Dead Set Page 22

  This plan isn’t working.

  I pushed back against Claudia, but the New Dead was too strong. Her body clung to mine, and she kept the punches coming—even though she was old, the New Dead was more than making up for it with unholy rage. I wasn’t going to hold up long under this sort of punishment, but I couldn’t hurt Claudia.

  I need to change the venue.

  “I’m not letting you get my wife,” I said, only half defending against the spinning blows. “Not again.”

  As expected, the monster came in harder, slamming fists and yanking me close. “You will, and you’ll love it.”

  I needed a fair fight, and I wasn’t going to get that out here in the real world.

  We Magicians have a few innate defenses when it comes to New Dead, the chief of which being we are typically a lot more difficult to possess. The reasons for this aren’t exactly understood, or well-studied, but I believe it comes from a sort of base conditioning you have as a practitioner of the Magickal Arts. So, what better thing to do than willingly drop those protections and draw the New Dead inside.

  Now this is more my jam—reckless seat-of-the-pants style combat with the forces of evil.

  Sensing his opportunity, the New Dead left Claudia Wilson and dove head first into me.

  Welcome to my jungle.

  I’d let the New Dead inside me with the express intent to use whatever I had available to me to defeat him from the inside, and my subconscious had selected… my office.

  What, did it expect me to staple him to death? Put him in an HR report?

  Standing in front of me, the New Dead’s spirit was far bigger than I’d expected. In fact he made Rob’s muscle-men look small by comparison. His ghostly form loomed in the frame of my office door, barely squeezing between the imaginary jamb.

  “That was a stupid move, Magician.”

  I believe the exact term is ‘brain-dead stupid move,’ thank you very much.

  The New Dead stepped into my office, his wide hands flexing. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, there’s some power here, I can smell it. I’m going to enjoy destroying your life.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve already beat you to that.”

  My old desk was the only piece of furniture between me and an unhealthy mental beatdown, and it didn’t last long. The New Dead grabbed the wooden edge and yanked it aside, knocking its imaginary contents across the floor. Pens, papers, files, and a half-eaten package of the saltiest crackers I’d ever tasted skidded across the cheap carpet.

  Salt crackers!

  I grabbed the seat back of my green chair and swung the broken duct-taped mess at the spirit—in my mind I’m a damn good bit stronger than in real life, and I have lots of great wrestling moves.

  Butt-spring beatdown!

  The spinning legs of the world’s worst chair smashed into the New Dead’s face, shredding his burnt skin and sending a splatter of black ichor across the wall. As easily as it would snap a dry twig, the monstrous spirit grabbed the chair by its wheeled base and ripped it out of my hands, then sent it crashing into the wall.

  I really hate that chair.

  The New Dead lunged at me with his catchers-mitt-sized hands aimed for my neck. I pushed off the back wall and dove for the half-eaten package of salty peanut butter crackers. I got a hand on the plastic package, but not before the New Dead had his own crushing grip on my leg.

  He pulled me back across the floor like a cat playing with its meal.

  “You should never have let me in here, Magician. Now I’m going to make it mine.”

  Bold words, but not entirely accurate. This was my imagination, my mind, and therefore it ran on my rules. These weren’t just the saltiest crackers I’d ever tasted, these were the best exorcism crackers ever created—my mind, my rules.

  I crushed the flimsy plastic in my hands, letting the pulverized bits of salty goodness accumulate in what remained of the sleeve.

  The New Dead flipped me over like an overcooked pancake and pulled me toward him. “This ends now,” he said, his burned and blackened face leering.

  I unloaded the sleeve of salt-coated delight into that mug and covered him with the burning goodness of ‘Eugene Law’s Finest Exorcism Crackers—now with extra salt.’

  “Agh!”

  The spirit tried to cover his eyes, but I didn’t give it the chance. I plunged my thumbs into those soulless sockets and pushed the salt in deeper.

  “No trips back to Hell this time!” I shouted, my fingers deep within the inky blackness of his head.

  It’s cracker time!

  “Oblivio!”

  48

  Big Guns

  Claudia Wilson didn’t look so good, but after what she’d been through the poor woman should have looked a lot worse. I placed a hand under her nose and confirmed she was breathing, then gently laid her in the trunk of the car next to the box of Old Dead.

  I shoved those dusty bones in my duffle—when you get right down to it, shoving dirty old bones into a bag really puts your life into perspective. It’s one of those ‘what am I doing with my life?’ sort of moments where you inevitably end up with a mixed bag of emotions—and bones.

  With the duffel loaded I took one last look at the New Dead battle still raging in the parking lot.

  This is on you, Magician.

  I pulled on the door and let the cool air ruffle my shirt.

  Yeah, this might be my fault, but I’m sure as shit going to end it.

  The lobby of the Brighton 8 wasn’t much different than I remembered it. The furniture was still wrapped in plastic, at least the pieces I could see. Someone had left the lights off, leaving me with only the dim beams breaking through the tinted glass doors to guide my way.

  “Porter?” I asked, half hoping to hear my wife’s voice complaining about me following her, or mucking up her perfectly good ‘crazy-woman’ plan.

  Nothing.

  I hefted the bag of bones on my shoulder and felt around the walls for a light switch.

  You got this far without a real plan—impressive. What did Justine say? Going off half-cocked. Yeah, that sounds about right.

  My fingers traced the outline of a switch.

  Aha!

  Click.

  The entry lobby remained dark.

  Damn it, too busy raising the dead to get the stinking power turned on? Come on, Morgan, get your shit together.

  Using what little light there was I found the couch and ran my fingers along it. I figured I could trace a path along the furniture and find my way toward the concession area. If I remembered correctly, Claudia’s office wasn’t too far away.

  My fingers rolled along the smooth contours of the couch, dipping down the cushions and then back up again. That was until they traced something else entirely—something smooth, soft, and altogether feminine.

  “Porter?”

  “Oh no, sexy—far better.”

  Lucina!

  Strong yet supple fingers grabbed my wrists and yanked me into the crushing darkness of weaponized sexuality—my world went black.

  Dim red light filtered through half-open blinds and played across the wall in alternating bars. I stretched and let my hand slide over to the other side of the bed—still warm.

  Where is she?

  I slid her pillow toward me and buried my nose in the luxurious aroma. The mixture of roses and something more, something I couldn’t put my finger on, only served to excite my lesser half further.

  “Hey there, sexy,” Lucina said, her voice drawing me to the outline of that curvaceous body back-lit by a flickering candle. “You like?”

  What wasn’t to like? Her all-but-transparent white lace left little to the imagination. The ripe fullness of her chest pressed against that gossamer fabric and drew me to them like a thirsty man in the desert. Smiling, she slid one finger down the center of her alluring top and pulled it aside to reveal a tantalizing seam of silvery-white in the flicking candle light. I pushed myself up in the bed, but found my legs didn’t want t
o move.

  “Oh, don’t get up on my account,” Lucina said, placing a knee on the bed and leaning forward, her chest scant millimeters from breaking what little containment the soft fabric offered. “Besides,” she murmured, running a soft hand up my leg, “it would appear the most important part is already up and ready to go.”

  I was lost in her green eyes, somehow able to see them between the candle and the bright red bars covering the back wall. It was a small apartment—one of those efficiencies—but that hadn’t stopped us from using every part of it. I was still hazy on the details, but I was sure we’d been together for next to forever—the sex was too amazing not to be.

  Lucina crawled up onto the bed and let the ends of her plunging top graze my hips. I tried to reach for her, but I found my arm restrained. I was tied to the bed post with what looked like a white strip of silk.

  Odd, I wasn’t tied up a second ago…

  “Did you forget? You promised me we could try something a bit more… exotic,” the green-eyed vixen said with a subtle bite to her words.

  That sounds like something I’d say—I’d say anything for more of her.

  “I…”

  “Shh.” Lucina straddled me with her hips—warm and sensual hips that pressed against mine so perfectly. She leaned forward and let her breasts brush across my face. Still covered in the barest hint of fabric, they tickled my cheeks.

  “Now,” she said, leaning in to place her lips just above mine. “Kiss me.”

  I opened my mouth and let my eyes close, the soft whisper of her breath teasing my lips.

  “Get your demon hands off my dad!”

  Cathy! My daughter? I have a daughter!

  49

  Tiny Twisting

  Catherine Law—my daughter.

  It took a few seconds for that thought to pierce the gossamer veil of Lucina’s sexpot enchantment, but by then her Half-Succubus lips had touched mine. The soft flesh lips dragged me down like a boat anchor, pulling me deeper into an abyss of ecstasy and oblivion. The Succubi fed on lust, and Morgan’s daughter had found a way to tap into a rich vein of desire hidden in the recesses of my soul.

  “Dad!” Catherine shouted.

  Part of me wanted to swim to her, to fight back against the waves of unrelenting pleasure, but another part of me just wanted to let go. The tide was strong, and all I had to do was give in, then drift away to annihilation on the lips of Lucina.

  I slammed into the wood floor, the bag of bones landing next to me, and blinked my eyes in the dim light. I was back in the lobby, with a ring-side seat to one hell of a cat fight.

  Lucina, no longer draped in sexual prowess, but still dressed to kill in a flowing black gown—fought back against someone with more than a little grappling talent—my daughter.

  Cathy’s body wasn’t solid; instead it was some spiritual manifestation of my tiny twister. She had her hands wrapped around Lucina from behind, and was pulling and yanking at something.

  Rip!

  The Half-Succubus’s soul pulled free from her body sending the sexy young woman collapsing to the ground next to me, while a demonic and grotesque version of her forced my daughter’s back against the couch—and then through it.

  “Cathy!”

  The two women appeared on the other side. My translucent daughter was outfitted stem to stern in her favorite jiu-jitsu gi. With her ghostly hair pulled back, Cathy had come to fight. Lucina’s Succubus half was a black and twisted thing, with long snake-like hair and spindly arms. Her naked breasts hung low and flapped against her body like cheap saddle bags. Using long claws, she slashed at my daughter’s gut. The gash didn’t draw blood—Cathy was pure spirit, after all—but it did slice into her and leave glowing white tears.

  My daughter caught Lucina’s claws and yanked her forward, twisting the demon-girl’s rubbery body and latching onto her back. That was when I saw it, the glowing silver string that seemed to stretch on to eternity behind Cathy. Somehow, my daughter had figured out how to project her spirit from her body; Ariadne’s Thread was the only link between the two halves of Catherine Law now. Cut that cord, and Cathy wouldn’t be able to make it home—home, where her body lay in a near coma right this instant. This was some seriously dangerous and damn advanced Magick.

  My seal and the safe… she’d gone past the beginner book—way the hell past.

  Cathy had clamped down on the Demon’s back and tucked her ankle under her opposite knee—a jiu-jitsu trick that made my little grappler nigh impossible to dislodge. Sadly, that move only worked when your opponent didn’t have hidden wings.

  Lucina’s demon-soul flared out long bat-like wings, knocking Cathy backwards and forcing her to unhook her feet. The monster swung around and clamped its claws down on Cathy’s cord.

  “Oh no you don’t!” I shouted, grabbing the bag of bones and hurling it at Lucina’s dark-half like a hammer.

  Crack.

  The Old Dead’s remains rammed into the demon-girl and crushed one of her wings against the hard floor. My daughter wasted no time and immediately mounted the rubbery black Demon and rained down a hailstorm of wild punches. Darkness spilled out of Lucina, but still my tiny twister poured it on.

  “This is for my brother,” she cried, her fist cracking the demon-girl’s already crooked nose.

  Lucina swung her claws wildly trying to fight off the ferocious Magician-in-training, but all this did was open her up for one of my daughter’s favorite submissions.

  Cathy caught the beast’s arm and clutched it to her chest, then in a graceful and nigh-artistic fashion she swung her body around it like a fire pole. My daughter’s back hit the wood with Lucina’s arm bent between her legs. Cathy’s knees flexed and her ankles squeezed against the Demon’s head.

  Arm bar. Finish it, sweetheart.

  Cathy threw her hips forward and the spindly black arm snapped with a gut-churning wet crack.

  Lucina screamed, a violent and terrible shriek that made me clutch at my head.

  Cathy raised one of her legs and drove her heel hard into the Demon’s face, ending the shriek with a single blow.

  The black and bulbous body faded away beneath my tiny twister, along with the human form that lay unmoving on the floor.

  “Dad… are you okay?” Cathy asked, trying to catch her breath.

  “What part of don’t leave the house didn’t you understand?”

  My daughter got to her bare feet and brushed back a few translucent hairs. “I haven’t left the house. I’m still sitting in the Seal of Ariadne.”

  “Catherine Jude Law, you know exactly what I mean. You went in my safe—damn it, Cathy, that’s dangerous Magick, and nigh insane at your skill level.”

  Cathy beamed. “Admit it. I did it. I found a way to help—”

  “No, you found a way to put yourself in even more danger,” I said, pointing at the silvery thread that faded into the darkness behind her. “Even now you’re like a magnet to all the dark and evil things that dwell just beyond the veil. What happens if they cut that cord? What happens if you get lost in between?”

  My daughter opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.

  “Exactly. You didn’t even think of that, did you?”

  Of course she didn’t, she’s just like you and Porter—the Pixie dander doesn’t fall far from the Magician.

  “What should I do?” Cathy asked, crossing her arms and trying to look tough, but her face was now acutely aware of the dangerous situation she’d put herself in. I took a step toward her, but found my knees barely functional. I wobbled a bit and leaned against the couch. Lucina’s kiss had drained my strength.

  Had it drained my Magick too?

  “Give me a second, I’ll think of something. First, we’ve got to find your mom—”

  Morgan’s deep, velvety voice shattered my focus. “She’s right here. Let me turn on a light…”

  50

  Dem Bones

  Light flooded the room, forcing me to cover my eyes. Always one for th
e dramatics, my ex-girlfriend had the Old Dead’s skull once again solidly in her fingers.

  “Where’s Porter?” I shouted, pushing myself up from the couch and limping toward the counter.

  Morgan tucked the skull under her arm. “I see you ran into Lucina. I made sure to tell her what you liked. I’ll admit I find it hard to believe you found a way to turn that down—I thought I knew you too well.”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Oh no, my daughter is lost forever.” Morgan placed the back of her palm against her head. “Holy Hell, Gene. You really think it’s that easy to fight off a Half-Succubus as powerful as Lucina? No, she’s not gone—temporarily reforming in some lower Hell, sure. But gone? Hardly.”

  Morgan hadn’t brought up Cathy once. Either she couldn’t see her, or my daughter had found a way to hide herself; I didn’t know whether to be proud, or even more terrified, but either way I dared not look for her.

  “Where’s my wife and son?”

  “Why so direct, Gene?” Morgan asked, taking a step away from the counter. “You used to be so much more mysterious—married life really has blunted your sharp edges, hasn’t it. I miss the old Law; he was darker, and a hell of a lot more fun.” She pushed open the steel casket that was part of the display for Demon High. “Come on up, you two, time to join the party.”

  Porter sat up from inside the coffin with Kris clutched tight to her chest, and her gun pressed against his head.

  My heart stopped and bile flooded the back of my throat. My wife’s eyes were bright red and her face was awash in tears. For his part Kris, simply appeared too tired to follow much of what was going on. This far past his bed time I hoped I was right.

  “Gene…” a shaky Porter said, her finger on the trigger. “I… can’t… stop.”

  “Right, right... `I can’t stop.’ Could you at least try to do this with a little more passion? Honestly, Gene, what did you see in this woman? Flat chest, flat hair, no personality, and worst of all, no Magick—I just don’t get it.”