Page 10 of Deader than Dead

She didn’t look away. Not until I drew the knife across my palm, anyway. “Goodness!” she exclaimed.

I dipped the finger of the opposite hand into the blood on my palm and drew a sigil on Alfred’s chest, directly above his heart. I could have reanimated him without all this, but it took longer and required more effort. Besides, the ritual was useful for those times when it didn’t work. At least it produced a lead-up, proof that I’d tried something, rather than waving a hand and saying abracadabra.

I placed the palm still oozing blood over the design I’d drawn and closed my eyes. The words I uttered were so ancient that arguments still raged over where they’d originated from. All I knew was that when I used them, voices from beyond the veil answered. They spoke that same ancient language and despite me never having learned it, I understood them perfectly. They would do my bidding and release Alfred’s soul temporarily with the proviso that all would be restored to the natural order of things, eventually. A loan of sorts.

I couldn’t say I understood everything about the process. It just was. And had been ever since I’d discovered the tiny sparrow lying lifeless on the tarmac as a young boy. I’d held it in my hands and I’d wished for it to fly again. I still remembered the rush of adrenaline as clear as day when it had done my bidding, fluttering up to a nearby branch. I also remembered the feeling of desolation that had followed when its new life had only lasted a few minutes, crying when it had tumbled to the ground, never to move again.

Maria let out a gasp. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that the sigil glowed, that it would only grow brighter. I concentrated on the words, on the deal I was making, and with willing Alfred’s heart to beat once more. Energy flowed from me to him, the air around the bed heating. There. A faint flutter. I pressed harder, the skin beneath my hand warming from more than the heat of my palm as life flowed back into the man.

“Is it working?” Maria asked.

“Shhh,” I said. “I need to concentrate.”

“Sorry.”

I was vaguely aware of her pacing, footsteps going to one side of the room before returning to the other. I didn’t look up. This wasn’t an easy one, Alfred’s heartbeat speeding up for a few seconds but then slowing again. I gave it one last push, unwilling to give up any more of my life force. There was a spark of electricity and then Alfred sat up, the action so sudden that I stepped back. He looked around the room, his brow creasing in a way that said he didn’t know where he was.

“Alfred?” I said, his head swinging my way in response to my voice.

His frown grew more pronounced as he looked me over. “Do I know you? What are you doing in my bedroom?”

That was good. He not only knew where he was, but he could speak. “I’m a friend of Maria’s,” I said, gesturing to the other side of the bed where she’d come to a stop.

He turned his head that way. “Maria, sweetheart,” he said. “I had the most terrible dream.”

I expected her to smile. I expected her to rush forward and embrace him, maybe even to sob. She did none of those things, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing him with a steely glare instead. “What did you do with it, you son of a bitch? How dare you have a heart attack and fucking die on me without letting me know you’d moved the money to an offshore account? Where the fuck is it?”

Oh, shit! One of those. It happened sometimes. I wasn’t blaming Cade for this one. No doubt she’d lied through her teeth, giving it the whole grieving widow who just wanted a chance to tell her husband one last time that she loved him. I bet she’d cried as well. I quickly blew out the candles, and despite them still being hot, started to gather them up and stick them in my bag. If it was a choice between being stuck in the middle of a domestic and possibly setting myself on fire, I’d take the latter every single time.

“What do you mean, died? I’m not dead.” Alfred was understandably confused. “Why is my chest glowing? Is that… blood? No, it can’t be. Have you had me tattooed while I’ve been asleep? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that you were humping away at me, like you always do first thing in a morning just to prove your dick still works…”

Jeez! Too much information. Why couldn’t I pick up candles faster?

“… and then you clutched your chest and made a noise like this.” Maria made a god-awful sound that I knew I’d be hearing in my dreams tonight. “I thought you’d just come. God knows you sound like a chimpanzee having a stroke at the best of times. And it wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t last longer than two minutes.”

One of the candles slipped from my grasp and rolled under the bed. Could I do without it? Not without visiting PPB headquarters and going through the rigmarole of filling in the requisition form for a replacement. They were special candles infused with acacia, so it wasn’t like I could nip to Marks and Spencers to get more. I got down on my knees and peered under the bed. Right in the middle. Of course it was. Fuck my life.

“I didn’t even think it was strange when you collapsed on top of me,” Maria continued. “Because you’ve done that before as well. But… the fact that your dick was still hard, now that was unusual. It usually takes at least five hours before you can go again.”

I stuck my hand under the bed, my fingertips grazing the edge of the candle but not able to grasp it.

“It’s not five hours,” Alfred said indignantly. Funny how he’d been perfectly fine with the rest of what she’d said.

Maria let out a snort. “I was being generous. Anyway, I didn’t bring you back to talk about our disappointing sex life.”

“Bring me back from where?”

“You never listen, do you? You were dead. Deader than dead. The deadest. It was lovely and peaceful. Once I got out from under your beached whale carcass, anyway.”

I pressed my face up against the mattress and endeavored to find the extra few millimeters of reach that I needed.

“Why is there a man in our room?” Alfred asked. “And why is he under the bed?”

“He’s the necromancer I hired. I know he doesn’t look like one, but he is.”

Even as I stretched my arm beyond its limits, I rolled my eyes.

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