Soft Apocalypses (13 page)

“Mary, what’s going on?”

Mary shook her head. “I can’t explain. There’s no time.”

She stepped back into the bedroom and stuck a hand in her pocket to find the key to Karl’s bedroom. Her fingers found nothing but lint. She’d left the key in her dirty jeans upstairs.

“You didn’t happen to bring the dirty clothes down to the laundry, did you?”

“I put them in the wash.” Yolanda reached into the breast pocket of her apron and pulled out the key. “Are you looking for this?”

“Yes.”

Mary reached for the key. Yolanda dropped it back in her pocket.

“No. Not until you explain,” Yolanda said. “
I
am responsible for this house when Mr. Barrington is away, and if there’s a danger here, I need to know exactly what it is. ‘Something bad’ isn’t a good explanation.”

“Dammit, I can’t—”

“When I was upstairs, I heard a noise in the second-floor bedroom. I was surprised the door was locked, but not half as surprised as when I found a strange man in there.” Yolanda paused. “The blood on your shirt wasn’t from a deer, was it?”

Mary took a deep breath. “No. It’s wasn’t. The man in the bedroom is … my boyfriend Karl. He wrecked his bike, and I brought him here.”

“That boyfriend of yours is a real cutie. But he has an awful lot of stitches in him. I’m no doctor, but I think I can tell when a guy’s had his head sewn back on. So how come your boyfriend is still breathing when he should be in a morgue?”

“I’m … a healer. A white witch. That’s why William hired me. I could keep him alive when the doctors couldn’t.”

Mary closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her nerves. “Last night, I had a vision that Karl had an accident. He was dead when I found him, so I brought him here to bring him back. Since then, I’ve had ... bad premonitions. Something very evil is coming here, and I honestly don’t know what it is. I
do
know that if we don’t get out of here, it’s going to kill me and Karl, and probably you, too.”

Yolanda paused, looking skeptical. “Maybe all this is happening because you helped Karl cheat Death?”

“No. I’ve done resurrections before, and nothing like this happened. Besides, by that logic, the spells I cast on William should’ve brought evil down on us, too. Heart failure is just as fatal as decapitation. Neither of the men in my life should be alive right now.”

Yolanda stared at Mary. “I knew of a Santeria witch woman once. She claimed she did white magic, too, but there was a blood price for everything she did. There was a balance. If she cured a cold, a chicken or a lizard had to die. If she helped someone stay alive, someone else had to die.”

“There has to be a balance, yes. You can’t generate magic out of nothing. Healing requires a lot of spiritual energy, and the easy way to get it is to take it from another life. But my mother taught me a better way: I can generate the energy myself, if I stay fit and eat right and all that good stuff.”

“So you don’t kill people?”

“Not unless they’re trying to kill
me
.”

Yolanda considered this, then pulled the key out of her pocket and tossed it to Mary. “Let’s get your boyfriend and get out of here. If something happens to the house … well, that’s why Mr. Barrington has insurance.”

After checking on Karl and replacing his I.V. bag, the two women went up to Mary’s bedroom. Mary quickly laced on her old hiking boots and threw a few changes of clothes and some toiletries into an overnight bag.

“We’ve got to be really careful with Karl.” Mary shook her head. “He shouldn’t be moved at all, but we have no choice. There’s an old wheelchair up in the attic. We can use that to take him out to the car.”

Mary left her bag on her dressing table and knelt down beside her bed. She reached under it and pulled out a battered steel case.

“First things first,” Mary said. “We’ve got to be able to defend ourselves.”

Mary undid the combination locks and opened the case. She pulled out a large revolver, flipped open the cylinder and checked the contents. Satisfied, she closed the cylinder and held the pistol out to Yolanda. “Here, take this. It’s loaded with consecrated silver bullets half-jacketed in cold iron. Ammunition against most anything, dead or alive.”

Yolanda stared at the gun as if it were a very large spider. “I have never fired a gun in my life.”

“It’s easy: just point the gun at the thing you want to kill and squeeze the trigger.”

When Yolanda didn’t reach for the gun, Mary said, “Look, you’ve
got
to take it. It’s iron; I can’t have it on me, or it’ll screw up any spells I try to cast.”

Yolanda reluctantly took the pistol and stuck it in one of the deep side pockets of her apron.

Mary lifted an ancient silver-bladed bronze dagger in a red leather sheath from the case. It was an Irish priest’s scían, made sometime in the fourth century. She stuck the holy weapon in the waistband of her jeans under her pullover. “Please get the wheelchair, and I’ll prep Karl for the trip.”

Mary grabbed her overnight bag and hurried down the stairs. The aspirin had only blunted the pain in her head, and her stomach was growling unpleasantly. At least her overlong sleep had given her most of her energy back. Once they had Karl squared away at a motel someplace, she could order a pizza and cast a divination to figure out what the hell was causing her visions.

Her stomach growled again, loudly. God, she was so hungry! If she didn’t get more food soon, she’d lose what little concentration she had left. Mary dropped her bag beside Karl’s bedroom door on the second floor landing and headed down to the kitchen.

As she was hunting for a Powerbar in the pantry, the back door opened.

“Who’s there?” she called, putting a hand on the hilt of her dagger.

“It’s just me, dear.” William Barrington stepped out of the darkened entry hall into the light from the kitchen. He looked alert and cheerful, despite his long flight. “I’d have called to let you know I was returning early, but that would have spoiled the surprise. Please meet Nala, my new nurse.”

A tall, beautiful model in a tailored green suit stepped up beside William. Her silken auburn hair cascaded down over her shoulders, and her eyes—Mary blinked, and did a double-take.

The woman’s lovely high cheeks, pouting lips and green eyes seemed
transparent
, and behind the beautiful mask of a face Mary could just barely see the visage of something ugly and gray, something with skin that writhed and eyes like molten lead.

“I met Nala in Mexico City a few months ago,” William said. “I appreciate all you’ve done, but the fact is, it’s not enough. Nala can give me eternal youth. I’ve got to say her magical skills are quite impressive. Did you know she can pull a man’s guts out through his mouth, and keep him alive indefinitely? She can also make the dumb son-of-a-bitch who’s been fucking my wife wreck his motorcycle. Neat, huh?”

Mary’s stomach dropped as she remembered her visions.

“But you
can’t
be young again and remain William Barrington, can you?” she said. “So you have to become someone else. I get it. You planned to have
her
magic Karl’s bones and teeth to look like yours, then kill me and burn the place down.”

Mary took a step toward him. “The police would find the skeletons and think we’d both died in a freak fire. And then you’d take over the identity of whoever inherits the estate and the insurance money.”

She paused, trying to remember the latest rewrite of his will. “It’s your nephew George, isn’t it? You’re gonna kill him and Rita. Damn you, those kids just got married.”

“You’re a sharp girl; I always liked that about you.” William’s expression didn’t change.

Mary swallowed nervously, trying hard not to look at Nala. “You didn’t have to do this. I could’ve made you young again, and arranged a new life for you—”

“Bullshit.” His eyes gleamed with fury. “How am I supposed to trust you after you’ve cheated on me? Do you think I can’t smell that bastard’s stink on you?”

“The only stink you’re smelling is coming from your new girlfriend. Christ, she’s not even
human
! The only eternal life you’re gonna get out of this is the one she’s booked you in Hell.”

He smiled thinly. “I doubt I’ll die to see it anytime soon. So be sure to send me a postcard when you get there.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw Yolanda creeping down the stairs with the gun in her hands.

“This is taking too long,” Nala announced. She had a voice like a nest full of copperheads sliding through the strings of a bass violin. “I need to get on with the boyfriend’s transformation if we’re going to be finished by dawn.”

“Right,” William said. “Kill her.”

Nala hissed and made a grasping gesture with her left had. Mary gasped as invisible claws raked her innards and closed around her heart. Her whole body began to shake. She tried to speak a protective charm, but her tongue was paralyzed. She could only emit a thin moan as the agony became unbearable—

Fire flashed from the muzzle of Yolanda’s revolver. The twin Magnum booms were deafening. Two bullets exploded through Nala’s belly, leaving behind raw, saucer-sized craters that oozed black ichor.

The spectral claws abruptly released Mary. Nala roared, enraged and in pain, and turned on Yolanda. The demoness raised her hands and made a sharp push in the air.

An invisible force slammed into Yolanda’s chest. She was flung backward into the stairs. Mary heard the crack of bone against wood. Yolanda bounced forward and tumbled down to the ground floor like a rag doll.

Mary was already whispering an incantation as she drew the silver dagger. She tackled the demoness, pinning her arms to the tile floor.

“With the power of the Goddess I cast thee, foul creature, from this house and from this living plane!” Mary shouted.

She grabbed the shrieking demoness by the hair and carved into her neck until she felt the metal grinding against bone. She whispered the ancient Gaelic words of banishment into Nala’s ear.

“
Immee gys Niurin
!” she finished with a shout.

Mary gave a hard yank, and heard a wet popping. She wrapped both arms beneath Nala’s chin and yanked again, hard as she could. Nala’s head tore free.

The decapitated demoness shuddered, then fell limp. Her flesh and bones smoked, collapsed and disintegrated as if her body had been little more than a shell of flash paper. In seconds, there was nothing left but a sulfurous stink and a film of ash on the floor and on Mary’s jeans.

William was still standing there, dumbfounded. “What—what have you done?” he finally stammered. “I already gave up my soul. Oh God. What the fuck is going to happen to me now?”

Mary stood up. “You’re going to Hell, asshole.”

She slugged him in the jaw with everything she had left. He tumbled backward and fell flat on his back, unconscious.

Mary looked around. Yolanda lay in an unmoving heap at the bottom of the staircase. Mary’s stomach sank. She hurried to the housekeeper’s side and gently rolled her over. Her neck was broken, and her eyes stared out at nothing. Mary couldn’t find a pulse.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Goddammit, I don’t have anything left. I can’t help her. Unless ....”

Mary stared at her husband.

“What I’ve given, I can take away.”

She dragged him over to Yolanda’s corpse, washed her hands, and began.

Three weeks later, the first snow of the winter fell. Mary finished her conversation with the coroner and hung up the phone. She cinched her thick terrycloth robe tighter, wiggled her feet back into her bunny slippers and padded into the library.

Yolanda and Karl were reading on a quilt they’d spread beside the roaring fireplace.

“Well, looks like you two are feeling better,” Mary said.

“Yes, much better,” Yolanda replied. “Was that the coroner?”

Mary nodded.

“What did he say?”

“That Mr. William Barrington the Third died of natural causes: arteriosclerosis and coronary failure due to a long life of smoking and drinking and being a general heartless prick. The police are no longer interested in anything that may or may not have happened here last month. And so William’s estate will officially become mine once the paperwork is sorted out.”

“So what happens now?” Karl asked.

Mary sat down beside him and gave him a playful pinch. “What happens now is that
you
are going to give me a foot rub. A very
long
foot rub, because I am
beat
.”

She lay back on the quilt and closed her eyes. “But please, be gentle. I’m in mourning.”

I Fuck Your Sunshine

Vampires? Of course I know them. You are surprised? Some call me ... what is it? “Fang hag.” Ugh. Demeaning. I am crow to their wolves, eagle to their lions. You do not understand? I am succubus; the upyr and I, we do not compete, because we do not want the same thing. Sometimes, we feed on each other, yes: cock is cock, and blood is blood. Their seed is … an acquired taste. Sour and bitter like rust, and sometimes it sticks in your throat like stale gummy candy. Not so zingy as live semen. But it takes the edge off!