Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us

by Doty, J. L.

  Over Reichart’s shoulder Paul saw Katherine scramble around the bed, the sheathed sword held out. “Paul,” she screamed. “Use this. I can’t. I’m not the wielder.”

  Reichart snarled, slammed Paul’s head against the wall, and squeezed down on his throat with crushing force. Strange little motes of unconsciousness danced before his eyes as Katherine slammed into Reichart’s back with a shoulder block of her own. She bounced off him like she’d tried to run into a brick wall. Dazed, she stood there for a moment.

  Reichart let go of Paul’s throat with one hand, spun and backhanded her. She went down hard, and Reichart returned to crushing Paul’s throat. The view over Reichart’s shoulder grew distant and far away. Mrs. Garza and Jim’Jiminie crossed the room purposefully and helped Katherine struggle to her feet. She couldn’t stand on her own and needed help from Mrs. Garza, while Jim’Jiminie supported them both. Katherine staggered like a drunk, a stream of blood dripping from her nose and down her chin, a wild, crazed look in her eyes, her hair in disarray. She lifted the sheathed sword in front of her to look at it dazedly.

  Paul looked into Reichart’s demon eyes, looked into their depths, saw the scared little boy that was Eric Reichart trying to hide from his own terror, saw the remnant of the demon chasing him through the corridors of his soul, actually felt sorry for the asshole. Operating purely on instinct, Paul called after the demon with an arcane shout, “Pick on someone your own size, shithead.”

  The demon turned its eyes back to Paul, and Paul broke eye contact with it just in time to see Katherine shake her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She looked at Paul, then at Reichart, then growled, “Fuck it.”

  Mrs. Garza helped her lift the sheathed sword over her right shoulder, holding it in both hands like a battering ram, the hilt aimed at the back of Reichart’s head. Then the two of them charged forward with the leprechaun in their wake. At the last instant Katherine screamed, “You ass hole,” and slammed the hilt into Reichart’s head.

  ~~~

  When Paul activated the spell they’d worked out, old man McGowan sensed the presence enter the room. He couldn’t see it, but apparently Paul and Mrs. Garza could. Mrs. Garza knelt, appeared to be caressing something.

  Beside him, Colleen said, “Something’s about to happen. I can feel it.”

  Paul walked around the bed and approached Mrs. Garza carefully. He knelt beside her, and only when Katherine screamed did McGowan realize they’d forgotten about that shit Reichart. McGowan looked Reichart’s way just in time to see him activate his spell and drop it on the boy’s chest. And in that instant they all disappeared: Reichart, Paul, Katherine and Mrs. Garza.

  “What just happened?” Colleen demanded.

  McGowan shook his head in bewilderment. “I think the shit just hit the fan.”

  They both advanced carefully toward the boy’s bed, but they’d only taken a few steps when a blinding flash filled the room. McGowan was left with an image burned on his retina of Reichart holding Paul by his throat with his feet off the ground, Paul’s face turning blue as Reichart crushed the life out of him, Katherine and Mrs. Garza behind Reichart holding something over Katherine’s shoulder, something that had made contact with the back of Reichart’s head, and it was from the point of that contact that the flash had emanated.

  The flash had blinded them, and McGowan and Colleen could only make out gross details for several seconds. Then everyone else rushed into the room and pandemonium erupted in shouts and curses as they tried to sort things out.

  ~~~

  Paul smelled Katherine’s perfume, and he realized he lay on the floor with her in his arms, his face buried in her hair. In the background he heard a lot of shouting. He whispered, “I’m getting tired of getting beat up like this.”

  She didn’t respond, probably unconscious, so he added, “Though I guess I don’t mind waking up with you in my arms.”

  “I heard that, Conklin, you lecher.” Her voice was thick and muzzy. She moved a little, though she didn’t seem in any hurry to escape his arms. “You better not have ruined more shoes.”

  Someone said, “Let’s make sure they’re not seriously hurt.” It sounded like McGowan.

  Paul, Katherine and Reichart were in no shape to walk on their own. They got them into the Garza’s living room, sat them down on couches and chairs and checked their injuries, with everyone shouting at once, demanding to know what had happened.

  “What about the boy?” Paul asked.

  Raphael said, “My mother says he came to, though he’s tired and scared. But she says he’ll be ok. Thank you.”

  The room was filled with a terrible stench. Paul said, “I still smell demon stink.”

  McGowan curled his nose. “Ya, something stinks, but it ain’t demon.”

  Joe Stalin squinted and looked about the room. Then he walked over to Reichart who was seated on a chair, still trembling like a frightened animal. Joe leaned down over him and sniffed. “Ain’t no demon. Hot-shot here shit his pants.”

  ~~~

  The voice was almost gone from his soul, almost completely silent now, and that saddened him terribly. Without the voice he didn’t have the courage to go after Alice, sweet lovely Alice. But maybe he could find the courage on his own, because he needed Alice, needed to know that she loved him, only him.

  Yes, one last time. He would try one last time.

  ~~~

  Like any bridegroom Anogh’s nerves were on edge. However, his anxiety stemmed not from the usual fears of a normal newlywed, but rather from his distrust of his bride’s father. Ag had been too nice about this.

  Anogh stood facing Taal’mara before the assembled royalty of both Sidhe Courts, their hands crossed in front of them and joined right to right, and left to left. He wore the hereditary armor of the Summer Knight, and she an elaborate gown of silk brocade, studded with hundreds of tiny rubies and emeralds. Magreth had just bound their hands together with a silken veil, and now Anogh spoke the traditional words, “Oh woman, loved by me, mayest though give me thy heart and thy body for all time.”

  For an instant Anogh forgot his fears as Taal’mara’s eyes flashed joyfully. But while it was a wonderful instant, it was only that, and his fears returned.

  Ag should have been less joyful, less carefree. Yes, he had required of Anogh a binding oath to forever protect Taal’mara, but the necessity of such an oath was moot, for he would protect her with his life regardless. No, he feared Ag would in some way prevent the completion of the marriage rites, interrupt it in some way. It would be so like him to dangle Anogh’s most fervent desire in front of him, then withdraw it at the last instant.

  Anogh didn’t really listen to Magreth’s or Ag’s words. He merely felt great relief at the finish of the ceremony. He and his bride were wed, and none could undo that.

  They turned toward the assembled throng, still holding each other’s hands, still bound by the silken veil, and in that moment the great hall of the Unseelie Court transformed into a vast banquet hall, and an orchestra struck up a joyful waltz. Magreth lifted the veil from their hands and wrapped it about their shoulders, tying them again together. Anogh escorted Taal’mara out onto the dance floor, took her in his arms, and his heart swelled with joy as they moved through the paces of the dance.

  When the dance ended, as custom dictated Ag joined them in the middle of the floor. He wore the hereditary armor of the Winter King, a silver rapier strapped to his side, its jeweled hilt protruding from an elaborately decorated sheath. Anogh walked off the floor while Ag took Taal’mara in his arms. As they danced Taal’mara was radiant, and Ag seemed quite pleased, the happy father of the bride. When the dance ended Ag stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “You are a joy to me,” he said, “for today you have given me a gift I could never have hoped for.”

  She beamed a gorgeous smile at him. “It pleases me to give you joy, father.”

  Ag stepped back a pace and said, “You have no idea, my child.” Then, in a single motion, he re
ached across, pulled the rapier and swung it in a flat arc. It sliced through her neck cleanly, and she stood there for a moment, a stunned look of surprise on her face. Then a veil of blood welled from her neck, her head toppled from her shoulders and bounced on the floor. As her mouth screamed a wail of pain and fear, her body toppled forward and hit the floor with a thud.

  Anogh screamed, “Nooooo,” and he lunged for Ag, but standing about him were several Unseelie warriors who were prepared for his reaction. He struggled and fought and kicked and screamed, but with the strength of numbers they wrestled him to the floor, then lifted him to his feet, his arms imprisoned behind him.

  Taal’mara’s head continued to shriek and scream. A great hunting hawk cried out and swooped down from the rafters of the hall, but just above Taal’mara’s body it transformed into the shadowed black-fey assassin. Sabreatha pulled two blades of cold iron from sheaths at her waist.

  “Nooooo,” Anogh screamed again and redoubled his struggles, but to no avail.

  Ag approached him arrogantly, stopped in front of him and said, “You have failed in your oath, Summer Knight. You are now bound to the Winter Court.”

  He turned his back on Anogh, and they both watched Sabreatha crouch and stab one knife into Taal’mara’s heart, and the other into an eye. Anogh struggled anew, but they beat him into unconsciousness.

  . . . Anogh had relived that day a thousand times in the six hundred years since Taal’mara’s passing. And he would relive it again a thousand more.

  ~~~

  It had been an exhausting week for all of them, but mostly for Paul. Katherine saw the fatigue in the lines on his face and the slump of his shoulders.

  After they’d rescued the little Garza boy, they had eight confirmed demon kills to take care of, eight souls only Paul could raise, eight souls from whom only Paul could excise the essence of the demon left behind. Katherine had helped where she could, and of course, at the right moment the sword always came to her, not to Paul. So in that sense she was as essential to the process as him. But still, he took the lion’s share of the burden, though knowing what to expect they had no more fiascos like those that occurred during their previous exorcisms. They’d finished the eighth exorcism two days ago, and Paul had slept ten to twelve hours a day since, but still the fatigue was visible.

  The Garza’s had invited them over for a big dinner. Raphael bragged openly about his mother’s cooking. And it was a feast. Salisteen and Ramirez declared it some of the best Tex-Mex they’d had. They all drank a few beers and Paul got a little tipsy, though he didn’t have that much to drink so it was probably another symptom of his exhaustion.

  With each exorcism Paul had told them he felt the demon’s presence weakening. And it appeared that whoever had helped the demon had gone to ground—if some mortal had helped the demon, a question they all agreed could not be answered definitively one way or the other. If there was someone, they’d crawled into a hole and gone completely silent. On the other hand, if there was no one, then the mere act of exorcising the remnants of the demon had removed it from the Mortal Plane.

  Ramirez had checked with the families and confirmed that each of the girls had occasionally worn a pinafore. And then there was the fact that Monica Clarkson’s spirit had referred to he and not it. To Katherine that stank of mortal involvement. It was not a satisfying conclusion to such a nasty business, but they couldn’t just camp out in Dallas indefinitely, so it would have to do.

  In any case they had a wonderful time at the Garza’s, though since they were scheduled to fly back to San Francisco the next morning, they excused themselves in the early evening.

  ~~~

  One last time.

  He was terrified. The voice in his soul had now grown completely silent; not a sound, not a hint of the strength and the power he’d derived from it, nothing. But he wanted to return to that glory, and he’d vowed he’d try one last time. So he would.

  It was early evening with dusk quickly approaching when he turned onto the little Mexican girl’s street. He spotted her house immediately, and he spotted the squad car parked out in front of it, and his heart went cold.

  Of course! She was the little boy’s friend, and he’d sensed the interference of some powerful practitioners. They would have made the connection. He’d hoped that one last kill might bring the voice back. But now he’d have to do it the hard way. He’d have to summon the demon again, and preparation for that would take several months.

  He drove his car down the street, staying just a little above the speed limit but not so much that they’d pull him over. Cops expected people to speed a little. He turned left on the second street past her house, didn’t realize he’d turned onto the little boy’s street until he saw the cars and the crowd of people in front of the house.

  He drove past them at his carefully chosen speed just above the speed limit. There were four older people, clearly practitioners, and a handsome young man and a beautiful young woman, also clearly practitioners, all taking their leave of the little boy’s father and grandmother. He should have done his homework better, should have realized the grandmother was a witch. But now he was most interested in the six practitioners leaving the house, and for some reason he was especially drawn to the young man and woman.

  He took note of the cars they’d be driving, decided to wait in the parking lot of the strip mall near the bus stop. They’d have to drive out that way.

  Chapter 11: The Triple Goddess

  Katherine was glad to be back in San Francisco. After their return from Dallas she’d had a strong desire for normalcy, no wizards or witches, no spells, no demons, so for the past week she’d thrown herself into her work and purposefully avoided any contact with other practitioners, especially her father. She was a little disappointed Paul hadn’t tried to reach her.

  Saturday had dawned bright and clear, not a cloud in the sky, and quite warm for an early spring day. She’d spent the morning doing a little frivolous shopping downtown, purely for medicinal purposes, didn’t really spend much, just enjoyed herself. Shopping cleansed her soul, especially if she bought something Eric would disapprove of. When they were married he’d rather spend her money on himself.

  Around noon she took a cab to Fisherman’s Wharf, actually enjoyed the crowds of tourists, got some crab from one of those street-side stalls for lunch. Then she took a cab to the Presidio and had a thoroughly wonderful afternoon just wandering aimlessly through its streets and parks, wound up sitting on a bench in the sun in the National Cemetery as dusk approached.

  ~~~

  Anogh watched with some amusement as the little people manipulated the reality of the necromancer and the Old Wizard’s daughter. Cadilus’ spells, with the aid of his flunkies, did a nice job of keeping the two apart. And while the little people were not mages, could not cast spells or formulate magic, could not counter Cadilus’ spells, they were masters at manipulating reality.

  Anogh watched the young woman spend a leisurely day with no purpose, watched as she slowly, with no reason or intent, drifted toward the Presidio and the National Cemetery. He frequently shifted back and forth between her and the young man, and in that way was able to watch him, through complete happenstance, end up in the Presidio, and on a whim, decide to take a shortcut through the National Cemetery.

  The little people were truly masterful. The edge of the cemetery was a powerful Boundary, and both young people were close at hand.

  ~~~

  Paul was glad to be back in San Francisco. After their return from Dallas he’d had a strong desire for normalcy, no wizards or witches, no spells, no demons, so for the past week he’d thrown herself into his work and purposefully avoided any contact with other practitioners, especially the McGowan clan. He was a little disappointed Katherine hadn’t tried to reach him.

  Saturday afternoon he attended a wedding at the Palace of Fine Arts, with a reception at the Exploratorium. He didn’t know the bride or groom well, just casual acquaintances, so he spent only a s
hort time at the reception, then made his excuses and left.

  He needed a cab to get back to his apartment, thought about using his cell phone to call one, decided it might be quicker if he just tried hailing one. He’d probably have a good chance in the Presidio, so he headed that direction. He had just begun to realize that trying to hail a cab was a mistake, when he passed the entrance to the National Cemetery, and on a whim decided to walk through it.

  “Paul!”

  He turned at the sound of Katherine’s voice. She was seated on a concrete bench just a few feet away. “Katherine, what are you doing here?”

  She frowned. “Just spent the day doing a bit of this, a bit of that, ended up here. What are you doing here?”

  “Just came from a wedding at the Palace of Fine Arts. Was looking for a cab. Want to share one.”

  “Looking for a cab in a cemetery?”

  “Oh, I just turned in here on a whim.”

  She stood. “Ok, let’s go find a cab.”

  They turned and walked briskly toward the cemetery entrance. But then someone shouted, “Hold up, yee daft fools.”

  They both stopped and turned, saw the two leprechauns running toward them. They caught up to them and both bent and put their hands on their knees, panting for air. Between stuttered breaths Jim’Jiminie said, “And long-legged fools at that.”

  Paul asked, “What are you doing here?” It came out more harshly than he intended. The little fellows, while exasperating, had always tried to help him.

  “We’re here to save your fool ass,” Boo’Diddle snapped.

  Jim’Jiminie added. “He doesn’t appreciate us, Boo.”

  “Maybe we should just leave them here.”

  Paul tried to apologize. “I’m sorry. I—”

  Jim’Jiminie ignored him and said to Boo’Diddle, “Teach him a lesson if we did leave him here.”

  Boo’Diddle grimaced, “Ya, but do you want to be the one to tell Katie’O’girl we did that?”