Graveyard Waltz by Jessie Thomas

3

If Devyn—whotore through squalid nests of feral vampires without flinching—was horrified by the sight in front of her…that made it a big damn deal. She hadn’t been a woman who scared easily for as long as we’d known each other.

And it took all of twenty seconds to understand why.

Well. That solves the problem of my growling, hungry stomach.

No visible killing wounds from my cursory glance, which wasn’t even the most alarming part. The man’s silvery gray hair and ominous expression were the sole distinct features left behind in death, so I didn’t know how Dev could identify him. His dying scream had been immortalized, indicating that he’d been killed mid-fight and had no real chance of surviving whatever he’d encountered.

A year’s worth of decomposition had already set in. Turned his skin gray and whittled the muscle and fat from his bones. His eyes had sunken into their sockets, the peeling flesh around them bruised, sagging off his skull. This man was well past the stage of advanced decay. Bony, discolored fingers still gripped a crossbow to his chest. Dark gray sludge leaked from his open mouth down the front of his shirt. It trickled from his eye sockets, made him appear as if he’d been weeping. More of it pooled out what was left of his ears and stained the concrete. The only frame of reference I had for this level of deterioration were feral vampires, but what had happened to him wasn’t that.

It reminded me of the mummified bodies that were found in glaciers and bogs. Weathered and preserved by the elements. But that was from years of exposure. Thousands or hundreds of them.

This was…disturbing. And that’s putting it delicately.

It felt ancient in a way that sent a shiver through my hands.

“He was a hunter,” Nate guessed quietly.

“That’s what I assumed when I saw the crossbow,” Rhys confirmed. The bolts would’ve been consecrated. “You can ID him, Devyn? You’re positive on that?”

Dev nodded. She swiped the side of her forearm across her brow. “He’s a veteran—everyone knew Griff.” Her fingers hovered over what would’ve been his bicep, longing to offer a comforting touch that she couldn’t give. Decay began sloughing off a faded tattoo on the muscles that used to be there. “His name is Griffin. That’s all he ever went by. He taught me a few of his best tricks, made sure to check in with me. Took a lot of hunters under his wing over the years. He was a legend.”

I approached carefully. “When did he die?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I just…I just fucking saw him three days ago at a bar on Pearl Street.”

“Alive?”

“Yeah, alive. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“The rate of decay is troubling,” Nate said, slipping a hand into his pocket as he moved down a step to gain a better vantage point at the hunter’s feet. Deep creases formed between his eyebrows before he crouched gracefully to inspect the thick corpse goo on the stairs. “If it was blood, I would be able to read it, so to speak, but I cannot get anything of use from it.”

“There’s been a lot of thefts from the cemeteries,” I explained. Easing onto my knees across from Devyn, I tried to avoid the ugly stains. I braced myself against the smell. “I had to ask. So…whatever killed him did it right here. Did that. How long has he been gone, Rhys? Can you tell?”

Rhys huffed a sigh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Hard to say for sure.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the church parking lot behind us. “A priest found him a couple hours ago after he heard screaming from where he was in the rectory building over there. Said he ran out to see the man left here, didn’t see anyone else. The hunter was already dead.”

“And decomposed like that?” I asked.

“Just like that. Never seen anything like it.”

“Not this fast,” I agreed.

Dev shook her head, grief quickly exchanged for anger. Her voice trembled with it. “Griff didn’t deserve to go out like this. It’s bullshit.”

Rhys cast a wary glance at the cops in the parking lot who’d already lost interest. He gave me a nod. “You’re up, Mason.”

“Gladly.”

Answers. We need answers. And I’ve got to heal this nasty decay ASAP so Dev doesn’t have to keep staring at it.

Dev pushed up from the concrete with her palms to stand again, stepping aside to give me some space. She hugged her middle, distancing herself from the rest of us to collect herself. Nate moved down another step and off to the opposite side, one arm folded behind his back. Gone were his snide comments, his contempt replaced with a knowing smirk and an eagerness that lit the glacier blue of his eyes. He trusted my power now. Believed in it and me.

A pleasant, metallic zing sounded as the rose gold blade left the worn holster around my upper thigh. I tailored my necromancy rituals based on individual need. The direst cases required just the dagger, the necromantic sigils, and the power inherent in me that I used to fuel it all. I pressed the tip of the blade to the end of my thumb, sucking in a sharp inhale, aware of my vampire boyfriend standing a few short feet away. Just as he trusted me, I trusted Nate’s restraint, which Dev had once called “ironclad.”

Brushing my thumb across the engraved sigils, I let the blood collect in the grooves and soak into each curve. With no wound to direct my focus, I held the blade out over Griffin’s body to channel the necromantic energy through it. Took a couple of deep breaths and hoped his soul hadn’t already wandered off into a realm I couldn’t reach.

Time to come back, Griffin.

Another deep inhale.

Restore this body, make it strong. Make him whole again. Heal him.

Come back home. Heal.

Breathe.

Heal.

Breathe.

Rise.

Rose-colored light illuminated the sigils and coiled in a haze, throwing a pale pink glow onto my hands. The necromantic spell was working in theory, but not in practice. Griffin’s chest remained lifeless, his body still decomposed like he’d been plucked from his grave after being left at the mercy of the elements. Although I sometimes encountered glitches in these rituals, they were rarer now that I had more experience. We should’ve noticed a change by now. His body should’ve been healing at the very least.

Come on, Griffin. You’ve got to be out there.

I clutched the dagger until my knuckles went bone white.

Find this lost soul and return him to this body. Griffin. Come back home.

Make him strong, make him breathe.

Make him whole again.

Heal him, now. Heal him.

Nothing. Not a damn thing whatsoever.

I slammed headfirst into a paranormal brick wall. A strange pressure pushed me from the other side. I felt it against my hands, pressing deeper, trying to crush my sternum. Uncomfortable, almost suffocating. What I imagined being buried alive would feel like, the air slowly draining while the dirt piled up.

“Seraphina?” Nate asked from somewhere, his voice hardening with a note of obvious concern. Yeah, me too.What the hell is this?

I choked on a breath that almost didn’t leave my lungs and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself against the invisible pressure. It hurt. God, did it hurt.

Something was fighting me. Fighting back.

Copper hit my tongue, salt and warmth and metal dripping over my bottom lip. Blood, I realized too late when the throbbing in my head started. A gush of it prickled at the inside of my nostril. A drop landed on the back of my hand. Then another. And another.

“Seraphina,” Nate called again. Stop, he pleaded without saying it. You have to stop.

I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

Comeon. Come on, Griffin. Heal.I know you’re there, just find your way back to Devyn. Don’t fight this. You don’t have to fight. Your soul is strong, you can make it—

Someone latched onto my wrist.

I thought it was Nate at first. Cold fingers seized me in a bruising grip, made my bones knock together. But it was all wrong—the hand was clammy, way too rough to be Nate, the skin like wet, disintegrating paper. I heard Devyn’s uncharacteristically frightened shout break through the night like a punch to the ribs. Nate and Rhys yelled my name in varying degrees of panic. I finally opened my eyes.

Griffin’s mummified corpse pulled me forward with one skeletal hand.

There wasn’t enough air in my lungs to scream. But damn, I wanted to.

Knocked loose from my fist, the dagger clattered to the ground and the rosy light disappeared suddenly like the wind snuffed out a candle.

No life in the gaunt caverns where his eyes used to be, Griffin’s face was now inches from mine, the rancid smell of decay overpowering every sense. I tasted it on my tongue. Something else, something sinister and angry and downright vile rose up beneath it. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, the suggestion that it wanted to worm into my veins. Into my soul. Wanted to claim me.

“Expect me, necromancer.” Griffin spoke in a guttural, discordant voice—no, there were two voices. Two voices woven together as one, conjured from nightmares. A voice I wouldn’t be able to get out of my head for weeks, if I was lucky. “Your time is coming to an end.”

Devyn became a blur on the other side of me. A grunt, and then, “Sorry, Griff.”

Griffin let out a repulsive death gurgle, the pointed end sticking out of the middle of his chest from the crossbow bolt Dev had scooped up off the stairs. With a rough, slimy-sounding twist, the hunter’s reanimated corpse slouched and a burst of energy exploded from the center of his ribcage—a shockwave that sent me flying backward. I anticipated the impact fast enough to protect myself, averting the disaster of a cracked open skull, broken bones, and a world of pain. Rolling onto the patch of landscaped grass just beyond the sidewalk, I finally let out the scream the corpse had deprived me of.

It still hurt. The kind of hurt that had me slumped on the grass that had mercifully soaked up most of the collision, counting the bruises that’d already formed. The kind of hurt that stole the breath right from me. Can I just, for once, not get tossed around on a job?A break, that’s all I ask. My tailbone had taken enough abuse.

“Ow.” That was Dev. Or maybe Rhys. Both? I’d been thrown backward so fast that I hadn’t realized everyone else had gotten a piece of that supernatural jolt.

Somewhere in the parking lot, a car alarm had been set off. Doors slammed shut with harried, sharp notes. I guessed the cops had been scared off.

“Shit. Fuck. What the fresh fuck was that?” Definitely Devyn.

“Sera!” Quick footsteps in my direction. I blinked and Nate came into view, kneeling on the grass next to me, cradling my head in his hands. Rhys followed after him, now sporting a scrape to the side of his face and a laceration above one eyebrow. “Sera, can you hear me? Anything broken? Blurred vision? Can you feel your toes?”

I groaned.

“You got lucky. A fall like that could’ve snapped your neck.” Rhys kneeled next to me on the grass, ignoring his own injuries to make a quick assessment and check my pulse.

“Don’t feel it.”

“Can you move?” Nate wanted to know. His fingers threaded into my hair, gently, one hand moving to cup my cheek.

“Maybe.” I wiggled my fingers and toes. All good. “Slowly.”

Nate helped me sit up and kept a hand on my back, rubbing languid circles, one of his rings catching slightly on the thin fabric of my plaid button down. I tried to take deep, even breaths now that the smothering wall of pressure was gone. Dev made her way down the stairs, inspecting the raw skin on her elbow that’d scraped along the concrete. She had a matching injury on the other elbow that I caught a glimpse of as she rubbed at a sore hip, wincing.

“What the fuck was that?” she repeated.

“That wasn’t me,” I gasped, struggling to get my breathing back to normal. “Someone else was speaking through him.”

“Again,” Dev said. “What kind of supernatural fuckery…”

At the same time, Rhys asked, “Someone did what now?”

“There was someone else, I don’t know, on the other side—”

“Hold on,” Rhys interrupted. “You’ve still got a gusher of a nosebleed. Tip your head forward.” I’d been so rattled by the whole experience that I’d barely noticed the torrent dripping from my nostrils all over the front of my shirt and onto my jeans. I was a mess.

“Here.” Nate tugged a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it gently against my nose to staunch the flow. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Feels like someone crushed my skull from the inside, but sure, yeah, I’m fine.”

Nate’s gaze was pointed, his tone gaining a hint of urgency. “Seraphina…”

“I’m fine,” I promised, though I was trembling all over and knew he could feel it. Just like he could hear the erratic beat of my pulse. “Little dizzy, but alive.”

The itch of the nosebleed made me squirm a bit. I’d ruined Nate’s handkerchief with my blood of all things. His jaw was very obviously clenched, doing that flexing thing that told me he was clinging to restraint. Concealing whatever he felt from me. It wasn’t enough—a wayward drop of scarlet landed on his hand and he tensed, the two of us locked in a moment that lasted a lot longer than it should’ve. I watched it slide into the valleys of Nate’s bone-white knuckles and sucked in a breath while it stained his skin deep red.

He held my gaze over the bloody handkerchief, the ice blue of his eyes slowly shifting toward an iridescent silver. With an intensity I couldn’t evade. An intensity I dare say I might’ve liked.

The voice of reason bashed me in the head. A little late. Not the place nor the time. Priorities, remember? The corpse that just spoke to you is a bit more pressing.

“Nate,” I told him softly. “You don’t have to. I’ve got this.”

The moment finally broke and he bowed his head as that dangerous spark between us quickly dissipated into shame. Devyn had already backtracked toward Griffin’s corpse which spared us from her commentary, and Rhys seemed to be pretending he hadn’t noticed Nate’s lowered defenses. Nate’s fingers had gone mostly slack on either side of my nose so I ducked away from him enough to gently lower his hand. Plucking the handkerchief from between his fingers, I mopped up the stain drying across his knuckles with the cleanest edge I could find.

He still wouldn’t look at me. “I apologize.”

The blood had finally stopped, though not soon enough for my liking. Or Nate’s. I tucked the soiled handkerchief into my pocket, but no matter how far down I tried to shove it, the scent would still reach his keen vampire senses.

“It’s nothing.” I held his hand, relieved when he didn’t pull away.

He did that a lot when his feelings got the best of him, and I was afraid that one day he’d distance himself and never come back. That was the closest we’d gotten to the whole blood sharing/feeding crisis in the months we’d been together, and while he’d been seconds away from baring his fangs, he hadn’t. He’d stopped himself.

That counted for a whole hell of a lot.

“It isn’t,” he replied. “I shouldn’t have—I’m always so careful with you.”

And he was. Necromancy, on a good night, wasn’t supposed to be a perilous occupation. But sometimes small injuries were unavoidable on my nocturnal adventures. A scraped knee here. A bloodied knuckle there. Things you could slap a Band-Aid on and be on your merry way, not the life-threatening crap Dev dragged me into when I’d hunted. No big deal. Not even to Nate.

I couldn’t exactly be angry with him for the minor lapse when the blood had been pouring freely from my nostrils like Niagara Falls.

I gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you. You know that.”

About six months ago, I wouldn’t have even dreamed of saying those words aloud, so we’d come a long way in our time together. The other more complicated feelings about blood drinking notwithstanding. Those were best reserved for somewhere quiet.

Or maybe not at all.

After the dust had settled, Dev wandered back to us, cradling one elbow. Satisfied that I was mostly all right, Rhys hauled himself up with a grunt and took her hand—which she allowed, distracted—to feel along the length of her arm for anything broken. All he found was the bloodied patches of scraped up flesh.

Dev’s attention lingered halfway on Griff’s corpse. “What was it?” she asked me. “What’d it feel like?”

“Like something fighting back,” I said, and felt Nate’s fingers twine through my own. I knew he wouldn’t like that. I didn’t even like the suggestion of it. “Or someone. I don’t know, I’ve never…it’s never happened. I couldn’t get through to Griffin. It’s like there’s a lock that I can’t pick or break into. A lot stronger than me.”

I did not enjoy that, either. I’ll admit that there were witches or warlocks more powerful than me in this city, but the energy that met me on the other side had no business existing. Worse than a malevolent spirit or poltergeist. Definitely worse.

Nothing I’d encountered before.

“Could be wards,” Dev said. “From what I’ve heard, that’s what they’re like. A spell, a charm. That kind of witchy grimoire shit.”

We were always quick to blame the covens. And, look, not all of them had a reputation for stirring up a lot of supernatural conflict, but most of these situations started in their complicated hierarchy. I could only hope that Ellie had good judgement.

“I would recommend caution,” Nate said. “It seems you’ve made yourself a new enemy.”

I smirked, and he returned it, a brief flash at one corner of his mouth that helped to ease the remaining tension. “Wouldn’t be the first.”

“Who else did you piss off, Mason?” Rhys wanted to know. He dabbed at the laceration on his face, wincing. “Do I need to start taking names or what? Hire you a bodyguard?”

“It’s not like I keep track, big guy. Pump the brakes a little,” I answered. “If we’re thinking this might be coven-related, I haven’t been within range of a witch or warlock to ruffle any feathers. I mean, I’d planned on asking around about the grave robbing, but I haven’t gotten that far. They usually keep their distance, anyway. Not many of them like what I do.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. “Is it fear? Jealousy?”

“Bit of both. My death magic and I are outcasts.”

Of course, he was well aware of that already.

“More than enough reason to make a threat against you,” Nate reasoned. He reached out absently to tuck a strand of hair away from my face. My mind was elsewhere, realms away, still fixated on whatever protected Griff’s corpse. Why? “Whether out of pettiness or darker intentions. Perhaps you and the hunter share a common enemy.”

“Or,” I countered. “Someone wanted to protect him from me. Whatever it is, it didn’t just keep his body from resurrecting—it kept his soul from my reach. Maybe he’d already moved on, but…I don’t know. Guy like that? Doesn’t seem likely.”

“That’s not a problem we’re solving tonight,” Dev said.

The bitter taste of failure mingled with the blood that’d started to crust over on my lip. “I’m sorry about Griff.”

“I know you are.” Her anger wasn’t with me. Griff’s murder just added more fuel to her eternal rage fire.

Her hands flexed at her sides as if she was anxious to sink a blade into some unfortunate feral’s neck. The fresh scrapes on her arms only provoked her foul mood. I knew what that emotional pain was like, too, not that Dev would ever call attention to it.

“None of this is your fault, Sera. There’s something else going on here, and I have a feeling it’s a special kind of fucked up.”

“I’m not qualified to know anything about what this is, so I’ll leave that up to your paranormal expertise to figure out,” Rhys said while I insisted on peeling myself off the ground before the new grass stains had time to set into my jeans. And I was tired of everyone hovering over me.

Wasn’t one of my finest decisions, though in my humble defense, it was very late, I was exhausted from a relentless chain of shitty events, and I’d just suffered a supernatural ass-kicking. Wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders after the night I’d had. So, naturally, the head rush that ensued made me wobble backward, and both Nate and Devyn lunged to grab my arms to stop my inevitable collapse.

The two of them seemed offended that they’d had the same idea. I caught the lethal glare that Devyn attempted to skewer Nate with over my head. I might’ve been the shortest one in the equation here, but Dev wasn’t good at being discreet when it came to anything outside of a hunt. And while they did tolerate each other, I was convinced that someday she’d finally snap and kill him over something petty. Vamp hunting laws be damned.

Rhys let the moment pass, but a distraught frown prefaced the thought that came next. “From the things I’ve seen in my morgue, I do know it won’t happen once. There’s going to be more. We’re just getting started here.”

Fan-freaking-tastic.

The universe didn’t give out breaks for the weary.

Trouble had found me yet again.