Raise the Dead Read online

  The man didn't reply or take his hand. He just stepped back to allow us inside.

  "Oh, he's kinda creepy," Teri whispered behind me.

  I agreed but didn't say so. I also suppressed the urge to look back at her, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to see her. Instead, I waggled my left hand behind me before clumping the tips of my fingers together. I knew she understood the gesture when she didn't speak again.

  On the way here, Teri and I had a talk about staying quiet and out of sight. We couldn't be sure that there wasn't another medium among the coven and I didn't want them to know about her. Not yet. She was going to be my secret weapon.

  "Uh, are you inviting us in?" Blaine asked.

  The man nodded, the movement barely discernable in the shadows.

  Mal glanced at me and I dipped my chin. We were doing this, even if this guy was creepifying.

  Mal walked through the door first and I followed him. Jonelle was behind me and Stony and Blaine brought up the rear. I knew that they were sandwiching us between them on purpose. Their protective instincts were admirable, but Jonelle and I were more than qualified to defend ourselves. I still appreciated their obvious concern. The man at the door was not exactly inspiring trust.

  "This way."

  Jonelle and I glanced at each other when the man in black spoke for the first time. Holy shit, his voice was captivating. Deep, rich, and resonate. He sounded like an American Chris Hemsworth. He stepped into the hall and his face was finally revealed in the light.

  He was beautiful, his skin pale against his dark hair and goatee and his light blue eyes...glowed. With his pitch-black hair and clothes, he could have been a fallen angel, or Lucifer himself.

  I knew I was gaping at him but I couldn't stop myself.

  "Uh, what's your name?" Jonelle asked.

  I looked at her and her eyes had glazed over as she stared at the man.

  He bowed his head, an elegant motion. "Rafe."

  Without another word, he turned and walked down the hall. We all looked at each other then followed. The interior of the house was dim but smelled of herbs, spices, and woodfire. There were two doors to the right, but they were shut. When we reached the end of the hall, Rafe opened a door to his left, revealing a set of stairs that led down.

  Mal hesitated on the top step and glanced back over his shoulder at me. "Don't a lot of horror movies start like this?" he asked beneath his breath.

  "I'm pretty sure there's a couple."

  He chuckled as he began to descend. The scent of vanilla, lavender, and rosemary wafted up the stairs, somewhat calming my anxiety as I followed him.

  "Well, it smells nice," I said.

  "Yeah." Mal stopped again and looked at me. "Are you sure you still want to do this? We could head back to the hotel and find Selene ourselves."

  "It will be faster if they help us. They know Selene and her mother. Maybe they'll know if they have any enemies." Also, there was the fact that Jonelle and I didn't have enough training to find her using magical means.

  "Can we get moving?" Jonelle asked. "I'm stuck between two steps here and my thigh is cramping up."

  Mal's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Sure, Jonelle. Anything for your comfort."

  I could practically hear Jonelle rolling her eyes as he turned around and bounded down the last few stairs. I waited a moment before I followed. Just in case something grabbed at his legs from beneath the stairs. As soon as I reached the bottom step and looked to the left, most of my unease dissipated. I was still nervous, but much calmer once I saw the space to our left.

  I expected dirt, musty boxes, and broken furniture. Instead there were stone floors covered by beautiful woven rugs. The space was huge and lit by lamps and candles. A large table stood near the stairs, the deep brown wood glowing in the golden light. The surface held candles, crystals, and two athames, one with a black handle and one with a white.

  A voice rang out at the opposite end of the room. "Welcome."

  We all turned at once. A woman rose from a huge leather couch, smoothing down her long black dress. Her dark red hair shimmered in the candlelight, falling over her shoulders in smooth waves. Her alabaster skin was even paler than Rafe's but there was a healthy flush in her cheeks. Her full mouth was painted a bright crimson that somehow looked perfect with her snowy complexion. Her eyes were a strange mixture of green and blue, not quite turquoise, but not completely blue either. Like Rafe's eyes, they seemed to glow with an inner light.

  As she drew closer to us, I realized her dress wasn't black but a deep, dark burgundy that was only a few shades lighter than pitch. The square neckline was low enough to show the upper curves of her breasts. A large silver necklace rested just below her collarbones. The work was beautiful and appeared handcrafted. It took me a few moments to make out the image of a crow with its wings spread. The tips of the wings thinned out to create a sort of collar around her neck. It was a stunning piece of jewelry.

  "You must be Malachi," she said as she approached him, holding out her pale hand. Her long fingers were tipped with pointed black nails. "I'm Beatrix Fury. Thank you so much for coming."

  Her distinctive voice somehow managed to fill the room without obvious effort. She projected so clearly that it sounded as if she was speaking next to my ear. Combined with her stunning appearance, I could understand how she would be able to lead a coven for more than a couple of years. She was charismatic and beautiful. She looked as if she'd stepped off the set of a movie about sexy witches. Her power draped around her like a mantle, but it didn't feel dark or frightening.

  Maybe the directory was incorrect. It did say the coven was 'suspected' of practicing dark magic. Perhaps it was wrong.

  After she shook Mal's hand, she turned to me. "Ah, Zoe Thorne. It is so lovely to finally meet you. I've heard good things. And of course, I love the show."

  Before I could formulate a suitable reply, she came closer, took both of my hands in hers, and leaned in to kiss each of my cheeks in turn.

  "Welcome, sister. May your stay be blessed," she murmured in my ear.

  It sounded like some sort of traditional greeting, but Angie had never uttered those words to me before.

  "Um, thank you."

  Beatrix released me and performed the same ritual with Jonelle. They spoke briefly in hushed tones before Beatrix moved on to greet Stony and Blaine.

  Jonelle sidled closer to me. "She's so perfect it's nearly scary."

  I bit back a smile. "That thing she said about our stay being blessed, is that some sort of tradition?"

  "I have no idea," Jonelle answered with a shrug. "I just said what I thought was right."

  Good to know.

  "Is it just me or is this place every witch cliché known to man?" she asked, her voice just barely audible.

  I didn't respond aloud but did roll my eyes toward her. She smirked at me and I had to bite back a snort of laughter.

  She was right, though. If I pictured a high priestess, Beatrix Fury would have been exactly what I, and probably most people, imagined.

  And the room we were in fit my imagined coven house. Stone floors, tall wrought iron candelabras holding lit candles, and heavy, gleaming antique furniture. The only thing missing was a fire pit with an enormous cauldron on top of it. Or a gigantic stone fireplace.

  Beatrix Fury's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Please, come sit. We can discuss things."

  Mal sat on the large leather sofa against the far wall and I joined him. It was big enough to seat four of us but only Jonelle sat next to me. Stony perched on the ottoman near her and Blaine took a seat in an antique chair that creaked ominously when he gave it his weight. He shifted position and seemed completely unperturbed with the symphony of groans that came from the old wood.

  Beatrix sat in one of the wooden chairs that faced the sofa. A low table sat between us, its dark finish covered by a beautifully embroidered cloth. In the center was an antique coffee service on a black tray.

  "Would you like some c
offee?" Beatrix asked as Rafe poured a cup. The coffee still steamed. I wondered if they'd kept it hot by magical means.

  One by one, we all politely declined. The first thing Angie had drilled into Jonelle when she began her training was to never take food or drink from a witch unless you knew you could trust them with your life. In turn, Jonelle seemed to relish drilling that little lesson into us. Apparently, it was too easy to taint coffee or tea with a potion or hex.

  She perched on the edge of the chair. Her posture was perfect and her slender hands were folded in her lap, rings glittering on several of her fingers. When she took the cup of coffee from Rafe, I noticed that one of the rings was a solid thin circle of black. It seemed to absorb light, its surface completely flat. It seemed out of place considering that the rest of her jewelry was silver.

  She dismissed Rafe with a nod and he moved to the chair next to her. Seated as they were, they looked like a strange Gothic portrait, dark yet elegant.

  After Beatrix sipped her coffee, she rested the saucer and cup against her knee and locked gazes with me. "Please, tell me what's been happening to you. Malachi mentioned that Selene has been appearing to you, perhaps as an astral projection."

  Her voice was rich, almost hypnotic. I nodded and felt my body relaxing deeper into the couch. "Yes. Uh, as a medium, I've seen enough ghosts to know that she is not a spirit. Her appearance is too substantial. That's why we suspect astral projection."

  Beatrix nodded as though she understood exactly what I meant. "And what does she say when she appears to you?"

  "She said she was in danger and that she needs my help." I sank deeper into the sensation of serenity and said more than I intended. "We think she may have been kidnapped. For some reason, she thinks I'm the only one who can help her."

  "That's horrible," Beatrix murmured. "And she told you she was in Austin?"

  "Yes, but I think her captors may know she's contacting me."

  Mal's fingers closed over mine and I suddenly gathered myself. Holy crap. Why had I told her that? What happened? Her voice had a soporific effect and lulled me into something of a trance.

  Beatrix cocked her head, her strange eyes sharpening. "Why do you think that?"

  I forced a laugh. "I don't know. Probably just my imagination." Mal squeezed my fingers gently. Crap, this had nearly gone off the rails. Between the relaxing scents that perfumed the air and the sound of her voice, I wasn't thinking clearly.

  Beatrix remained motionless. "Never underestimate your intuition, Zoe. Many times, it's your magic letting you see deeper into the world. Into people."

  If that was the case, then we should all be heading for the stairs and away from this house, because Beatrix and Rafe were giving me the willies.

  Beatrix asked me to describe Selene and nodded when I finished. "Yes, that sounds like the Selene I know. Her mother, Francesca, is a coven member, but she hasn't been to the last few meetings. I assumed she was just busy with work or other commitments, but now I'm beginning to wonder if it's something more sinister."

  "Why?" Mal asked.

  "It isn't uncommon for witches to miss the occasional coven meeting, but she's missed three or four. We only meet once a month, so that means it's been several months since she's been seen. I know several of the other witches have called her, but no one has mentioned if she's called them back." Beatrix leaned forward and put her cup on the table. "Something must have happened to them both."

  "We intend to find out what that might be," Mal said.

  Beatrix rose to her feet, smoothing her dress with her hands. "We will certainly help you. Rafe and another witch from the coven will meet you at your hotel tomorrow morning and take you to Francesca and Selene's house. Unfortunately, I have coven business to attend to or I would be there as well."

  When Rafe stood, so did Mal and the other guys. Jonelle and I glanced at each other and got to our feet as well. It appeared our visit was over.

  "What time can we expect you?" Mal asked Rafe.

  "Nine." Wow. Four words in half an hour. I hope he didn't hurt himself.

  Mal shook Beatrix's hand once again with a polite smile. "Thank you again for your assistance."

  Rafe was as still and silent as a shadow as he led us back upstairs to the front door. It wasn't until after we'd said good-bye and trooped back to the van that any of us spoke.

  "Was it just me, or was that dude creepy as fuck?" Stony asked as soon as the doors were closed.

  "Yeah, he was," Blaine muttered, his focus on his phone.

  "Do you think Carissa knew what we'd be dealing with when we got down here?" Jonelle asked Blaine. "She did say this coven was suspected of practicing dark magic, right?"

  He didn't look up but shook his head. "No, I don't. She would have at least given us a head's up if she knew for sure."

  "Her magic didn't feel tainted," Jonelle mused. "She's powerful but I'm not convinced she's a sorceress. I will agree that they're a little creepy, but I've met a few witches in the past couple of months that are peculiar so it's not surprising."

  "Creepy or not, they're going to help us find Selene, so we need to play nice until we know more about them," Mal said.

  He started the van and steered it onto the street.

  "I just hope they don't try to collect in blood," Stony mumbled, barely audible.

  Mal's eyes shot to the rearview mirror and he stared into the back of the van.

  "What? Did no one else get the vampire vibe going on there?" He laughed. "Jesus, it was like a movie set for a Dracula flick."

  "He does have a point," Jonelle agreed.

  I ignored them all, my mind back in the basement and on the ring that Beatrix wore. The thin, black ring had drawn my attention. And my magic. I'd had to fight the urge to stare at it. It didn't emit power of any sort, but I had a strong suspicion that it was magical in origin. It absorbed the light to well. There was no sheen to it. Almost as if the ring existed somewhere outside of our plane of existence.

  As Jonelle, Stony, and Blaine fell into a verbal dissection of every cliché that Beatrix and Rafe embodied, Mal glanced at me and asked, "You okay?"

  I nodded.

  "Sure?"

  I shifted my gaze from the road to him. "Yeah. Just thinking."

  "About what?"

  "I'm not sure," I answered. "Just...something was off. But I can't put my finger on it, so I can't tell you what it was."

  Mal laughed. "Everything about that place was off."

  "Her magic didn't feel corrupt but I'm not convinced she's what she appears to be." I frowned. "Did you notice the ring on her finger?"

  Mal shook his head. "Not one specific one. Just that she wore several."

  "It was a black ring," I specified.

  "No, I didn't see a black ring. What did it look like? Magical?"

  "Not exactly. But it was completely flat. I mean, the surface wasn't polished but usually jewelry of any kind reflects a little bit of light. This seemed to absorb it. So it might have been magical." I shook my head and sighed. "It's not important. What was your take on her?"

  Mal stared at the road, but I sensed his mind was back at the house we'd just left. "I think she works very hard to maintain her image. But I think there's more to her than the stereotype she projects. I'm just not sure what that is."

  "What's under the cliché, you mean?"

  He nodded.

  "I think she wants to be underestimated. If people look at her and think she's a whackadoo, they won't have their guard up."

  "That's not the important part," Mal mused.

  "Then what is?" I asked.

  "It depends on why. Does she do it so normals won't take her too seriously or because she's up to no good and she doesn't want to raise suspicion?"

  "Normals?"

  Mal grinned at me. "Non-magic people. The ones who have no idea that witches, ghosts, and zombies actually do exist."

  "Ah. So what do you think her motive is?"

  "That's the problem. I don't know," he ans
wered with a shrug. "Do you have any thoughts?"

  "I think she wants to help us. At least for now." Unless she found out about my abilities. Then I doubted she'd want to have anything to do with us. I could only hope that she wasn't a traditional witch who thought necromancers like me should be killed on sight.

  "Then we'll accept her help...cautiously."

  I studied Mal's profile and shivered. There was no way that Beatrix could know about me. No way at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was floating upright in complete darkness, weightless and warm. It was nice here. It felt a little like home. The scent of the darkness wrapped around me. I breathed deeply, unable to place the perfume. But it was familiar somehow.

  Was this a dream?

  A dim glow suddenly pulsed in front of me. I peered into the pale light, curious. A shadow flashed in front of the light and I gasped.

  I opened my mouth to ask who was there then closed it immediately. In the movies, no one ever answered and the woman who asked usually died within minutes. I focused on the glow, squinting as it brightened.

  This time, when the shape moved in front of it, I could make out a serpentine figure. A huge one. Chills spread over my skin. I was trapped in this black abyss with a gigantic snake. Just great. Wonderful. Peachy keen.

  "Why am I here?" I asked.

  My only answer was the soft hiss of scales. Fear spiked within me, closely followed by anger. I was sick to death of people, or in this case snakes, dropping in on me whenever they felt like it. The perfume in the air suddenly clicked in my memory. It was the same spiced woodfire scent I'd smelled at Beatrix Fury's coven house.

  "Answer me," I demanded. "Why am I here?"

  "Is that any way to greet your father, daughter?" The voice was quiet and deep, tinged with warmth and amusement. It was also not my father's.

  I frowned at the darkness. "I have a father and he isn't a snake, metaphorically or literally."

  A raspy chuckle slithered out of the shadows. "I guess you could call me your grandfather of sorts. With many greats attached."

  "And who are you?" I bit my bottom lip as soon as I said it. Dammit, I could practically imagine the countdown clock winding down toward my imminent death.