Mystic Jive: Hand of Fate - Book Four (2 page)

The creature stared down at me with a cold, reptilian glare. “Depart immediately, slovenly trespasser.” He sounded like Shakespeare with a mouthful of marbles.

“Hey, don’t be rude,” I said. “I’m not slovenly, this jacket is a classic. And the jeans are clean.”

It bared its teeth. They were small, but pointy-sharp. “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

“You don’t scare me. Who’s your master?” I asked.

“Stupid human. Do’st thou think I would tell thee? Begone! Lest my master lay a dire malediction of plagues and pestilence upon thee.”

 “Yeah, right. Well, I’m the Hand of Fate.”

“Signifying nothing,” it sneered.

I’d never had djemon address me like this before. With a flex of my fingers, Morta’s heavy shears slipped into my hand, giving me a little boost of confidence.

“Flee now the wrath of my exalted master, ere accursed havoc is wreaked upon thee.”

“What the frack is the matter with you, anyway?” I snorted. “Are you threatening me?”

It flicked its hand at me dismissively. “Remove thyself from these premises, maggot breath. Thy speech is a malignant canker upon--.”

I didn’t need to hear the rest. “I hereby banish Zeypax from all physical earthly planes, never to return.”

The djemon Zeypax winked out of sight in mid-sentence.
Yeah, baby.

 “Hold that thought, Zeypax,” I flipped off the empty space where he’d been perched.
Never to return.
He’d never be able to manifest for his master again. I bet Zeypax’s master would tear his hair out wondering why his little pet wouldn’t come when he called. Served him right. Good to know there were worse demon masters than me.

I cleaned up the broken wine bottle mess with a wad of paper towels I found in one of the cupboards. It took me a while to get all the glass, but I couldn’t leave it—I’m a professional.

I wondered who the djemon belonged to. Must be a real jerk. I made a mental note to find out a little more about the neighbors. Maybe one of them had been using his djemon to scare prospective buyers away.

Of course, if I hadn’t banished him so fast maybe I could have forced him to tell me who his master was. I mean, what good was being the Hand of Fate if I didn’t use the power, right? I should have said, ‘tell me the name of your master’. Not as a question, a command. Yeah, he would have been forced to answer that one. Word choice is everything when it comes to demons. Words matter. Phrasing, too.

I’d just finished spiffing up the place when I heard Charlie calling me from upstairs. The house was dark by this time. He’d already dismissed Annie, and seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Probably needed a smoke.

I locked the door behind us and slipped the key back into the realtor’s lockbox.

A sudden gust of night wind howled across the porch, slamming us with dead oak leaves. Tiny lights swirled among the flotsam, bouncing off us like an angry swarm of Styrofoam bees. I squinted against the onslaught, batting them away from me. A strange whooshing sound filled the air—part whisper, part echo, part moan.

Loosah-loosah-oooh…

Charlie grabbed my arm and hauled me off the porch toward the car. The mini-tornado of leaves and lights followed us, even banging against the car windows after we got inside.

“Get us outta here, girlie.”

I gunned the engine and Trusty Rusty, my ancient Honda, roared to life. By the time I backed the car out of the long driveway, the dust devil had died down, and the fey lights evaporated. I shifted into gear and the car shot forward.

I stared back at the house. “What the hell was that?”

Charlie rubbed his mouth with a trembling hand. “Hey, watch it!”

“Doh!” I wrenched the wheel to the left, narrowly missing the drainage ditch on the passenger side of the road.

“Sorry,” I glanced over at my passenger. “You okay?”

Charlie winced. “I’ll live. But back there, that was not good.”

My heart pounded with the rush of adrenaline. “Ya think? What just happened?”

 “Mebbe I shoulda said somethin’ when we walked in.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Them spirits was terrified.”

I stopped the car. “What are you talking about?”

“This time of year, the veil between the living and the dead thins. Probably shoulda thought about it, before I released ‘em. But they was so scared…”

I wondered about the buzzing I’d felt when I put my hand on the railing. “How can spirits be scared? Nothing can hurt the dead. They’re lucky that way.”

He shook his head. “Somethin’ not right about that place. I don’t like it.
Didn’t feel like nothin’ I ever I come across before.”

I glanced back toward the dark house. Charlie walked with a foot in both the living and the dead. He wasn’t the sort to let a few restless spirits spook him. Maybe there was more to it. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me, Charlie. What just happened?”

“Them spirits I released wasn’t lost, Mattie. They was trapped in that staircase. Now I think mebbe lettin’ ‘em loose might not have been such a good idea. Somethin’ about it made me want to leave it alone.”

His eyes met mine. “But I couldn’t just leave ‘em there. Wouldn’t be right.” He gave a small nod, as if confirming his own statement. “That cold we felt when we went inside was a warning to keep away. Some kind of foreign magic, I think. I think them swamp lights that came after us on the porch was sayin’ the same thing.”

My stomach churned. “What kind of warning?”

He stared out the window, into the darkness. “Can’t say. Somethin’s coming. Somethin’ bad.”

* * *

I dropped Charlie off at home and drove over to Mystic Properties to meet my boyfriend, Rhys.

Dr. Rhys Warrick is not only a visiting professor at the University of Rochester, he’s an expert on cultural mythology and ancient civilizations. This is mostly due to the fact that he’s lived through them. Rhys is a two thousand year-old djenie. Meaning, he was once an immortal djemon, who, having faithfully served his master, became a djenie in human form when his master died.

And oh by the way, a bad ass biker dude and best boyfriend ever.

I pulled up beside his truck just as he was locking up shop. He lives in an apartment above Mystic Properties. I threw my arms around him, savoring his warm, familiar scent. Nothing shakes off a case of the woo-woo willies quite as fast as kissing your hunka-hunka burnin’ love.

He kissed me good, running his hands over me until I was practically purring.

And that’s the problem.

Rhys is an immortal and I’m not. At some point, we’re going to have to break up. The only question is when. I can’t stand to think that he would stay with me after I’m old and gray out of some warped sense of duty. It’s the big fat elephant in the room between us. Or, one of them, at any rate. It’s making me crazy, and I’m too chicken to say anything. He knows I’m not completely comfortable in this relationship.

I think he also suspects that I hadn’t told him the whole story of the dreamspiders. It was bad enough I still had nightmares over it; the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. Something like that could change everything between us. Better to pretend nothing ever happened.

“How did it go?”

“Except for the nasty djemon in the basement, fine.” I told him about Charlie getting spooked. “He said there were lost souls trapped in the staircase. Does that make any sense?”

He stiffened. “What do you mean by nasty?
Did it come after you?”

I shrugged. “Nasty as in insulting. Pretty colorful vocabulary, too. I wasn’t scared.”

College professor he may be, but Rhys is also a bad-ass warrior—all too familiar with the evils of men and monsters. He calls me his warrior queen, which is, without a doubt, the highest compliment I’ve ever received from a man. Don’t get me wrong—Rhys is very protective, but at the same time, he convinced me to take lessons from his Qhua Bei Master so that I can be my own bad ass when he’s not around. According to Master Foo, I’m nowhere near a bad ass yet. “I banished it. Easy peasy. End of story.”

“You’ve got the heart of a lion, lady.” He opened the passenger door of the truck for me and nodded to a brightly-wrapped package, sitting on the passenger seat.

I grinned. “What’s this?”

“I bought you a present.”

I climbed in and tore at the paper. “You got me a toy?”

He switched on the overhead light in the cab. “No it’s a Speak ‘n Read tablet. For Blix. Now he can learn to speak. And read. All by himself.” He frowned. “You don’t like it? He’s got to learn to speak, Mattie.”

I tried to hide my disappointment. “No, it’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. The first time a man buys me something and it’s for my djemon.”

I’ve been meaning to start teaching Blix, just as soon as I got chance. Clearly, he didn’t think I was serious. That stung. Like it wasn’t enough that my whole world had been torn apart over the last few months, and that every time I thought my life was finally getting back to normal, I was faced with something like teaching my frikking djemon how to speak. Too weird. “Henri’s the expert. Let him show Blix how to use it.”

Rhys shook his head. “Blix is your responsibility. Besides Henri and the guys are leaving Wednesday, right after the party.”

Rats. I’d forgotten all about it. Henri was going to spend the winter in Florida, touring with Juno and the band. And I’d agreed to take care of the house. That big old, empty house. Rhys and I had been spending most of our nights together, but he was planning another caving trip to the Finger Lakes before Thanksgiving. I was still having creepy crawly rapist nightmares about dreamspiders. What if another one showed up? Ugga mugga.

 “Yeah. Riiight.” I ran my hand through my hair. It was growing in fast, but I still wasn’t used to it. I’d never had short hair in my life. Every time I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. Sometimes, I didn’t really feel much like me anymore, either.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Not a thing.” That man was too smart for his own good. I gave him my best smile. “Can’t wait to ah, get started teaching Blix how to speak. I am good. To. Go.” I waved at the road and gave him a little let’s go signal.

Rhys laid his arms over the top of the steering wheel, and stared straight ahead. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re a million miles away right now.”

“Sorry.” I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “You’re right. I guess I have had a lot on my mind.”

“Share it with me.”

The last time he’d asked, instead of telling him about Lucien Bold, I lied and said I wanted to take dance lessons. And actually, that one had worked out pretty well.

“I was just thinking--.” I glanced over at him. I didn’t like lying to Rhys. I rubbed my sweaty hands along the tops of my thighs. “Since I’m taking care of the house, while Henri and the band are gone, maybe we could try living together. I mean, really living together. Like you’d move your clothes and stuff over. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

He’d asked me to move in with him previously, but I’d said no. This was right after he’d come back from Scotland and I was still pretty freaked out by Luçien Bold and the whole dreamspider experience. I felt ugly inside and out. I’d been terrified to be alone, but at the same time, I didn’t want Rhys, to touch me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable at his place. It was right on a busy street, and there was a lot of traffic and noise from the bars that went on late at night. Rhys didn’t like spending the night at Henri’s house because of the lack of privacy, and he was right about that. Sharing a house with a vampire rock band is more like living in a frat house than a love nest.

 “That is a great idea.” Rhys shifted the truck into gear and winked at me. “Let’s do it.”

“Can’t wait,” I said, and for the life of me, I didn’t know if I was telling the truth or not.

CHAPTER 2

EIGHTH-GRADERS ARE a tough crowd.

From my position behind the center stage podium, I stared across a sea of glassy-eyed eighth graders at Pope Street Middle School’s Gymnasium, and just kept yammering away. If I had the trike with me, the kids would have been all over it, but Principal Williams wouldn’t let me bring it into the gym. Not a friendly face in the place. Principal Williams’ sour expression told me he didn’t think much of my speech, either. Dang that Lacey Lippman; nobody told me to bring swag for the kids.

Sheesh, a roomful of zombies would be better than this.

High School graduation rates in Shore Haven being what they were; the Monroe County Schools Superintendent had initiated the Career Daze program for eighth graders to “light the spark of inspiration in the tender minds of students before they enter high school.” Every Friday, local professionals came to speak to the kids about their jobs. This week, it was my turn.

“One of the best things about being a parking control officer is that you get to ride the trike.”

“You mean scooter,” said a kid in the back. A couple kids snickered.

I gritted my teeth and kept smiling. “No, it’s a three-wheeled motorcycle.”

“Like a Big Wheel.”

Every kid in the room thought that was hilarious. Even the Principal got a kick out of that one.

I finished the rest of my speech in record time. I don’t think I inspired a lot of future civil servants. I released my death grip on the podium, smoothing my sweaty hands across my thighs. “Any questions?”

The room went quiet. I tried to catch the eye of one of the kids I knew, Nate Briscoe, but he refused to look at me. I didn’t blame him. I was about to make my escape when there was a flicker of movement in the crowd—a hand shot up.

“Yes, Ryan,” Principal Williams nodded. “Did you have a question for Officer Blackman?”

A freckle-faced kid with nerdy glasses stood up and pointed at me. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

I blushed furiously as a hundred and forty-two kids suddenly pricked up their ears and put me squarely in their sights. Great.

I held up both my hands like it wasn’t a big deal. My entire left hand and most of my forearm up to the elbow looked like I’d dipped it into a bucket of black ink. When I wore my jacket and motorcycle gloves, the stain unnoticeable, but I’d left them on my chair.