Serpent's Storm (19 page)

“What did the Vargr want?” I asked as I caught up to my guide. “I mean, what were they gonna do to us?”

“They were sent to slow you down, incapacitate you so you would not be capable for the challenge.”

I nodded. It made sense.

“What I don’t understand is why the Ender of Death is involved in all this?”

Sumi shrugged.

“Your sister offers him things, things he cannot get on his own—your dad on a silver platter, for one—and I bet other gifts will be forthcoming.”

“Like what kind of gifts?” I asked. Then jokingly: “Maybe I should get in the gift-giving business myself, so everyone’ll leave me alone.”

“The Ender of Death is the yin to your yang, Little Death,” Sumi said. “He wants whatever it is you
don’t
want.”

“I don’t want to be Death.” I shrugged. “That’s what I want.”

“Then,” Sumi sighed, “the Ender of Death wants to
be
Death.”

“But he can’t,” I cried. “It’s impossible. He’s not one of the chosen ones—”

“Stranger things have happened,” Sumi replied as he chewed on the end of his thumbnail. Obviously this conversation was making him nervous for some reason. “The Ender of Death is so close to Death that it might be possible. A faraway possibility, but still . . . a
possibility
.”

I felt Sumi’s eyes settle on me then and it was a strangely uncomfortable feeling, like he hated me but needed me at the same time. His dark eyes seemed to plumb the very depths of my soul, searching for something inside me. It was a feeling I didn’t enjoy one little bit. Finally, I looked away and the spell was broken.

“Let’s go,” Sumi said, and without another word, we continued onward toward a better-traveled stretch of the road.

After a few more minutes of walking, we stepped out of the night and into another world, one inhabited by powerful streetlights illuminating every detail of the scenery we passed. Soon the last remnants of the marsh gave way to human dwellings and I stopped feeling as nervous as I had back in the darkness. At least now, between the lights and the houses, no attacker could sneak up on me again. Still, I continued to scan the road as we went, wary that something far worse than the Vargr would decide to come keep company with us. I’d been reacquainted with the Afterlife long enough to know there were a lot of nasty creatures out there, ones who made the Vargr look like miscreant puppies on a puppy holiday.

Not a very nice thought.

My disquiet did ease some as we walked between the rows of tiny cottages, but not because my spidey senses felt any less tingly. No, my brain had just found something more intriguing than fear to find purchase on: the surreal architecture we were encountering.

The dwellings we passed may have resembled tiny Maine fishermen’s cottages in their simplicity, yet these homes were anything but simple. With much forethought, they’d been built upon gangling stilts that hoisted their frames high above the reach of the water to prevent against flooding. There was something skeletal about them, spooky even, and I moved closer to Sumi as we walked among them, catching one leg of my gray tights on an errant piece of his grass skirt and shredding the cotton fabric beyond repair.

“Wow, this place is crazy-looking,” I said, pointing at one house in particular. It was more than three stories high, but only about ten feet across. I marveled at how it was able to stay upright on its stilted foundation without falling over into the waiting water.

As if I’d asked a question, Sumi answered:

“We are here.”

Then he stopped in front of the strange house I’d just pointed to.

“No way,” I said.

“Yes, way,” Sumi retorted.

Then the little old man in the grass skirt stepped off the road and started up the rickety steps, disappearing inside the gaping front door of the deformed house.

I stood out in the fog, my wet body chilled to the bone, trying to decide what to do. I couldn’t stay out in the cold all night—it was freezing—and besides that, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in hours and my stomach was making frustrated gurgling noises deep in my belly as a reminder to feed it.

“Dammit,” I said under my breath as I stepped off the asphalt and onto the dirt path that led to the rickety front steps. I felt like I was walking into a horror film, one of those H. P. Lovecraft, attack of the frog/fish people scenarios with all the atmospheric fog and creepy fishermen bidding you to leave town before it’s too late.

I didn’t want to end up in Davy Jones’s locker, but I also didn’t want to stand out in the fog like a nincompoop, either.

“Wait for me!” I called as I placed one foot on the bottom step and grasped the wooden railing for support. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the splintered railing, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm. A painful current zapped through my body, completing some unseen circuit, and I gritted my teeth against the pain. My hand was riveted to the wooden rail—and no matter how hard I tried to pull away, my fingers remained frozen in place.

The light on the porch flipped on and a voice I didn’t know said:

“Stop that!”

Instantly I could move again. My instinct for self-preservation kicked in and I yanked my hand away from the rail, but with a little too much force, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward into the dirt, my tailbone taking most of the impact.

“Ow!” I screeched as I hit the ground hard, my teeth rattling together like maracas.

“Are you all right?” Hyacinth said, thudding down the stairs to help me, concern flooding her face and making her normally pale skin pink with worry.

“She’ll be fine,” someone drawled above me. I looked up to find a guy with pale blond hair and muttonchops staring down at me. From my vantage point on the ground, the man appeared to be upside down, his pale orange sweater bleeding away into darkness. This gave his brown eyes and yellow eyebrows an alien appearance, while the light pouring from the porch cast a deep shadow across his face, making his already prominent nose seem even larger.

“So glad you’re psychic,” I said as I probed my backside to see if anything was busted—thankfully, nothing was—and glared at the man. “Maybe you can tell me how this whole Death thing is gonna work out for me, too. I’d love to hear your opinion.”

The man grinned down at me.

“You’re a real spitfire, ain’t ya.”

I rolled my eyes but took the hand he extended, crawling to my feet while trying not to look like a total spaz. The guy seemed nice—if kind of studious in his burnt orange wool sweater and charcoal pants. Very J. Crew, which was a total departure from what I normally was attracted to, but it kind of worked with the muttonchops.

“The house is warded against enemies,” the man said to Hyacinth, who nodded as if that made perfect sense.

“Why is the house warded against enemies?” I asked, confused.

“Wouldn’t want a little lady like you catching me unawares,” he said, winking as he offered me his hand to shake. “And by the way, I’m Frank.”

“Callie,” I replied, letting him take my hand. At his touch, my heart started racing and I found it hard to breathe. Of course, I attributed all of this to the very firm grip that almost crushed my fingers.

“I already knew that.” He winked, and God help me, I blushed. He had a real Southern charm I found hard to ignore. I discovered I didn’t even mind the muttonchops that much—as Lynyrd Skynyrd as they were—which again was totally out of character for me. I was usually hard-core anti- facial hair on my men.

“Why don’t we take this inside,” Hyacinth said, interrupting the meet-and-greet and forcing Frank to drop my hand. “I think it would be safer.”

My new friend nodded in agreement.

“Good idea.”

He clapped his hands together and the sound was like flint sparking against steel. In response, the lights on the porch began to flicker, taking on a bluish tinge that turned Frank’s pale skin ashen.

“That’s that,” he said, offering me his arm.

As nice as Frank was, I didn’t feel comfortable letting him touch me. I was an emotional wreck and I didn’t want to encourage him or in any way make him think he had a chance with me.

“I’m okay,” I said, trying to be gracious. “But thanks.”

I had to admit I was attracted to the guy, but I knew it was just my body responding on a purely physical level. Emotionally, I hadn’t even dealt with Daniel and the feelings of hurt and betrayal I was holding at bay, so there was no way I was gonna even go there with Frank. I wasn’t a glutton for punishment. I knew flirting with some poor guy because the man I’d thought I might be in love with had sold me down the river wasn’t gonna make me feel any better.

“Well, you can’t say chivalry’s dead.” Frank grinned, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

“You are chivalry personified,” I said, ignoring the handrail as I trooped up the stairs after Hyacinth’s retreating back.

“I should put that on my tombstone,” Frank said from behind me.

I took the stairs slowly. After the partial electrocution I’d undergone, I wasn’t taking any chances. I kept my hands at my sides and made sure each stair would hold my weight before I stepped fully on it.

“Is this your house?” I asked Frank as I neared the landing.

“Nah, I’ve just been squattin’ here for a little while,” he replied. “I saw which way the wind was blowin’ and decided to get out while the gettin’ was good.”

We were on the porch now and I stopped, facing him.

“What does that mean?”

Frank cocked his head, thoughtful.

“You don’t know what’s going on out there?”

I shook my head. “The Devil and my sister want to take over Heaven. That’s all I know.”

Frank laughed, then leaned against the porch railing with a casual fluidness. He crossed one leg over the other and I saw, for the first time, that he was wearing cowboy boots.

“Nice boots,” I added without even thinking.

“They’re old friends,” he said, his smile so wide I couldn’t help smiling back. “Anyway, you asked what was what.”

“I did.” I turned around, checking to see if either Hyacinth or Sumi were watching us. Except for the fog and the whistling of the wind as it blew in from the open sea, we were alone on the porch.

“You’re prettier than I expected,” Frank said abruptly and I blushed again.

“Look,” I said, twisting my hands together nervously. “I think you’re very nice and under different circumstances I’m sure I would enjoy all the vibes you’re throwing in my direction—”

“But your man threw you over for another filly and now you’re hurtin’.”

The saliva dried up in my mouth. The guy had just turned my life into a bad country song, making me feel embarrassed and exposed at the same time.

“How did you know about that?” I said, looking around for Hyacinth. She was the only one who knew what I’d seen and she’d gone and opened her goddamned mouth—

“Hyacinth might’ve let a little something slip,” Frank said, covering my hand with his own. I yanked it away, his touch like fire against my frozen skin. “She says he sold you out.”

“He didn’t sell me out,” I almost yelled at Frank, hating that he—and everyone else in the Afterlife apparently—knew my personal business. “He may even have his reasons for what he did—”

“I don’t care what reasons he’s got.” Frank scowled. “You don’t ever treat a lady the way that scumbag treated you.”

“Thank you, I guess,” I said, hating the pity I saw percolating behind his eyes. “I appreciate that, but I don’t know whether I’m coming or going right now, so . . .”

I let my words trail off. Frank didn’t seem at all bothered by my rudeness.

“Let’s get you inside, ’cause I bet you’re starving.”

I nodded, knowing he couldn’t have said a truer thing if he’d tried.

 

the house was as tiny on the inside as it appeared on the outside, the front room doubling as an entrance hall with crackling fireplace and an eat-in kitchen. When I came in, I discovered Sumi and Hyacinth already sitting across from each other at a small square dining table, plates of steaming food in front of them. I took the seat facing the door, not wanting to have my back vulnerable. Plus, someone had been kind enough to drape a woolen blanket over the chair back and I was particularly eager to wrap myself in it and warm up a bit. Frank nodded at my choice and took the seat directly across from me.

The food looked amazing: mashed potatoes drenched in brown gravy, gently steaming meatloaf, glazed carrots, and a glass of iced tea to round the meal off. I wanted to tuck into the food and put my stomach’s growling to rest, but I found my imagination stirred by the room.

I wasn’t a gourmet and the best I could manage while in chef mode was frying an egg, so the kitchen behind me didn’t really whet my interest. Instead, I was drawn to the entrance hall and the seafaring paraphernalia gathered along its wide-planked, whitewashed wooden walls.

My eye settled first on the blazing fireplace cut into the far wall and its beautiful concrete mantel fashioned from broken shells and bits of brightly colored sea glass. Above it were fishing nets of various shapes and sizes all suspended just below a giant metal trident, the sharpness of its prongs glittering brightly in the firelight. On the opposing wall, high up near the ceiling, hung a wooden mermaid, obviously once upon a time the figurehead of some large seagoing ship, now just a pretty piece of memorabilia casting shadows in the firelight. As I looked at her, taking in her long, flowing blond hair and the sensual curving lines of her figure, I found myself thrilling at how lifelike she appeared. Someone had carved her with love, imbuing her with as much humanity as one could give a statue. Her skin was luminous, a gleaming honey that sparkled in the firelight as if she were covered in a coat of gold-flecked paint. Her pale blue eyes seemed alive, full of mischief and cunning, and her face was nothing short of gorgeous, all cheekbones and pouting pink lips. Her gaze was so compelling I could’ve easily left my place at the table, crossed the room, and stood beneath her, marveling at her beauty for hours on end—hunger pangs be damned.