1 Death Warmed Over

by Kent Holloway

  Come on, Ankou. It’s probably Becca. She might have some new information about the case.

  His hand hovered over the receiver. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him not to pick it up. He looked over at Elliot, who was eyeing the ringing phone as well.

  “Oh, stop looking at me like that,” Silas said. “I’ll answer it when I’m good and ready.” He snatched the receiver from its cradle and brought it to his ear. “Silas Mot here.”

  There was a pause on the other end. Some static. A rustle of something rubbing against something. Then…

  “Hola, mi esposa.”

  His gut twisted into knots at the sound of Esperanza’s voice.

  “Stop calling me that,” he said, his tone flat and threatening. “What do you want?”

  “To see you. To talk. Maybe some other things as well.”

  “I’ll pass. Thank you.”

  “Ah, come on, mi amor. For old time’s sake?”

  “My recollection of our old times involved a lot of backstabbing and plots against me.”

  She giggled. “Oh, pish-posh. That was part of the fun of our love for each other, was it not?”

  “What do you really want Esperanza? You’re interrupting one of Kurt Russell’s best movie roles.”

  He glanced over at Elliot. Whatever happened, he knew he’d have to keep Essie from finding out about the archaeologist. She couldn’t know he’d revived him. At least, not until the little guy was back to his old self anyway.

  “Meet me,” she said. Her voice now sounded hushed, as if she was trying to avoid being heard by someone. “At the tiki bar across from your motel in ten minutes. I have information about the Hand you need to hear. I promise, it’s not a trick.”

  He hesitated.

  “You know who has it?”

  “You’ll have to come see me to find out.”

  “The last time I walked that beach at night, I was attacked and shot at by three goons.” He cringed. He might have said too much. The only thing keeping Esperanza from going for an all-out takeover of his position was the fact that she had no idea just how weak he currently was at the moment. “Notice they weren’t successful, mind you.”

  Hopefully, that covered my mistake a little.

  “Well, I didn’t send them. I swear.”

  He’d already guessed as much. The Celtic tattoos didn’t seem appropriate for one of Los Cuernos del Diablo. It still didn’t mean she was completely innocent of it either. There were other gangs out there that Santa Muerte could get her hooks into.

  Silas sighed. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be there in five minutes. But this better not be a waste of my time.”

  “I swear. You won’t be sorry.”

  He could have sworn she was nearly purring as she hung up.

  “I already am.” But the line had already gone dead as he balanced the receiver on his fingertips in thought.

  A moment later, Silas cradled the phone back in its place. He then slid from the bed, put his shoes back on, and knotted his tie before slipping on his jacket. After glancing in the mirror to make sure the tie was straight, he turned back to Elliot.

  “I’m going out for a while, my boy.” He placed the remote on the bed next to him. “Feel free to watch all the TV you want. I’d tell you that you should get some rest, but you’ve pretty much been doing that for the past few days.” He walked over to the door and started to open it. “And whatever you do, don’t let anyone in until I get back.”

  He chuckled at this, knowing full well the man still could hardly move a muscle. Then, he was hit by a wave of remorse that twisted at his insides and weighed his shoulders down like a giant boulder had been placed on top of him. It was a sensation he’d never experienced before.

  Silas had ripped Elliot Newman from his eternal slumber. He’d selfishly pulled his soul from his final reward—the ecstatic taste of bliss only death could bring—and plopped him headfirst back into the world of pain, suffering, and fear. Add to that the poor guy’s immobility and inability to speak a word—yet—and Silas had essentially thrown him into the prison of his own body without explanation.

  All because the man might have some insight into the whereabouts of the Hand of Cain.

  Yes, he felt bad. A distinctly human trait he didn’t particularly care for.

  “You know what you need, Silas, old boy?” he asked as he strode casually over to the motel bar. “One of those delicious fruity drinks with the umbrella in it. That’ll make you feel much better.”

  26

  SAND DOLLAR OASIS BAR

  FRIDAY, 12:33 AM

  The beach was even less crowded tonight than it had been yesterday. Only two or three patrons were drinking away their blues at the Sand Dollar Oasis. Silas looked, but the pretty bartender he’d met didn’t seem to be working. Instead, it was a young guy, barely in his twenties, serving the poor schlubs at the bar. Silas walked up to him and tried to order the same drink he’d had the night before but had never learned its name. He tried to describe it as best he could, but the bartender couldn’t figure out what he was referring to.

  “It’s in a freaking tiki mug,” Silas shouted. “It’s fruity. It has an umbrella in it. And I’m pretty sure it’s filled with a whole lot of vodka.”

  “I’m sorry, dude,” the bartender said. His speech pattern had the typical surfer lilt he’d seen in a couple of movies he’d watched earlier that night. “This is a tiki bar. Lots of our drinks come in those mugs. I’m not sure what it is. But I can throw something together for ya if you want. Maybe a Mai Tai or something.”

  “A what?” He thought about it, then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the sliver of paper the bartender from last night had given him. She’d left him her number. He could just give her a call and find out more about the drink.

  Silas scanned the note and his throat tightened. There was no phone number. Only a hastily scrawled note that sent chills down his spine.

  “You’re in danger,” the note read. “Meet me at your room as soon as I close up the bar. ~ Courtney.”

  Had she been trying to warn him about the three goons that had tried to kill him? Or was it something else? He hadn’t returned to his room afterwards. Instead, he’d gone with Becca to continue their investigation. He hadn’t seen the girl since she closed down the bar.

  Silas leaned forward and glanced at the bartender’s name tag. “Look, Sam. I was wondering…Have you seen the girl who worked here last night?” He looked at the note again. “Courtney was her name.”

  Sam shook his head. “It’s weird too. She missed her shift. They had to call me in to cover.” He wiped down the bar top with a wet cloth. “Guess she’s fired now. A shame. That girl was hot.”

  Silas’ heart raced. “Do you know where she lives?”

  The bartender shook his head. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Blast,” Silas said, wheeling around and nearly bumping into Esperanza in the process.

  She leapt back just in time and giggled. “Whoa, mi amor. I know you’re frustrated with me, but you don’t have to hit me.”

  He waved her comment away. “Do you have a car?”

  “Si, but…”

  He grabbed her wrist and started for the parking lot. “Good. You’re driving.”

  “But Ankou…”

  “We’ll talk in the car,” he said, then skidded to halt and scanned the lot. “Um, which car is yours?”

  She nodded over to a shiny red convertible Mercedes and he proceeded to pull her toward it until they came to the driver’s side door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He had no idea. All he knew was that he had to find Courtney. He hoped he wasn’t too late. “Do you happen to know Courtney?” he asked.

  “Courtney who?”

  He was beginning to realize just how much he didn’t know about this world he’d entered. Mortals don’t all know each other. He was embarrassed he’d even asked it.

  “An
kou, what’s going on?”

  “A bartender I met last night,” he said. “I thought she was flirting with me. Said she was giving me her number, only I just looked at it.”

  He handed Esperanza the note. “So?”

  He blinked. “So? What do you mean ‘so’?”

  “So, she might or might not have known something. She might have been aware of those hooligans that came after you last night. So, what?” Her face twisted into a mask of indifference. “She’s probably dead now, anyway.”

  “Exactly! But if there’s a chance she’s not, I’ve got to find her. Protect her if possible.”

  Esperanza laughed. “Save her? You’re Death, mi esposa! You do not save. You take. You harvest. What are these mortals to the likes of us?”

  “Says the megalomaniac that fawns over any humans that bow down to her.” He pointed to the driver’s side door. “Now get in.”

  “And do what? Drive around Summer Haven in hopes we bump into her?”

  “Preferably, we don’t bump into her with your car.” He narrowed his eyes at her in warning. “And I have an idea. I need a diviner.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think Omo Sango wants to see you again anytime soon. Especially after you humiliated him the way you did yesterday.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I need to find Courtney. He’s a Babalowa. Divination is part of his schtick. He has to help me.”

  Esperanza shrugged. “Only if the Orisha, Sango, tells him he should.” She leaned in close to him, running her fingers through his hair. “And you and he don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

  “Well, right now, he’s my only option, so please. Take me to him.”

  With a smile, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. “Your funeral.” She chuckled as she said this and got into her car. Silas climbed into the passenger seat and soon, they were off, speeding toward the seedy district of Gruenwald Commons.

  27

  THE PIER

  GRUENWALD COMMONS

  FRIDAY, 1:57 AM

  They talked as Esperanza drove toward Gruenwald Commons. They had a lot to catch up on, and Silas had to admit, much of it wasn’t bad. Like him, she wasn’t evil per se. Amoral would be a more appropriate term. But she had always been ambitious. Self-centered. Her Purpose had never been enough. She always wanted more. And like her namesake of legend, Lilith, she was hungry for it, ready to devour anything that got in her way.

  Still, through the millennia, the two of them had had good times.

  “By the way, we never got around to it at the bar,” Silas said. “What did you have to tell me earlier?”

  “Tell you?”

  “You wanted to meet me. Said you had some information you wanted to share.”

  “Did I?”

  He rolled his eyes. They’d had some good times, sure enough…but that didn’t mean he could believe a word that came out of her mouth.

  “So, it was just a ruse to see me?”

  She laughed. “Ruse? Who uses ‘ruse’ anymore?” She turned on the blinker and turned right, in the direction of the harbor. “What if I was just wanting to see you again, mi amor? Is it so wrong for a wife to miss her husband?”

  “You know we’re horrible together.”

  “I thought we were wonderful.” She almost squealed with sensual pleasure as she spoke the word ‘wonderful’.

  “I’m sure the victims of the Bubonic Plague didn’t think so. We got a little carried away.”

  “We were merely distracted by our love for each other. Nothing more romantic than only having eyes for one’s mate.”

  Silas pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

  “You always did invest too much in these humans, you know,” she continued. “None of us ever understood it. You actually pitied them.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few moments, reflecting on the centuries. “It wasn’t pity,” he finally said. “In fact, I think it’s more like envy. Many of those we’ve taken departed for their Reward—something we’ll never experience. Others, sure. Some were downright pitiful. But in the end, the only thing I’ve ever done is follow my Purpose. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “Purpose.” She scoffed at the word. “That’s all you ever used to talk about. You never looked toward the horizon. Never saw the bigger picture.”

  She pulled the car up to a long metal warehouse and put it in park. Silas could hear water lapping up against wooden pylons on the other side of the building. The gentle creaking of the pier swaying under the harbor’s current.

  “Omo Sango? He’s not at the storage facility?” Silas asked, intentionally changing the subject. Last thing he needed was for them to get into a full-blown argument in Narco gang territory.

  “He doesn’t spend all his time there,” she said. “He does run a business, you know.”

  She opened the door to get out, but Silas grabbed her arm like a striking viper. “Wait.”

  Esperanza looked at him in surprise.

  “Before we go see him, tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

  She eyed him up and down, as if contemplating her options.

  “I know you didn’t just want to see me for old time’s sake, Essie. There was a purpose to reaching out to me. What was it?”

  She hesitated a moment. “I wanted to warn you.”

  “About?”

  She brushed a stray hair from her eyes but wouldn’t look at him directly. “They’re gathering, Ankou.”

  There was no need for her to elaborate on who ‘they’ were. Silas had been expecting this.

  “No big surprise. You’re in town, too.”

  “Water is wet.”

  “And I assume they’ll be calling for an enclave soon?”

  She nodded. “They’re all drawn to the Hand. Just as you were. It calls to them. Soon, there will be a gathering of our kind. A motion for a vote of no confidence has already been issued.”

  “By who?”

  “I don’t know. They won’t discuss it until the time of the meeting.”

  Silas figured as much. An enclave was the next logical step to the dilemma. His rule and ability to deal with the mortal in possession of the Hand of Cain would be called into question. He’d be forced to defend his position…and someone—one of their own kind—obviously had their sights set on his throne.

  “And you swear this isn’t your doing?” he asked her. “You’re not the one to make the motion?”

  She shook her head. “Never. You know I’d never stab you in the back like that. When I take you down, you’ll see me coming all the way.”

  She smiled mischievously at him and he could do nothing but grin back. She was right. Essie was all about open attack. She wasn’t averse to using subterfuge from time to time, but a play at the throne…she would want it to be a fair fight.

  He let go of her arm and they got out of the car. Esperanza led him around the other side of the building to a chain-linked fence topped with razor wire. A gate stood just a few feet away with two gangster thugs standing guard. Automatic weapons rested snugly in the crooks of their arms.

  She strode up to the gate and said something in Spanish to them. They opened the gate with bowed heads and let the two of them pass without a word.

  Once past the guards, they strode casually down the pier toward a large yacht moored to the dock. Workers busied themselves removing crates from the craft and loading them into a waiting Mercedes Sprinter. A few of the workers tensed when they noticed their approach, then resumed their activity once they saw Esperanza.

  Silas watched, scanning each person carefully as they walked. None of them appeared to have the same tattoos he’d seen his attackers wearing the night before. It didn’t mean they weren’t part of the crew, but he didn’t think so.

  Without talking to any of the workers, Esperanza stalked up the gangplank to the top deck of the yacht and Silas followed without concern. As far as he knew, he was still under his bride’s protection and had no ne
ed to fear any of them. Besides that, he’d managed to put the fear of God into their leader, Omo Sango, yesterday and he doubted the big man would test fate by trying to kill his fabricated body during their meeting now.

  As he stepped on deck, he had no trouble picking the Babalowa out from the rest of the crowd. With the man’s sheer enormity, he stood out from the crowd like a beach ball amid a set of children’s building blocks.

  “Omo Sango,” he said, walking up to the leader of Los Cuernos del Diablo and extending his hand.

  The big man accepted the offered hand and they shook in greeting.

  “What can I do for you tonight, Senior Muerte?” Omo Sango said. He looked curiously down at Silas as he spoke. “You name it and it’s yours.”

  “I have a favor to ask you.”

  “He’s hoping you will perform the Diloggon for him,” Esperanza interrupted. She was getting impatient. “He is missing a human and needs you to divine her whereabouts.”

  “She’s a bartender.” Silas handed the Babalowa the note he’d been given. “Her name is Courtney, not ‘human’. And I think she’s in danger.”

  Omo Sango looked at the note, then back at Silas. “Sure. I will see what the Orisha tells me about her, but nothing more.”

  “I understand.”

  Omo Sango instructed everyone onboard to form a circle around him and he sat down on deck, crossing his legs. Then, he reached into a pouch attached to his belt, withdrew sixteen cowry shells, and tossed them on the ground in front of him. The big man began chanting under his breath, eyeing the patterns the shells made. He scooped them up in his meaty paw, gave them another shake, and cast the shells again.

  Silas watched, taking in everything. His muscles tensed. It was a long shot this would work. He knew from personal experience that the Orishas were fickle spirits. And a few of them were no friends of his. He held his breath, waiting for the Babalowa to speak.