Dead Girls Don't Sing

by Casey Wyatt

  I flung the covers off me. The cool morning air chilled my naked skin. We were in the summer house. Jonathan’s estate in France. An unhappy place. Hunger tore at me. A primal need for the unspeakable. For blood.

  I hated him. I loved him.

  “Come here, my beautiful wife. Won’t you sing for me?” Jonathan held out his hand.

  I shook my head, refusing the request. “Dead girls don’t sing.”

  Dark lines raced up his wrist, disappearing under the cuff of his white shirt.

  Recoiling, I stepped backward, my legs hitting the edge of the bed. I need to cover my nakedness. Somehow it was wrong. Shameful.

  I turned away.

  “What’s wrong, luv? Don’t you love me?”

  “Ian?”

  When I turned around, the room had changed. Decayed. The striped wallpaper peeled in large damp strips. Blast holes tore into the stone walls, exposing vines and dead foliage.

  Ian looked back at me. The dark lines carved deeps runnels into his cheeks and forehead. Skin sallow and eye sockets shrunken, he withered before me. A dingy bundle was cradled in his arms.

  “She didn’t make it,” he said mournfully. Blame coated his words. “What have you done?”

  The dark lines dug deeper. He blackened like wood consumed by flame before turning to ash.

  “Ian!”

  Jonathan reappeared. He dipped a toe in Ian’s remains, disappointment aimed straight at me.

  An eerie breeze whistled, muting the songbirds. Storm clouds blotted the sun, churning like an angry sea. The purple bruise arrived. It grew and grew until it filled my field of vision.

  Looking away wasn’t an option. My eyelids refused to obey.

  My Aunt Cassandra’s voice whispered in my ear. “Seek the past. Know the future. Come find me on Carnaby Street.”

  Terror tore me out of the vision. I swallowed reflexively before I vomited on the floor.

  Jay rushed over and gathered me in his arms. “Oh my God. What happened?”

  “I made a mess. I’ll clean it up.” I rose on my own, embarrassed. Not because I had been sick but because I was about to lie to my best friend. “I must be overtired. I’ll be fine with rest.”

  “Do you want me to fetch Ian?” He reached for the comm panel.

  “No! Not a word to him. Understand? He has enough to worry about. I’ll clean this up. You go back to work studying the orb. We need answers.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He may not have agreed, but at least he did as I asked. After finding his cleaning supplies, I set to work.

  The vision replayed in my mind. I knew some of it was symbolic. Like the past, in France, with Jonathan. That had happened. Or a version of it. Since time travel wasn’t possible I sped past that well-worn path in my history.

  But the rest. Losing Ian and Vala to darkness. That scared the shit out of me.

  Wiping up vomit was easy. Dealing with anxiety about whatever was coming? A bucket and mop wasn’t going to help.

  THE VISION VEXED ME. What sane person wants to see their loved ones turn to dust?

  But I had more immediate concerns, also known as a newborn baby. Days were spent in a continuous loop of motherhood-induced fog. Even Ian, who took turns with the blood feeding, diaper changes, and soothing, looked haggard. After two hours of endless crying, our darling daughter had finally fallen asleep.

  “I don’t understand what she wants,” he said, collapsing on the bed beside me. “I feed her, she cries. I change her, she cries. I sing to her and she cries!”

  I managed a weak smile that resembled a grimace. Even my facial muscles were too exhausted to move. Ian threaded his fingers through mine and we held hands.

  “Who knew a tiny baby could be so much work?” he mused, eyes closed. A moment later, he yawned then stilled into a vampire’s sleep.

  Lucky him.

  As much as I wanted to close my eyes and slumber, that wasn’t happening. Not with so many unanswered questions pressing against me. Needing some space, I slipped on my shoes and coat, careful not to disturb Ian or Vala.

  Let them sleep. Let them be at peace, because I sure wasn’t.

  I crept down the corridor, my sense of concern growing. I suppose if I hadn’t been so sleep deprived I might have even called it a tad bit paranoid. Every corner I turned, I expected to stumble into someone who’d demand to know what I was doing.

  The hallway was quiet, lights on low to simulate evening. Somehow, whatever system running the settlement portion of the caverns knew that it was occupied again. Joan was still working with her team to solve that mystery.

  Maybe it was better not to meddle with things we didn’t understand. The caves provided safer shelter than the more vulnerable surface domes. If only we could move the greenhouse underground, the place would be perfect. I hoped someone was working on that possibility.

  I reached the end of the living quarters without encountering anyone. Fine by me. I wasn’t in a chatty mood, and I didn’t want to explain what I was doing in the hallway at three o’dark in the morning. I stepped forward. And . . . then . . .

  I was standing in another hallway.

  Wait. What?

  Confusion muddled my thoughts.

  My forearm was raised, the bracelet pointing toward the end of the corridor.

  It had done this to me before on the journey from Earth to Mars. It had dragged me into a secret chamber on the ship where I’d first encountered Kasia.

  Except this time I wasn’t in space and there was no sign of Kasia.

  What was I doing wandering the halls? Panic danced inside . . .

  The thought dissipated like it had never happened.

  Reassurance, a sense of purpose, eased my discomfort. Ever so faint, buzzing rang in my ears. It was probably the lights.

  I kept walking.

  And walking. Every time a bit of doubt crept into my mind, a soothing calmness eased it away. After a while, I stopped noticing my path.

  Until I found myself in front of Joan’s Mystery Chamber, forearm pointing forward.

  “What the fudge?” The place was vacant. As I stood at the threshold, I had this vague sensation there was a reason I was there, but I couldn’t recall what it was. The old enter a new room and forget why brain fog. Yes, that happens to the undead too.

  The one positive to the brain fog, I didn’t notice the trip down the narrow, confining passageway. That should have been a sign something was off. Before I could ponder the idea further, the control panels lit up like a Christmas festival. They pulsed in a rhythm, something familiar that I couldn’t quite place. Whatever it meant, the bracelet went silent.

  “Oh sure, now you decide to clam up.” I didn’t understand the mind of sentient jewelry.

  “That’s because you don’t know how to speak to it properly.”

  My feet may have left the floor from the sheer surprise of discovering I wasn’t alone.

  “Who’s there?” I pivoted on my heel and turned, straining to locate the source.

  A lone control panel blinked. The others had gone dark again.

  “Come closer,” the voice said.

  I hesitated. Duh. I wasn’t about to follow directions from some nameless, faceless voice.

  “Do not be afraid,” it said. The voice sounded neither male or female. It was just there.

  “I’m not afraid of you. I’m also not stupid.” I folded my arms, aware that my posture was defensive.

  “Caution is always wise. But there is a difference between it and stubbornness.”

  Cripes, it sounded like my mother.

  I planted myself in front of the panel. “Look, whatever you are, I’ve had my fill of being sassed by inanimate objects.”

  Laughter bellowed, the amused tones bouncing around the chamber and lighting up wall panels as it traveled. “Is that what you think we are?”

  “We?” That might explain why I couldn’t nail down a gender on the voice. Not that it mattered. Maybe there was no such thing
as genders for whatever species it was.

  “You are addressing the collective knowledge of your ancestors.”

  Consider me mind-freaked. The Eliade had the market cornered on thought-capturing technology.

  “So, you’re a memory?” I hazarded while reaching to touch a panel. Rather than cold and hard, the surface warmed my fingers tips, the touch soft as skin. Weird. I withdraw my hand.

  “No. And yes.” The voice’s fluidity glided over my skin light as a breath. “We retain the memories of our former selves, yet we can come to independent solutions based on current events. This is the first conversation we have had with the outside in several millennia.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “Because you are Enkil’s Keeper. Only you can hear us.”

  Keeper? Interesting word choice. I could ponder it later. I was about to ask what they meant when I realized they must have meant the cuff. What else could it be? The cuff really was the gift that kept on giving. But, instead of winning an all-expense-paid trip to some lush tropical island, it was like receiving great Aunt Edna’s fruitcake. The one the other relatives didn’t want and regifted. To me. Repeatedly.

  “Aren’t I fortunate?” And I didn’t mean good luck. I knew this meant some new kind of burden had been placed at my feet.

  “We offer our assistance to you, Enkil’s Keeper. Perhaps, you can aid us in return.”

  “Call me Cherry.” Ugh. I wanted to slap myself in the forehead. Why did I tell them my name? Sure, they could have learned it by listening to conversations. But they’d said they could only speak to me. Maybe they couldn’t understand anyone else either.

  “Cherry, we would like to assist you with your problem.”

  Problem? Where to start?

  “Listen, I’m not going on a quest. Or some great adventure. I just gave birth to a child.”

  “The child is a miracle.”

  So everyone kept saying. While I didn’t disagree, hearing them say it didn’t fill me with good vibes. In fact, the longer I stood there, the more I wanted to leave. Something was off about them.

  “Listen, guys and gals. It was fun talking to you. But my plate is full. I need to head back to my room now.” As much as I wanted to run from the room, I forced myself to walk. First thing in the morning, I was going to tell Ian to seal the cave.

  “We can’t let you do that.”

  Buzzing enveloped me. A horde of angry hornets surrounded me. I turned to fight. Nothing was there. Then . . .

  Then . . .

  Then I stood with Ian and Vala, waiting for the start of the naming ceremony. The colony was out in full force. It seemed no one wanted to miss the event.

  An uncomfortable sensation tugged at me. I’d forgotten something important. Like I’d left the house with the stove on. Which was silly because we don’t have stoves on Mars.

  “Stop fretting. Everything will be fine,” Ian said.

  I adjusted Vala’s outfit for the hundredth time. “I’m not worried about the ceremony.”

  It was something else. The harder I pressed to remember, the faster the feeling slipped away.

  Must have been my imagination.

  He leaned over and pressed his forehead against mine. Vala gurgled a happy sound. “I thought you’d at least be more relaxed after our epic shag.”

  What shag? As soon as I thought the question, a memory of Ian making love to me in the tub and against the wall, then again on the bed, eased away the question. Of course. How could I forget?

  “You can’t screw the worry out of me.” I gazed at the crowd. Every seat had been filled.

  “Is that a challenge? Because I’m pretty sure I can manage a quickie over yon, behind that partition.”

  “No one says ‘yon’ anymore. Your extreme vintage is showing.”

  “With age comes experience.” He nuzzled my neck, lips teasing the hollow where it met my collarbone.

  I had to give him that one.

  The lights dimmed and the room hushed. My confidence took a severe nose dive. Sure, I could dance naked, but this ceremony required a certain amount of aplomb and dignity. Two things I’d misplaced long ago.

  Ian placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward. Together we walked down the aisle for the first time as a family unit. The only reason I didn’t power walk to end the ordeal faster was because of Ian’s measured pace.

  Aisle by aisle, our friends and fellow colonists turned and watched us pass by. More than a few of Harmony’s acolytes bowed before Vala. I wasn’t sure I liked the zeal reflected in their eyes.

  It was bad enough I knew everyone would spoil the crap out of her when I wasn’t looking. The last thing I needed or wanted was my kid being treated like a new messiah. Ian’s grumpy frown confirmed I wasn’t alone in that regard. If he was like every dad through the ages, no one would be looking at Vala, let alone doting on her, more than him.

  Unlike my restrictive upbringing, Ian was from an earlier age. One where men and women danced naked around fires.

  No wonder he adored me.

  “Welcome to the light and joy of the Goddess of Time. The Goddess of Life. She is good.” Harmony intoned, her spirited delivery carrying across the acoustic dome. She didn’t even have to raise her voice to be heard.

  Vala snuffled in my arms, her eyes drifting closed. It looked like she might nap through the ceremony, which was fine by me.

  Harmony handed Ian the end of a red silk sash. She chanted words I didn’t recognize as she wound it around us, tying the ends, binding us together. I wondered, if someone had a large family, did she have an extra-long length of silk to use?

  Ian made a frowny face at me. Somehow, he guessed or sensed my mind wandering off.

  “Let no one break this family bond. Let no one steal their love. Bring them peace and happiness. Repeat after me.” Harmony dotted our foreheads with oil.

  The congregation joined her affirmations as she drew a circle in the ground with colored sand. She’d explained it would further protect us from the Universe’s negative energy. To me, one good sneeze and we were toast.

  Ian poked me with his elbow and raised his chin, directing me to look up.

  As subtly as I could, I looked upward. The moons had risen together, Deimos and Phobos. The twins of destruction and chaos made peace for one night by appearing over the dome. I don’t know if it was a projection, but it was spectacular.

  The chanting continued, pace and tempo speeding up. Harmony prepped us ahead of time on what to expect. Lights would dim, leaving the exposed dome filled with a thousand stars. The effect was designed to honor the goddess and woo true believers.

  Mist rose from the floor, perfumed with exotic Earth spices. The faithful swooned and raised their arms in worship.

  Harmony lifted from the floor, floating above the congregation. An excellent piece of showmanship that would have impressed Jonathan. Maybe he was lingering in some corner. I hoped not.

  “Welcome, Vala!” they chanted.

  “Vala!”

  “Vala!”

  My daughter awoke. Lusty cries burst from her lungs.

  Harmony lowered to the floor then unwound the red sash, freeing us to move again. The crowd went silent. That was my cue.

  Stepping forward, I took my place, center stage. Nerves fluttered my stomach. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t felt before. Maybe it had been a while since I’d performed in public, but I was confident I wouldn’t embarrass myself.

  Because of the nature of the ceremony, I’d sing a cappella. Which also meant I decided when to start.

  The sudden quiet of a roomful of undead was unsettling. Even Vala had stopped crying. Ian shifted behind me. A subtle hint to get on with it.

  Or maybe it was my imagination.

  Focusing on a distant spot, I sang “Amazing Grace.” I hoped I was doing the beautiful, timeless hymn justice. It must have been acceptable because a bright light rose before me. White and ethereal, at first, I assumed it was part
of Harmony’s carefully crafted display.

  Ian hissed a swear behind me. Concern filtered through our bond. My voice wobbled. It didn’t matter because everyone had joined me in the last verse. An array of rainbow colors danced across the dome’s clear surface.

  Electricity skirted across my bare skin. Stabbing dots of light cut into my vision. Purplish black spots blotted the air.

  Something wasn’t right.

  I stopped singing, then swayed on my feet. Harmony and Ian each grabbed an elbow.

  “The ceremony is concluded. Thank you for welcoming Vala into our tribe.” Harmony added, “Please join us for refreshments in the Grand Hall.”

  Not needing to be told twice, the crowd made their way outdoors. The undead loved a good after-party same as the living.

  “What the hell happened?” I wanted to sit down. The light had knuckle-sandwiched my skull.

  Harmony searched the seats. “There is something here that doesn’t belong.”

  Ian wrapped his broad arm around my waist and steadied me. He pointed skyward. “What is that?”

  A purple bruise hovered overhead. Malignant. Not right.

  Primal fear nailed me to the floor.

  The glass orb rolled down the aisle, stopping in front of my feet. No longer white or luminescent, it was dull and lifeless. Or empty.

  Vala whimpered in Ian’s arms. “Luv,” he warned, gripping my shoulder, pulling me closer.

  When I looked again, the orb was gone. The purple stain doubled in size.

  “Get out!” Harmony ran, pushing us toward the nearest exit.

  I ran, keeping pace with Ian. Malice tickled my spine. Like it knew me.

  Harmony left last. Her fingers danced on the control panel in a blur. “I’ve initiated the containment protocol. If Jay’s as good as he says, an atom can’t escape.”

  “Oh, I am that good,” Jay said, jogging toward us.

  Louis was by his side. He stopped in his tracks. “What the fuck is that?”

  “We don’t know,” Ian said, voice tight. “Louis, I want everyone back in the caverns. I don’t care how you do it, but I don’t want them to see this.”

  Jay stepped to the control panel and typed in a series of numbers. The dome darkened. “That should do it for now.”