Romancing the Dead

by Tate Hallaway

  “So, what does that make? Xylia, Marge, and Micah— three suspects?”

  “Uh, at least,” I said. Frowning, considered other options. Who else had seemed into Sebastian? Well, there had been Blythe. Suddenly, I tried to remember if I’d seen Blythe at the most recent gathering. Micah’s appearance had so completely distracted me I couldn’t remember if she was there or not. She’d said she was just a comparative religion major; but she had to have some magical talent in order to see the invitation. “There is another covener. Her name’s Blythe. She seemed pretty fascinated by Sebastian.”

  Okay, so that was an understatement, but I could hear Mátyás making another one of his chew-toy references again, speaking of which: “Oh,” I added. “And probably every one of Sebastian’s ghouls hate me. I guess he was breaking up with them.”

  “Jesus, Garnet. Is there anyone who doesn’t want you dead?”

  I let out a little, sad laugh. But thinking of the ghouls again reminded me that I had the Live Journal address from Traci. I should check in and see if she got me an account. “Would you take me back to the store?”

  He glanced at my neck. “Do you want to do some kind of magical detective work? To see who tried to do you in?”

  I hadn’t really considered that, though I could look for residue trails. “Yeah, plus I need to check my e-mail.”

  He laughed. “Interesting priorities you’ve got.”

  “It has to do with Sebastian’s ghouls, er, suppliers. They have an online community.”

  Mátyás shook his head. “Of course they do.”

  I was surprised when we got into Mátyás’s Jag that the dashboard clock read 6:30 p.m. I made him give me the keys, since he’d been drinking. The sun hadn’t even begun to set yet. The thick cloud cover made it feel much later in the evening. When my stomach growled, I realized I’d skipped dinner.

  The car was cool inside, almost chilly, and the air that came in from the open window brushed warm and wet against my skin. The moisture brought out the scent of alfalfa and clover.

  I put the car in drive. It purred smoothly. Oh, I could get used to this kind of ride.

  He sat grumpily in the passenger seat. “I’m fine, you know.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” I said, noting how smoothly I made the turn out of the drive.

  “Fine. After you check in on the ghouls, we should make some house calls to your coveners. Did you bring the black book?”

  I did, but I wasn’t planning on using it. I put my hand up. “No, I’ve been doing far too much of that spur-of-the-moment stuff.” The direct approach hadn’t been working very well for me lately. After all, it had led to a very awkward misunderstanding with Walter, the accountant, and a strange, convoluted confrontation with Alison and Traci. “We need to think this out in advance. Maybe, you know, try a little subterfuge.”

  I think Mátyás would have protested, except that my stomach chose that moment to rumble even louder than it had before. Mátyás arched a thin eyebrow at the sound and tried to hold back a smile. “Maybe we should think things out over dinner.”

  I grinned in return. “I like that plan.”

  On the way, I drove past my apartment. The damage was even more impressive from the outside. The tree’s roots buckled a portion of the sidewalk and upturned most of the boulevard. Broken branches and leaves littered the undamaged section of the roof, the yard, nearby cars—everything. The place where the tree and the house met was a huge, gaping, dark pit.

  “The downstairs is completely untouched,” Mátyás noted once I’d accelerated back to normal speed. “Not even a window cracked.”

  I craned my neck to confirm his observation. He was right. It was completely whole. Though they’d be without utilities, the downstairs neighbors could sleep under their own roof tonight, if they wanted. “Thank Goddess,” I said. “I’d hate to think that anyone else got hurt because someone was after me.”

  “So,” Mátyás said, as I smoothly steered the Jag around a corner, “we should look for a considerate enemy, someone not willing to cause collateral damage.”

  In the darkness of the car, I couldn’t read Mátyás’s expression. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m trying to work out a profile of your attacker,” he said. “Maybe he or she is someone who’s been in the army and is sensitive to the idea of civilian casualties.”

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You watch entirely too much TV,” I decided.

  He grimaced at the road. “It’s not TV. I dated a detective from Scotland Yard. She got me interested in crime solving. I nearly got a degree in criminal justice.”

  “Nearly?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t work out. I’m not really the bookish sort, am I?”

  Mátyás was certainly no mental slouch, and he seemed to have a lot of, well, determination when he wanted to use it. I’d been on the receiving end of that, hadn’t I?

  The bluish dash lights reflected the sharp edges of Mátyás’s imperial features, and I recalled it wasn’t that long ago that he’d actively tried to betray Sebastian and me. Now here we were going out to dinner. Hell, we’d spoken civilly to each other for over an hour. Desperation made strange bedfellows, as it were.

  The sun shone fuzzily behind heavy clouds. Sebastian and I had driven this route so many times. “Goddess,” I said, rubbing my arm despite the warmth. “I hope he’s okay.”

  “Me too,” breathed Mátyás.

  William looked surprised to see me walk into the store. His eyes widened even further when he noticed Mátyás trailing behind me. William’s eyes darted between us, and finally he said, “Uh, hey, Garnet. Mátyás.”

  “I just need to check my e-mail quickly,” I said.

  “Uh, yeah, okay,” William muttered, his eyes still glued on Mátyás, then he shook his head. “Wait, Garnet, did you just say, ‘check my e-mail’? Do you even know how to do that?”

  Have I mentioned that I’m a complete techno-dork? “Hey,” I said with faux protest. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Oh, yes, you are,” William chided.

  Both men trailed me back into the office. Slow Bob, who had his nose pressed into a book in the primal myths aisle, nodded as we paraded past. The office was barely big enough for three. I sat at the swivel chair, and William and Mátyás crowded shoulder to shoulder behind me.

  As I went through the motions of logging on, William said, “So, Mátyás, it’s been a while.”

  “Yes,” came the curt, barely civil response.

  “How’s things?” William tried again.

  “Fine.”

  Leaning in, William whispered in my ear, “Is he on our side now?”

  I glanced at Mátyás, who raised an eyebrow as though he was interested in my answer as well. “Yeah,” I said. “He is.”

  Mátyás gave William a gloating told-ya-so smirk.

  Traci had sent me the invitation as promised. I activated it and then got sent to the world’s longest questionnaire about my hobbies and best friends. I filled out the bare minimum, anxious to get to the ghoul’s community.

  “You’re joining Live Journal?” William asked when he glanced at the screen. “Are we going to have a store blog? Sweet!”

  I heard Mátyás explain everything about the ghouls as I scanned the most recent entries on the bulletin board. I tried not to be disturbed by the various icons people used—necks, fetish wear, South Park characters, and unicorns—and read the posts. There were birthday congratulations and other stories of everyday life. Then, I noticed, several screens down a screed left by someone called “luvslave,” with an icon depicting a close-up on an impossibly high leather heel with chains looped around the ankle, who complained bitterly about how Sebastian had told her (or him?) the news of the upcoming wedding. It had garnered a lot of responses. I clicked on the “leave a comment” link. A few counseled understanding, but most responses seemed equally shocked and upset. The words used to describe me would make a sailor blush.
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  “Wow, are they referring to you?” William asked.

  I nodded. Well, if I’d hoped this would turn up a single villainess, I couldn’t have been more wrong. It seemed that violent hatred of me was pretty universal in the local ghoul community.

  My fingers hovered over the keys. The empty box for comments begged me to tell these women what for. I was just formulating a zinger of a first sentence, when Mátyás cleared his throat. “If we’re going to get dinner in, we should go.”

  “Right,” I said, starting to close up the window. Then, seeing William still trying to read some of the posts, I said, “Can I ask a favor, William?”

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Would you mind taking a moment and reading more on this blog? It’s possible one of the people who post here might be party to Sebastian’s disappearance.”

  William glanced at the clock. “Yeah, sure, I can look through it for a while. I’m leaving early tonight, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” I said, though I had absolutely no recollection of giving William part of the night off. “Whatever you could do would be a big help.”

  “Of course,” he said, sliding into the seat as I got out. He started clicking through messages like a pro. “What am I looking for, exactly?”

  “Someone who’s overly attached to Sebastian.”

  “You mean, like ‘luvslave’?”

  “Well, yeah, see if you can find out more about her.”

  “Will do, boss,” he said with a smile.

  “Thanks, William,” I said sincerely, even though his grin was pure I-can’t-believe-I’m-getting-paid-to-surf-the-Internet. “I’m really worried about Sebastian.”

  Mátyás tapped my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Which is why we should go make plans for his rescue.”

  They were getting ready to close when we walked into Noodles & Company on State Street. The guy mopping the floor gave us an annoyed glance when the chimes above the door jingled. I knew that expression, having cast it upon plenty of customers myself. It was the oh-man-I-was-hoping-to-get-home-early-for-once look. Still, like a trouper, he plastered on a more pleasant demeanor and dutifully took our orders.

  “Since you have such a long list of suspects, what we need is something that would smoke out our villain,” Mátyás said as we took a seat near the window. I set the placard with the number six in the center of the table.

  “But what?” I asked, trying to consider who might want something from Sebastian or me. Neon and fluorescent lights gave the pedestrian mall its own kind of eerie brightness in the fog. The rain had energized a swarm of gnats that darted frantically around an overhanging light. An enterprising spider had built a gigantic web under the awning.

  Otherwise, the street was quiet. With many of the college students away for the summer, the foot traffic consisted of tourists and natives, and there weren’t many tonight. Only one couple strolling slowly, hand in hand, window-shopping. I looked away. “We’ve got to find him,” I said. Fear tightened my stomach. “What if we’re too late? What if Sebastian is dead?”

  Mátyás must have heard the tremor in my voice because his eyes met mine and held them steadily. Reaching across the table, Mátyás put a hand on my shoulder. It was surprisingly confident and comforting. “You and Sebastian are close. You’d know if he was gone.”

  I closed my eyes and felt for the silver cord that connected Sebastian and me. It was weak, but it was still there. I hadn’t been able to follow it to its source the last time I traveled on the astral plane, having been intercepted by Micah, but I took comfort in the fact that the thread seemed taut. The other end was anchored in Sebastian, I was certain. He was alive. If he wasn’t, the cord would be limp or gone completely.

  “See,” Mátyás said, removing his hand. “You can feel it.”

  Opening my eyes, I said, “But the strand between us is so thin.”

  “That’s why we’re going to come up with some kind of Witchy sting.”

  “A sting?” I repeated, as the noodles arrived. I’d gone for simple buttered noodles with freshly grated Parmesan cheese sprinkled on top. Mátyás had ordered something exotic and curried, which he deftly ate with chopsticks.

  “Yeah,” he said around a mouthful of green pepper. “But we’d have to be sure of what they want in order for the trap to work.”

  I looked up at the spider’s web I’d noticed earlier. It bobbed and swayed with the multiple impacts of the gnats getting snared. “Something bright and shiny,” I said.

  Mátyás’s eyes followed mine to where the bugs encircled the light. “Yes, we need bait.”

  I frowned at my own bland dish and wished I’d ordered what Mátyás had. I poked at the macaroni with my fork, watching the sheen of buttery sludge ooze between the noodles.

  “I couldn’t get Lilith back, Mátyás. I don’t have anything anyone wants anymore,” I said. It seemed true. If the ghouls wanted Sebastian, well, someone else had him. Micah stole the Goddess. Hell, even my apartment was wrecked. I couldn’t even offer real estate as bait.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Mátyás said. “I’ve been thinking about the order of events and something doesn’t add up. First, Papa disappears. He’s clearly not the main target because if that’s all the attacker wanted, he’d be done—no need to go after you. So, whoever put a spell on Sebastian wanted him out of the way to get to you. Which makes sense if Micah is your bad guy and he’s after Lilith. You said there was someone at the store just before the wind chime fell on you, someone interested in Lilith?”

  “Yeah, Marge,” I supplied, taking a tentative swallow of my pasta. The cheese was actually very tart and the congealed butter nicely spiced.

  “So one possibility is that she’s connected somehow to Micah.”

  I had seen them talking at the meeting at William’s place. “Yeah, I could see that.”

  “All good so far: Sebastian is taken out of the picture somehow by Marge and Micah, which is also plausible because Micah being Coyote might have the strength of a God at his disposal.”

  “Oh Goddess,” I interrupted, the noodles sticking in my throat. “Just before the wind chimes fell, I’d asked Marge if she’d seen Sebastian. I thought she looked panicked at the time, but I chalked it up to her poor social skills. What if she dropped the chimes on me because she thought I was on to her?”

  “Maybe she was trying to scare you off the scent,” Mátyás said. “See, this all makes a kind of logical sense. Then Micah lures you into letting the Goddess out, and whammo, they’ve absconded with their treasure.”

  “Yeah, this is good,” I agreed, remembering how Micah promised to help me find Sebastian and how the silver cord had frayed in the astral plane when I’d seen him there. “This makes sense. A lot of sense. You should have stuck with the whole detective thing, Mátyás. Seriously.”

  His lips quirked slightly and I could tell he was pleased by my compliment. His only acknowledgment, however, was a slight tip of his head. “Here’s the wrinkle: the tree. A magical attack so powerful it smells like the handiwork of your coyote, but he has no reason for it at that point. Lilith was in his hands. Why would he toss a tree at you?”

  “To finish me off?”

  “Because you’re such a threat now that you’re back to being a plain, old Witch?”

  Ouch. That hurt, especially since it was true. “Yeah, well, I don’t know then. Why else do it?”

  “See, that’s the thing. I’m not convinced it was Micah or Marge. I mean, okay, maybe they’re tidy little Goddess-stealing serial killers and they want to leave no trace of their mystical crime behind. But if that was the case, why aren’t you dead? You pointed out that they missed. Don’t you think a God would have better aim?”

  There were plenty of trees in the backyard. If the attacker was a God and omniscient, then he’d have known I wasn’t sitting on the couch. Maybe Coyote’s power didn’t work that way; I had to focus Lilith’s energy and she was only as effective a force as I made her. It was possi
ble that Micah missed because he didn’t channel Coyote’s energy properly. “Not necessarily,” I said. “What are you trying to say, there’s someone else after me?”

  “Your list was a mile long, darling.”

  I winced. Hearing Sebastian’s pet name for me on Mátyás’s lips surprised me. “Don’t call me that.” Then realizing how harsh I must have sounded, I added a soft “please.”

  “Right. Sorry,” he said. “The point is, you might make perfect bait. Maybe someone in the coven wants you dead, someone jealous or power hungry like that Xylia woman you mentioned. Maybe at your next coven meeting . . .”

  My fork clattered into the porcelain bowl. “Oh crap! That would be tonight! At my place! That’s why William was taking an early night!” I smacked my forehead. Suddenly, I imagined the scene: people showing up with crab dip and corn chips and finding a tree slammed into my apartment. They’d all be milling around, wondering if I was okay. William would try my cell phone, only it wasn’t working. He’d try Sebastian’s house and get no answer. I found myself standing up. “Great Goddess, everyone probably thinks I’m dead.”

  “Everyone except the person who tried to kill you,” Mátyás pointed out from where he sat. He took a long drink from his water. I could hear the ice knock against his teeth.

  “We should go,” I said. Not only was I anxious to put any rumors of my untimely demise to rest, but I was also getting tired of the mop guy giving us more and more openly hostile looks. I glanced around for a clock on the wall. We had about six minutes until people would be arriving. “It’s not too late to catch them if we hurry,” I said.

  Mátyás stood up and gathered his things together on a tray. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Call William,” he said. “You should at least warn him.”

  While Mátyás bused our dishes, I dialed William’s cell phone.

  “Hello?” William sounded very skeptical when he answered, probably baffled by seeing an unfamiliar number on his caller ID.