A Kiss Before Doomsday

by Laurence MacNaughton

  Inwardly, Dru flinched. Maybe best not to use the phrase “getting back together” around Rane right now.

  Dru tiptoed over to Rane. She still stood motionless, her red face wrinkled with anger, her entire body taut.

  “Hey,” Dru said softly. “That was just his way of being a jerk. Forget about him.”

  Rane gritted her teeth. “I keep trying to forget him.”

  Dru wasn’t sure if it was safe to give Rane a hug or not, so she settled on laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Honey, listen, I love you, and I want you to be okay. Do you need anything?”

  A muscle in Rane’s face twitched, making her squint. “Yeah. Gotta break something, you know?”

  Dru didn’t, but she nodded anyway. “Okay.”

  “Got anything?”

  “Breakable? Um, no.” Slowly, Dru shook her head from side to side. “But there’s a Dumpster out back. Probably has some junk in it.”

  “Got cinder blocks at home. I need to run anyway.”

  Dru wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, so she just nodded again. Without another word, Rane burst out through the door and launched into an immediate sprint, legs pounding the wet pavement. In moments, she disappeared from view.

  Opal cleared her throat. “You still want to go?”

  Go find Greyson. That thought crashed down on Dru, shattering the moment. Finding Greyson meant everything. Not just to her, but to the world. If Greyson really was alive, and still driving Hellbringer, then he still had the power of a Horseman of the Apocalypse. And now that the dead were starting to rise from the grave, that surely meant doomsday was on the way.

  How much time did the world have left?

  Dru nodded. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay, then. Just let me get my keys.”

  As Opal headed in back, Dru shook herself and looked around. As surreal as it was, she couldn’t help but revel in the squeaky-cleanness of her newly restored shop. She wondered if it was possible for this day to get any weirder.

  Then she realized the red bag of scourge was missing.

  6

  THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO HMM

  Dru scanned the shop’s many shelves, looking for the red biohazard bag full of undead scourge. Something like that would be impossible to miss, she figured. But she couldn’t find it anywhere. That wasn’t good.

  “Opal,” she called, “did you do anything with that red plastic bag?”

  “The kitty litter with the evil undead hoodoo?” Opal called back. “Nuh-uh. I’m not touching that. Why, where did you put it?”

  “Maybe it just got moved during Salem’s cleanup spell.” Dru tried to reassure herself with that thought, but as she walked up and down the aisles a second time, a bad feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She had to finally admit that the bag of scourge was gone.

  Taken. But why?

  Salem could have whisked away the red bag while they were all distracted by his spell. That would be typically sneaky of him. But what could he possibly want with that foul scourge anyway, especially since it had nearly killed him?

  She tapped her teeth with a fingernail, pondering what it all meant. Could it have something to do with Greyson?

  “You still want to go check out Greyson’s place?” Opal said, jangling her car keys.

  “Yeah. . . .” Dru stared at the shelves a moment longer, then headed back to the cash register and held out her hand for the keys. “Do you want me to drive?”

  Opal folded her arms protectively across her ample chest. “No, you can’t drive my ride. No telling what might happen. We might end up in the middle of the desert somewhere, crashed at the bottom of a cliff.”

  “Give me a break.” Dru hitched her purse up onto her shoulder. “That was only one time.”

  Opal’s purple Lincoln was comfortable like an old sofa, one that’s been around so long it’s become a constant fixture of life. The car’s familiar perfume-laden presence wrapped around Dru like a security blanket, insulating her from the cold, drippy world outside. Though the rain had finally stopped, the heavy gray clouds turned everything outside the color of lead.

  Dru couldn’t help but dwell on the mystery surrounding Greyson, even as the Lincoln’s rearview mirror distracted her with a waterfall of sparkling necklaces, magical charms, and other hanging baubles. Perhaps in an effort to cheer her up, Opal cranked up the head-bobbing hits of C+C Music Factory to mind-expanding volume.

  They rolled across town toward Greyson’s place like an impromptu dance party in a purple parade float. In the driver’s seat, Opal bobbed her head to the music. Her lip-sync skills were flawless.

  Dru’s phone rang. The screen showed her occasional customer and erstwhile handyman, Ruiz. Like Opal, he didn’t have any magical powers of his own, but he came from a long line of sorcerers, and he had helped Dru out more than once.

  Maybe helped wasn’t exactly the right word. On more than one occasion, he had accidentally meddled with magical forces he couldn’t control. One time, he managed to burn a permanent pumpkin-shaped scorch mark on her shop floor, triggering a chain of events that trapped Opal and Dru on a runaway magic carpet.

  But still, he was a friend.

  Dru reached over to turn the music down, earning a scowl from Opal as she answered the phone. “Hi, Ruiz. You’re not on fire again, are you?”

  “Who, me?” Ruiz said, over a blast of wind noise. He wasn’t supposed to smoke in his work van, so he drove around with the window down. “Nah. Not this time.”

  “Is that Ruiz?” Opal asked, then fluttered her fingers at the phone as if he could see her. “Hola, Ruiz!”

  “So I just got back into town and somebody told me your shop got all blown up. That’s messed up, man. You and Opal okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Dru said. “Had a big fight with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

  “For real? Wow.” He blew out a long breath and talked around his cigarette. “You need some help cleaning up the shop? I got all my tools.”

  “Oh, thank you. But Salem already cleaned everything up.”

  “Salem?” Ruiz sounded shocked. “The skinny little guy with the big Abe Lincoln hat?”

  Dru wondered where Salem’s hat was, anyway. He never went anywhere without it. But something else occurred to her. “Hey, do me a favor. Do you know what a 1969 Dodge Daytona looks like?” She pictured Hellbringer’s long, pointed nose and threatening back wing. “It’s really old and—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Daytona, sure. Sweet car. Why?”

  “I’m looking for a black one with a license plate that says ‘HELLBRINGER.’ Or an abbreviation of that, anyway. If you see it, call me immediately. It belongs to a . . . friend of mine.”

  “Oh. Got stolen?”

  Dru hesitated. If she was talking to anyone else, she would try to lie and probably fail miserably. But she could trust Ruiz. “No. It’s a speed demon.”

  “Oh, man. It’s dangerous?”

  “Only if you get on its bad side. Who I’m really looking for is the driver. His name’s Greyson. Tall, dark hair, leather jacket.” She hesitated. “His eyes might be glowing red.”

  “Uh . . . sure, sure. You got it.” Nervously, he added, “Hey, tell Opal I said hola back, okay?”

  After they hung up, Dru contemplated her phone a moment before she put it away. “So this thing keeps bugging me.”

  “Hmm.” Opal sighed and slouched down in the seat. “Something’s always bugging you.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “And I’m listening.”

  Dru pulled off her glasses and cleaned them on her shirt. “After the explosion, we couldn’t find Greyson anywhere. I thought he was dead. And that just about killed me.” Her eyes started to burn, and she blinked to clear away the tears. “Why would he just leave me the crystal and take off? Why didn’t he even want to see me? Maybe he thinks we left him behind on purpose, in the netherworld? Do you think he hates me?”

  “Oh, honey. You sure it was him you saw? Maybe it
was someone else’s car.”

  Dru shook her head no. “I know he’s alive. I don’t know how, and I can’t explain it, but I just know it. Deep inside. Besides, how many cars have you ever seen that look even remotely like Hellbringer?”

  “Hmm. Good point.”

  “So where did he go? Why didn’t he talk to me?”

  Opal gave Dru a sympathetic look. “The man comes back from the dead, doesn’t even call you. Typical.”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “Something’s always wrong.” Opal stopped at a light and put on her turn signal. “So where do you think Salem got hit with that undead scourge, anyway? That’s some serious trouble, right there.”

  “I don’t know. And it’s not like he’s going to explain himself to us.” Dru played with the gold chains hanging from the mirror. “What is all this stuff, anyway? It’s like Mr. T’s dressing room.”

  Opal’s eyebrows went up. “That’s my collection. What do you think I use my wholesale discount for? Besides, a little good luck charm action never hurt anybody.”

  “Would if it fell on them,” Dru muttered.

  If Opal heard, she pretended not to notice. “I don’t trust Salem’s new girlfriend. What’s her name? Ember?”

  “Yeah. Me either. Why not?”

  “Just don’t. Maybe I don’t have magic powers, but I do know trouble when I see it.” Opal gave her a meaningful look. “Best watch yourself around her.”

  “Mostly, I’m going to be watching Rane. Trying to make sure those two don’t start pulling hair and knocking down walls.”

  “Only a matter of time.” Opal steered the boatlike Lincoln onto a residential side street. “You know, last time I was in Greyson’s neighborhood, it was nighttime. Looks even scarier in the daylight.”

  Dru had to reluctantly agree. Greyson’s neighborhood was sketchy at best. Ever since they’d crossed the railroad tracks, the lawns had turned patchy and neglected, mostly bare spots littered with wrinkled newspapers and potato chip bags. Weeds grew up through the cracked sidewalks.

  Boarded-up brick houses lurked on every block, most of them tagged with layers of graffiti. They were broken up by one-level apartment buildings that had obviously been converted from old run-down motels.

  “It’s not so bad,” Dru insisted, trying to convince herself.

  “So you say. You got your protective crystals with you?”

  Dru nodded. “Never leave home without them.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Unless you do.”

  “Okay, hardly ever.”

  They pulled up to the curb outside Greyson’s place. He lived in a nondescript tan cinder block building that was mostly one big garage, with a small apartment attached. The grass out front was healthy and green, unlike the rest of the block, but it hadn’t been mowed in a while. There was no sign he’d been back home since it had all happened.

  “It” meaning the battle against the Four Horsemen. And the massive explosion that had left him missing, and his demonic black car, Hellbringer, lying crumpled somewhere in the netherworld.

  In her mind’s eye, Dru kept seeing Hellbringer’s empty driver’s seat through a frame of shattered glass. She couldn’t shake the image.

  The broken glass. The empty seat. The terrible solitude inside her when she knew Greyson was gone.

  Gone where, though? Because they hadn’t found him then. And if he wasn’t here at home, there was no telling where he was now.

  Opal turned off the engine and thumbed through the amulets hanging from the rearview mirror. “Let’s see. Tiger’s eye. Lucky rabbit’s foot. Talugh charm.”

  “Talugh?” With one finger, Dru pulled the charm closer. It was made of a cloudy alum salt crystal wrapped in fine gold wire, tapered like the funnel cloud of a tornado. “Isn’t that a charm against bubonic plague?”

  Opal dropped her chin, giving Dru a no-nonsense look. “Bubonic plague’s a thing. Probably rats in this neighborhood. Rats have fleas. Fleas carry the plague. Get the picture?”

  “Yeah, but these days we’ve got, you know, antibiotics.”

  “Oh, how did I forget about that? And by the way, can you afford health insurance? Me either.” Opal strung the Talugh charm around her neck and nestled it down among the crevices in her crushed purple silk top. “What else do we need?”

  “It’s not like we’re planning on going to war. I’m just going to knock on his door.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Opal said, clearly not believing her. She pointed past Dru’s knees to the breadbox-sized glove compartment. “Got some holy water in there. Any undead limping around, we might need to throw that on them.”

  Rummaging through the clutter, Dru turned up a small plastic squeeze bottle, the kind used for taking liquids through airport security. “This?” She held it up. “Wish we’d had this when we were working on Salem. But there’s probably not enough in here, anyway.” She shook the bottle.

  “Hey, don’t shake that!”

  “Sorry.”

  Opal tucked it in her purse and sighed. “All right. What else do we need?”

  Dru patted her own purse, and crystals clinked inside. “We’re all good. Let’s go.”

  As they got out of the car into the dank, mud-smelling air, Dru felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. It didn’t look like Greyson was home. But what if he was here? What would she say to him? How would he react?

  What had happened to him in the netherworld? Had he come back as the same Greyson she remembered?

  Or, and she shuddered to think this, did he come back somehow different?

  Halfway up the front walk, Dru froze. A terrible thought occurred to her.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Opal squeezed her arm. “It will.”

  “Wait. Wait. Greyson comes back, and Salem gets attacked by undead.” Anxiously, Dru held out her palms. “Tell me I’m wrong. Please.”

  Opal seemed puzzled.

  Dru cleared her throat and connected the dots for her. “What I’m saying is, what if Greyson is the undead? It’s too much of a coincidence. Isn’t it?”

  Opal’s eyes went wide. Then she shook her head and dismissed the thought with a wave. “Nuh-uh. Undead can’t drive cars.”

  “Really?”

  “Pretty sure. I mean, I never asked a zombie for a driver’s license. But I don’t think so.”

  Dru wasn’t sure she trusted Opal’s logic, but she decided to go with that. “Okay. Let’s do this.” Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and marched up to Greyson’s front door, raising her hand to knock.

  But she didn’t. Even from here, it was clear that his place was cold, dark, and empty.

  The chipped blinds in the window next to the door were tilted partway open, and through them she could see the shadowy kitchen. Coffee cups still sat on the counter, exactly where she had left them however many mornings ago. They hadn’t been touched since the day Dru and Greyson had finally joined forces and headed out on an epic road trip that nearly led to doomsday.

  Seeing such an ordinary little thing as those coffee cups brought all of her doubts crashing down around her.

  What if she was wrong?

  What if he really was gone?

  Her eyes burned with tears, but she blinked them away. With an effort, she clamped down on her emotions. She still didn’t know anything yet. There could be some kind of explanation. He could come driving down the street at any moment.

  It was possible, she reassured herself. Anything was possible.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she raised her fist and pounded on his door. There was no response. A dog across the street started barking. She hesitated, then tried the doorknob. Locked.

  Standing next to her, Opal scrolled through her phone. “You know, I don’t have Greyson in here. You got his number?”

  “I don’t think he has a phone.”

  “Come on, everybody’s got a phone. Is he on Facebook?”

  “No. I checked.”

  Opal was clearly startled. “For
real? You’re kidding me. Everybody’s on Facebook.”

  “Rane’s not. Salem’s not.”

  “Well, who’s going to send them a friend request? It’s called social media because you’re supposed to be sociable. Not sociopathic.”

  “Rane’s fine. She just has issues with boundaries. And impulse control. And, you know, breaking stuff. Hey, that reminds me.” Dru headed around the side of the building, where she remembered there was another door. One that Rane had kicked open the night they’d dragged Greyson inside, unconscious, in the form of a demon.

  Dru sighed. Nothing was ever easy.

  The door stood not quite closed beneath a caged light bulb clogged with dead insects. The wooden frame was splintered, and the dented steel clearly showed the imprint of Rane’s size 12 running shoe.

  The abused door creaked as she eased it open. “Hello? Anybody home?” Her voice echoed through the darkened garage. It was easily big enough for three cars, but right now it was empty. The smells of gasoline and road dust rolled out through the doorway.

  Somehow, she had expected to see Hellbringer parked in the shadows, shiny black and menacing, waiting for her. But there was no sign of the demon car.

  Opal stayed planted in the alley, eyes wide. “Dru, I don’t like this. Maybe we should call the police.”

  “And tell them what, exactly? We thought Greyson was dead in the netherworld, but now we’ve seen his demon car driving around, so maybe they could come break into his house for us?”

  “Maybe not in exactly those words.”

  Without stepping inside, Dru reached in and flipped on the light switch. Carefully, she peered through the doorway. Long chrome bumpers and round air cleaners hung suspended from the walls, jammed between metal shelves packed with parts, spray cans, jugs of oil and antifreeze, and a million little automotive things Dru couldn’t identify.

  A welding rig sat in the far corner, topped by a dark protective mask adorned with hot rod flames. Red tool chests lined one wall, chipped and grimy from years of hard use. The endless stretch of drawers was broken by colorful stickers advertising unfamiliar brands like Edelbrock and Summit Racing.