The Nerdy Necromancer (The Deadicated Matchmaker Book 1)

by S. E. Babin

  He made noncommittal noises and flashed a penlight in both of my eyes. Rex asked me what day it was, which I knew. What time it was. Which I didn’t until I looked at a clock. The medic rubbed his hands through my hair until he hit a bump that made me hiss in pain.

  “I think you might have a mild concussion,” he announced as he stood from the floor. “There’s not much you can do about it, but rest, drink a lot of liquids and try not to stare at your phone or a device for too long of a time. It will make it worse.” With a nod, he left me on the couch with Hank.

  "They'll be out of here within the hour. Then you and I need to talk." Hank rubbed the top of Margo's head much to her delight. She jumped up on the couch and laid her head in his lap.

  I rolled my eyes at her but couldn't help but smile. She was adorable. And I guess the summoning hadn't scared her off.

  The police milled around my place for what felt like forever, and every minute they were there I felt my anxiety creep up. Dolores had passed away in my backyard. I couldn't believe it. When she had said those cryptic things to me, it sounded like she had wanted to let go.

  Would I ever know if she had wanted to or if it was something more sinister? For most people that would be no, but I happened to have just the right kind of talent and motivation. Hank, as if sensing where my thoughts were going, shook his head. "You need a week of rest, hydration and food. You shouldn't even be thinking about it."

  "You aren't my mom," I muttered.

  Margo huffed and put a paw over her face.

  An hour and a half later, the police and ambulances finally left. They had placed Dolores' body on a gurney and thankfully took her through the yard instead of the house. I felt numb. Sad. Exhausted. Starving and thirsty. It wasn't a good way to feel. When they'd gone, Hank pulled the shades down and made sure all the doors and windows were locked which made me feel like he was Jason Bourne and I was the clueless girl who got caught up in his crazy run from the Russians.

  "Ermm, Hank? Whatcha doing?"

  Hank motioned for me to be quiet. I snorted. Margo scooted closer to me and nudged my arm up with her head. I lifted it and she scooted under until her head was lying on my chest. I hadn't yet moved from the couch because every time I tried, Hank gave me the glare of the century.

  Once he was satisfied that the Russians weren't going to break in or hired assassins or whatever, he sat in the chair across from me, a solemn look on his face.

  "Tell me what happened."

  "Hank, you're the gardener. Is there a reason you're so concerned about all of this?"

  His eyes flashed with something I couldn't decipher.

  "You told me those exact words earlier,” I said. “Just being the gardener. So I’m a little confused. I think maybe my spell went wrong. I'm not sure. It isn't enough to warrant all the secrecy."

  Hank's lips twisted to the side. "You have no idea what's on your land, do you?"

  I tilted my head as my brows drew inward. "Ummm, grass? Trees? Deer? What else could there be?"

  He snorted and stood. "Want a cup of coffee?" he called as he headed into the kitchen. My kitchen. How did we get here with him being so comfortable in my home?

  "Yes!" I shouted.

  Weird. Today was really weird.

  After hearing him bang around in the kitchen for about five minutes, he walked back out with two steaming mugs. He handed mine to me and I noticed it was chalk full of cream. Barely any coffee. Just the way I liked it. I took a sip and it had just a hint of sweetness. "How'd you know how I like my coffee?"

  He shrugged. "Just guessed."

  I peeked over and took a look at his. Black. How exciting.

  I moved Margo over, much to her dismay, and sat all the way up careful not to spill my coffee. "Want to tell me what's on my land?"

  He shook his head. "It's better if I show you."

  Just then, frantic pounding came from the door. Hank sat his coffee down and stood to answer it.

  "Helen Reaper, you better be alive because if you're not I'm going to kill you!"

  Hank turned back to me with a smirk. "Friend of yours?"

  I sighed and stood up. Hank came over to help because I was a little wobbly. "It's Pepper."

  Hank's perpetual scowl reappeared on his face. "Ah. The witch who wants to be a gardener."

  I chuckled. "This witch who is a gardener. Also the witch who likes to flaunt the seasons in your face."

  "The seasons exist for a reason."

  I opened the door.

  Pepper stood there wearing a short blue jean skirt and a black tank top. She had ripped up fishnet stockings and a pair of black combat boots on. Her hair was teased into a high ponytail and her eyeliner was smeared down her eyes. "Goth night at the nursery?" I quipped. Not that she was a conservative dresser. No sirree. But she usually didn't look like an extra from Motley Crue.

  "My mom wanted me to do speed dating and since I promised her a long time ago I would try it, under duress I might add, I had to go."

  "So you purposely sabotaged it?"

  "Not quite," she chirped. "There was a man there named Seth. Cute in a geeky, quiet kind of way. He was under mom duress too and told me that he slept in her basement, collected baseball cards, and made a point of watching a minimum of 30 hours of Netflix per week. So, not to be outdone, I told him I raised chickens inside of my house and fed them worms by mouth. I added that I licked stamps for fetish videos and that I had to wear my socks twelve times every time otherwise the fairies would come and get me and drag me off to Fairyland."

  Hank and I were staring at her open mouthed. "And this is good why?" I asked.

  "Because we both started cracking up. And then we realized we were in the same boat. So we have a friend date. Neither one of us want to settle down, so we struck an agreement. We can pretend to date to get our moms off our backs!"

  I personally thought that was a terrible idea, but Pepper seemed so happy I merely shrugged.

  "Anyhow," she drawled after her gaze landed on Hank. "I heard there was trouble tonight. Why didn't you call me?"

  "She passed out," Hank said.

  "What?!" Pepper put her hands on my shoulders and used one hand to force my eye open wider. "Are you alright?"

  "Mild concussion," I said.

  "What happened?"

  I filled her in, leaving out the details about how creepy Anthony was. I did tell her about Dolores and Pepper gasped in shock. "She was the best! I can't believe it."

  "Yeah, but she seemed at peace. I think it's how she wanted to go out." But something about the whole thing wasn't sitting right with me.

  "Poor Dolores. I had no idea she lost her son." Pepper pushed past us and into the kitchen. Margo, still being a lazy bones on the couch, woofed at her as she passed by.

  Pepper gave her a scratch behind the ears. "I smell coffee. Can I grab a cup?"

  "There's some left in the pot," Hank called. He grabbed his jacket from the stand right by the door. "It looks like you're in capable hands. I'll be back tomorrow. I took the liberty of cancelling your appointments."

  I blinked in surprise. "How did you know about my appointments?"

  "You left your calendar in the kitchen."

  "I - huh. Thanks." I frowned at him.

  He winked at me. "I know it was forward of me, but you didn't see yourself fall. Rest, Helen. Please. You look like you're about to drop. I'll come back first thing in the morning and we can talk about the other stuff." As he was just about to step out the door, he reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

  Le sigh. He was super dreamy.

  Pepper, best friend of perfect timing, had just stepped out of the kitchen when Hank had done this and even before the door closed was woo wooing her head off. I rolled my eyes and turned back to her. "Shut up, weirdo."

  "He tucked your hair behind your ear like he was Hugh Grant and you were Julia Roberts!" She launched into a terrible British accent. "Ya shoulda snogged him, eh?" But it sounded more like mangled Canad
ian.

  "He was concerned, that's all. I guess I took a pretty hard fall." And I had. Everything hurt and my head felt like it was full of wool.

  Pepper sat in my recliner and I curled back up on the couch with my blanket and my enormous puppy.

  "Now that Hank's gone, why don't you tell me what really happened?"

  I started at the beginning and told her all about Anthony's cryptic borderline creepy comments. How he could tell I was weakening and how he had tricked Dolores into thinking he was still really her son.

  Pepper frowned. "It seemed like a kindness, didn't it? Do you think he could have harmed her?"

  I shrugged. "Hard to tell. The binding was perfect. The raising was textbook. If he did, I'm not sure how."

  "You're going to raise her, aren't you?"

  I let out a loud sigh. "Yep. But Hank insists I take a week off."

  One of her perfectly manicured eyebrows rose. "Does he now?"

  "He isn't wrong," I insisted. I told her about the courthouse. By the time I finished she was laughing so hard, she was holding her stomach and begging me to stop.

  "I was exhausted and shouldn't have done the second one. If he did something to her, it was my fault."

  Pepper shook her head. "It isn't your fault. There was no way you could have known. If you're sure the bindings held, I think Dolores slipped away because she wanted to. I'll take a look at it and see if I can sense anything off about the scene."

  "There were werewolves and vamps crawling all over here a little while ago." Weres made good medical personnel because they had an unparalleled sense of smell. Vamps made good police officers because they were nocturnal, had super speed and hearing, and could sense exact time of death. And had other little creepy talents.

  "But they aren't a witch." She hooked her fingers into claws and bared her teeth.

  "You're welcome to look."

  "I will," she said. "But you're going to get some rest first. You look like one of the undead."

  "Har," I said, but I let her fuss with my blankets. She flipped on the television, tuned it into Netflix and we proceeded to argue for the next twenty minutes about what to watch. We finally selected Jane the Virgin. Neither one of us wanted to watch anything gory, but I wanted something funny. Usually I didn’t win the Netflix battle, but I had a concussion and she felt sorry for me.

  Twenty minutes into Jane agonizing over Michael and Raphael, I fell into a deep sleep.

  The next morning, the smell of frying bacon and coffee woke me. I jerked up abruptly and groaned at the pain in my head. "Eergghh," I said.

  A glass of water was shoved at my face by a slightly dirty, masculine hand.

  "Hank?"

  He helped me to a sitting position. "The one and only." He shoved the glass at me again. "Drink. Being hydrated will help your head."

  I obeyed. The cool water felt good going down. "Where's Pepper?"

  "Growing things out of season and cackling to the skies about it, I guess."

  I croaked out a surprise laugh.

  "She left about an hour ago when I got here. She told me to take care of you but did that weird finger quote thing so I have no idea what she was talking about. I assume it was ladyspeak for something to do with your lady parts."

  I choked on my next sip of water.

  Hank grinned at me. "Try to be careful. You wouldn't want to soak your couch."

  He winked at me and headed back to the kitchen.

  Okay. Seriously. Who was this chatty guy and what had he done with Hank? I chugged down my water and swung my legs over. Everything in my body hurt. I'd never exhausted my magic stores like that. Never. Today I felt like I was a hundred years old.

  I slowly shuffled to the kitchen only to see Margo bounding through the air as Hank tossed bacon to her. I sighed, shook my head, and slowly made my way to the dining table only to realize I'd forgotten to get a cup of coffee.

  Hank must have noticed my forlorn expression and took pity on me. He poured me a large mug from the fresh pot, made it just the way I liked it and plonked it down on the table in front of me. A few minutes later and he had a plate of bacon, eggs and biscuits there too.

  "Marry me," I croaked. At the moment I was dead serious.

  "I still don't like blondes," he said, but with less heat this time.

  "I'm adorable," I said through a mouthful of bacon. "And I have a cute puppy."

  "You're still blonde," Hank said as he eyed me over his coffee mug.

  "Genetics," I shrugged. "But if you keep feeding me and playing with my dog, I'm going to color my hair and drag you down to the courthouse."

  Hank grunted and I hid a smile. I'd gotten to him. Men didn't like to talk about marriage.

  "So are you a brunette kind of guy?"

  Hank scooped a massive amount of eggs onto his fork. "I don't have a preference."

  I laughed in surprise. "And yet you hate blondes?"

  "It has to do with the lack of pigment."

  I lowered my fork. "Excuse me?"

  "The melanin in your hair. Yellow hair has less melanin than dark hair. It seems...unnatural."

  I set my fork down on the plate. "You think my hair is unnatural?" My lips twitched.

  "It's too Swedish for a town like Midnight Cove. Do you realize you're one of the only blondes here?"

  I blinked at him. "You do realize hair color is genetic and I have zero say in what I came out with?"

  "I'm aware." He shoveled the eggs in his mouth and chewed slowly.

  "So you're prejudiced against hair color?"

  Hank rolled his eyes. "No. I just find it odd that Midnight Cove has a mix of black, red, browns, greens, oranges and basically every other hair color on the planet and only a couple of blondes."

  "Okay. Then I'm an anomaly and it offends you?" I was currently in the process of deciding whether or not to be pissed off at him.

  "Nothing offends me. It's a little bothersome. Like a gnat."

  "Are you for real right now?" I muttered under my breath. "So what if I colored my hair?"

  "Why do you care so much what I think about your hair?"

  "Well, I didn't until you kept telling me you didn't like blondes and then pronounced my lack of melanin to be offensive!"

  He clacked his mug down on the table. "Are we seriously fighting about hair?"

  "I have blue eyes," I announced loudly. "This too means my melanin is lacking!" I slapped the back of my hand against my forehead, wincing at the pain. "And my skin. So pale! Forgive me Irish ancestors!"

  Hank's lips twitched. "It doesn't hurt that I also find you very annoying."

  "I can live with that. What I can't live with is a melanin judger."

  "So now I'm offended by melanin rather than just your hair?"

  "Well you said there were only a few blondes, so I'm assuming your distaste is for all of us."

  "No," he said totally deadpan, "it's just for you."

  "Well then. Glad we got that settled." I shook my head, marveling at the weirdness of this. "Weirdest conversation ever. Would you like me to put on a hat today?"

  "A lack of melanin does mean you'll sunburn easier, but that's up to you. Maybe it will make your skin a little darker so I don't shudder every time I see a flash of skin."

  "You are ridiculous," I hissed under my breath.

  "And quite a competent gardener," he announced. "When you're finished with your coffee you might want to take a shower."

  I huffed out an annoyed breath. "Because I smell?"

  "You said it," he said. "Plus you have drool in your melanin lacking hair."

  I lifted a piece of it up only to realize he was right. I gnashed my teeth and stood up too abruptly. I brought my hand up to my head and Hank was about to stand when I waved him away. I headed to the bathroom and turned on the spray as hot as I could stand.

  Hank. That dude was weird.

  6

  I felt a hundred percent better once I was dressed. I was still sore as all get out so I dressed in a pair of
cotton drawstring pants, flip flops, and a soft blue t-shirt. I tossed a cap over my offensive hair after I'd blow dried it and slapped on some lip gloss and mascara just to make me look a little more human. Dark circles were pronounced on my face and exhaustion made me look about ten years older. I made a vow right then never to over exert myself again.

  When I stepped out of the room, Margo was there to greet me. I headed to the kitchen only to see that Hank had cleaned up the breakfast mess and left Margo out a bowl of food. I sighed. For a hair snob, Hank was a pretty thoughtful guy. I peeked out of the kitchen window only to see him out by my slab. I grabbed a light sweater I had hanging by the door and stepped out. I was moving slower than I would have liked but I no longer felt at death's door so that was progress.

  Hank was moving around the slab at a slow pace, stopping every few seconds to examine something closer. Sunlight glinted off his dark hair and his skin was beginning to show a hint of tan. The temperature was starting to heat up a little more so soon enough, Hank would be a dark golden brown. Every summer when I went into his nursery, I noticed it, but I was beginning to realize that I never really noticed him. Not until we were thrown together in closer proximity.

  "Find anything of substance?" I asked once I'd made my way over.

  He shook his head. "I'm not really expecting to either. I don't possess inherent magic. Not like you. I have certain abilities, but those aren't magical. Speed, strength." He shrugged. "It serves me well for lugging bags of soil and rock around, but it doesn't help me with stuff like this." He looked up and smirked when he saw my hat. "You're looking a little more chipper. Think you're up for a walk?"

  "Should be. I'm curious to know what you found."

  He straightened and wiped his hands on his blue jeans. "You won't like it."

  "I haven't liked much of anything the last few days," I said.

  "Follow me."

  I let Hank lead the way. Most of the land had paths cleared, otherwise I never would have been able to walk most of it, but as we made our way farther back, deep brush slowed us down. Hank took a sharp left turn and kept going, doing his best to keep most of the brush out of my way. We walked for several minutes more when he stopped abruptly. Right in front of us was a structure made out of rock. From what I could tell it appeared to be a natural formation. I shrugged and looked at Hank. "A cave?"