Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between (4 page)

The way he said it… like we were part of a little club—Jesus. He was getting off on this shit. Scratch what I said about vampires being creepy.
Ethan McDaniel
was fucking creepy.

“We are alike, but I’m limited,” he continued. “I can’t see past the second threshold of death—most of us can’t. It takes the natural talent of necromancy. Mine has been developed through years of practice, research and dedication.”

Well, well, well. Tickle my Elmo ass silly. I was sitting across from a person who enjoyed talking to dead people, and if they wouldn’t talk, then by God, he’d just wake their corpses up instead. Next to him was a moody, chain-smoking vampire who just might be bipolar and smoked like a corncob pipe.

“Listen,” I sighed and reached for my plastic bottle. “I want to get this shit over and done. Can we strive to obtain that goal? I have a meaningless existence, and I can’t put that kind of action on hold indefinitely.”

“You should quit your job.” Goose studied me with his big brown eyes. “It’s having a perverse effect on you, being surrounded by all that negativity.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil, for that fine psychological assessment,” I snapped and motioned with my chin to Disco. “Why don’t you and Oprah here go take a long walk off a short plank and do the world a favor?”

His face flamed and he looked away. Bingo, mission accomplished. Disco could care less. He just stared at me, shaking his head. Cash had probably warned him about my mouth, which begged the next question.

“Where’s Cash anyway?”

Disco had a cigarette in his hand, moving so fast I didn’t see him pull it from the pack. He lit it and took a deep drag. I felt compelled to tell him second hand smoke kills, but he spoke before I could impart my health care advisory.

“Cash vanished the last night he came to see you.”

Okay, that wasn’t good. Cash, for all his flaws, had grown on me in that week he pestered me. “I liked Cash,” I said softly and Disco’s head snapped up.

He read the truth in my words, and his face changed, becoming almost sad. “Everyone liked Cash, which makes this all the more difficult to understand. We run in our own groups, and sometimes we don’t get along or see eye to eye, but there wasn’t one single person who wasn’t taken with him. No vampire would hurt Cash, but only a vampire, or something as powerful as one, could get close enough to him to cause any harm.”

“Then what could hurt him? What kind of things can kill a vampire?” I was concerned for Cash and beginning to worry for myself.

Disco’s eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a harsh line. “That’s what we’re going to find out, and once we do, we’ll take care of it. Everyone is rattled by these recent occurrences. Vampires are vanishing at a rate of one or two every other week, and it’s been ongoing for weeks.”

“And you.” I nodded at Goose. “What have you seen?”

“I’ve tried to see whatever is available, but I can’t see the twice deceased. Perhaps if I visited their place of death, I could. But as it stands, they don’t appear to me.” His voice betrayed his frustration, and his face mirrored the sentiment.

We were dealing with something powerful enough to overcome vampires. The knowledge freaked my ass out. Anything that could kill a vamp would rip me a new one.

I peered at Disco through my lashes.

He could rip me a new one, too. It was the lesser of two evils. While I didn’t trust Disco, I knew I had something he wanted. As long as I delivered, I could return to my blissfully peaceful and mundane life of bartending.

“Where do you want me to go and what do you want me to do?”

“You’ll visit the last locations they were seen, as well as the places they normally frequented. You saw Jacob at Shooter’s, so I know you can see them,” Disco said.

“Jacob?”

“The man you so kindly told to get away from the pocket at Shooter’s. You described him the night we spoke—twenties, long hair…” Disco watched me, allowing the words to soak in. I could see the undead-dead. Those who bit the permanent gravy train just like the rest of us saps.

“When do I start? I wanted to finish this yesterday.” I spoke while I still had my nerve. That steel backbone of mine had turned into a pliable swizzle stick.

“When are you available?”

“Depends.” I thought about it for a moment. “I’m on at the BP four nights a week, sometimes more. Day’s are better for me, but I know you shrivel and burn in the sun.”

His lips turned upward mockingly. “That’s why Ethan will be accompanying you. He’s a professional. Pay attention and you could learn a few things.”

“Goose is a professional, huh?”

“My name isn’t Goose,” Ethan corrected me. “And I have free time tomorrow.”

“Your name is Goose now, like it or not. And tomorrow is fine. I can meet you after I hit the gym.” That would work out nicely. I could get my burn on and then get this shit over and done with ASAP.

Goose ignored my ribbing, reached into his pocket, and produced a little metal box. He flipped the lid and produced a card, which he tossed on the table. “There’s my number. Call me when you’re ready.”

I spun the card on the table with my fingers.

Ethan McDaniel, Paranormal Investigator.

Wow. The guy actually made a living from this crap.

The atmosphere in the club charged, and I frowned, turning my head in the direction of the dance floor.

Good God
.

During the course of our conversation, the ratio of alive to undead had changed. For every human in the joint, there were two vampires. Even Miami wasn’t this bad.

“What kind of club is this?” I asked suspiciously, the truth revealing itself like an unwelcome surprise.

“A club that caters to my kind. Didn’t you know?” The smug smile on Disco’s face pissed me off.

“She
is
green,” Goose said, sounding both shocked and slightly haughty.

“Sad, isn’t it?” Disco spoke to him but looked at me, “If she put half as much effort into honing her craft as she does into expanding her sailor’s vocabulary, she could have potential.”

I blew them off and stared at the blood guzzlers in the room. Each orifice of the dance floor was crammed as they romanced their dinners.

My eyes squinted in concentration as I peered into the dark nooks and crannies. Outlines of people lingered in the shadows, bodies melded together. I had a good idea of what was happening, green or not.

“Ugh!” I cringed and averted my eyes. How people ever functioned under the notion vampires were sexy was beyond my comprehension. You were making out with a corpse, formaldehyde not included.

Disco regarded me intently, as if offended by my reaction. Then his face became a blank slate—nothing there but an empty stare that bore me back into the seat.

“Do you hate us so much?”

“It’s not personal,” I explained. There was no reason to be an absolute bitch. “I just tend to steer clear of things that give me the creeps.”

“Don’t you mean things that frighten you?”

I didn’t bother trying to deny it. He would know if I was lying, and besides, it would explain my reaction. “That too.”

Canal Street is one hell of a place to discover the real New York. It’s not bright lights, big city. It’s gritty, raw, and crowded. The buildings and streets are dirty. There is garbage scattered along the way, and the rats live lavishly through the waste.

Since Goose was the professional, I decided to grill him with some choice questions, and once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop. He appeared to enjoy my interest, answering readily, and I discovered several things.

Not all people will become spirits. Most of them just take off to that special place we all go when we die. However, for some, the tie to the mortal world is still strongly connected and they continue to exist. These poor souls usually venture along the same paths they took during their life, only veering off course if they sense a necromancer in the vicinity.

That’s where we came in.

Ghosts want to communicate. They want to get that final word out to a loved one, or seek vindication for their untimely death. Afterward, they’ll fade to the other side.

We discussed the ‘yuck’ factor, which essentially are the super gooey and bloody ghosts who made me skip all my daily meals. They are perfectly intact, their forms seemingly solid at first glance. The first time I saw one, I scared the shit out of everyone around me by screaming like a pansy and hauling ass in the opposite direction. Thank God, I was only fifteen at the time, and the witnesses to my humiliation reside in Miami.

“The fresher the death, the fresher the spirit,” Goose explained, smiling at my harrowing tale. “Most spirits begin to fade over time. The hazier they are, the older.”

“I remember a hellacious car accident when I was in high school. Two cars collided head on, and it killed everyone involved. The traffic was backed up for a mile solid. When I finally passed the wreckage, I could see all of them, standing around the police at the scene. If it weren’t for the blood, head traumas and broken bodies, I would have sworn they’d all survived.”

Goose nodded. “Very common. Sudden deaths, as you’ve described, leave the soul in flux. Most will pass over within a matter of hours, accepting their time here has passed.”

“But not all?”

“Not all, no. Some people have strong emotional ties to this world. The ghosts I’m generally retained to contact are those who refuse to cross over and leave behind their husband, wife, or children.”

“I haven’t seen a child yet,” I admitted with relief. “I don’t want to either.”

“Children are tough.” He scooted toward me to avoid a vendor’s booth. “I’ve only dealt with a handful of cases myself, and each of them involved…not so pleasant circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” I jumped aside as someone came barreling out of a door with a huge cardboard box.

“Abuse, murder, molestation. I only involve myself if the police are close to apprehending someone. The smallest of things can land a conviction. Children, above all others, deserve vindication.”

I absent mindedly touched my stomach, tracing my fingers along the line of my yoga pants, knowing all too well how children deserved their vengeance.

“Rhiannon?”

Goose’s voice snapped me out of it, and I let my hand drift to my side.

“Are you all right?” His face was full of concern, brows drawn together. “You went blank for a minute.”

“I’m fine,” I answered, relieved my voice was steady. “What are we doing here anyway?”

“We’re looking for Baxter Lomen. He vanished after Jacob. Disco said he wanted to buy a few trinkets for his”—he paused, searching for the right term—”female friends. Since this was his favorite place to shop, and we don’t know if he visited a jewelry store or an outside vendor, we’ll need to comb the area.”

“Why do you think he’d linger around China Town?”

“This was his little neck of the woods and his favorite place to be. He had a thing for Asian women, too, if that tells you anything. All ghosts return to their favorite places. It’s ingrained in their psyche.”

We rounded the corner in front of Beny’s Jewelry and I stopped. Goose kept walking, unaware that I saw something. A few steps ahead, and he whipped around, confusion changing to excitement. But I wasn’t paying attention to Goose, eyes drawn to someone else.

He stared at me just as I stared at him. His thick hair was dark, his skin barely transparent, and his eyes were the most amazing shade of green I had ever seen. He approached me, and unlike all the times before when I’d walk away, or turn in the other direction, I allowed him to.

“What do you see?” Goose asked anxiously.

“Gorgeous guy, in his thirties maybe, with dark hair and the most vivid green eyes.” My words were hoarse, my voice detached.

“Green eyes, that’s him!” Goose took my hand. The contact made me jump, but I didn’t break it. A strange undercurrent passed between us, a tiny vibration. He was silent a few seconds, then squeezed my fingers in a crushing grip. “My God, you can see them.”

I tore my gaze away from Baxter to stare at Goose. His eyes were wide in awe and wonderment.

“How do you see him now when you couldn’t before?”

“Your necromancy. You’re sharing it with me through physical contact.”

My attention returned to Baxter. His long white sleeves were covered in blood, as was his chest, which had been opened wide. The shirt dangled in ripped shreds around his torn flesh. His sternum was cracked, several ribs broken or missing, and his heart was gone, leaving nothing behind but empty red casing.

I swallowed back the bile rising to my throat.

“They took the heart.” Goose sounded repulsed.

“Look at his wrists.” I cringed, fighting nausea. The skin was ragged and raw. I could see white flashes of bone. “He was bound somehow. What kind of object can hold a vampire?”

“Holy ones,” he answered, equally horrified. “Anything blessed, especially silver, can keep them restrained. Once it’s on, they’re powerless.”

Baxter’s arm extended. The ripped skin splayed out as his hand rose palm up into the air.

“Touch him,” Goose instructed, giving me a shove but keeping contact with my right hand.

“Are you fucking insane?” I yelled in disbelief, yanking my hand free and turning on him.

“My attempts to establish contact through other mediums haven’t worked, and I don’t have the ability to communicate with him through physical contact. But you do, so touch him!” Goose explained anxiously. “Hurry up!”

“Oh man,” I whined. This was not what I wanted to do today. His face might be gorgeous, but his body was minced. Baxter was waiting, palm raised. I did the spider dance, extending my hand but pulling it back before we made solid contact.

This shit was beyond disgusting.

I held my breath and went for it, fingers sliding past until our palms touched. My hand molded into his as if he were a solid object. The skin was smooth, fingers long. I looked into his face, and garbled images flashed in my head.

A dark room, the hard concrete floor stained with blood, silver chains and knives, arms bound, cutting skin, breaking bone, unbearable pain, and then nothing. The images shifted. A bedroom painted lilac, white lace curtains, twin beds. Scratchy music from the record player as it skipped over one section and drowned out the muffled begging coming from the next room that turned to tear filled cries…

Yanking my hand free, I started to tremble—mind blank, thoughts incoherent— caught in something worse than my temper could ever be. I was suffocating in blind terror, unable to breathe. I bent at the waist, gagging and dry heaving. Something touched my shoulder, and I reacted defensively, grabbing the hand and twisting at the wrist. I maneuvered the arm around and up, forcing weight into the shoulder joint, pressing down.

“Rhiannon,” Goose screamed in pain. “Calm down! It’s okay!”

At first, I didn’t hear. My blood was pounding too loudly, chest heaving with adrenaline and fear. Slowly, my ears adjusted, and I could perceive muted whispers. People were watching cautiously, afraid to intervene but too terrified to look away. Goose lay at my feet, his wrist and hand trapped in mine, forcing him to the ground.

I let go and stepped back, folding my arms to mask my trembling. I struggled to pull my shit together, taking measured breaths. Goose rose on unsteady feet, his white shirt stained black from the dirty pavement. His usually tidy hair was uneven and messy around his temples.

“What happened?” he asked calmly, hands lifted harmlessly in the air.

A few witnesses stood around while I collected myself, and realizing the show was over, moved along. I glanced at Baxter. He stood waiting. For what, I had no idea.

After a tense minute, I cleared my throat. My voice came out shaken. “He was alive when they took his heart. He was—fuck, you know what I mean!”

Goose’s eyes widened in alarm. I’ve been around enough people to know spooked when I see it, and he was spooked as hell.

“What?” I barked. I didn’t go through those memories to be left hanging.

“This has black magic written all over it.” He peered at me as he started pacing erratically. “This is not good, not good at all. Harvesting organs while the victim is alive is reminiscent of voodoo magic.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. Granted, what I’m about to say is very naïve, but voodoo magic? You can’t be serious.”

“How do you think we raise the dead? Do you think that just happens naturally? There’s a structured ritual to follow, and that includes magic. Necromancy is just one of the requirements. Voodoo works the same. There are catalysts to bring forth the magic, but the ritual and powers are still required to make it work.”

“So someone is killing vampires off for their organs? Who would be that stupid?” I was as edgy as hell. The concept of capturing vampires to collect hearts made me sick.

Someone who would willingly go against a force that powerful wouldn’t care if they lived or died.

“We need to go to my office. I need to do some digging and research.” Goose was deep in thought, fingers on his chin rubbing the skin as he contemplated where to start.

“Oh no.” I lifted my hands, stepped back, and shook my head. “I did what I promised. I’m taking my sorry ass home.”

I ran off the sidewalk and across the street. I didn’t stop when Goose asked me to reconsider, and I didn’t look back when he called my name. The constant thuds of my footsteps were the only sounds I cared about as I hauled ass to the L train and went home.