Dead Set Read online

  “How do you understand him?”

  The Imp turned his attention to me. “You know something, Magician? For a goody two-shoes you sure know your way around the mother tongue… Who taught you?”

  “Would anyone like to listen to the radio?”

  “No,” both my passengers said in unison.

  I pretended to focus on the road for a few minutes, but before long I could tell that neither my daughter nor the Imp were giving up on their request. They were like dogs on the trail of fresh treats.

  “Ah, there was this time in college. Let’s say I made some less-than-good choices, and I ended up needing to banish an Imp.”

  “Oh, wow, you’ve been doing Magick since college?” Cathy said, perhaps seeing her old man in a new light. “Didn’t you meet Mom in college?”

  “I did, but not at this tim—”

  “Banished!” the Imp shouted, banging his little fists on the glass. “Does that mean you brought him here? So lemme guess, you found some hot dish that you needed to sample, and by sample I mean—”

  “Watch it, back there. I’ve banished one Imp, I can do it again.”

  The Minor Demon’s tiny mouth clamped shut.

  We pulled into a small apartment complex just off the main drag. It wasn’t the sort of place you wrote home about, but clean enough that I didn’t feel nervous having Cathy with me. The main building was stodgy and block-like, with smooth stucco and simple nondescript stairs. Each apartment had a balcony with a plain aluminum railing. I found Rob leaning against one of those railings and waving to us.

  “Who’s that?” Cathy asked, waving back to the stocky, ginger-haired mechanic.

  “That’s Rob, he fixes the Dad Wagon. Now, today I just want you to watch; don’t touch anything and please keep your necklace on. Are you following me?”

  Cathy nodded and pointed to the Imp in the back seat. “What about him?”

  “He stays in the car.”

  “Great… sounds like fun,” said our less-than-pleased Imp before folding his tiny wings over his face. “Wake me when you’re back from your chat with the afterlife—provided you survive.”

  “What’s he saying, Dad?”

  “Just keep the necklace on. Please.”

  “Thanks again for coming out, Gene,” Rob said, meeting Cathy and me in the hallway outside his girlfriend’s apartment. “We really appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing. Rob, this is my daughter Cathy, I’m not sure you two have met before.”

  The world’s best mechanic extended his hand and a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Cathy. Your dad’s a special person—he’s saved my bacon at least once before.”

  Cathy shook his hand and returned the smile.

  “Justine’s inside. Listen, Gene, she’s really shook up about her mom.”

  I nodded. “What do I need to know?”

  “They were really close. Both of them were on the force. Mom was a dispatcher and Justine is working her way up to detective. It was always her mom that did the worrying—no one saw the aneurysm coming.”

  “They never do.”

  It was Rob’s turn to nod, then he guided us over the threshold and into a small efficiency apartment. A strong and compact young woman met us just inside the door. She wasn’t much taller than Cathy, but her toned arms and powerful stance gave off a resounding policewoman vibe, as did the ‘POLICE’ t-shirt she was wearing.

  “Justine, this is Gene Law. He’s the guy I told you about, remember? The one that helped me with that issue before we met…”

  Getting your groove on with a Succubus is certainly an issue—that’s one way to put it, Rob.

  Justine afforded me the healthy skepticism I expected. It’s not often a Magician enters your life and offers to put you in touch with your deceased mother—if it were me, I’d be just as hesitant.

  “Hey, I know you…” Justine said, giving me a completely unemotional once over. “Yeah, we met at the Old Tampa Hotel. You saved that woman’s life.”

  “Dad?”

  “Another time, Cathy.”

  If this is what counts for being shook up, my family must be total basket cases.

  “Please, call me Gene.”

  “Okay, Gene. I’ll be honest, I really don’t know what it is you’re going to do. My mom died without warning. A blood vessel burst in her brain. One day she was here, and the next she wasn’t. Do you know what it’s like to lose someone like that?”

  I do not—most of my losses come after protracted periods of intense pain.

  “No.”

  “It’s gut wrenching. Your world is completely blown apart. One minute you’re busy preparing for the detective exam, and the next you’re preparing for a funeral.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s terrible. Is there a place where we could sit down?”

  Justine pointed to a small breakfast table pushed against the wall. It was empty save for a crossword puzzle dictionary.

  “Mom loved crosswords—I picked up a damn newspaper every day just because of her,” Justine said, her words breaking enough to give me a glimpse of her personality beyond that icy demeanor.

  “I understand. Please take a seat,” I said, pointing to the opposite chair. The table was cheap Formica, and the chairs had that distinct modern look to them, but neither of those details were important—it was all about the book.

  “Can you give me some details on your mom?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Justine!” Rob said, a slight edge to his tone.

  “No, it’s okay, Rob. She doesn’t believe in any of this, and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t either if I were in her shoes. You don’t want to tell me anything because you think I’ll use whatever you say to make up a story about your mom. Does that sound right?”

  Justine nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “And the only reason I’m still here is because you trust Rob, and saw me shove a black rubber glove into the electrical box. Heck, you’re even wondering now if telling me your mom liked crosswords was a good idea.”

  Justine looked away.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not angry, and I don’t need any details if you don’t want to give them. Think of me like a paranormal detective,” I said, hoping to coax Justine out of her shell.

  The young policewoman looked up from the table and I was overwhelmed by the sadness in her eyes.

  “Let’s do this,” I said, placing both hands on the crossword dictionary. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to focus, which was immensely difficult given the events of the last twenty-four hours—but I’d promised Rob, and good people are always worth keeping your promises.

  Mediums, spiritualists, and those that purport to talk to the dead are rarely Magickal. Most of them work really hard at faking it by doing tremendous research on the deceased and concocting something beautiful to say at just the right time. Very early on in my Magickal career I’d debunked a few of those cranks, and while I’d really reveled in it in my youth, now I looked back and shook my head. They hadn’t been all bad. The ones that didn’t charge anything were only trying to give the dearly departed’s friends and family a little closure, yet there I was riding in on my white horse to stomp all that out.

  Now, there were true Mediums, but they made four-leaf clovers look abundant. I’d met only one in my life: a rather prosperous Indian woman who downright hated her calling, but damn was she good at it. Whereas a Magician like me needed all sorts of mental preparation, items the deceased cherished, and more than a little luck, Pari could do it without any of those.

  One evening over cheesecake she’d told me her secret. “Gene, most of the dead are long gone, but the ones that hang around—they just want someone to talk to. It’s lonely waiting. Be a good listener. Be someone you’d want to talk to, and most of all, be open to hearing what they have to say—but don’t be surprised if they talk your darn ear off all day and night.”

  I checked off
Pari’s list of steps and waited, holding tight to the crossword puzzle dictionary, but nothing happened.

  I was just about to apologize and tell them there was nothing I could do, when a wave of bone-chilling cold washed over me, and Cathy’s voice shattered the silence in the room.

  “Baby-boo! Oh my God, I never meant for this to happen. I’m so sorry.”

  The stone-walled Justine crumbled in her chair.

  34

  Necromancy on Tap

  Cathy casually crossed the narrow kitchen and crouched in front of Justine, taking the young policewoman’s hands into her own. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Wild Magick was the only answer. My daughter hadn’t learned the complex intricacies of Mediumship skimming a few pages of Flaterhaus, she’d just done it—and with, I’d imagine, very little understanding as to how.

  Cathy had a flair for Necromancy—this was equal parts exciting and downright terrifying. Now, just because you can handle Death Magick, that doesn’t make you a bad person by default, but it does mean you need to be extra careful, lest you find yourself wearing the wrong team’s colors.

  My daughter clutched Justine’s hands in hers. Cathy’s Magick was wild; it had an unbridled and carefree nature that was hard to pin down. Her power twirled and hummed in an altogether chaotic state, but she was young and with experience she’d get better at controlling it. For now it was my job to keep Cathy’s channel to the hereafter open and make sure nothing else decided to come through—there were far too many things on this side that needed protecting.

  “Mom!” Justine sobbed, squeezing my daughter’s hands. “I didn’t mean it. What I said before, you know I didn’t—”

  “I know, dear. I know.”

  The two women embraced like they’d known each other all their lives.

  Rob stayed quiet, but one look at him told me what I needed to know—my daughter had brought closure to a young woman he cared about who desperately needed it.

  “Mom, I miss you so much,” Justine said, wiping her eyes with her hands.

  “I miss you too. This young woman was nice enough to let me come see you, but I can’t stay long—it’s not safe.”

  The concern in my daughter’s voice was enough to snap me back to the present. “What do you mean it’s not safe?”

  “I’m not alone. There are more… things here, terrible things.”

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, honey, I just stay below the radar. They don’t come after me if I stay hidden, but when you called I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t leave things the way we did.”

  Cathy was doing an amazing job channeling Justine’s mom, so much so that it made me wonder how she was getting around Lenar’s Logic Loop. That was the exact moment I noticed the necklace was no longer around her neck.

  That’s how her Magick is so strong. This damn kid is going to be the death of me.

  “We need to wrap this up soon—real soon.”

  “Sweetheart,” Cathy said, brushing a loose hair out of her daughter’s face. “He’s right. I can’t stay here much longer. They’ll find me.”

  “Who? Who’s going to find you, Mom?” Justine’s voice shifted hard from distraught daughter to aspiring-detective.

  “They’re coming,” Cathy said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She clutched at her daughter. “I can’t stop them.”

  A passing cloud dimmed the room, and Cathy’s shadow flickered, then changed. It grew, stretching beyond her tiny frame like spilled midnight until it consumed the floors and clawed up the walls. Small red spots, like spent candles drifted in pairs within the growing shade. The burning eyes of angry and vengeful dead had come, drawn by the dinner bell of a young and innocent Magician.

  Oh no you don’t!

  “Time’s up, ladies!”

  “What’s going on, Gene?” Rob said, his voice faltering.

  “Just getting a little crowded in here, and I need everyone to go back to where they came from.”

  “Please,” Cathy said, pleading with tears in her eyes. “Just let me say goodbye.”

  I gripped the dictionary tighter and willed a little more Magick into the connection. “Just a few seconds, then we have to hang up.”

  My daughter placed a hand on Justine’s face. “Sweetheart, he’s right. There’s more of them coming—too many. It wouldn’t be safe for you if I stayed. Please know that I love you, and will always love you. Words can’t change that.” She turned her attention to me. “There’s something terrifying here that wants a piece of you, Magician. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  The Old Dead…

  “I do.”

  “Good. Justine—”

  “Mom! Wait, I… Rob has asked me if…”

  “Oh sweetheart, yes, a hundred times yes. Marry that man, he’s one of the good ones.”

  The twisting shadows expanded, consuming the walls and reaching for Justine. The cabinet doors in her tiny kitchen flapped like paddle boards, and the overhead lights blared red, bathing the room in a bloody glow.

  Something old and powerful was coming.

  “Gene!” Rob shouted, closing the distance between him and his wife-to-be.

  “Time to go, ladies!”

  I let go of the dictionary, and in doing so tried to break our connection to Justine’s mother, except the book didn’t fall. It remained stuck fast to my fingers.

  Shit.

  “It’s coming!” Cathy cried, letting go of Justine and taking a few steps back. “Dad, there’s something coming—it’s too powerful. I’m cold… so cold. You have to make it stop, please!”

  “I’m trying,” I cried, slamming the book and my hand against the table. “I can’t let go of the book.”

  “Dad!” Cathy screamed, falling to one knee. “Help me, I can’t stop it!”

  “Put the necklace on!” I shouted, ramming the book against the table in a futile attempt to jar it free. “Put it on now!”

  Cathy dug into her pocket and retrieved the necklace. The thin gold chain bounced in her shaking hands. “It wants me. I can feel it. Dad, it’s so strong—”

  “Put it on, Cathy!”

  My daughter’s fingers didn’t budge. “I… can’t…”

  Even with my own hands still affixed to Webster’s Crossword Puzzle opus I lunged for my daughter, but as fast as I was, Justine was faster.

  The soon-to-be detective launched herself out of her chair and into my young Magician. With the powerful grace of a jungle cat, she pounced on Cathy and knocked her to the ground. Justine ripped the Logic Loop necklace out of Cathy’s hands and pulled it over my daughter’s neck.

  The shining gold charm sparkled against her skin, its intricate design vibrating in the lifting darkness.

  No, don’t do it.

  The Logic Loop popped off its chain, falling to the ground and melting away on Justine’s kitchen floor.

  Something had just destroyed my daughter’s only protection from the Magickal world, and it did it with the same effort I’d have used to pop a balloon.

  Crap.

  35

  Necro-what?

  We idled, waiting for the light to change. Neither of us had said much since we’d left Justine’s apartment. For my part I was all manner of conflicted. On the one hand, my daughter had a decent amount of Magickal talent, arguably far more than I’d had at her age, but she was also willing to take terrible risks—risks that could get her or the rest of us killed.

  “I can’t believe you took it off—again!”

  My daughter stared out the window and traced her finger along the glass. “I know… but her mom was there, right there in the room, and I couldn’t stand to think she’d have to leave without talking to her daughter.”

  “But what were you thinking? That was insanely dangerous.”

  My daughter turned to face me. “Thinking? I was thinking that’s what my dad would have done—insanely dangerous stuff for the people he loves.”

  My
phone chirped, and I reached for it, but Cathy grabbed it before I could. “No texting and driving—family rules.”

  There’s a Minor Demon in the back seat, you almost flooded Justine’s cramped kitchenette with a horde of evil, and you’re worried about me texting in the car?

  “The text is from Adam. He says ‘The theater’s got one employee. I’m sending you their address. Am I meeting you there, and are we dealing with a Necromancer?’”

  “What’s a Necromancer?” Cathy said, scrolling up through my past messages to Adam.

  The Imp jumped to attention in the back seat. “She wants to be a Necromancer? I’m an excellent teacher, you know. I’ve trained the best dead wranglers from here to the fiery pits of the Orgothi Wastes. Listen, if this beautiful woman needs some help learning how to raise herself an army of undead admirers you’ve come to the right place.”

  I did my best to ignore the Minor Demon in the back seat and focus on Cathy—and the road.

  “It’s a Magician who deals in semi-dead, mostly dead, and completely dead things. Frankly, exactly the sort of things you just did at Justine’s.”

  My phone chirped again. “Dad, why—”

  “Please, Catherine, I’m trying to explain something.”

  “But—”

  “People are going to tell you Necromancy is bad. It’s not. First, you need to get out of your head that Magick is inherently good or bad.”

  “Okay, Dad, but—”

  “Is a hammer good or bad?”

  “It depends, but wait there’s—”

  “Exactly,” I said, changing lanes. “A hammer is a tool. You can take that tool to a broken-down house and frame up some walls, but does that make it a good hammer?”

  “No,” my daughter said, her shoulders slumping.

  I nodded. “Right. You could also take that hammer and bash someone’s head in. Would that make it a bad hammer?”

  “That would make it a murder weapon.”

  “Don’t be cheeky, honey. Do you understand?”