Romancing The Dead (10 page)

I opened my mouth to protest that I couldn’t just leave the store.

“I’ve got it covered.” William said. “Marlena is coming in.”

I gave up and let them take me into the ambulance past the crowd of gawkers.

Several hours later, I was sitting on a paper-covered metal table listening to my doctor tell me how lucky I was. Apparently, a few more millimeters and the wire would have cut my jugular or some other major artery. He prescribed something for the pain and made a lot of weak jokes about hazard pay for occult bookstore managers.

After thanking him for his time, I wandered out into the lobby, feeling conspicuous with the large, white, slick bandages around my throat. I sighed. I was going to have to walk home, unless I could dig up enough spare change in the bottom of my purse for a bus ride. I’d found a tampon, two pens that had exploded, and forty-three cents when I heard someone call my name. I looked up to see William coming toward me. He gave a little see-ya-later boy wave to the Latino paramedic, who, I noticed, watched William walk away with a wistful expression.

“I thought you might need a lift home,” William said, coming up to stand next to me.

“He likes you,” I said with a smile at the paramedic, who chose that moment to duck out the door.

“Who?” William said, turning around in time to catch sight of the door swinging shut. “Jorge?” I nodded, and William blushed. “Oh, yeah, I kind of figured.”

Though I was deeply curious what William thought of Jorge’s attention, another, more urgent thought came to me. “Who’s minding the store?”

“Marlena,” William said, obviously relieved I’d changed the subject. “It was dead and she’s closed a bunch of times.” Apparently, I looked a little distrustful of William’s faith in her abilities because he added, “We could always swing by and make sure everything is cool.”

I started to nod, but the movement pulled the muscles on my throat. I touched the bandages at my neck. Underneath the cool cloth, my skin felt scorched.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go home?” William asked.

I sighed. As little as I’d been to work this week, my pay-check would be anemic. “I should go in. Double-check those wind-chime hooks. I can’t believe one of them broke off like that.”

“It didn’t,” William said. William and I pushed through the doors Jorge had disappeared through. They opened to sunlight so bright it made me squint.

“What do you mean?” I shielded my eyes to glance at William’s face. He led me along the sidewalk past a huddle of smokers in brightly patterned scrubs.

“I checked the hooks after you left. The ceiling too. I mean, it was weird how that wind chime just fell on you like that, and I got worried, you know, that there might be water damage or something that made the ceiling weak?”

I nodded. That very thought had occurred to me as well.

“Anyway, the ceiling’s solid. I have no idea how that wind chime could have come loose. The wire must have snapped somehow, but there weren’t any pieces of it left on the hook.”

“You couldn’t tell by looking at it?”

William snorted. “Looking at what? The whole thing’s melted.” I must have seemed a little confused because he started at the beginning. “It was like this, Garnet. One minute that lady and I were trying to get the chime off you and then
ka-blooey
! It bursts into a million pieces. The lady goes to check for the ambulance, and then you look at me with these freaky cherry -red eyes, smile all scary-like, and then pass out. Red eyes, Garnet. Demon eyes. Not cool.”

Lilith. I was surprised to hear that she didn’t cause more damage or destruction before going back under. She had a tendency to overdo any “rescue” attempts.

“The even wackier part?” William continued. “The wire? It, like, goes all molten, but when it blows—not one drop of hot metal hits me or the lady. Not a drop.”

“I guess you finally met Lilith in person,” I said. My voice sounded strained and scratched, like the morning after a rock concert. “I think she likes you too.”

“Like Jorge?”

“Well, she didn’t hurt you. That’s kind of amazing.”

William, who had opened his mouth to say something else, stopped and gaped. For several moments, William said nothing coherent. Out of his mouth came strings of “uh,” and “oh,” and “um.” I guess it made William a little nervous to have gotten Lilith’s attention in that way.

The street was filled with rush-hour traffic and the air smelled of hot exhaust. Heat pressed down onto the concrete and asphalt. The straggly ginkgo trees that lined the boulevard offered little relief.

We’d walked two blocks when William stopped in front of a royal-blue Prius hybrid. A parking ticket was tucked neatly under one windshield wiper. “Nuts,” he muttered. Pulling the red-striped envelope out, he slipped it absently into his pocket. He beeped the car doors open. William lifted a pile of library books from the passenger-side seat and stowed them in the back. I carefully settled in. A lime-green, big-eyed alien toy swung from a chain looped around the rearview mirror. William deliberately went through the motions of fastening his seat belt, adjusting the mirror, and putting the key in the ignition. I always forgot how careful a driver William was until I got in a car with him. Every motion was separate and conscious, as though he were doing it for the first time or for the licensing test.

After buckling myself in, I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the headrest. William was quiet, clearly still mulling over his encounter with Lilith. He was in what I liked to call his “percolating” stage. There would be lots of thoughtful silence, then pop!

He’d ask a question or make a comment. Then, we’d be back to quiet until another something bubbled to the surface. I let the heat soak into my skin and listened to the quiet hum of the car’s engine. We’d pulled out into traffic before he said, “She’s kind of scary.”

Opening my eyes a crack, I said, “You mean Lilith? Yeah, a little bit.”

“No, actually, a lot.”

“What were you expecting?” I asked sincerely. I’d talked to William many times in the past about Lilith. He knew about what She did to the Vatican agents and how horrified I felt about it. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise to him that She was anything but the Queen of Darkness.

“I don’t know,” he said. He paused to signal, check over his shoulder, and execute a textbook -perfect lane change. “I guess I thought she’d be more like a Goddess. Remote. Aloof.”

“What makes you think any Goddess is like that? The earliest Goddess sculptures are of pregnant women and are small enough to be carried close, held in your hand—very personal. The Goddess watched over the times when women were most vulnerable, most connected to their humanity—when they started to bleed, when they gave birth—very visceral, messy moments.”

William blinked at me. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you wax so poetical over the Goddess, Garnet.”

I started to shrug, but my neck twinged. “You pressed a hot button, I guess. ‘Aloof’ just sounded like what people expect the Christian God to be,” I said.

“Yeah, I suppose.” William mulled this over as pulled into a parking spot a block from Mercury Crossing. “I still think Lilith is creepy.”

“She is,” I agreed. “Totally.”

He walked with me back to the store not saying anything more. When we entered the store, Marlena looked up guiltily from a magazine. Marlena Ito was a slight, short, half-Asian woman with curly brown hair and green eyes. Her eyes widened when she noticed my bandages. “Oh, Garnet,” she said. “You look horrible!”

Just what a girl wants to hear.

The rest of the day passed with the usual sales of books, incense, and jewelry. As we were counting out the till for the nightly deposit, William said, “Oh, hey, don’t forget. Coven meeting at my place tonight.”

I had forgotten. With Sebastian missing, Mátyás showing up out of the blue, and nearly getting strangled to death today, I was completely unprepared. All I really wanted to do was go home and have a nice hot soak in the tub and find an “I’m fine, sorry to scare you” message from Sebastian on my machine. I didn’t really want to go to William’s, but this was supposed to be my group. Mine and Sebastian’s. Besides, someone there might know where Sebastian might be.

“I’ll be there,” I said. If I hurried, I could still get in a quick bath.

The bike trip home nearly killed me. I probably should have begged a ride from William because every bit of uneven pavement reminded me not only about the injury on my neck but also all the bruises I got falling off my bicycle earlier. By the time I got home, I felt battered. Sweat stung my neck and the scrapes on my palms. Gritty and exhausted, I hauled my bicycle into the hallway. Climbing my stairs was like ascending Mount Everest.

There was nothing on my machine from Sebastian and Barney mewed at my heels for her kibbles. After I shook out a bowlful from the box, I called Sebastian’s cell and told him that I was seriously getting upset and he needed to call me as soon as he got this message.

The apartment was too quiet. I started the bathwater running and then turned on the radio for company, only to discover it still tuned to KCOW, Sebastian’s favorite country and western station. I thought about changing the channel, but they played “Bubba Shot the Jukebox.” It was a silly song Sebastian had taught me to appreciate and I found myself singing along, imagining he was here harmonizing.

When the bath was filled, I switched the station to Wisconsin Public Radio and let the calm voices soothe my jangled nerves. In the bathroom, I carefully peeled off the bandages. Marlena was right. I looked terrible. There was a puffy, red welt slathered in greasy ointment across my throat that looked even more painful than it felt. Tentatively, I poked at it, and my stupidity was rewarded with a tear-inducing jolt of pain. Going back out to the living room, I dug the prescription out of my purse and popped a pill. Back at the tub, I lowered myself into the warm water and let out a sigh. I remembered the doctor cautioning me to keep the area dry for a few days, so I soaked without washing my hair. Pushing the door open, Barney hopped up onto the toilet seat and joined me in a bath. She furiously cleaned herself from top to bottom as I scrubbed the day ’s grime from my body with handmade lavender-mint soap.

After the water had cooled, I got out. As carefully as possible, I added more ointment to my neck. Luckily, the goop made the new bandages stick in place, because my nursing skills needed work. The hospital tape didn’t look nearly as neat as when the doctor had done it, especially since I kept underestimating how much I ’d need. The pieced-together result made me look a little like Frankenstein’s Witch.

I fixed my face and chose the darkest lipstick I had to try to draw the eye away from the bandages. Then I found a deep purple, short-sleeved silk shirt with a high collar that mostly hid my neck and a complimentary, loosely flowing Indian -print skirt that hung nearly to my ankles. I slipped into strappy sandals and then realized that I had an hour to spare before I needed to leave even though I planned to walk instead of ride my bike. I sat on the couch and tried to read a magazine, but despite the voices on the radio and Barney’s instant presence in my lap, the apartment still felt too spacious, too empty. Grabbing my purse, I headed out. The setting sun colored the horizon deep pinks and purples. Gnats danced around lampposts in swirls. Darkness lifted the oppressive heat, though the humidity clung to my skin, making it slick. A mosquito whined in my ear, and I slapped at it, quickening my pace. The air smelled of blooming daylilies and freshly mowed grass.

I’d walked half a block in the direction of William’s apartment when I noticed the street name on the sign and remembered it from Sebastian’s black book. I dug the book from my purse, losing a lipstick tube and my keys in the process. After scooping up the spilled items, I sat on the short grass of the boulevard and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for: Walter.

In less than a minute, I found myself staring at a two-story Tudor surrounded by a low, stone wall. White, purple, and yellow spikes of foxgloves nodded over the wall, like something out of a storybook. Moonflowers climbed an arched trellis I passed under on the way to the front door. Giant hibiscus stood on either side of the door. I rang the doorbell, already hating Walter. This guy was a much better gardener than I, and I knew that was exactly what drew Sebastian to him. I ’d already imagined half a dozen rendezvous between them at the various garden stores around town when the door opened.

“Hello?” The balding man who opened the door dressed in a fuzzy yellow bathrobe eyed me suspiciously.

“Are you Walter?” I asked.

The man shook his head and then called over his shoulder, “Honey, there’s some woman here to see you.”

“Well, who is it?” came a voice from somewhere inside, “And what does she want?”

Bathrobe looked to me for the answers. “I’m a friend of Sebastian’s,” I shouted into the interior. Of course, I had no idea if Sebastian gave this guy his real name, or if by naming him all I’d get for my troubles was a door slammed in my face.

“I’ll be right there,” Walter said.

Bathrobe stared at me distrustfully while we waited for Walter to arrive. Walter turned out to be a short, bespeckled man in his late forties with wiry hair going gray and frizzy at the edges. I blinked at him.

“So what can I do for you, miss?” Walter asked, his voice holding a trace of a Brooklyn accent. So this was Sebastian’s man type? My brain was doing a full -on William-like hiccup as I tried to reimagine the hot, sweaty greenhouse trysts with this guy.

I glanced at Walter’s bathrobed companion and asked, “Have you seen Sebastian lately? It’s just . . . well, he missed a lecture he was supposed to give at the University Club.”

“Yeah, I know,” Walter said. “Larry and I were there.”

With
Larry? Did they both see Sebastian? “You were?” I croaked incredulously. Larry agreed. “Fifty dollars a head and I never even got to hear about what fun things we could do with the catchfly growing in the back forty.”

“The catering was awful,” Walter muttered. “Who serves salmon in this heat?”