The Dead (The Thaumaturge Series Book 1) (2 page)

From there I only had to guide the process, lending my strength as the light spread over her core. My customers - for want of a better word - couldn’t see it, but they could see the slow crawl as her intestines retracted into her abdominal cavity. They could hear the damp squelching noise her entrails made as they stitched themselves back together. The layers of her skin – pulled back and exposed like a dissected frog – began to shiver just slightly. I applied a little more force, ignoring the resulting bloom of pain in my left temple.

All my senses were focused on her, the lower world reducing to a faded blur. I heard my own heart beating, making my headache throb a little in tandem. My eyes burned, but I was seeing and not seeing at the same time, as though I was simultaneously looking through a microscope and from very far away.

Her skin loosened suddenly, the rigor mortis giving way to living cells, and I watched – supervised – as her guts packed themselves neatly back into the body cavity, as her skin reached across the gaping wound. With a sound like a kiss, it met and melded together. I pressed her stomach with my fingers, felt a pulse and a shake, and then the steady and familiar beat of blood. The body under my fingers warmed, softened, and then took a breath.

A chorus of gasps burst from behind me, and a startled cry, but I couldn’t spare any attention to them now. The light was dissipating, coming apart, showering over her and melting where it touched her skin. Her fingers, lying over the rosary, gave a twitch.

I took a breath, bowing my head to rest for a minute. My head throbbed in time with my heartbeat. A wave of nausea washed over me.

And having restored the body, I then reached for the dead girl’s soul.

She – the dead girl, Aubrey – wasn’t far off, and easy to reach. I felt her flutter close like a moth. When I extended my touch to her, she grasped with firm determination. Sweat trickled down my back and pooled in my armpits. My breath came in shallow gasps. Pain flared in the center of my chest and I ruthlessly trampled it down, keeping my focus on the task at hand.

Touching the spirit brought me up higher, into a place of warmth and light. The dark shop faded a bit, the edges blurring and everything went slightly out of focus. I thought I saw stars, somewhere high above me, a brilliant spray of them in an ink-blank sky. It was so beautiful up here. So peaceful. The soul huddled beside me, and with some reluctance, I dropped down a bit, keeping the way open.

I pulled her in, coaxing her gently towards her own body. She fluttered tentatively, confused and unsure. Despite my general annoyance at the living customers, I felt an almost overwhelming tenderness for this poor, piteous soul, so lost and alone.

“Here,” I said out loud, pressing my hand over her heart. She trailed along behind my mental touch, her first hesitant probings growing stronger as she recognized the body she’d left behind.

With the spirit lingering, waiting to be let in, I released my hold on both of them, settling firmly back into my body. I couldn’t see the soul anymore, but I knew it worked when the dead girl sat up and screamed.

The old man handed me a wad of sweaty cash, which I accepted without comment or counting it. He couldn’t stop staring at me, and I thought about reaching out to shake his hand, just to watch him recoil.

“Thanks again,” he said gruffly, glancing out the front door of the shop, where Aubrey walked on shaky legs to the car, her friends supporting her on either side. “I'll go to the bank tomorrow and get the rest to you.”

“It's all right,” I said softly. “I take payments.”

He gave me a long, measured look, all traces of hostility gone now. “Thanks.”

I gave him a nod, eager to get them out so that I could clean up and go home.

He pulled open the door, then stopped on the welcome map, glancing nervously at me. A gust of cold wind curled around him, brushing against the sweat on my face and I shivered.

“Uh, you won’t say anything?” he asked.

“About what?” I said, giving him a significant look and he nodded once, firmly.

“See ya around then,” he said, and followed after the kids, not looking back.

“No, you won’t,” I replied, and locked the door behind him.

By the time I got home to the trailer park, my windshield wipers swished in overtime, just barely keeping up with the wet, fast falling snow. I carefully eased my truck over the speed bump and past the sign that read “Children at play.” It wasn’t late, just past six, but nights come early in November in Montana. Only a few porch lights remained on at the neighbors.’ Televisions flickered through cheap vertical blinds, but it was so still that I might as well have been the last person on earth.

Snowflakes whirled in my headlights as I carefully edged down the unplowed road. A dozen trailers stacked along each side, and mine was the last on the right, wedged between an ill-placed fir tree and the chain-link fence surrounding the trailer court. Mine was a singlewide, older but not in bad shape. The siding peeled here and there, sure, but the roof didn’t leak and I even had a yard for my dog.

I parked the truck under the carport and stomped through the whirling snow to the front steps. Unlocking the door, I stepped in, and was immediately assaulted by fifty pounds of enthusiastic canine.

“Down, Johnny, down!” I pushed at him, and he dropped, spun in a circle, and then leapt up again, swiping his tongue across my mouth.

A low laugh startled me, and I looked across the dark room towards the couch. The shirtless vampire who sat there held my laptop across his knees. The faint glow from the computer illuminated his pale skin, bathing him in blue.

“Hey,” I said in surprise. “What are you doing here?” I shoved Johnny down again so I could take off my jacket.

“Doing laundry and watching Netflix,” he replied. “I’m four episodes into
Breaking Bad
.”

I snorted, stomping snow off my boots and letting the heated air take the chill from my skin. “Turn a light on, at least. It’s creepy, you sitting here in the dark.”

I tossed my jacket over the arm of a chair, and crossed the room into the kitchen. Johnny stayed glued to my side, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. I scratched him behind his ears and dropped heavily into a chair at the kitchen table. My head still pounded and my eyeballs throbbed. My tongue felt weirdly itchy in my dry mouth.

I started to untie my boots, worrying at the laces with my shaking hands, but gave up as Johnny thrust his head into my lap and slobbered all over me. I sighed, leaning over him and pressing my forehead to his as he tried to lick my neck.

Leo appeared in the doorway, leaning one hip against the refrigerator and crossing his arms across his bare chest.

“I fed your dog,” he said. “And I let him out earlier.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” he sniffed in my direction, his dark eyebrows rising. “Had an interesting day?”

“I had a....lucrative day.”

“Hmm,” he looked doubtful, his nostrils flaring.

“Stop fucking smelling me,” I said, irritably. “Manners, Leo.”

“You smell fucking terrible,” he replied with equal shortness.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Good,” he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Want me to scrub your back?”

“No, thank you,” I said, but it got me to smile nonetheless. Leo usually could. I started down the hall towards my bedroom, but stopped and turned back to him.

“Did you eat yet?” I asked.

“No,” His eyes were dark, fixed on mine. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh,” I gave a tiny shrug of my shoulders. “Okay. See ya in a sec.”

I made the shower as hot as I could stand it, and tossed my bloodied clothes into a hamper. There was blood on my hands, too, crusted up under my fingernails and filling the fine lines in my palms. I stepped into the shower, adjusted the spray until it blasted onto my chest and reached for the washcloth. I scrubbed at myself with a cake of soap, trying to get the dried flakes out from under my fingernails.

There were only so many professions where scrubbing out blood was required. Doctors, nurses, EMTs. Veterinarians. Soldiers. Serial killers. Me.

Whatever the hell I was.

At my feet, coppery-brown water swirled and went down the drain. I kept scrubbing until my skin was pink. I couldn’t stop seeing the coiled tubes of her intestines, curling over my hands. Images came back into my head, the sight of her guts rolling out of her open stomach, the serrated skin with the layer of fat beneath it clearly visible. How rubbery her skin had felt. How slick her blood had been.

I dry-heaved, doubling over in the shower and clutching my stomach. The pressure behind my eyes intensified and despite the heat, I shook all over. I had to brace myself against the slick shower wall until the nausea passed. I groped for the washcloth again and redoubled my efforts on my skin, tearing open the cuticles on both hands as I scoured.

When I could stand to stop, I bowed my head under the showerhead, letting my shoulders slump. The hot water cascaded down my back. Over the steam and spray, I figured even Leo wouldn’t hear me if I cried. No tears came, though, not this time. This time I just felt numb.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist and wiped my hand over the surface of the steamed up mirror. Clean and warm, I felt a little better, the pain in both my head and my chest numbed back to a tolerable level. Resurrections always took a toll, and some took longer to recover from than others. I was surprised at how good I felt, considering the severity of Aubrey’s wounds. She had been so fresh; that was why I was even up and walking around.

I wondered where she was right now, if she was sitting on a couch somewhere, if she was eating or brushing her hair. Normal things.

Right after she came back to life, I had put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her wide brown eyes.

“What did you see?” I had asked. “Where were you? What do you remember?”

“Nothing,” she had replied, dazed, a tremble in her voice. “There was nothing.”

They all say that.

I reached for my razor, but decided that I really didn’t care, even though I hadn’t shaved in a week and my stubble had evolved into a full-on beard. My own reflection shocked me a little. The scruff on my cheeks, the redness of my eyes. I hadn’t noticed how long my hair had gotten. No wonder people seemed shocked when they came into my store – I looked more like a hobo than someone who owned an herb and tea shop. Normally, with Leo sitting out there, I would have tried to at least primp a little, make myself a bit more presentable, but I couldn't muster the effort to do anything more than brush my teeth and roll on some deodorant. Not like he hadn't seen me at my worst before.

Leo was waiting in the living room, fully clothed now, wearing a heavy black coat I didn't recognize, with Johnny half in his lap, getting a tummy rub.

“You okay?” he asked when I appeared.

“I’m all right.”

“If you aren’t feeling up to it tonight...” he trailed off. His eyes fixed on me, sharp and appraising.

“No,” I said. “I’m fine. Just try to minimize the damage.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave my face. “We’ll just walk down to JJ’s?”

“You sure?” I asked, pulling on clean socks and reaching for my boots. “We had no luck there last time.”

“It’s too cold out to go anywhere else.”

“We could drive, Leo.”

“It's five blocks away, Ebron. Try to cut down on your carbon emissions.”

“I'm trying to cut back on frostbite.”

His eyes continued to roam over me. “We can drive,” he said softly. “If you aren’t up for walking.”

I considered it, but my legs weren’t shaking any more and fresh air sounded good to my rolling stomach.

“I’ll be fine, Leo,” I said, and he nodded with a little shrug.

I locked up the trailer behind us and we started down the lane to the adjacent street. Thick flakes of snow, illuminated by the glow of the street lights, came down in heavy sheets. Noises were muffled, our footsteps soft crunches in the fresh power. I pulled the collar of my coat up against my neck, feeling snow melting into my hair and dripping down my back. Leo, as usual, seemed oblivious to the biting temperatures.

“When did you get back into town?” I asked.

“Just tonight,” he said. “I should have called you.”

“No big deal.”

He shrugged. “Still.”

“It's good to see you.”

He looked at me sidelong. “You too. Work keeping you busy? You look tired.”

“It’s been steady.”

“Hmm. Is that a good thing?”

“You know, I don’t know,” I replied, and he gave me a rueful smile.

I clenched my hands and shoved them deeper into my pockets. The sudden urge to touch him was annoyingly predictable.

We walked past a boarded-up bookstore and a sketchy looking pawn shop, then turned the corner towards JJ’s. Pick-up trucks lined the street in front of the bar. Tinny music floated across the air. I'd always suspected in the event of a zombie apocalypse, JJ's would be the place to be, at least to restock ammunition. At least half of the vehicles displayed guns in the back window, and several trucks had elk or deer carcasses lying in the back. Hunting season was in full swing. Leo sniffed at one of these carcasses experimentally.

“You should resurrect one of these,” he told me, giving me a sly grin. “Or all of them. Wouldn’t that be a sight?”

I stepped over to him and peered into the truck bed. The deer he was sniffing lay stiffly, legs straight and its head awkwardly bent. I shook my head.

“They’re all field dressed. I don’t think I can regrow organs.”

He shrugged. “Too bad. Do you want to go in?”

“I could use a beer,” I said. Or two or three.

We headed towards the entrance, and I held the door open for two women as they exited. I had gone to high school with one of them. She avoided my eyes as she ducked under my arm.

I stomped my feet in the doorway, trying to get circulation back into my lower extremities. The familiar smell of stale cigarettes, liquor, and damp wood seemed exaggerated due to the furnace blasting at full power. For a second, Leo and I stood together, scanning the room.