Deadly Rising

by Jeri Westerson

  I turned my head to look at him. “Why not? There’s no one here. Nothing but faded memories.”

  “There’s more than that.”

  I didn’t want to listen. Striding up to the porch, I peered through the window in the door. Torn and faded lace curtains hung in the shadowy room beyond. Everything seemed covered in dust. A settee, a lamp, a table, an empty rocker. I knocked anyway, which frightened a dove nesting up inside the porch roof. I tried the door but it was locked or stuck.

  “Come away from there, Kylie!” he hissed. He had stayed out on the brown lawn, rain beating down on his dark hair.

  I couldn’t help going from window to window, trying to catch a glimpse of my lost childhood. But that was ridiculous. After Grandpa died, not too long after my last memory of him, someone else had to have occupied this house. It couldn’t have lain idle since 1994, could it?

  “Kylie!”

  His voice was so plaintive that I left the porch to join him, blinking through the rain and looking back at the old place. “I wonder if it’s for sale.”

  “We must get back to your conveyance.”

  “Why? What’s your problem?”

  He took my arm and dragged me back to the car, nearly shoving me inside. “Drive,” he ordered.

  “Erasmus?”

  But I started the car anyway and pulled slowly around back to the road. “What’s got your pointy tail in a knot?”

  “The ley lines. They converge…right here.”

  “But…isn’t that a good thing?” I maneuvered the car back to the gravel road and headed toward the highway.

  “Only in the summer. After the solstice, it becomes very dangerous. And it is most dangerous nearest Samhain.”

  “My grandpa’s house?”

  “Do you think it is a coincidence?”

  “Well…no. I guess not. I wonder why I didn’t remember it for all these years.”

  “No doubt a very strong protection spell of some kind has been cast on your memory.”

  “No way!”

  He folded his arms, staring straight ahead through the windshield. “Do you question me? Of course you do. ‘Demons lie,’ so you said. ‘It’s what they do. They manipulate and trick to get whatever it is they want from you.’ Correct?”

  So he had been there, listening, smoldering. Apparently, I’d hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry. But that does seem to be true…”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? I see.”

  “Look, Erasmus, don’t get all offended…”

  “Oh, why should I be offended? You simply impugned an entire race of beings with no more evidence than hearsay. Why should I be offended?”

  I tried not to smile. “You’re right. That wasn’t very nice of me.”

  “Not nice at all. And here I am protecting you.”

  “And just where were you when the kelpie attacked back at the roadhouse?”

  “I was searching for Shabiri,” he said. “I’m not the only one who can turn invisible.”

  “Oh. Did you find her?”

  “No.”

  “I believe you.” His gaze darted toward me. I glanced back at him only once. “I do. Sometimes.”

  He sighed and said under his breath, “I suppose I don’t blame you.”

  I smiled. That was quite an admission for him. I wondered how many Chosen Hosts there were before me, and how many had ever taken him to task. It suddenly made me frown. Maybe I didn’t want to know how many there were and how many of them he’d…

  Shut it down, Kylie. Change the subject.

  “That spear. Did you see that spear that Doug had? He called it ‘Guy Bullfrog’ or something.”

  “Gáe Bulg,” he said. “Spear of Mortal Pain. Shabiri.” He growled the last.

  “Is it like my crossbow? Can it also kill the creatures?”

  “Yes. But…”

  “But what? I think we should try to get it from him. Or is it just as tied to him as the crossbow is tied to me?”

  “Those objects are not as bound to the person who possesses them as you might think. Because a demon fetched it for you, they can switch their allegiance and assign it to someone else.”

  “So we just have to convince Shabiri to let us have it? And what are the chances of that?”

  “Nil, I should think.” But he sat thoughtfully, running his thumb over the stubble on his chin.

  “Hey, Erasmus, what was it you were trying to tell me earlier?”

  He blinked, seeming almost to awaken.

  “You know,” I went on. “Back at the library. Looked like you were going to confess something.” My stomach did a little flip. It could have been something pleasant to hear…but who was I kidding?

  He not-so-subtly turned away. “Er…nothing. Nothing that can’t wait.”

  Struck oddly with disappointment, I feigned a disinterested shrug and left him to it. No use in wheedling it out of him until he was ready to tell me. It was probably more bad news anyway.

  I turned the car off the main highway onto Lyndon Road and into Moody Bog. My shop was the first thing we encountered. It did look inviting and quaint, just the place a tourist might want to stop in and look around.

  When I parked and got out, I saw Jolene inside, dusting, bless her. Erasmus disappeared in silent retreat.

  Jolene looked up when I came in, bell jingling above the door. “Hey, where have you been?”

  I doffed my jacket and hung it on the hall tree. “The Ordo wants the Booke and they tricked me into meeting them in Hansen Mills.” I relayed the whole thing, including the kelpie’s appearance.

  Jolene seemed more excited about tales of my grandfather’s house.

  “Did you go inside? What was it like?”

  “Erasmus wouldn’t let me. And it was abandoned. Seems odd. My grandpa died around 1994. That hardly makes it derelict. Yeah, it could use a coat of paint and a board fixed here and there, but I don’t understand how it could have been left empty for so long.”

  She had grabbed her tablet and began swiping for all she was worth. “Mr. Dark said it was at the convergence of ley lines. That could have been keeping people away, but I wonder if there isn’t something else causing the trouble.”

  “Trouble? I don’t think it’s that. I mean, it is kind of remote from the village.”

  “But there are a lot of farms outside of town. Something is keeping people away. Or maybe someone.”

  “Like what?” I hated the idea that something—maybe a demon monster or evil spell—was interfering with Grandpa’s old place.

  Jolene looked up eagerly from her tablet. “Something like…your grandfather.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I should have enjoyed decorating the shop for Halloween. But my head wasn’t in it. What Jolene had said left my nerves on edge: “I think your grandfather is haunting the place.”

  How could that be? Ghosts were someone else’s relatives. Surely not mine. But the Stranges had odd ties to the place and even odder ties to the supernatural. Who was I to say?

  When I pulled out of my funk, I looked around the shop. The cornstalks were tied upright to the porch pillars, with bright orange pumpkins sitting below. Inside, Jolene had carefully placed cutouts of witches, pumpkins, and a scarecrow. It looked festive in an autumnal sort of way and gave me the idea to maybe fill one of the samovars with hot apple cider from our own blend of spices, another little bag to make for those impulse buys.

  It cheered me a bit. The customers who came cheered me more as tea, tea towels, and several mug sets flew off the shelves. It had been a good day for the register.

  My phone rang.

  “Kylie.” Ed sounded agitated.

  “What’s up? We’re still on for tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, but I have to ask you something. Were you by any chance in Hansen Mills today, at a place called Mike’s Roadhouse?”


  Shoot. Maybe that was why Deputy Mustache was rushing out of Aunt Emma’s Motor Court. “Um…yes?”

  He paused over the line. “Kylie…I heard some very strange things about that…”

  “Doug was working out this magic trick and it went off too well.” I cringed because that was the best I could come up with.

  “Doug was working on a magic trick? And…you were helping him?”

  “Actually, Erasmus was the one doing it. And Doug was kind of covering for him.”

  “So now you and my brother are chummy all of a sudden? With your…friend?”

  “Well, not exactly but…I was kind of at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I’m just trying to get my head around this. And I didn’t know your…Mr. Dark was still in town.”

  “He comes and goes. Listen. I’m almost ready to close up. Want to text me your address and we’ll talk more tonight?”

  “Oh yeah, sure. See you round seven?”

  I sighed in relief that my misdirection seemed to work. “Sounds good.” I waited only a moment for his text and then saved his address in my phone. Seven o’clock gave me a little over an hour to get ready. And maybe come up with a better cover story.

  Jolene tried to tell me that Doc had called her and that we should be getting together tonight. But I ushered her toward the door. “Look, Jolene. I have a date tonight. I’ll call Doc in the morning.”

  She turned to me with a grin. “Oh? You’ll be busy all night?”

  I pulled her knit cap down over her eyes. “Children should be seen and not heard. Good night, Jolene.”

  I closed and locked the door to her laughter, turned abruptly, and nearly screamed.

  “Erasmus! You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was doing anything of the kind.”

  “Right. My ass.” I stalked away from him and got the distinct feeling he was staring at said ass, but I didn’t bother turning around. “I have a date,” I threw over my shoulder. “I have to get ready.”

  “Will you be taking a bath?” He was right behind me on the stairs.

  “No way. A real quick shower.”

  “Would you like me to guard you?”

  I stopped and swiveled toward him. “Um…do you think that’s quite appropriate, given the, uh, circumstances?”

  “What circumstances?”

  I leaned against the railing. “I’m getting ready to go on a date.”

  It took him a moment before the penny fell. “Oh.” Though he wasn’t mortified, he was certainly unhappy. His fingers tapping on the stair rail telegraphed his discomfort. “Then I’ll…wait below.”

  I didn’t say anything more and escaped into the bedroom. A quick shower, a dab of perfume, a tight sweater and equally tight jeans, and I was down the stairs again.

  Erasmus was standing in the dark of the shop, but his glittering eyes followed my every movement.

  “Okay, it’s a little creepy your lurking in the shadows like that. Why don’t you…take a night off? Go…do whatever it is demons do in their free time.”

  “I never understand what you are talking about from one moment to the next.”

  “Just…go somewhere else, Erasmus. But don’t follow me.”

  “But how can I protect you—?”

  “I’ll be with the sheriff. I’m sure he can do the protecting tonight.”

  His eyes seemed to blaze for a moment before he narrowed them. “I see.” He stalked dramatically toward the door, and without opening it, filtered through and disappeared.

  “The man does know how to make an exit,” I muttered, before grabbing my coat.

  Ed’s place was just down the road and then down another little road. It was a cheerful Craftsman with shingles on the exterior walls and an outspreading elm in front, golden leaves still grasping at its branches. I parked against the curb out front, which was less curb and more gravel mound. Much of Moody Bog didn’t have sidewalks, except for in its downtown center. That made it homey and rural feeling.

  There was a gas lamp at the foot of a stone walkway curving up to the front steps, and I smiled at the sheriff’s nod to pedestrian safety. I got out one knock on the door before he flung it open. I hoped he had noticed me drive up rather than waited impatiently behind the door for my arrival.

  “Kylie.” He smiled and my trepidation melted away. “Come in. May I take your coat?” I shrugged it off and handed it over. “You look very nice tonight.”

  I couldn’t help but preen and blush a little. “Thanks.” He urged me into the living room, where there were two wine glasses filled halfway sitting on the coffee table. I noticed a lot of dark wood and leather, giving the cottage’s cozy outward appearance a more masculine edge, but it was still warm and inviting. Ed’s tastes veered toward Craftsman furniture and the same period lamps. I sat on the sofa and he handed me a glass. We clinked and drank. Settling back, I cupped the goblet.

  “Nice place. It looks like you.”

  He smiled again, his turn to blush. It was a bit disarming. “I’ve had a few years to work on it. It’s a good place to come home to after a long day. The yard out back goes a long way to the next property. I’ve got a vegetable garden and a blueberry patch. Not much now, but in the spring and summer, I get the best tomatoes in town. At least, that’s my opinion.”

  “Idyllic,” I murmured into my wine.

  He shifted closer. “I don’t want to put a damper on the evening, but you said you’d clarify what went on in Hansen Mills today?”

  I took another slug of wine and set the glass down. “Look, Ed, it was a huge misunderstanding. Erasmus likes to prank, and he did this thing with projectors and hypnotism, and Doug tried to stop him. That’s really it.”

  “So you and Doug…”

  “Are not bosom buddies, I can tell you. We may have mutual interests but…”

  “That Wiccan stuff.”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, it isn’t my interest but more my new friends’ interest. And they’ve been very supportive of the shop. Which I appreciate, being a stranger in town.”

  “Doc is reliable.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  I guessed he caught the strain in my tone because he took my hand. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just, with my brother into that stuff, it kind of puts me on edge. When Doc went Wiccan, quit going to church, it was a big deal around here. It’s a small town, Kylie, and I’m afraid we do a lot of judging of our neighbors even though we shouldn’t. But Doc has always been a trusted friend to this community…and to me…and so we are still friends. I didn’t mean anything by it…but I did judge there and I apologize.”

  Mollified, I grabbed my wine glass again. “I’m used to Wiccans, pagans, that type from California, so I get it. Sometimes it’s a lot to get used to. Even bikers. Believe me, I’ve met all kinds, and most people are just fine. I think Doug…well. I couldn’t help but notice the chip he has on his shoulder about you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Seriously? It’s about you. He’s completely envious of you and the attention your parents gave you.”

  “What? Is that what he told you?”

  “Not in so many words, but I could certainly read between the lines.”

  “That’s such horseshit! Excuse me. I didn’t mean to swear, but Doug is full of it.”

  “Not if he perceived it that way.”

  “My parents never favored me over him. He was the baby. If anything, it was the other way around.”

  Time to change the subject. “Okay. I surrender. I really didn’t come here to talk about him anyway. I want to talk instead…about that delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.”

  The darkness in his eyes faded and he was the host again. “It’s my famous spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “Ah. Another traditional Maine meal, then.”

  “Yes. The meatball goes way back to colonial days.
My lady?” He stood and offered his hand. I took it and followed him to the kitchen.

  A pot bubbling on the stove smelled heavenly of meaty tomato sauce, oregano, thyme, and marjoram. He turned off the heat and let me taste a small spoonful. I pronounced it fit for the gods.

  We sat at his table with china plates and cloth napkins. Ed served up and we chatted while we ate. Maybe pasta is good date food. It’s warm and familiar and nearly impossible to screw up. And it has the tendency to put everything at ease while also allowing for unimpeded conversation.

  His cell phone rang. With an apologetic look, he dug it out of his pocket. “Could be police business. I have to answer.” Putting the phone to his ear and donning his official demeanor, he said, “Bradbury.”

  That official demeanor soon turned to concern. “How many? Jeezum rice, this is getting ridiculous. A cow? Okay, George. Well, there’s nothing we can do right now. No, just go back to the station and file your report. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  He clicked it off and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Darnedest thing,” he muttered.

  “What?” I was already worried about what that kelpie was up to.

  “At first, we thought the animals were just missing, but now they’re turning up mutilated. Goats and now a cow. Some folks have been saying it’s a wolf, but that’s impossible.”

  “Why? Aren’t there any wolves in Maine?”

  “No definitive sightings since 1993.”

  “Oh.” The kelpie was foremost in my mind, but I remembered the sound of something howling and Erasmus’s words on the matter. What was out there? Some kind of wolf-like creature?

  A hand covered mine. “Let’s not worry over it. Are you done with supper? Come on.”

  He took my hand and led me back to the living room. With more wine, more conversation, and more laughter, I could put aside my fears of the unknown creature out there.

  Before I knew it, Ed had gotten very close indeed.

  Lying back against his cushioning sofa, feeling just a little bit buzzed from the wine, it was easy reaching up, trailing my hand through his hair, and bringing his head down for a kiss.

  Ed’s hand found its way to my waist and gently nudged me toward him. A hard chest, hard biceps, hard…everything. He held me close, turned me so that I was flat against him. His heartbeat was strong and fast. Looking at me steadily, he bent forward and pressed a kiss to my mouth, and then another. His tongue flicked at my lips before sliding inside, kissing deeply, lingering. When he pulled away from my mouth at last, it was only to drop his lips to my neck. As he licked and sucked on that sensitive skin, all thoughts of anything and anyone left me. His hands hadn’t stopped either, traveling down from my waist, over my hips, and to my backside, where he squeezed.