Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1)

by Kerry Blaisdell

  Except…

  While Nadezhda eyed me knowingly, Jason glared angrily, and Geordi watched curiously, I wriggled and squirmed until I got my arm between two of the bars. By dint of also wedging my shoulder through, I was able to barely touch the back wall with my fingertips.

  There. A faint, vibrating hum.

  Like a tuning fork, below the Earth’s surface, calling me, begging me to come get it.

  Crap. It looked like I’d have to try after all.

  ****

  By the time we got back to the hotel, it was late afternoon, and we were all more than a little cranky. After I’d felt the rock, I pulled my arm out from the grate, then felt the stones all around the arch for any further vibrations. Unfortunately, today it felt much more…distant…than last night. I could barely sense it inside the grate; outside, I couldn’t detect it at all.

  Nadezhda, deciding she’d done her duty, or simply losing interest, waddled off to wherever she spent her days, and Geordi ran around the nearby hillocks, examining clumps of grass for new species of bugs. When I asked what Nadezhda had given him, he handed me a shiny black scarab, possibly from one of the nearby tombs. Or it could have been from the gift shop. Now that I knew she wasn’t dead, she seemed a lot less mysterious. Either way, it was the perfect trinket for Geordi, so I gave it back, and he went on his way.

  Meanwhile, Jason was still pissed, but he grudgingly agreed to be my lookout, standing guard while I made my way around the perimeter. I wasn’t sure how the Turks felt about their national historic sites being fondled by lapsed-American tourists, and I didn’t want to find out.

  Of course, Jason could only see the Living, not the occasional Dead who wandered by, but this was okay for two reasons. First, I doubted the Dead could “tell on me,” even should they want to. And second, if I could detect a pattern in who Jason saw versus who he didn’t, it might help me learn to distinguish the two myself. Fortunately, neither paid us any attention. Still, it took a long time to work my way around, touching every stone I could reach, checking for the rock and an alternate entrance.

  After a couple of hours, I came up empty-handed on both counts, but I did gain a thorough knowledge of the Temple’s nooks and crannies, which made me feel a little better. More confident—more me. Like putting on a sweater I hadn’t worn in a while, I tried on my Grave Robber skin. It turned out to be comfortable and familiar, and I was pleased to learn I hadn’t forgotten everything I knew.

  Jason held his tongue while I searched, merely giving a low whistle any time someone approached. He was also silent in the car on the drive back. We’d missed lunch, but I was too tired to care, so when he and Geordi decided to go back to the café for more burgers, I declined.

  “You need food,” he said stiffly—the first full sentence he’d managed since we’d fought about the Plutonium.

  “I know. But I really don’t want to go anywhere. Bring me back something.” I hesitated. Oh, what the hell. I could live on my principles, or I could live. “A burger, maybe…?”

  I could tell I’d surprised him. “If you’re sure.” I nodded, and he unbent further. “Good. You need it. C’mon, kiddo—let’s go get your Tata Hyhy some meat.”

  They went off with renewed purpose, and I headed upstairs to peel off my dirt-encrusted clothes and take the world’s longest bath, while downing the world’s biggest glass of water. If only ice were readily available here. It was the one thing I truly missed about the States.

  By the time I finished, the sun had almost set, but the guys weren’t back. I toweled off, then flopped on my stomach on the bed, naked, enjoying the breeze from the window on my skin. After toiling and sweating in the hot, dry dust all day, it felt heavenly to be clean and cool and saturated with water, inside and out.

  Of course, now I had only twenty-four hours to find the rock, but at least I was more relaxed. That had to help, right? The low rays from the sun turned the walls of my room to copper, and I shut my eyes, feeling warmth like molten gold flowing through my veins, my muscles, tissues, bones, until minutes later, I’d practically melted into the bed.

  I had about a second’s warning, a sudden frisson of white-hot heat from the hall outside my door. There was a crackle, like a match bursting into flame, and then a familiar voice said, “Mon ange, I have found—Mon Dieu.”

  I shrieked and grabbed the quilt, twisting and yanking it with me as I rolled onto my back and covered myself as best I could. “Eric! Don’t you know how to knock?”

  “Non,” he said, and I felt bad for forgetting he couldn’t touch things like doors anymore. I don’t think he noticed the faux pas, though. He stared at the place where the quilt barely covered my breasts, a dazed expression on his face.

  “Up here,” I said, pointing to my face. “Hey—up here.”

  He shook his head to clear it and met my gaze briefly. The look in his eyes sent a steaming-hot blush all over my skin, which only got worse when he dropped his gaze to my toes and did an excruciatingly slow and thorough perusal of every inch of me not covered by the quilt. Which was quite a bit.

  “Are you done yet?”

  “Non,” he said again, and moved to stand by the bed. He reached a hand out and lightly brushed my bare neck where it joined my shoulder, then dropped his fingers to the skin above my breast. An entirely pleasurable shudder passed through me, and his eyes darkened. “I may be dead. But apparently, it is still possible for me to feel…certain things. Particularly when there is a beautiful woman—a naked beautiful woman—spread delectably on a bed before me.”

  “I thought you didn’t poach,” I managed weakly, and pulled the quilt tighter.

  “I do not.” He dropped his hand to his side and sat on the bed, which was only marginally better than when he touched me. I could still feel his presence, like an electrical current arcing between us, carrying waves of desire so strong and hot, I needed another shower to cool off.

  “I am sorry I did not alert you to my presence before entering your room.”

  “It’s okay. We just have to figure out a new way for you to knock.” I thought for a minute. “Before you came through the door, I felt you. Your…heat.”

  He seemed surprised. “Truly?”

  “Yes. For a second. Maybe next time, you could pause outside the door, and when I feel you there, I can let you know it’s safe to enter.”

  “Mon ange—it will never be safe for me to enter a room in which you reside.” He watched me, and his eyes widened. “You feel it now. Do you not?”

  There was no point in denial, so with flaming face, I nodded.

  He held my gaze. And then—he pulsed at me. I don’t know how else to describe it. I felt him deliberately send a wave of his desire to me, felt my body receive and accept it as though he’d physically touched me. And boy, did he know how to touch me.

  In about half a second, I was going to throw the quilt and caution to the wind, but abruptly he withdrew. Standing quickly, he moved to the window, his back to me. If he was half as turned on as I was, I could see why he’d want things to, er, settle down before facing me.

  After a moment he said softly, “I will not do that again.” He turned and while his lower half looked under control, his eyes burned bright. “Unless you ask me to. And then, it will not be poaching.”

  I managed to nod acceptance of his terms, for that’s clearly what they were, and he added, more calmly, “But I will try to ‘knock’ in future, so as not to catch you unawares.”

  “Thanks. That would be good.” I paused. The moment had passed, but I was still naked, and Jason and Geordi were overdue. “Er, when you came in, you mentioned finding something…?”

  “Of course. In all the excitement I had forgotten. I did not find something—I found someone. Your friends, the Rousseaux. They own a villa in Denizli.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I do not fear Satan half so much as I fear those who fear him.”

  ~St. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

  This time, I left Jaso
n a note. He’d still be pissed, but I couldn’t help that. I also felt guilty for dumping him with babysitting duty again, but I had to get back to the Temple, and I didn’t want Geordi there at night. Luckily, I’d taken the car keys with me when Jason and Geordi headed for the café, or I would’ve been screwed.

  After Eric dropped his bombshell about finding the Rousseaux, I’d shooed him into the bathroom while I dressed and pulled my hair into a ponytail. With my “deadline” less than a day away, I’d already planned to return to the Temple tonight, armed with better grave-robbing implements. But now that Eric assured me the Rousseaux would be otherwise occupied, it was even more urgent.

  I couldn’t believe it never occurred to me they’d own a luxury villa instead of hiding out in a hot, dusty ruin. Considering their massively expensive car and clothes, it should have been a no-brainer. I couldn’t even blame my lapse on having left the grave robbing business, since I’d “retired” in order to fence ridiculously expensive artifacts for the über-rich.

  Duh with a capital D.

  “You’re sure the Rousseaux are staying home tonight?” I asked Eric.

  We were in the car, en route to a supply shop l’hôtelier had recommended. If he thought it strange that I needed a bolt cutter, rope, and a rock pick, he’d held his tongue, and when I asked him not to mention any of it to Jason, he’d merely nodded and gone back to his own business. Very discreet—or totally uninterested. Either worked for me.

  Eric said, “They have hired caterers and decorators. It appears they are hosting a party.”

  I let out a breath. “That’s perfect. We can break into the Plutonium and get the rock back, then call Michael down before they know it’s missing.” I glanced at him. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to do it. I can find another way.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I am already dead. What more can I lose?”

  “But Nadezhda said—”

  “Ouais. You told me. I will not allow myself to be dragged down to Hell.”

  I pulled into a parking space outside the supply shop, turned the car off, and faced him. “How can you be sure? No offense, but neither of us really knows what we’re doing.”

  “Your faith is touching.”

  “Eric!”

  He reached for my hand, his careful, light touch reminding me more, not less, of his earlier fierce desire. “I will be fine. This was my idea, non? There is no other way.”

  “But—”

  “You must get the rock. You must remain on Earth and find a home for your nephew. I can help. It is settled.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off. “Please. I am not entirely selfless. The longer you remain, the longer I have to do this.”

  He lifted my hand almost to his lips, the heat from his mouth caressing my skin as though it were living breath. He raised his gaze to mine. Then, still watching me, he lowered his mouth, giving my hand the lightest, most sensual of kisses.

  Damn, he was good at this whole seduction thing.

  A slow smile lit his eyes, and he dropped my hand. “I repeat—it is settled.”

  If he considered this “settled,” I’d hate to see what his idea of un-settled was.

  I got out and went into the shop, leaving him in the car. This place clearly catered to the archaeological crowd—my own little slice of heaven. Good thing I’d only taken a little cash from Jason’s stash, or I would’ve stocked up on all sorts of tools I didn’t technically need for this job. With a small sigh, I picked out the essentials, paid the bill, and returned to the car. Then we drove across the valley to Pamukkale.

  Jason and I probably should have moved our base of operations over there by now, to save time and gas, but oh well. I wondered briefly why the Rousseaux didn’t keep the rock in their villa. Maybe they thought it would be safer at the Plutonium. Between the poison gas and the gate-to-Hell thing, it was basically Satan’s wall safe.

  The Rousseaux must know Michael wanted the rock. But at the same time, they must not know about me, or they would have obliterated me long ago. My thoughts drifted to the farmer on Malta, and I felt a twinge of anxiety. Was he a demon? Did he know about the rock? Could he have alerted the Rousseaux to my presence, and warned them I might come here?

  I suppressed a shiver. Probably best to keep ignoring the parts of this related to Satan, Demons, and Hell. Same way I ignored the “Lily’s dead” part. Any time I focused too much on either of those, I frightened myself to death or got horribly depressed. Better to keep pushing all that down for examination later. Much later.

  Except I couldn’t totally ignore the Hell thing because Eric was about to risk getting sucked down there—voluntarily. Which made no difference to my conscience, whatsoever. If he got trapped, it would haunt me to the end of my days. However long that turned out to be.

  “You’re still sure?” I asked after we’d parked, gotten out of the car, and started to pick our way through Hierapolis toward the Temple.

  He didn’t even grace me with a reply, probably realizing I was just nervous. Maybe he was, too. Being a cop, odds were he’d had to deal with some pretty awful stuff, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Still, he’d made it clear that his strict moral code took precedence over everything else. No doubt he’d buckle down to even the most unpleasant activity, if he thought it was the Right Thing To Do.

  I gave a mental head shake. Me—turned on by a cop. A dead one, but still. I could hear Vadim now, telling me how stupid I was being. And yet, I couldn’t help it. I thought of Eric’s lips on my hand, his fingers laced through mine—pictured his arms around me, his mouth tracing light kisses over my face, my teeth teasing that firm lower lip, my tongue tasting his.

  I bit back a moan, and ahead of me, Eric stopped on the trail and turned around. His eyes glinted in the lingering light from the just-set sun.

  “What?” I said, also stopping. “What’s wrong?”

  “I felt you. Just now.”

  “You felt me?” Merde. “You mean…”

  “Ouais. Your lips—they were soft. Your mouth, generous. Et puis, you did something…”

  His voice trailed off, and I was glad of the low light at my back, hiding my hot blush. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Do not apologize. It is good I am not in this alone.”

  He resumed leading the way, and I followed, embarrassment putting an end to my more inappropriate thoughts. On the other hand…

  The path widened as we reached the colonnaded walk, and I hurried to catch up. “About what you said back there—I didn’t know it worked both ways. The sensing each other, I mean.”

  “I suppose I did not, either. It just…happened.” He looked at me searchingly. “When I was on the hill with the Dead, I could swear I felt you then as well. It is in part why I fought to heal myself.” A slow smile curved his mouth. “Bien sûr, that was less…pleasurable…than this.”

  What could I say? On the one hand, I was glad to help. On the other, it made everything more complicated.

  “This could be a good thing,” I said, and Eric’s smile widened, making my face flame. “No! For tonight—for what we’re about to do.”

  At the hotel, I’d told him what I’d learned from Nadezhda, and it turned out he’d gleaned a little knowledge of his own, from the Dead at Pamukkale. While the gasses kept the Living away from the Plutonium, the Dead had at various times forayed inside. Many returned, some did not. The ones who did told of twisty little passages, of needing to go down in order to get back up, of false entrances and exits, and always—always—of the incessant heat and the urge to follow it, to give in, to allow oneself to be sucked into oblivion.

  “If you can sense me,” I continued, “maybe it will help you find your way back out.”

  “Perhaps,” Eric agreed, and I started to say again that he didn’t have to do this, then stopped. It wouldn’t do any good, and his ironic smile only proved the point.

  I threw up my hands. “Okay. All right. But please—you have to come back. If you can’t find the rock, or it’s too
far in, just leave. Promise me.”

  “Very well. I promise.”

  I only half believed him, but at least he’d made the effort. Besides, I really didn’t have another option, unless I chose to wait for the Rousseaux to bring the rock out for me. Somehow, ambushing Demons of the Last Circle of Hell still didn’t seem like something I was qualified for.

  We reached the Temple, walked around to the side with the iron grate, and I got out my tools. Eric lounged against a chunk of broken stone, watching me. We both knew he couldn’t help with this part, and as soon as I picked up the bolt cutter and popped the padlock off the grate, a rush of memories and familiar sensations washed through me.

  God, I’d missed this.

  “Impressive,” Eric said, and it occurred to me that maybe I should’ve pretended I’d never broken into a building before. One of Eric’s eyebrows quirked up as though inviting an explanation—or a confession—but I ignored him and set to work.

  It took some doing, but I managed to remove the grate without damaging it. The lock couldn’t be salvaged, but at least it could be replaced. Once the grate was off, the opening was large enough that I should be able to wedge myself in under the arch. Originally, before Eric hatched his plan to help me, my idea was to take off the grate and use the rock pick to hack at the stones inside, until I made an opening large enough to fit myself through. I didn’t know what I’d do about the poison, but I thought I could at least learn if the rock was still within.

  Instead, Eric assured me that, with practice, he was getting more comfortable passing through barriers. I got the sense it wasn’t something he wanted to do all the time—for instance, he still let me open and close doors for him, when possible—but he swore it took very little out of him. And in this case, it would save a ton of time and damage to the Temple.

  Of course, I’d have to remove at least one brick in order to get the rock out. But damaging the wall was pointless if Eric came up empty-handed, so I’d worry about that later.