silvery hair back behind her shoulders. “I know what you did to save her, but I cannot tell you what it means. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Using a soulart in such a fashion, it is … unprecedented.”
“I never really thought about it,” I said.
“I would say that surprises me, but …” Cara smiled and shrugged.
“Thanks, Mom, thanks a lot.”
“I’ll never understand how anyone can miss it. Your aura is plainly tied to your sister’s aura. It’s tight enough to remind me of the stick stuck up my husband’s ass.”
I frowned.
She smiled and beat her wings. “There’s something else in there too, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“In your husband’s ass?” I asked innocently.
She snorted and waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “You know what I mean.”
I did know what she meant. She meant Dale. Some piece of Dale’s soul or consciousness or something was tied in with the fragments of Sam’s aura and maybe even her soul. I wonder if Cara ever fully realizes what I did, will she think it’s as creepy as I do?
“Oh well,” I said. “At least Sam is alive and kicking, ah, dead and kicking, whatever.”
Cara just blinked and shifted her wings.
“So, do we ever get to meet your mystery husband?”
Cara grinned and then clapped her hands to silence me and get my attention at the same time. “Pay attention now.”
I smiled at her complete change of topic.
“If you were to use Fae magic, for instance, to cause great pain or death, why would that not be part of necromancy?” She waited for an answer, but I just stared at her with my jaw a little slack. “Come now, you’ve learned to pull power for ley lines arts. You’ve even used it to enhance your necromancy, whether you realize it or not. Why not expand the idea a little further?”
“I do what now? I use ley lines during necromancy? I didn’t think–”
She turned to the small pitcher plant I had sitting on the battered brown shelf on the wall and mumbled something. The plant grew by about fifty percent as roots rocked the pot onto an angle and sprang from the top level of soil.
“That can’t be good for it,” I muttered.
“You may have more success with a Rowan or Yew, but the pitcher thrives on death, so I have high hopes.” She smiled and took a deep breath like she was convincing a small child clowns were harmless. Harmless my ass.
“Now you try it,” she said.
“How? It doesn’t have an aura, much less a dead aura. What am I supposed to do with it?”
Cara paused and tapped her fingers on the hilt of her dagger again. Her eyes lit up and she said, “Your shield, you do not use an aura for your shield.”
I glanced at the cash register for no particular reason, then back to Cara. “I do, sometimes if it’s not just a ley line shield, but you’re right. I usually don’t.”
“Think about the effort it takes to form the shield. Speak the incantation out loud and try to draw the line into focus.”
I shrugged and turned to the pitcher plant. “What’s the word?”
“What?”
I grinned. “The incantation?”
“Oh, it’s vadonon arbustum sero.”
One quick nod and I turned my attention back to the plant. I played with the shield incantation a few times, speaking impadda and getting a feel for the surging electric blue ley line as it flexed around me and receded. The lines running through Death’s Door were like any other, pulled and affected by the moon, much like the tides. I have no desire to find out what a miscalculation in power wou
ld do. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, emptying my focus of everything but the small pitcher plant on my shelf and the line at my fingertips. “Vadonon arbustum sero.”
I wasn’t really expecting anything to happen, so when the line burned through my aura, the pot disintegrated from an explosion of roots, Cara laughed and took to the air, and the now six-foot tall pitcher plant fell on my head, drenching the floor—I was a bit surprised.
Chapter Fourteen
Showtime. I sighed as I got out of Vicky. Traffic had been clear all the way down Highway 40. I was surprised to see I’d made it with time to spare. My drive had included the less-than-safe activity of eyeing the wedding gift in the front seat as if it was going to jump out the window. The rest of the trip had been spent recovering from the shock of using a Fae incantation.
I left the car near the Zoo in Forest Park. It was good to have Vicky back in action. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when the first couple to walk by stopped to ask me about her. Glowing compliments done, I headed off to the birdcage.
The Zoo isn’t too terribly close to the Jewel Box, but I hadn’t seen one of my old friends in a while. Humans aren’t the only creatures on this earth able to leave ghosts behind. I remember the dog I helped Frank’s friend with. It was a mastiff, a huge, huge dog. While a mastiff is big, it’s pretty well put to shame by the ghost of a giant panda bear named Happy. Happy was usually hanging around the red pandas or the birdcage. Red pandas were a totally different species, as were the birds, but Happy didn’t seem to mind. Today he came bounding through the birdcage wall and a group of tourists, who all shivered as he passed through them. I laughed as the bear cleared the sidewalk and tried to rub his head on my shoulder. He passed right through me. I drew on a nearby ley line and let it pool in my hand, electric blue energy circling my palm and running out again a moment later. Happy stuck his tongue into the mass of energy and started slurping until his aura filled out enough I could scratch his ears. He always seemed to like that.
When he was alive, I would have been concerned about the bear eating me or slicing me to ribbons, but he had a pretty affectionate disposition as a ghost, having died long before I was born. I got to know him when I was twelve and Zola dragged me to the Zoo. My parents were always perplexed as to why I was terrified of the Zoo, and convinced my master to figure it out on one of the rare occasions she stayed with us. Every time I set foot near the Zoo, the panda would come charging and scare the living hell out of me. Zola, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious. I’m sure the other park patrons wondered how we escaped the asylum as I ran screaming from thin air before Zola finally ordered me to stop and pet it.
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