Deadworld

by J N Duncan

  “I like him, you know.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “And I miss you horribly.”

  “I know. I miss you, too.”

  “And I still love you, Laur. Really, but just… well, not like you wanted me to. I’m sorry.”

  “Hush. You can’t be sorry about that.”

  Tears spilled down Jackie’s cheeks, feeling distant and far, like she was watching someone else cry. A part of her knew it was Nick’s doing, hypnotizing her, and, sadly, she had trusted him without hesitation. How embarrassing was that? They were tears of remorse, regret, and terror. Whatever might happen next, at the moment she was dying, her blood draining into Nick’s suckling mouth.

  “God, I’m scared, Laur. I don’t want to die. Fuck, this really sucks.” Laurel’s image swam in her view, two, then three of her dancing across the back of the freezer. Her elbow began to ache, and she could feel the blood in her body ebbing toward Nick’s drinking mouth, drawn like a pool of liquid iron to a magnet. “Nick! Please make this work. Please, please, please don’t let me die like this.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” Laurel’s voice cooed in her ear. “Hang in there a little longer. We’re almost ready.”

  “Laur? I can’t see you!”

  “Shhhh. All done, sweetie. Rest now. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Jackie sank to her knees, head lolling over against Nick’s shoulder, a chaotic jumble of thoughts pouring through her head, as they are wont to do when death encroaches. Most were full of anger and regret, but not of dying. Her life had not been what she wanted, consumed with pursuing demons she could not catch, filled with a need for revenge over losing something she had never really had. Ironic that Laurel had been there all those years, ready to give it, and Jackie had been oblivious, and even if she had leaned in that direction, the fear of herself would have kept her silent. Who would love her if they were really let in?

  Goddamnit. I want another shot. God, Goddess, or whoever the fuck you are. If you give a shit about my sorry ass, please get me back alive. I can do better, I swear. I… I… Wow, Nick really smells good.

  A warm blanket of darkness swaddled her in the blessed relief of nothingness.

  Chapter 54

  Nick blinked away the tears. He had managed to stay focused on his own feelings until Jackie’s panicky fear peaked. Why did something so despicable have to feel so damn good? He was sucking the life from this woman, and all he could think about was how sweet she tasted. His cock was so hard it hurt, but he had kept those images mostly stuffed into the background. He had wallowed in that kind of thing before, but at least whatever shreds of willpower he had could keep those thoughts at bay. Finally, Jackie’s pleas faded into unconsciousness, and she slumped forward. Nick eased her to the floor, his mouth still buried against her arm.

  Laurel pushed and nudged at him, her cold, ethereal hands caressing his hair, rubbing at his temples. “Goddess be damned, Nick. Quit resisting so hard. Let me in.”

  “Hmmm?” It was all he could manage to say in response without lifting his mouth free from Jackie. It was difficult to hear her over the growing howl of the wind coming from the other side. The sound existed only in his head, but it was real nonetheless, a bitter, icy chill that came along with the incredible surge of power that filled his body.

  “Relax, you stupid cowboy. Focus on the good things. Shelby told me how real blood makes you feel, so let go of the guilt for two seconds so I can get in.”

  Get in. Why does she need to do that? And how the hell can anyone relax while drinking blood from anyone? Focus on the good things. I’m not a savage. I’m not a loathsome animal. Focus on good things. The sweet taste of Jackie’s skin. How wonderful it would be to be inside her, kissing the crook of her elbow instead of sucking upon it.

  “There,” her voice said from within his head now. “Was that so hard? Okay, get us through, Nick. We need to hurry. I’m going to amplify your power to open the door. Nick? Stop drinking! She’s going into shock.”

  He pulled his mouth away, clamping his hand over the open knife wound. Sweat was dripping down his face from the heat inside the freezer. “Is it going to be enough?”

  “Let’s find out,” she said. “And hurry. This is very difficult for me, too.”

  Nick picked up Jackie, holding her tightly against him, and let the natural order of things follow, the order he had interrupted so many years ago in order to get his revenge. Now, ironically enough, he was letting it all go. The door yawned open, wider and wider, the breath of the dead blowing him through, but Jackie was not coming, not just yet, as she had not reached that brink, and Nick could feel her body slowly slipping from his grip.

  “Laurel. Now would be a good time to kick it up a notch.” Nick dug his fingers into Jackie, clenching as hard as he could. She was not ready yet, and he didn’t have the force to get her through.

  “Imagine a safe place, Nick. A safe place to take Jackie.”

  His home was the only place he would take her. It was the only place he felt might be remotely defensible against Drake. “I can’t hold her much longer here, Ms. Carpenter.” Despite the strength of his grip, Jackie was slowly beginning to pull away. Even as close as she was to death. That little bit of life was enough to offset the pull of the dead.

  Then Laurel’s whispering voice grew inside his head, slowly overtaking the howl of Deadworld. She was chanting, and Nick could not make out the words, or they were in a language he didn’t understand, but just like she had claimed, the door stretched itself, becoming more elastic, the louder her voice became.

  Home. Take us home.

  They broke free of that boundary, falling into the black void between the world of the living and that of the dead, a cold so intense Nick felt sure his bones would splinter apart into a million icy shards.

  Take us home. Make her safe, please, God, if you exist and are there at all, get her through this. I beg of you.

  The blackness began to fade into gray, a substanceless fog that gave Nick no sense of location. The howling wind of the doorway had faded, and it was now eerily quiet. There was the faintest whispering in the background. “Laurel?”

  “Shhhh,” came the reply still echoing around inside his head. “Home. Keeping thinking of home. Almost there.”

  Nick did his best to keep the images of his house fresh, the piano loft where he spent so many hours of his recent life, and where Jackie had felt compelled to kiss him. He desperately wanted a chance to do that again. “Trying.”

  “Shhhh. No talking. They’ll hear you.”

  She went back to her quiet chanting, and Nick wondered what she was talking about, but the whispers grew louder then, becoming nearly discernible voices. They were angry voices and many, but the words were jumbled, except for one, which he could make out because it was louder than all the rest. “Vampire.”

  Laurel’s voice took on a fearful edge, the chanting becoming more frantic, and Nick took the cue and zeroed in on his house, the living room sofa, a fire, Jackie there, alive and healthy, sipping on a cup of the nuclear coffee he had made. Safe, comfortable, and home.

  Something pushed at Nick’s back, and for a split second he panicked, thinking perhaps that crowd of voices was upon them, but then it took on more substance and feel, pressing against his back and legs, and Jackie’s body took on more weight against him as the gray fog dissipated into a serene background wash of color over everything. He was sitting on the sofa in his living room before his stone fireplace. It was a washed-out version of it, but his house nonetheless.

  Resting against his chest, Jackie’s pale, bluish lips appeared to be kissing his shirt. Nick shifted and turned, easing her cold body down on the cushions, and pressed a pair of fingers against the soft flesh of her throat. For a moment, panic fluttered through his stomach, but then he felt her pulse, weak but still there. They had made it for now, but how long did Jackie really have?

  Chapter 55

  Cold. Aching, biting cold. Did t
he dead feel cold? Jackie’s eyes blinked open, seeing little but foggy white nothingness, and groaned at the icy grip of the giant hand that clamped down on her body when she attempted to move.

  “Hey, hon.” Laurel’s face immediately moved into view. “How do you feel?”

  Laurel looked solid enough to touch. Jackie smiled, which even made her mouth hurt. “It’s fucking cold. My entire body hurts.”

  She leaned down and kissed Jackie’s cheek, her lips the barest whisper against her skin. “I figured. I wasn’t quite sure if you’d make it or what would happen once you got here.”

  Here. The other side. So Nick had managed to bring them across. “Am I dead?”

  Laurel shook her head. “No, not yet, but I don’t think you can stay here long. The living aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “How long?’

  It was Nick’s voice, and Jackie realized he was sitting behind Laurel on a couch. Things looked oddly familiar. Jackie turned and noticed the massive slate fireplace of Nick’s living room. “This looks like Nick’s place.”

  “A few hours maybe?” Laurel said with a shrug. “And, yes, hon. It’s Nick’s. We needed a safe place to come to.”

  Jackie reached out tentatively and tried to touch Laurel’s arm but was disappointed to see her fingers pass right through, disappearing for a moment before reappearing on the other side. How creepy was that? She shivered. “Heat doesn’t work around here, I take it?”

  “We’ll get you back as soon as we can,” Nick said.

  Jackie stared at him for a moment, those depthless eyes surprisingly readable in the ghostly gray gloom. Laughter almost bubbled out of her mouth. “You don’t have a fucking clue, do you?”

  He stared at her in silence and then finally offered up a grim smile. “No. This is all new to me. I’m hoping Laurel knows what she’s doing.”

  “I’ll get us to Drake,” she replied, “but after that, it’s up to you.”

  “We need to figure out how to get Jackie back first.”

  Laurel’s answer was simple. “You have to take her back.”

  “What?” He didn’t bother hiding the chagrin in his voice. “I don’t have the power to do that now. It took most of what I had to get us here.”

  Laurel reached down and brushed a wisp of hair from Jackie’s face. “I know. You’ll have to get it back from Drake.”

  Nick slumped back on the couch. “Ah. And I thought it would be something difficult.”

  Jackie struggled to sit up. Every movement felt sluggish, as if she were moving through water. “I wanted to kill him anyway.”

  “I don’t even know if he can be killed here,” Nick said. “The rules I knew don’t seem to apply anymore.”

  “It’s not his blood you want, Nick. You want his power. He takes it from the spirits here, draining their souls away to give him strength to pass back and forth.”

  “Okay, and if it’s not through blood, just how do I do that?”

  Laurel looked at a loss. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

  Jackie shivered again. The cold was seeping deeper into her bones by the minute. If this kept up, she would hardly be able to move, let alone function in this place of the dead. “So, where’s he at?”

  “At the moment, I’m not sure,” Laurel said. “But he keeps everyone locked away inside the Hancock building.”

  Nick snorted. “Seriously? I hadn’t thought him so corporate.”

  “That’s almost thirty miles from here,” Jackie lamented. “I can’t walk that far unless there’s a ghost version of that Porsche sitting in the garage.”

  “No cars.” Laurel stood up, backing around the coffee table that sat in the middle of the U shape of the sofas. She looked at both of them. “I just will myself to where I want to go. It’s very easy here. Crossing over, not so much. I’m hoping it’s an effect of this place and doesn’t require actually being dead to work.”

  Jackie clutched her arms tightly across her chest in an effort to ease the chill. Teleport? Her life force was crystallizing inside her body, thin shards of death forming in an unbreakable lattice. She could barely move, much less will herself somewhere. “I don’t know how to do that kind of shit, Laur.”

  Nick leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. The aggravating, indifferent look he usually presented had disappeared. He looked… worried? Scared? God help them if he had lost his nerve now. “Maybe you should stay here while we get Drake. It’ll be safer for you here.”

  I’m not dying alone in this place. Jackie shook her head. “Screw that. If I’m going to be dead in a couple hours, I don’t really want to do that alone.”

  “Then try to see if you can do it,” Laurel said. “If not, we’ll have to carry you there.”

  Jackie forced herself to sit up straight. “I don’t want to hurt our chances of getting him.”

  “It’s fine, hon. Just try something simple like moving over to the couch next to Nick. Picture yourself seated next to him, focus your thoughts on wanting to sit next to him, and visualize everything you can about it.”

  Nick leaned back, one arm laid out across the back cushion. Jackie eyed the spot on the couch next to him, and the probable warmth that might be obtained snuggled into the crook of his body. Okay, not so hard to think about. Jackie closed her eyes and wished for that simple, comforting embrace. It might not help, but at least it would feel good, and far better than his mouth licking and sucking at the hole in her arm. It would be nice to die without that lingering image and sensation squirming in her gut.

  “Jackie, relax.” Laurel’s voice was a soothing whisper of wind in her ear. “Quit squinting. It’s a mental thing, not physical.”

  Jackie took a deep breath, the tightening muscles in her chest failing to provide much air, and let it out in a rush. “Relaxing. Sitting next to Nick. Warm body. Warm, fucking body.”

  Jackie felt a nudge, a soft push from behind, as if the whole couch were tipping her toward Nick, and then his firm, depressingly cool arm came around her. Jackie put her hands out against him to push away, but the strength appeared to have dissipated from her body. He held her tightly, the big hand planted firmly on her hip, pulling her close.

  “Holy shit,” she said in a rush. “I did it.”

  Laurel clapped. “Awesome, hon.”

  “Did you help her, Laurel?”

  “Shut up, you dumb cowboy.” She huffed at him. “I gave her a little nudge, but that was it. You did it mostly on your own, babe.”

  “Great,” Jackie said but felt no elation at the feat. Her body hurt too much to feel good about anything. “Now what? I’m still about as useful as a wet noodle.”

  “I’m going to go check out the Hancock building and see where we need to go,” Laurel replied. “We need a safe place to arrive.”

  Nick shifted against Jackie but kept his arm snugly against her body. “And what if they’re waiting? Maybe we should just all go now.”

  Laurel shook her head. “No. I can handle getting away from Drake’s goons. He’s not back yet, but he might be soon, so we need to hurry.”

  “You sure?” Nick sounded skeptical. Given what she had witnessed from Drake, Jackie felt the same way.

  “Nick, you are as different here as you are in the living world. Trust me, if Drake was back, I’d know.” Laurel straightened up and closed her eyes. “See you soon. Be ready.”

  Without a chance to even wish her luck, Laurel vanished from sight. A shiver rippled through Jackie’s body again, clenching her body into an even harder knot. “Shit.”

  “She’ll be back,” Nick said. “She knows what she’s doing.”

  “Any clue what you’re going to do when you get there?”

  He was silent for a moment. “No.”

  “You don’t give a dying girl much confidence.”

  “We’ll get you back home, Jackie.”

  Yeah, right. She did not voice the opinion, and let herself sag against Nick’s chest, feeling a swell of tears push up behind her
eyes. “This isn’t how I want to go.”

  “You aren’t going to die in this place,” he said, his arm pulling her more snugly against him.

  Tears welled up, and Jackie tried to blink them away. Somehow even blinking was painful. “You don’t know that. I can tell I’m dying here, Nick. Don’t placate me, you’ll piss me off.”

  “All right,” he said, a mixture of sympathy and annoyance in his voice. “You’re dying, and I am truly sorry for that. This mess is mine, and I tried to keep you out of it, but that didn’t happen. I don’t know how the hell we’re getting out of here, but I’m going to do my damnedest to get you back and patched up.”

  Jackie started to laugh and then groaned at the pain it induced. “Better, and don’t blame yourself. You warned me, but that didn’t really matter, now, did it?”

  “No, I suppose not. You’re too pigheaded to do what’s best for you.”

  “Fuck you. Am not.”

  He chuckled. “It’s okay. It’s one of your more endearing qualities.”

  “You’re an obstinate prick, too, you know.”

  The sarcasm in his voice vanished. “See, perfect match. No wonder I like you.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “You don’t like yourself much, do you, Agent Rutledge?”

  “Are we having a counseling session now? Because I’m not in the mood.”

  “No, but you sell yourself short. There’s a lot about you to like, regardless of what’s happened to you. You think Laurel would love you otherwise?”

  “Laurel was… is my friend. You’re supposed to love them despite their faults.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And your point is?”

  “You’re a good person. You’re smart, attractive, and stand up for what you feel is right. You also are stubborn enough to chase down injustice, no matter the cost.” He paused, and it was quiet enough that Jackie could hear him swallow. He continued, much quieter. “All the women I’ve loved have been like that.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Did he just say he loves me? That can’t be right. “I’ll admit, you’re not like any guy I’ve ever met before.” She wished the comfort of leaning into his body would provide more relief. She liked the feeling, but her body refused to relax. If anything, her shivering just kept getting worse.