A Deal with Death

by Carrie Pulkinen

  James crept toward the back of the courtyard and glanced at his friends. When Cade didn’t respond to Noah’s shout, Noah flicked his fingers, making Cade spill his beer down the front of his shirt.

  “Goddammit.” Cade stormed out of the club, but he stopped short, his nostrils flaring. “Why didn’t you tell me we were going hunting tonight?”

  They flanked James on either side and slinked out of the courtyard and into the alley between two clubs. A two-foot-tall dark mass darted behind a dumpster, and James ran toward it. The fiend leaped into the trash container, and a rancid wad of rotting meat flew out, slapping James in the face. He wiped the slimy substance from his cheek and stood on his toes to peer inside the dumpster.

  An array of garbage and empty beer bottles hurled from the container, and James sidestepped around the spray.

  “What the hell?” Noah used his telekinesis to slam the dumpster lid shut and held it closed as the tiny demon knocked against it, trying to escape. “What is it?”

  James shook his head. “Some kind of lower-level demon. I’d guess it answers to a bigger master, but this is the only one I can sense.” He scanned the alley, finding it empty.

  “What’s the plan?” Cade asked.

  “Check the alley entrance. When we’re clear, shout. Then Noah will release the lid, and I’ll shift and take it out.”

  “You sure, man?” Cade made his way to end of the alley. “Shifting in the city is against the rules.”

  “When have I ever cared about rules?”

  “Inside, when I…” Noah laughed. “All right, maybe you’re not such an old fart after all.”

  “Clear,” Cade shouted.

  James tensed, calling his wolf to the surface. He looked at Noah. “On three.”

  Noah nodded. The demon thrashed inside the bin, denting the side of the container from the inside.

  “Three,” James shouted.

  Noah released the lid, and the fiend sprang from the dumpster. James leaped toward it, shifting in mid-air as the creature bounced off a wall and clamped its razor-like teeth onto his front leg.

  James held in a grunt as the demon’s teeth met bone, and he bit into its neck, ripping it from his leg and tossing it across the alley.

  “Make it fast,” Cade said between clenched teeth. “Group of tourists heading this way.”

  Advancing on the fiend, James swiped a massive paw across its chest, piercing its heart with a claw, and the demon exploded into a cloud of ash. As James shifted to human form, he shoved his hands in his pockets and coolly strolled toward the sidewalk as the group of women came into view. They glanced at the men in the alley and quickened their pace, linking arms as they hurried past.

  “That was fun. I told you I’d be a good demon hunter.” Noah’s grin slipped into a scowl as he nodded at James’s arm. “Oh, man. It got you.”

  Blood oozed from the puncture wounds, trailing down to his wrist, and one of the fiend’s teeth had torn a two-inch gash near his elbow. The bite stung, but the bleeding had slowed. He’d heal. Eventually.

  Cade sauntered closer, reaching for James’s arm. “Do you need medical attention? We could call Alexis…”

  He jerked away. “I don’t need medical attention, dammit, and I definitely don’t need a healer. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Noah cut his gaze between James and Cade. “If I had a gash like that, I’d need stitches.”

  “You’re second-born; I’m not.” His voice came out in a growl, and Noah flinched. James might as well have been second-born too, at the rate this wound was healing, but he’d be damned if he’d let his packmates fuss over a little demon bite.

  Noah gritted his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks for the reminder, Captain Obvious.”

  “I…” James let out a slow breath. His old man had warned him not to join the demon hunting team. Hell, his dad wouldn’t even let James hunt gators with his friends when he was a kid. The pack is only as strong as its weakest member, he’d say. Never let them know that’s you. But James wasn’t a lone wolf. He belonged in the pack, and he refused to be the weakest link.

  “Look, it’s healing.” He held up his arm. The small punctures had already closed, and the gash was beginning to seal. “Let’s get out of this alley before someone calls the cops. I’m going to text Luke, and we’ll meet him at O’Malley’s.”

  “We don’t have to report it to the alpha right now, do we?” Disappointment was evident in Noah’s voice. “It’s barely past midnight, and if you cleaned up the blood, we could…”

  “There could be more out there.” James jerked his head toward his Chevy, indicating his friends should follow. “This is what demon hunters do. You want to be on the team, don’t you?”

  Noah gazed wistfully at the club. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  They trudged up the sidewalk to James’s truck, and he found an old paint rag in the back seat to wipe up the blood. It killed him that his friends saw his weakness like that. If they’d have been in the swamp, he could’ve stayed in wolf form until the wound closed—and he’d have healed much faster—sparing himself from their sympathy.

  He more than made up for his…limitation…with his faster-than-normal shifting speed and his keen demon-hunting abilities. Cade and especially Noah…he outranked them for God’s sake; pity was the last thing he needed from the pack. From anyone.

  Chapter Four

  Odette groaned in her sleep and rolled over. As a spectator in her dream, she stood on the side of the road, watching the same event she’d been forced to relive in her mind countless times since it happened in real life.

  A little girl with shiny black ringlets and freckles across her nose played with a bright-purple ball in the front yard, while her beautiful momma pulled weeds in the flower bed. Odette remembered the scene as if it happened yesterday. The sun warming her light umber skin. The sweet fragrance of bougainvillea drifting through the summer air.

  As the girl tossed the ball into the air, she spotted a little boy with blood running down his face across the road. The ball bounced on the grass and rolled into the street, and a car zipped past, catching it beneath a tire and flattening it. Too young to recognize the difference between the living and the dead, the girl called to the boy, “Are you okay?” and he met her gaze with fearful eyes.

  “He’s a ghost,” Odette tried to say to the girl in her dream, but her mouth wouldn’t form words. The girl stepped off the curb to help him, and her momma yelled, “Be careful, child.”

  The girl turned to see her momma running to her, her face contorted with fear. She pushed her, and the girl tumbled, rolling across the street and smacking her head on the pavement.

  Odette’s heart raced in her dream. A truck rounding the corner slammed into the girl’s momma, the tires rolling over her neck, crushing her. The sound of crunching bone and tearing flesh was so real and loud it echoed in her head like razorblades ripping through her skull.

  She wanted to scream. To run to the woman and do something…anything to save her. But there was no saving this woman, even if her feet weren’t stuck to the ground in the dream. Odette couldn’t save her then, and now she’d been buried for twenty years.

  She looked at the eight-year-old version of herself, and her heart wrenched. Young Odette scrambled to her feet, screaming, and threw herself onto her momma’s lifeless body.

  “No, Momma! You can’t leave me!” The little girl sobbed and lifted her gaze to her momma’s spirit hovering near her body. The ghost drifted higher, and young Odette sobbed, “You have to stay with me always.”

  Her momma’s ghost jerked, obeying the command, and drifted toward her daughter. “You have to let me go, child. It’s my time.”

  “No!” Odette said in unison with the younger version of herself, and she covered her mouth.

  “You’re going to stay with me always,” the girl repeated. “Baron Samedi will bring you back.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and a crowd gathered around
the girl and her momma’s body. A neighbor rested her hand on young Odette’s shoulder. “Your momma is gone, sweetheart. Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll call your daddy?”

  “No!” Young Odette shrugged away from her touch and stood, blood—her momma’s and her own—dripping down her face and covering her dress, making her look as if she belonged in a Stephen King movie. “She’s going to come back to life. Baron Samedi’s going to bring her back.”

  The neighbors glanced at each other uncomfortably. “Her body is ruined,” one of them said. “If you brought her back now, she’d be a zombie. Is that what you want?”

  “She won’t be a zombie! Baron Samedi can bring her back whole like he did me.”

  “Nobody brought you back to life,” another neighbor said.

  The paramedics and the police arrived and ushered the on-lookers to the sidewalk.

  Tears rolled down the little girl’s cheeks, and her hands trembled. “I died when I was born, and Momma did a ritual for Baron Samedi to bring me back, and he did.”

  “Hush, child,” her momma’s ghost said.

  The neighbors whispered to each other, and a paramedic guided young Odette to the back of an ambulance. Another pair of EMTs loaded her momma’s body onto a stretcher and covered her head with a sheet.

  “Don’t take her!” the girl screamed. “She’s coming back to life, just like I did!”

  Odette woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed and clutching her sweat-drenched sheets. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her frantic heart.

  A presence gathered in her bedroom, a solid form taking shape in the atmosphere. Sympathy warmed her chest, and the calming presence moved closer, stopping at the edge of the bed.

  “While I appreciate the support, I asked you not to push your feelings on me.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  The calm dissipated, allowing her to feel the grating, raw emotions her dream left behind. She rolled her neck, stretching the tightness from her muscles. That dream always left her with a headache.

  Rising to her feet, she padded across the wood floor and headed for the shower. The entity followed her to the bathroom door, and she paused in the threshold without turning around. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t come into the bathroom. Will you please give me some privacy?” She closed the door, and thankfully, the ghost respected her request.

  Avoiding the mirror, she stripped and showered quickly. The contractor would be there soon, and she didn’t want to keep the alpha werewolf waiting. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but magical beings that strong should never be tested. She emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later dressed in a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer, and ready for work.

  The ghost followed her to the kitchen, hovering in the corner as she brewed her coffee and ate a container of strawberry yogurt. “I wish you would show yourself to me.” She looked in the direction where she felt the presence. “It’s not fair that you can see me, but I can’t see you.”

  A deep, masculine voice drifted to her ears. “Have you really forgotten me?”

  She shivered as goose bumps rose on her neck. “Maybe I would remember if you let me see you. Or at least tell me your name.”

  The air in the room grew cold, which was typical when a spirit was trying to manifest. The goose bumps on her arms turned to pin-pricks, and the air around her seemed to thicken. An image wavered before her, the air shimmering like heat coming off a blacktop in the summer.

  “Keep trying. I’m starting to see something.” A pang of guilt flashed in her chest as she watched the ghost struggle to appear. She could easily give him the power he needed, her own body acting as a conduit, allowing the energy of the spirit world to pass through her and into the specter. Letting go and supplying the power would be easy. Shutting it off was another issue altogether, and she’d learned the hard way not to start something she couldn’t stop. Give a ghost too much power, and the consequences would be dire.

  After a few more pained minutes, the form solidified, and a man stood before her wearing a dark-gray suit with a vest and pocket watch. He was handsome, with fair skin, a strong jaw, and bright-blue eyes, but his clothing and the style of his light-brown hair were reminiscent of the early 1800s. Definitely not someone she knew when he was alive.

  “That’s better. Can you tell me your name?” She waited as the ghost opened his mouth a few times to speak, closing it again when no sound would form. “That’s okay; becoming visible zapped your energy, which is normal. You probably haven’t shown yourself to anyone in a long time, have you?”

  The man shook his head.

  “Are you stuck here?”

  His brow furrowed, and he looked at his surroundings with a confused expression. Lifting his shoulders, he turned his palms up as if to say he didn’t know.

  “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out together. Most people won’t be able to hear you speak, but I can. Direct your energy to your voice so you can tell me your name.”

  The spirit stiffened, his eyes widening as his mouth opened. “My name is Nicolas. How did you do that? You told me to speak, and I felt…compelled to.” He drifted toward her, stopping a few inches in front of her.

  Taking a step back, she swallowed the bile from the back of her throat. She’d accidentally given him a command. That was worse than giving him energy.

  Nicolas smiled. “It’s wonderful to speak to you again, mon cher.”

  Cher? Who did this guy think she was? “Listen, Nicolas. I’m glad you’re talking now, but I have some men on their way over.”

  He tilted his head.

  “Construction workers. I’m having the home restored to its original state, and I would appreciate it if you left them alone. Will you please make yourself scarce when they’re around, so they don’t get scared?” Not that she thought werewolves would be scared of ghosts, but there could be humans on the team.

  The ghost’s smile returned, and he reached a hand toward her. Curling a strand of hair around his finger, he slid the back of his hand down her cheek as he released the lock. “You look different.”

  Her breath caught at his tender touch, the warmth of his non-existent skin making her shiver. She had so many questions for the ghost, but with the contractor about to arrive, she didn’t have time to deal with him now.

  Clearing her voice, she took a few more steps away. “Right. Well, we all change. I have to get some work done, so if you don’t mind, maybe we can talk some more this evening when I get home?”

  The ghost opened his mouth, but he could only emit a tiny squeak, like air releasing from a balloon. His form faded, the energy he’d expended to say those few words taking its toll. Confusion clouded his eyes, and he dissipated.

  Odette reached out with her senses, but he’d gone wherever it was that Earth-bound ghosts went, leaving her alone. Settling at the kitchen table, she fired up her laptop and logged into her work e-mail in an effort to make a dent in her inbox while she waited for her contractor to arrive.

  As James sauntered through the door into O’Malley’s Pub, a curtain of crisp air blasted his skin. Shaded lights hanging from exposed beams cast a smoky glow over the bar, even though no one had been allowed to smoke indoors in the last ten years.

  He slid onto a barstool as Amber, the alpha’s sister, poured him a cup of black coffee. Clutching the mug in both hands, he inhaled the rich aroma and took a sip. “Are you picking up on anything new? Any more little monsters for me to chase?” After he’d reported the incident to Luke last night, they’d patrolled the city for hours and found nothing.

  Her brow furrowed. “The feeling is muddy, but I think you’re going to be fighting more evil soon. There’s…” She shook her head. “Something is going to happen, but I don’t know what.”

  “I’ll be ready.” He winked, and she gave him a curious look, tilting her head. He didn’t dare ask the next question dancing on his tongue.

  As a second-born were,
Amber had the ability of empathic premonitions. She felt things about the future, but she rarely picked up on details. She’d already told James she sensed change in his future…of the romantic type…but it seemed that change would be his wolf trying to claim a dream woman he’d never meet. And if the modern-day Voodoo Queen of New Orleans couldn’t help him solve his problem, he was up shit creek without a paddle.

  Amber opened the coffee maker and put in a fresh filter. “Luke’s not in yet. Do you want breakfast while you wait?”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  A high-pitched giggle emanated from the sidewalk outside and turned into a squeal of delight as the door opened. Emma, a seven-year-old were with dark hair and hazel eyes, darted inside, and her mom, Bekah, sighed as she followed her.

  Emma scrambled onto a barstool, but the joy on her face transformed into a scowl as she glared at Amber. “Where’s Uncle Chase?”

  “That’s rude, Emma.” Bekah stood behind her daughter. “You should say hello first.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Hi.”

  Amber laughed. “Hi, Emma. Chase had to help Rain in the bakery this morning. He’ll be in later.”

  “Sorry, kiddo.” Bekah took Emma’s hand. “Maybe we can see him this afternoon.”

  Yanking her hand from her mom’s grasp, Emma crossed her arms. “We’ll wait.”

  “No, we won’t. You have to go to school.”

  The girl’s shoulders slumped. “Please, Mom. I haven’t seen Uncle Chase in a week.”

  “We’ve all been busy.” Bekah tried to tug her off the stool, but Emma gripped the edge of the bar.

  “I’m not leaving until I see Uncle Chase.”

  “Hey now.” James sauntered toward her and sank onto a stool. “Don’t you know what happens to kids who don’t listen to their moms?”

  Emma cut him a sideways glance and pouted. “They get in trouble.”

  “Worse than trouble. The Rougarou knows when kids are misbehaving, and he’ll wake up from his deep sleep in the swamp to come and get you.” He tickled her ribs as he said the last words, and she squealed.