Honeymoon of the Dead

by Tate Hallaway

  “You two look nice together,” Courtney said with a broad smile. “I sense a long, happy relationship.”

  Sebastian and I shared a goofy grin. Courtney’s pronouncement seemed like a good omen. “Thanks,” I told her.

  “Hey, honey, I just call ’em like I see ’em,” she said.

  The thick oak logs on the fire snapped and popped. Someone tossed on a dry pine branch, and the flames leaped dramatically. Briefly, a welcome wave of heat warmed the front of my body. The firelight threw an amber flickering light on the faces gathered around the circle. Voices stilled. The dance of flames mesmerized us into a natural hush.

  We all watched the bonfire quietly. Despite the chill, my shoulders relaxed. Something drew my eyes upward, maybe it was the sound of a passing jet. In a clear, dark sky hung the moon, full and yellow, shining through the twisted, gnarled branches of the neighbor’s catalpa tree. My breath caught.

  Following my gaze, Sebastian looked up as well. After we shared a moment of awe, he gave my hand a quick squeeze as if to say he could feel the magic too.

  “I’m glad we came,” he whispered into my ear.

  I was, too, until, of course, Fonn dropped out of the tree and smothered the fire with a whomp of snow.

  4.

  The Hermit

  ASTROLOGICAL CORRESPONDENCE:

  Virgo

  With the fire gone, the backyard plunged into a sudden darkness. Someone gasped. The ambient light from the alley streetlamp illuminated the form of the Frost Giant. Fonn stood in the middle of the circle. Her eyes slowly swept the group, glittering menacingly. Icicles dripped from every part of her body, almost like the fringe on a leather jacket. Her short hair was white as the snow, and a tiny ice droplet hung from her hawkish nose. Wind swirled at her feet and billowed her brown fur cape around her.

  There was no mistaking her otherworldliness, especially when, with a whistle of wind, her hound materialized out of thin air at her heel and let loose a soul-piercing howl.

  Most people had been too stunned to react at first. But with the appearance of the dog and his hellish wail, everyone burst into activity—most of which could be summed up with, “Run, run away fast!”

  Some people leaped toward the house. Others jumped to hide in the bushes. With shouts and screams, bodies scattered in every conceivable direction.

  Sebastian grabbed my hand and started hauling ass to our car.

  “I knew she’d be back,” he snarled. I could see his fangs dropping with frustration.

  He, of course, could run at inhuman speed. Meanwhile, I was stuck at mortal pace. The ground seemed uneven, and, though he was trying to help, Sebastian’s grip jerked me forward clumsily. I concentrated on not tripping us up like some bad horror-movie heroine. It was difficult because I swore I could feel the breath of Fonn’s hound at my back.

  Somehow we made it to the car. I started to let go of Sebastian’s hand to dash over to the passenger side, but Sebastian took me by the waist. He tore open his door and heaved me ungraciously over the driver’s seat. My leg knocked into the stick shift, and my face slammed the upholstery. At the same time, I heard a dog whine. I’d just gotten myself into a more traditional arrangement on the seat when the car door slammed shut. An ice-covered Sebastian jammed the key into the ignition and fired up the engine. I hardly got the belt buckled as he peeled out of the parking space.

  “Well,” Sebastian said a few minutes later as we turned onto the highway at full speed, “that went pretty much the way I expected.”

  “What do you mean? Five minutes ago you said you were happy we’d gone.”

  “I was. I should remember it never lasts,” he said. A shake of his head sent a shower of ice crystals everywhere.

  I swiped white, melty flakes off my sleeves. Was that fair? Probably, but that didn’t make me feel any better about it. “Not every time,” I mumbled.

  “Pretty much.” Running fingers through his long hair, Sebastian combed out more snowy bits. He glanced in the rearview mirror and took a little pressure off the gas. “At least I think we lost her this time.”

  I double-checked. No rampaging ice hellhounds or demons. “That’s weird,” I said, turning back to face the front. “Seems kind of easy, doesn’t it? We just drove away.”

  “Actually, I wrestled a giant dog first, but yes. And frankly, I think we should roll with this. I just want to go back to the hotel and shower.”

  Ooooh, he was cranky.

  So I sat quietly and stared out the window at the moon we didn’t get to worship as it seemed to skip like a stone over the rooftops of the buildings near the highway.

  “Were you serious before?” I asked, coming back to something that had been niggling at the back of my mind since Sebastian had said it at the bookstore last night. “Was your life really more normal before I came into it?”

  “Oh, definitely,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Really? But you’re a vampire,” I pointed out.

  “Thank you for noticing, but, really, outside of the being dead and drinking blood bits, I’m really pretty average when you think about it.”

  “Not to me, darling,” I reminded him with a fond smile.

  Without taking his eyes off the road, he returned my smile softly. “You know what I mean, though. I mostly fix cars and teach the occasional class.”

  “Nothing blog-worthy,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  And not at all like me. The moon’s face looked like a woman with her mouth open in a scream. “Is there something about me that attracts darkness, do you think?”

  Truthfully, and despite his mood, I’d been hoping for a quick denial from Sebastian. Something along the lines of “Don’t be foolish, of course not,” but instead he gave an unconcerned lift of his shoulder and said, “Maybe it’s karma from a past life. Some people just have more drama in their life.”

  What kind of person must I have been in the past to end up with the Queen of Hell as a body- mate? I shook my head. “Drama?” I repeated. “That seems more like the stuff I used to do. Stealing people’s boyfriends and causing mischief.”

  Sebastian’s lip twitched into a faint smile as if to say, “And this is different, how?”

  “I don’t cause all this stuff, do I?”

  “Well, maybe if you stopped casting love spells your life would become a lot less complicated.”

  Because that felt far too true, I got mad. “You think I’m an irresponsible witch.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Sebastian shot back quickly. “I hate that you always jump to conclusions.”

  This fight had clearly been brewing under the surface. “Well, you always have to be right.”

  Sebastian’s eyes narrowed to angry slits, and I had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him like a petulant child. We drove the rest of the way back to the hotel in stony silence.

  I was so upset about our fight that I had nearly forgotten about the state I left the hotel room in. Sebastian stood staring at the ragged carpet and torn curtains, his face slowly turning purple with rage.

  “Uh,” I said. “Lilith was really upset when you left.”

  “Of all the stupid, irresponsible things . . .” There was that word again, the one I’d been brooding on. The blush on my face deepened in shame as he continued. “How could you let Her out?”

  Irresponsible was becoming one of my least favorite words in the English language. Especially since, in this one case, I thought it was undeserved. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep Her from killing those Homeland Security guys.”

  “Oh, well, thanks for that.”

  His snotty tone had me seeing red, and I got the distinct impression that Lilith would be more than happy to explain Her actions to him directly. I gritted my teeth. Despite what Sebastian might think, unleashing Lilith was a responsibility I took incredibly seriously. So seriously, in fact, that I wasn’t about to let Her at him, no matter how satisfying it might seem in theory.

>   When I spied my swimsuit hanging on the closet-door handle, I grabbed it and stomped off in the direction of the hotel’s pool. “We can talk about this later,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m going away. Swimming. Or something.”

  “Typical,” I heard him mutter as I jabbed my finger on the elevator button. Over his shoulder, he said louder, “I’ll just take care of everything, shall I?”

  The elevator doors swooshed open. “You do that,” I shouted, stepping in.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Fine,” I agreed as the doors closed with a ding.

  Our first fight as a married couple had put me in a foul mood. I figured after a good soak in the whirlpool, I could head back upstairs and see if Sebastian had calmed down enough that we could have a reasonable discussion. In the public changing room near the pool, I slipped into my swimsuit.

  Since I didn’t have a lock for the locker, I decided to bundle everything under my arm and carry it with me, except my sparkly underwear kept slipping out and falling on the floor. And when I went to pick those up, I dropped my shoes.

  Worse, when I accidentally brushed against someone’s extended foot, I discovered the Sun God Apollo seemed to be lounging poolside with me. As I got up to head to the Jacuzzi for a long soak, feeling rather exasperated, I said to him, “Don’t you have a golden chariot to ride or something?”

  He glanced at me over the rim of his glasses with a look of pure arrogance. With a strong Italian accent, he said, “Listen, sister, sun’s down, if you haven’t noticed.”

  I stopped in my tracks. I hadn’t expected a response, and certainly not one that seemed to confirm that my visions weren’t just the hallucinations of a crazy lady. I probably should have taken the opportunity to ask him how it was that I could perceive his holy presence, but instead I blurted out, “You speak English? What are you doing in Minnesota, anyway?”

  “I am everywhere and nowhere,” he said in a voice that sounded like a thousand people speaking at once. “Part of everyone and everything, and yet not.”

  Surprised by the voice, I stepped back. The image of the gorgeous, golden-haired God shimmered, like heat coming off asphalt in the summer. Then he vaporized. A portly guy with wiry black hair and blue and white striped swim trunks sat blinking at me in confusion. He said in a harsh Boston accent, “Can I help you, lady?”

  “Sorry,” I murmured, scurrying to the Jacuzzi. The former God’s eyes followed my progress into the foamy water. Then, with a shake of his head, he returned to the book he’d been reading, some spy thriller from the look of the cover.

  I sank into the superheated water and tried not to keep looking over at the guy who once was Apollo. I had a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach because, thanks to the God’s words, I was beginning to understand my second sight. The answer lay deep inside my religious beliefs. I was seeing the “divine spark” that existed in everyone.

  There was a story that was told about how the Goddess, desiring to experience and merge with the world, broke Herself into a million pieces and fell to earth. Everything living contained a bit of that divine spark, which, in turn, longed to be reunited to the Goddess.

  I’d always believed that story because I liked the empowering idea of being one with the Goddess, but I’d always thought of it as, well, a metaphor. Maybe it still was, I told myself. I mean, just because when I touched someone I could see the God or Goddess within them, it didn’t mean that image wasn’t just their ideal core manifesting itself as a vision to me.

  Of course, that whole they’re-just-metaphors idea might be easier to buy if the God hadn’t just spoken right to me.

  I sank deeper into the bubbly water, trying to hide from the truth.

  Despite living every day with a Goddess, I tended to mentally distance myself from the idea that, well, you know, all that was really real. It was, I suppose, another veil my mind just wasn’t quite ready to cross. Vampires and ghosts and zombies seemed easier to accept, I think, because they were part of the darker side of nature.

  It’s like that personality test. It’s always far easier to list the things about yourself that you hate. You can come up with five without even batting an eye. But when the tables turn and you have to list a similar number of positive attributes, the brain seizes up. You sputter. You realize this is hard, and it shouldn’t be.

  That’s how I felt about acknowledging the divine presence.

  It shouldn’t be so difficult. I was on a first-name basis with at least one Goddess who, quite literally, was within me. But, see, that was the crux of the problem.

  What if Lilith came to me that night when the witch hunters attacked and I called to any Goddess in desperation because like attracts like?

  What if She, the Mother of Demons, was my personal inner reflection of the divine spark?

  What did that say about who I was at the core of my being?

  A few days ago I would have replied nothing and made the case that Lilith and I were like dark and light, polar opposites. But I was beginning to suspect that I didn’t really know myself as well as I thought.

  I’d certainly come face to face with a past I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

  As if on cue, I saw Larkin waving at me from across the pool.

  What was he doing here? I wondered, lifting my hand in a halfhearted return wave. Larkin took my response as an invitation, and he came over to the whirlpool. He wore a sporty red and blue ski jacket, like he’d just come to the pool from outside.

  “I heard about the ritual. Are you okay?” he asked, crouching down on the concrete edge of the pool.

  “Uh, yeah, fine. Although thanks for nothing. You didn’t tell me Liza would be there,” I said.

  “Yeah, you know, it never occurred to me. She’s been kind of out of the pagan community since everything went down. Talk about bad luck.” He stared at the bubbles of the Jacuzzi’s water for a moment, and I sensed he had something more serious on his mind. Finally, he looked up and asked, “Can I buy you a drink? I’d really like to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Some closure?” he sounded doubtful that it was even possible. “That whole thing between you and me was so long ago. I thought maybe it might be time to bury it.”

  Bury? That sounded ominous, but he seemed to be struggling for the right words. I saw a range of emotions play across his face. It would be nice to put the past behind us. I’d like to show Larkin the kind of woman I could be, given a chance.

  I was about to agree when he added, “Or I bet that new husband of yours would love to hear about your casual infidelities.”

  My mouth hung open. “You can’t threaten me with exposure. I already told him about you and me and Liza.”

  “But does he know you had a boyfriend at the time?”

  Was that true?

  “Sebastian wouldn’t care,” I said, even as I pulled myself up out of the superheated water. Goose pimples rose on my skin from the temperature difference, and I grabbed my nearby towel.

  “Are you sure about that? Because I’d be happy to fill him in on every little detail.” Larkin stepped closer to me. I thought I caught a whiff of cheap beer.

  “Are you drunk? I thought you came here to make amends.”

  He seemed to find the idea amusing. “I came here because I have some things I want to say to you that you need to hear.”

  The guy-who-was-also-Apollo watched us with a nosy, annoyed expression. We must have looked quite the sight with me in my yellow one-piece and Larkin in his puffy ski jacket. He had the look of a guy who might call security on Larkin and me. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble with the hotel. Sebastian and I were already in it deep thanks to Lilith.

  “I’ll meet you in the bar. Just give me a minute to change.”

  “You’re not ditching me that easily. I’m coming with you.”

  “Not into the women’s locker room you aren’t.”

  “Just put your clothes on here—over your suit.”

&nbs
p; I snuck a peek at the Apollo guy, who seemed to be hunting around for his cell phone. “Okay, okay!”

  I quickly pulled my shirt over my head and shimmied into my jeans. They stuck to my wet hips and I had to tug at them, all the time Larkin stood there. That left me holding my lacy bra and my thong underwear. Larkin seemed ready to smirk, so I wadded them into a ball and hid them under my towel.

  “Let’s go,” I said, sliding my bare feet into my tennis shoes. The insoles squished uncomfortably as I walked, and water instantly soaked through my shirt at my breasts.

  When we came to the bar, the waiter took one look at my damp breasts and sneered at me like I was the tramp who wandered in off the streets instead of Larkin. He had the kind of darkly handsome, haughty look of someone who might be a waiter but really an actor. I thought he might actually turn us away, so I showed him my key card and said, “We’ll start a tab. Put it on my room.”

  The waiter’s attitude changed the instant he realized exactly what room I was staying in. He showed us to a very private booth with a view of the park and all but bowed and scraped his way back to the bar.

  “This place sure is fancy,” Larkin said, looking a bit wonderstruck. For a moment he reminded me of the guy I used to like.

  That made me irritated. I didn’t want to like the guy who had basically blackmailed me into having a drink with him—for what? Closure? Yeah, could we get on with getting to the end of this? “What did you want?”

  “To buy you a drink,” he said, standing up. “I’ll get something from the bar.”

  I was about to explain we could just sit tight because the waiter would pretty much bring us anything we asked for short of the Taj Mahal. But Larkin was already halfway across the room. Hopefully he would make a complete fool of himself as well as forget to charge it to my room.

  I drummed my fingers on the linen tablecloth while my swimsuit soaked through the seat of my pants, probably staining the satin seat cover. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten that I was dating someone during the whole Larkin/Liza scandal. But I couldn’t have told you his name right now if my life depended on it.