Rain Dance (Sunshine & Scythes Book 1)

by D. N. Erikson

  Dante knelt and found the light switch along the baseboard next to the fireplace. I could see the stairs were covered in a thin layer of dust.

  “What have your other customers had to say about this disaster?” I stared into the abyss, dread churning in my stomach like curdled milk. There were other apothecaries and potion vendors on the island, sure, but they tended to want things.

  Souls, mainly.

  “I wouldn’t know, Eden,” Dante said, taking a step forward so that he was even with me. His presence felt soothing, the words even and calm. Like even if everything wasn’t going to be okay, that was all right. “You’re the first person I’ve let inside since I moved here a month ago.”

  So, naturally, I said, “Why?”

  And he responded, without looking up, “I have a good feeling about you.”

  Then he disappeared into the basement store as I thought to myself, well, that was your first mistake.

  8

  Well, as the first customer to see Jack’s Apothecary Shack post-inheritance, I feel obligated to state in no uncertain terms that the shop—or, rather, its feral fragments—was an unmitigated disaster. Any lingering hope of finding anything useful vanished once I was midway down the steep steps and could see what I was dealing with.

  The aisles had never been organized, but now they looked overgrown, overtaken by the wild. Even the cash register had moss—or, more likely, some sort of poisonous lichen—crawling over its yellowed plastic. And that was about as good as it got. The rotting, musty odor was evocative of a backwoods swamp in the middle of a heatwave, suggesting that the remaining stock hadn’t exactly been kept fish.

  Dante reached the bottom of the stairs and waited for me to join him. Our presence made the already tight basement feel even more claustrophobic. Something hissed in aisle five, lurking where the lights couldn’t reach. While the single bulb over the stairwell was still going strong, the ones lining the ceiling had shattered or burned out.

  “Welcome to the store.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” I listened in the dim murk, but there was no second hiss. “You weren’t kidding.” I scanned the wilderness for movement or anything useful. Vials and glass jars peeked out from scattered aisles. “Any idea what he left you?”

  “Not a clue.” Dante shrugged. The nonchalance in this instance was an act. Then again, he wasn’t the one about to die. “But whatever you find is yours. No charge.”

  “Gee, how nice of you.”

  “I aim to please.”

  I stepped around him, crunching something beneath my sneaker. I lifted my low-top, finding that I’d mushed a large magical spider into the ground by accident. Its blood was a royal shade of purple. While I wasn’t a pansy around bugs, the fact that critters like this had full run of the basement didn’t fill me with confidence. Jack had always kept some weird things in stock. Things that could’ve grown…out of control in the past few months.

  I reached into my pocket and took out the Reaper’s Switch. The blade snapped out with a quiet snap, which was answered by a loud mewing. Aisle five, same place as the hissing.

  “Thought there was no cat in the will.”

  “There wasn’t,” Dante said.

  I made my way slowly toward aisle five. The mewing intensified. “I think you got more than you bargained for.”

  “Life is full of wonderful surprises.” Dante didn’t sound thrilled about the possibility of inheriting a furry friend.

  I held the knife out in front of me as I turned into the aisle. Already densely packed—the basement was small, and five aisles was pushing things—the ensuing months of disrepair had made the apothecary into a sort of grotto. Magical vines dangled from the ceiling, waving as I entered. A strange sort of fuzz graced the shelves at eye level. The ground was dotted with mushrooms and stalks of exotic plants ranging from hemlock to warlock’s lemongrass, which was like that awful “superfood” people took for cleanses, but instead of terrible diarrhea, this variant offered enhanced spellcasting ability. And, as a bonus, it tasted twice as nasty.

  I made my way through the forest, burrowing further into the narrow aisle. Unlike a regular retail store, the aisles in Jack’s Apothecary Shack were one-way, ending all the way at the back wall. You had to turn around if you wanted to head back. Not quite the most user-friendly solution, but it wasn’t like this place was ever overrun with customers. Jack had to let you in with the secret key, after all. The claustrophobia added to the mystery, I guess.

  “How you doing back there, Eden?” Dante’s voice seemed like it was coming from a distance planet, even though he couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet away.

  “I’m a big girl,” I said, switchblade wavering my hand as I stepped further into the abyss. Darkness permeate every inch of the shop floor. I’d been attacked by wolves, and threatened by a two-thousand-year-old vampire, but this might have been the freakiest thing I’d experienced all day. Or maybe I was just running on fumes and becoming delirious from exhaustion. Either way, I felt like an explorer marching through uncharted territory, unsure what might pop out from the indigenous plants.

  I wondered if this was how Aldric felt when he had sailed here in the 6th century. None of this had existed. However strange the island was now, it had to have once been an unfriendly and unruly wilderness that I couldn’t even fathom.

  I took another step forward, and a black blur roared out from beneath a tattered box. Much to my embarrassment, I let out an ear piecing shriek, tumbling into the shelf to my right. A jar shattered, spraying my shoes with glass as an enchanted serpent hissed in my ear and snapped, narrowly missing my ear. Meanwhile, the cat was attached to my leg, clawing its way up my stiff, torn jeans.

  Thinking only of escape, I swung my arm into the snake shelf. I heard the telltale groan of something about to tip over. The aisles crumbled on top of one another in a screeching cacophony of breaking glass, exotic escaped creatures, and crackling vegetation.

  The cat, for his part, was determined to make a summit of Mt. Eden. I grabbed him by the nape of the neck to get his claws out of my skin, but the bastard held tight, his cool blue eyes glaring back at me.

  Were a cat’s eyes supposed to be blue? We shared a moment, his claws still digging into my leg, until, very firmly, the cat said, “Release me human.”

  Which was about the time I fainted.

  9

  Nightfall had swept across the island by the time I awoke in the second bedroom. A fresh bandage wrapped my arm, from where I had smacked into the glass. When I rolled over on the bed, I felt a mass bundled around my ear.

  “Sandstorm viper,” Dante said, rising from a chair in the corner. He leaned over to check my pulse. “Another couple minutes and you’d be dead.”

  The snake had actually nipped me in the ear. I hadn’t noticed, since my heart had been about ready to leap out of my chess between the hissing and the cat trying to scale my pants. At least I hadn’t fainted from seeing a stray cat and a few bugs. That would have been too humiliating to live down. Much better to almost die and escape with my dignity intact.

  I tried to sit up, but found my muscles were uncooperative. On second thought, maybe my pride could have taken this particular hit. With an exaggerated groan, I allowed myself to sink back into the comfortable bed. My eyesight blurred back into a vague semblance of focus and I noticed a bandage of his own along his wrist.

  “Did the snake get you too?”

  “No,” he said with a wry smile. “That was Khan.”

  “Khan?”

  “You never read the Jungle Book? My god, when that came out in England…” He trailed off, looking out the window. This side of the house overlooked a sheer drop into the ocean. I could see waves breaking on the horizon, out by the moon. Dante turned away from the window and winked, indicating the old man reminiscing bit was just an act. “It’s an appropriate name, suffice to say.”

  “Well, he’s your cat. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. I tried
to reach for the water on the nearby nightstand, but my muscles still weren’t cooperating.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Dante said.

  “Did he talk to you, too?”

  Dante’s golden brown eyes lit up with concern. He ran his hand through his messy sun-bleached hair. “Talk? I must say, Eden—”

  “Cut the shit, buddy. You’re not as good a liar as you think.” My eyes were half-open, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “I was right about that feeling.” Dante returned to his seat, which made him mostly out of my line of sight. I could just barely see his leg if I strained. Which made it a little like talking to a spirit. That could have just been the venom and serum running through my veins, too.

  “How do you figure that happened?”

  “The feeling? You learn to read people after around five hundred years.”

  “I meant the magical cat.”

  “Oh, that.” I heard Dante rap his fingers against the worn plaster. The room smelled slightly damp, like the sea had come inside for a visit at some point, but never quite left. “Probably got trapped down there. Ate the right cocktail and gave himself the gift of speech.”

  “Just like that.”

  “He created the antidote that saved you.”

  “Really?”

  “And called you a dumb bitch the whole time. Among other things that you probably don’t need repeated.”

  “Lovely.” I stared at the water-damaged ceiling. Jack had really let this place deteriorate over the last few years. It wasn’t even worth claiming as inheritance. That made me wonder why Dante Cross had even bothered to show up down here. “You seen a lot of talking animals in your travels?”

  “He would be the first.”

  “You’re taking this remarkably well.” I groaned, suddenly remembering that I was on the clock. I had that meeting at the The Loaded Gun. Not like I could call up my mystery reverse pickpocket to reschedule.

  Struggling mightily, I managed to prop myself up in an L position against the headboard. The old wood creaked slightly as my back slumped against it. My head swam with what had to be the worst hangover I’d ever encountered. I rubbed my legs gingerly, coming across new tears in my jeans and some fresh scratches.

  Frigging wildlife.

  “No comment, then?” I asked, finally turning my head—slowly, to avoid any sudden jolts of pain—to look at Dante. For the first time, I noticed he had a shotgun sitting next to him in the corner. “Something I need to be aware of?”

  “When you live this long, you expect the impossible,” he replied, answering both questions and yet answering neither.

  “You’re like talking to a fucking Ouija board, you know that?” I bent my arm at an angle to pull out my phone. It read 10:32. I needed to get out of here, but that didn’t look possible in my current condition. At least I’d gotten a few hours of much needed sleep. “Help me up, would you?”

  He smiled. “I think you can do it yourself.”

  “When did chivalry die?” I muttered, straining to wrestle free from the thick covers. Finally, I managed to get my legs over the side of the bed. My feet touched the cool hardwood.

  “See?” Dante nodded, like he’d known all along. “Didn’t need my help.”

  “What’d you do with downstairs?”

  “Couldn’t be saved. Everything was consumed by darkness.”

  For the first time, I noticed the faint scent of woodchips. As if to answer my unspoken question, Dante pointed toward the door, toward the front of the house. I guess the fire was blazing on the front lawn. At least he didn’t have any close neighbors.

  “Jack wasn’t a connoisseur of the dark arts, though.”

  “No,” Dante said, a world-weariness creeping into his voice. “But when anarchy festers for too long, creatures lose their way. Especially those with poison already in their veins.”

  Couldn’t say I was going to pour one out for the snake who bit me. “And Khan?”

  “Alive, but taking an extended nap.” Dante rubbed his scratched arm ruefully. “I’m afraid he might be beyond saving.”

  “That what the shotgun is for?”

  “No.” Dante didn’t elaborate.

  “Khan was always an asshole, even when he couldn’t talk.” I tested my balance by gingerly putting some weight on my right foot. A sense of vertigo rushed over my body, forcing me back down to the bed. “I’ll take him.”

  “He’s all yours, Reaper.”

  I almost choked after a few seconds passed, realizing that I, Eden Hunter, had just volunteered to rescue a living creature and care for it. One who was, quite possibly, a bigger jackass than me. A match made in heaven.

  I was so going to die alone, and it was all my fault.

  “He did seem to like you.” Dante grinned, warmth flowing from the corner. The smile snapped off his face when there was a creak from the entrance. He stood quickly, moving like someone who had seen death before. “Stay here and be quiet.”

  “Maybe it’s the taxi driver.” God, that was going to be a big bill.

  “I paid him. He left hours ago.”

  Maybe chivalry wasn’t dead—only dormant. There was another crack, this one sharp enough to be a clear indication that someone else was in the house. I reached for the Reaper’s Switch—the only damn thing that could protect me—and about had a heart attack when it was missing.

  Then I saw it on the nightstand. With a trembling arm, I grabbed the blade and clutched it to my chest like a familiar teddy bear.

  Dante racked the shotgun and said, “Be right back.”

  Before I could say anything, he had slipped out of the room like a wraith, leaving me alone. Hopefully the noises were just Khan escaping from his cage and causing an irritable ruckus. Or some creature from the basement that had followed Dante up the stairs as he hurried to save me from the viper’s venom.

  My hopes were quickly dashed when the shotgun let out an enormous roar. Dante yelled—the kind of sound that a man makes only when he’s injured. I struggled to get my limbs moving in concert. Finally, after much trial and tribulation, I managed to squeeze my bare feet into my sneakers. I limped to the bedroom door and peeked out. This room was at the end of the hall. The one that contained the fake fireplace entrance to the shop was about ten paces away. I could see the light from a fire outside casting a dancing shadow into the hall. I crept out of the room and edged against the wall until I was close to the archway leading to the entrance area. A quick glance out showed that the wood smoke had turned a strange shade of purple and green.

  Shit. Dante should’ve known that this many magical ingredients mixed together would unleash a massive magical signature. To a human, it probably looked like an illicit fireworks display. But to the supernatural community, it was like a homing beacon: here lies rare things. Ones worth taking by force.

  Dante, of course, was nowhere to be found. I swung into the entrance room, glancing in the library and kitchen. Also empty. The front door was slightly ajar. The acrid aroma of torched magical objects filtered. My head pounded with each halting step.

  Then I saw it.

  Blood, glistening right near the welcome mat. Fresh. And no small amount, either. A yell came from outside, followed by a massive roar. I wanted to run out and help, but I was useless in my current state. Goddamn Lucille. I was like a grasshopper in a magical world of sharks and lions—and, right now, I couldn’t even jump.

  The skirmish continued as I willed myself to the front door. Then a glass window broke, and I heard two bodies thud into the library. I crept toward the groans in the adjacent room, Reaper’s Switch extended. I peeked into the room with trepidation, eyes passing over the stacks of books—everything from Contemporary Psychology, Eighth Edition to The Book of 5 Rings to An Introduction to Rocketry and Aeronautics.

  No movement. Then, in the far corner of the room, a purplish bolt sizzled like a sudden solar flare. Dante rolled away just in time, but the spell left behind a scorch mark in the hardwood
and devoured a stack of old books. He brushed himself off and gave me a wink, like he had everything under control. But I could see his chest was bleeding heavily—and it was easy to tell why when his adversary rose from the shredded glass at the room’s corner. This demon was well over six feet, its hideous muscles tensing. It barked and snapped, which wasn’t particularly interesting. Of greater concern were its glowing claws, which had been equipped with magical castings normally reserved for warlocks or sorceresses.

  The soulless monster swiped at Dante’s head. He deftly ducked, and countered with a blow from the shotgun stock that did little to the beast. Dante might have been immortal and in good shape, but a demon was born in the depths of the Elysian Fields—the worst tiers, where no one wanted to be sent. Demons had no souls at all, which meant they possessed an unquenchable thirst to fill the void within them. That usually meant a lot of bodies and a trail of destruction.

  Dante shook his head ever so slightly, imploring me to run. But I’d never been a good listener—and I wasn’t going to turn over a new leaf now. I limped into the library. The demon wheeled its horned, scarred head toward me, unleashing a primal scream from its jagged-tooth mouth.

  A glowing claw raked across Dante’s wounded chest, and he buckled, gasping for air as the shotgun clattered away. The demon roared in victory, relishing the victory before delivering what would be the final blow.

  “Hey,” I said. “Over here.”

  The demon cocked its head and narrowed its yellow eyes. It was unusual for someone to challenge a demon directly, mainly because it was suicidal. Best case scenario, you emerged looking like you’d gotten in a head-on collision with a freight train. Worst case, he devoured your soul, which posed problems for your afterlife prospects in the Elysian Fields.