One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (15 page)

Daniel glances in Maxx’s direction, but before he can say anything, Father Moss speaks. “Kids, take your seats. The others should be filtering in shortly. Maxx, if you would come with me. I’d rather introduce you after everyone has arrived.”

The hell hound obediently follows Father Moss into his office.

“You made friends with a
hell hound
?”

“Did you know Nacelles has a herd of them under the club?” I counter.

Daniel frowns. “You met Nacelles Caldemer? Boy, when I tell you to mingle, you really mingle, huh?”

I shrug, now kind of self-conscious about the whole thing. “It just kind of happened.”

Other halves start to filter into the sanctuary and I take a seat, knowing full well the Hello Kitty sweatshirt and lack of an arm will garner me a ton of questions. Time to get this party started.

Twenty-Six:

Crow and Humble Pie.

“Group, we have a visitor. Please, seat yourselves.”

Okay, that’s new. I don’t ever remember Father Moss being so formal. Maybe he’s worried the others will take one look at the still absent Maxx and go screaming out the front door. I know I would if I didn’t know any better.

I totally underestimate them.

“Maxx, please join us.” Father Moss says.

The bull sized dog steps out of the shadows, his ears pressed to the back of his ginormous head. He’s nervous. And if he wasn’t the size of a small car, it’d be cute.

A chorus of “Oooooo…” and “That’s a hell-hound!” echo around the sanctuary as everyone, including Noelle, stares at him.

“Is he safe?” Albin asks. His paws are still paws. I wonder if that’s a permanent condition. If so, that sucks.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Father Moss replies. “His name is Maxx and he came with Isis. He’ll only be here a few weeks, so be polite, everyone.”

Albin is the only one brave enough to actually approach Maxx. “Can I touch you?”

The big dog shakes his head. “I am sorry, but in this form I would burn you beyond recognition. Wait a moment.”

The air bends and in Maxx’s place is a beautiful husky with his same golden eyes. “Now you may.”

The half-were smiles. I get the impression it’s not something he does a lot of. He stretches his hand out and Maxx strides forward until he’s underneath.

“Where’d you come from?” Albin asks. His tone is almost reverent. “Are there more of you?” I don’t know if he expects a reply or not, but the entire church seems to hold its breath for Maxx’s answer.

“I am from Hell.” Maxx’s voice is dry. “As all hell hounds are. And yes, I do have a pack.”

That starts the whispering. I get the feeling not every half there believes in either Heaven or Hell. I don’t really blame them.

Albin’s paw sinks deeper into Maxx’s fur. “But what makes you, you?”

The hound cocks his head sideways. “You are very curious.”

“My dad’s a vet,” Albin says. “I guess you could say I was born curious.”

I ooze out of my seat, and shrink backwards, away from the crowd. I know, once they’ve gotten their fill of Maxx, their attention will turn to me and my empty sleeve.

“What’s with the empty?”

Dear Mother of…I close my eyes, say a small prayer for patience, then open them again. I just don’t have it in me to be polite. “What do you want, Noelle?” It’s like my brain’s completely forgotten I promised Father Moss I’d talk to her.

She leans toward me. “Look, Father Moss said I need to help you, and so did Daniel. So here I am, ready to help. Now, what’s with the empty sleeve?”

I tell her the same thing I told the little boy at KFC. “It was an unfortunate dog walking incident.”

Her eyes immediately fixate on Maxx. “Seriously? And so you brought him
here
?”

“It was an accident. He’s not vicious at all.” She raises one eyebrow. “No, I swear. I mean, just
look
at him.”

Noelle swivels to stare at Maxx, who looks as far from vicious as a dog could possibly get; flat on his back, accepting belly rubs. The half-fae laughs. “I see your point,” she concedes.

“So what kind of help do you think you can give me?”

“I have ties to the community my
boyfriend
doesn’t. I used to be a dancer. I still dance, on occasion. That takes me places. Places your runaway vampire might be.”

“Hold up. Daniel’s your boyfriend? He never said anything to me about it.”

“Not everyone advertises their relationships,” she says, but the look in her eyes tells me it’s pretty much one-sided. “Focus, Isis. As I said, I’m a dancer. I can ask questions; see if anyone’s seen anything.”

“You mean you’ll help me as long as I stay away from Daniel.”

She stares at me. “That’s the deal, yeah.”

I shake my head. “I won’t agree to that. If you can’t accept my friendship with Daniel, that’s your problem, not mine.”

Her eyes begin to glow, but I refuse to back up. “This is ridiculous,” I say instead. “Noelle, get over yourself. You can jinx me all you want, but seriously. I’m not staying away from Daniel. He’s pretty much the only friend I’ve got
in
this place. He likes me and I like him. Deal with it.”

The half-fae’s eyes dim back to normal. She looks thoughtful, and not at all inclined to turn my fingers into snakes again. “I don’t like you, you know.”

I shrug. “That’s okay; I don’t like you, either.”

Noelle bites her lip before continuing. “I actually think you and I might be friends someday.” She laughs. I can only imagine it’s at my dumbfounded expression. “Not today, and not tomorrow. But someday. The truth is, there aren’t many halves I like.”

I want to say something sarcastic, but she’s making an effort and so should I. The problem is, I have no idea what to say.

“Why do you live here?” I finally ask. “You look pretty normal; you could get away with living outside.”

“Really? Have you
seen
my eyes?”

It’s weird, having Noelle confide in me. “Just tell everyone you’ve got contacts. No-one’s going to care.”

“You really don’t get it. How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, eighteen?” She certainly doesn’t look much older than me, and
definitely
doesn’t act it.

“Not hardly. Add around one hundred years to that guess.”

I blink. “A hundred and eighteen? Really?”

“Fae age very,
very
slowly. So do witches. That lovely fact leaves me pretty much stuck looking like a teenager for the next hundred years or so. That’s not exactly conducive to living a normal life.”

Wow. At least I can move around in the real world. No wonder Noelle’s such a…pill. She’s right. We might not be friends now, but we’re not exactly enemies anymore, either.

“Noelle, can I steal Isis away from you for a moment?” Father Moss startles me. I’m so involved with my conversation with Noelle, I don’t even hear him coming.

The half-fae shrugs. “Sure, I’m not her keeper.”

“Everyone is wondering what happened to your arm,” the gargoyle continues, “and how you came to be acquainted with a hell-hound.”

I take a deep breath. Regardless of how much the church feels more like home than home does, I don’t know if I’m ready to tell every half there my story. But it looks like I don’t have much choice. Maybe I’ll actually get some friends if I start to confide in people. If nothing else, it’d make my mom worry a little less about me. Luckily, it doesn’t take long to tell the story, not with Father Moss and Lydia ensuring there are no interruptions. By the time I finish, saying, “and so I brought Maxx here,” I’m emotionally worn out. Lydia seems to sense that, because she motions me to follow her. I do.

“You look flustered,” the witch says. “Why don’t you take ten minutes in the cemetery? The air will do you good, and I’ll make sure you’re not bothered by any of the halves.”

I literally trip over a tombstone. When I look down, I notice it’s one I’ve seen before. “What happened to the half-wendigo that’s buried here?”

“She was killed by a half. Not all of you are safe to be around other people.” Lydia states. “There are rooms below us which house the more dangerous ones.” She glares at me. “Do not go down there without express permission and a powerful escort.”

That sounds like a challenge.

Twenty-Seven:

What Lies Beneath.

“I mean it, Isis. Do
not
go into the rooms below the church,” Lydia states again.

I bite my lip. Maybe Maxx can go down there with me. He’s a hell hound. What could be safer, right?

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Lydia sighs. It’s like she can read my mind. “On second thought, why don’t you come back inside with me? Father Moss has an announcement.”

I was kind of looking forward to sitting outside, among the actual dead, but I nod and follow her back inside.

“Now,” Father Moss says right as I walk back through the arches, “if everyone will finally sit down, we’re having another movie night soon. Does anyone want to watch anything in particular, or should I make the decision again?”

There are a ton of suggestions. Most of which, in my not so humble opinion, suck. ‘You Got Mail’, ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’, ‘The Notebook’, and ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ (the original one, not the hilarious remake).

Albin raises his hand.

“Yes, Albin?” Father Moss asks.

“What about movies that are more, I don’t know, in keeping with our current lives? You know, like ‘Dracula’ or ‘Silver Bullet?’”

“Well, the point of movie night is to keep things lighthearted and fun,” the gargoyle says. “But if the general consensus agrees, I’ll bow to what everyone else wants.” He grins, showing a row of truly impressive stone teeth. “Of course, there aren’t any horror movies about gargoyles, so I know
I’ll
be sleeping well that night.”

Everyone laughs, as I know he meant them to, and start chattering among themselves. I feel kind of left out, even after my ‘confession’, until Maxx and the still nameless kitten amble over to me.

“Isis, are you unwell?” Maxx pushes himself against me.

I bury my hands in his still husky sized body.

“Lydia told me other halves exist,” I tell Maxx.

He blinks those huge golden eyes at me. “Yes, they are in the church.”

I shake my head. “Those aren’t the halves I’m talking about. I mean the ones under the church. The ones Lydia says are dangerous.”

The big dog sneezes. “You wish to see them.” It’s not a question.

“I’m curious. Wouldn’t you be?”

“There have never been half- hell hounds, Isisss. Unlike the human species, we are isolated and very careful where we place our teeth.”

I’m almost positive he just insulted me; but I have no idea how. “I want to go downstairs, Maxx. I want to see what Father Moss is hiding.”

“I do not think this is a wise course of action,” Maxx replies. “There is a reason they have been locked away. If a
witch
, a woman who survived the Trials of Salem, is telling you not to go, why are you refusing to listen?”

“Because the more dangerous creatures might know where Andrew is. Because I’m curious, and all this is new to me and I’m just plain, flat out
curious
. Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Curiosity killed the kitten,” Maxx sneezes again.

“Cat,” I automatically correct. “Curiosity killed the cat. And how do you know that saying? I didn’t think you’d ever seen a cat before Callie.”

“Who is Callie?”

I smile. “I’ve decided to name the kitten after my grandmother. She was a burlesque dancer.”

He tilts his head to one side. “And so you decided to name a kitten after her.”

“She loved Calico kittens.” I hear myself start to defend the choice. Gah. “You never did answer my question.”

“I have seen cats. I have not seen kittens. I have never cried over spilled milk, but I understand the concept of doing so.”

Okay, point taken. I’ve never cried over spilled milk, either. Well, maybe when I was a toddler, but certainly not in recent memory. “So will you go with me?”

He tilts his head at me. “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

“Of course not. Both Lydia and Father Moss would tell me I can’t go. But I want to, Maxx. I want to see what’s down there.”

“You will go with or without me,” Maxx states.

I nod. It’s true. I will. “So will you come with me?”

“I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to go down there by yourself. But you need to understand that Father Moss and Lydia will be quite upset with you.” He sneezes again.

“Maxx, you do that a lot. Are you allergic to me, or something?”

He opens his mouth and his tongue lolls out. “I am allergic to your less than intelligent ideas, Isis. But I like you, and I do not desire to watch you get injured by your choices.”

What a polite way of saying I’m a total idiot and have the worst ideas ever. Of course, that isn’t going to stop me from doing exactly what I want. “I want to go downstairs.”

The dog sighs and lumbers to his feet. “Do you wish me to change my size first?”

It’s an awkward shrug, but I manage. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“This is your venture, not mine.”

So I’m the one who gets to make all the decisions? Gee, thanks Maxx. I think aloud, “I have no idea where the entrance to downstairs is.”

He cocks his head at me. “That is a problem.”

Yeah, it is. Father Moss’ hearing is excellent; I’m pretty sure he’ll hear me looking around. “Will you distract Father Moss while I see if I can find stairs or something?”

“You are using me as a blind.” The hell hound states.

“No, that’s not what I said,” I reply. At least, I don’t think that’s what I said. Sometimes Maxx confuses me. “I just want you to talk to him.”

“That is what a blind
is
, Isisss. I thought you graduated from your high school.”

“I did,” I protest. “But ‘blind’ usually means not being able to see, not a distraction.”

“You are missing the point, which is that you wish for me to enable your deception.”

Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point of the whole conversation. “How else am I supposed to snoop?”

“I would recommend investigating the small door on the side of the church,” Maxx says. “It appears to be quite old and might contain what you are searching for.”