Demon’s Bluff (Hollows #18)

Chapter 19

Chapter

19

The buses didn’t run out to Tucker’s Landing, and the rusty beater that I had magically hot-wired from a used-car lot was burning both oil and antifreeze. I had driven so Elyse could eat, and the takeout bowl of Skyline chili in her hand gave me the twin feelings of hunger and nausea.

I could tell even before sunrise that the day was going to be hot. There wasn’t a cloud in the predawn sky, now just beginning to show a hint of light at the horizon as we drove in from the main road. I wasn’t sure if I should be thankful or creeped out that Elyse knew where Kisten had tied up his boat for his deadly rendezvous on the Ohio River. So I settled on suspicious.

Uneasy, I brought my gaze down from the skies as I parked at the outskirts, among the stored, tarp-covered boats that hadn’t seen water in years. Kisten’s yacht was at the nearby docks, set apart from the rest. The small cruiser was Kisten’s sanctuary for when he needed space from Piscary. Or at least it had been. It was usually berthed at the quay outside the restaurant. Here, tied to a rickety, moss-covered dock, it looked huge.

“You okay?” Elyse asked, and I got out. The woman glanced at her chili, then awkwardly followed, bowl in hand.

“Peachy,” I said softly as I walked to the dock, certain I wasn’t on the boat. Art had fled immediately after Kisten had bit him. I’d left shortly thereafter, finding my way to the church to get some stakes to kill some vampire ass. My life might have ended right there if Jenks hadn’t downed me with a forget charm. Thank you, Jenks.

My feet were silent on the damp boards, Elyse’s steps fast and out of sync behind me. Memories flooded me as I paced to the stern, where it was easier to board, memories of Kisten, his smile, his blue eyes bright with love—dark in desire, how he made me feel…But mostly, how helpless I’d been when Art had attacked him, the way the boat had moved with his weight when he came aboard, how the water had lapped, chattering out a warning, Art’s bloodlust, and then anger when Kisten had died before he’d gotten even a taste—and lastly, Art’s fear when Kisten had sacrificed his undead existence to protect Ivy and me.

Exhaling, I grasped the railing for balance and swung my leg over it. “Don’t touch anything,” I said as the boat moved and I drew my other leg over and stepped down into the luxurious cockpit. “The I.S. couldn’t care less about what happened, but the FIB sweeps for evidence and there was no sign of you.”

The cushions were still out, damp with dew, and I blinked fast, sealing everything away.

Elyse scuffed to a halt behind me. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

But it was too late, and I hiked my shoulder bag higher and looked through the glass doors. Kisten’s kitchen and living room were dark and tidy. Breath held, I slid the doors open and stepped into the galley, resisting the urge to call out to him.

And then I hunched, physically pained as Kisten’s scent washed over me.

For a moment I couldn’t move, my arm wrapped around my middle as a thousand feelings sifted through me. It was almost worse than seeing him in the bar. This was where we had dreamed, and planned, and lived.

“Rachel?”

“I’m okay.” I forced my gaze up as the scent of chili plinked through me. It was her dinner, and it jolted me from my heartache. Grim, I forced the lump from my throat. “You probably shouldn’t bring that in here.”

Elyse held her takeout dish of Skyline chili tighter. “I won’t spill anything.”

“If I can smell it, so will the I.S.,” I said as I forced myself to go into the short hall to the bedroom. Closure. She thinks I needed closure?

“Two days from now?” she questioned, and I ignored her. The place already smelled like the pasta Kisten had made for us—for my birthday. As long as she didn’t drop it, we’d be okay.

What the hell am I doing? I thought again as I passed the tiny bathroom. Kisten’s door was open, and I scuffed to a halt. I’d already done this with Ford, the FIB’s psychologist. Or rather, I would. Course, by the time he’d brought me out here, Kisten had been cremated and the investigations had been shelved.

I forced myself to take one long step to settle in the archway to Kisten’s low-ceilinged bedroom. It was dark, the curtains pulled back to let in only the faintest hint of the coming dawn.

“Don’t turn on the lights,” I whispered, my expression twisting as I saw him propped up against the bed where I remembered him being, his head slumped to his chest, one knee askew, the other leg out straight. His hands were in his lap, and my eyes closed in a strength-gathering blink. Elyse, you are either a very good friend or a sadist.

My breath slipped from me, and I went to him, my legs like water.

I fell to a kneel, reaching to touch his face, to brush his silken hair from his forehead. He was still fucking warm, and my throat tightened. His eyes were closed, and tears spilled from me. They weren’t tears of grief or loss, but at the stupidity of it all. I had loved him, and there were still times when Trent would find me staring into space with a wistful look. I’d always miss him, but my heart had mended, slathered with Trent’s devotion and utter love for me. I had found a way to live past his death.

“I’m so sorry, Kisten,” I whispered, taking his hand in mine and brushing his hair back. Newt was wrong. There was nothing here for the sun to burn. I’d come too late.

And still…I could not bring myself to leave. “I wish I’d known what I know now,” I whispered, unable to let go of his hand. “Been braver. Maybe I could have worked something out with Piscary and saved you. But I am glad you lived to know that Ivy finds love,” I said, thankful that Elyse had the decency to give me some privacy. “She found a woman who makes her whole. And I find not only love but someone who believes in me. We are both okay. You saved us.”

Kisten’s fingers moved in mine, and I jerked.

“Kisten?” Shocked, I gripped his hand and leaned in. Newt had been telling the truth, and I froze, gobsmacked. “Elyse? Elyse, he’s still alive!” I shouted. “I mean, undead!”

Elyse landed in the doorway, that Skyline bowl in hand, her focus darting from Kisten to me. White-faced, she put a hand over her mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Sorry? I thought, and then got it. Sorry because I was going to have to walk away and let the sun end this. Well, fuck that! I thought, giving him a shake. “Kisten? Kisten!”

“Rachel, stop.” Elyse came forward and set her chili down. “I am so sorry. This was not my intent. I was hoping you’d find closure, not a false hope.”

“But his fingers moved,” I said, holding them to my chest as I studied his face.

Elyse inched forward, awkward and slow. “Bodies move as muscles let go.”

“That wasn’t a relaxing muscle.” I gave his cheek a little slap. His face was ashen, but the undead didn’t really have a pulse but for once every minute or so if they weren’t active. His aura, I thought, quickly unfocusing my attention to make his aura visible. My breath came in shakily. His aura was still there, but it would be for up to three days after he lost his soul.

“Even if he was still undead…Rachel, he can’t survive biting another undead. The virus mutates from host to host, and when they mix, they fight for supremacy, killing both.”

But he wasn’t twice dead yet, and my hope quickened. “Art lasted for three days.” I held his hand, waiting for it to move again.

Elyse was silent, and I fought the urge to slap him again. Kisten’s eyes had silvered that night. I’d seen it. But he was still here. I could not walk away and let the sun end it.

“Rachel, I am so sorry,” Elyse said again, voice plaintive now as she hovered, clearly wanting to leave. “Giving you this false hope was not my intention. You can’t change anything.”

“Yeah?” I let go of his hand and lurched to my feet. “Maybe I was here to save him, huh?” If I didn’t get him underground before the sun rose, it wouldn’t matter if he was still undead. He’d be all-the-way dead.

“You can’t save him,” Elyse insisted, voice high. “You didn’t. Ivy has his ashes.”

But my resolve was growing, and I scanned the room for something to wrap him in. Comforter, check. “Ivy has someone’s ashes. Maybe they aren’t Kisten’s.”

“Rachel Morgan, stop this!” she shouted, going silent when I pulled the comforter off the bed and spread it on the floor beside him. “What the Turn are you doing?”

“Sorry, Kisten.” I shoved him over, straining to roll him into place. The man was heavy with muscle. “Ivy might not have Kisten’s ashes,” I said breathlessly. “We never got to identify him. He was cremated at the city morgue before we could.” Which was SOP for a master’s mistake, now that I thought about it. I’d done it myself.

I dropped my bag onto Kisten’s chest, feeling the early hour all the way to my bones. “I could use some help here.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Elyse raised a hand in protest. “You find him here. Dead.”

“Not until Tuesday. That’s two days from now.”

“And then?” she said, still not moving. “What then?”

Crap on toast, why wasn’t she helping me? The bloody sun was about to come up. “If he’s still undead Tuesday morning, I will put a doppelganger in his place. Maybe they cremate a John Doe.”

She made no move to help, even when I flipped the ends of the blanket over him and began to drag him to the narrow door. It was undignified, and I hated it, but Kisten wouldn’t care. He’d laugh, probably.

“This would go faster if you would help,” I said, looking past my hair at her. “We’ve got to get him underground before the sun comes up.”

Elyse exhaled loudly. “They check for body authenticity before running the furnace. Ivy has Kisten’s ashes.”

I shook my head, grunting as I got him another foot closer to the door, and stopped. “I helped Ivy cremate one of Constance’s city lessons three days ago. No one checked the body. They took us at our word.” Frustrated, I let go of Kisten’s shoulders, leaving his head propped against my legs. “It was your idea for me to find closure. I’m closing. The virus is still alive in him. Until it isn’t, I’m keeping him away from the sun. You going to help me or not?”

“There are only two seats in that truck,” she tried next, but Kisten wouldn’t mind being put in the truck bed.

“Please,” I said evenly, begging her. “Help me get him underground and we can talk about the ramifications all day. You’re right he’s not going to make it, but once he’s gone, really gone, I can bring his body home under the same stasis spell you’re going to need and do that stupid curse you dangled in front of me.” And if this worked, I was going to use a stasis spell on him. To do otherwise would have him a decayed corpse by the time we got home. “You owe me, Elyse.”

She flushed. “I don’t owe you anything—” she started, but I’d have none of it.

“Nu-uh,” I said, eyes narrowing on her. “You said you were sorry for using Kisten’s death to manipulate me. That you saw how cruel it was when Newt did it. If you really meant that, prove it. Help me move him underground and find a body to take his place so I can bring him home and use that curse you tried to trick me with to protect Cincy when I have to go into hiding to avoid Alcatraz.” I took a slow breath. “Or were you lying that you were sorry about that, too.”

“Fine!” she shouted, clearly frustrated, and my pulse quickened as she dropped her empty chili bowl on him beside my bag and grabbed his ankles. “If we both need the same charm, you might actually twist it.”

“You are a piece of work, Elyse.” Head down, I took his shoulders and we maneuvered him into the narrow hall, elbows knocking.

“He’s not going to wake up hungry, is he?” she asked.

Oh, if only, I thought, then shook my head. “Not with his aura still clinging to him,” I said, then added as I snuck a glance at her, “Thank you. I really appreciate this.” Because if I managed to get Kisten’s body home intact, I could do that stupid spell and slip the coven. Sure, I’d be bringing Kisten’s ghost back every night, but he could maintain Cincy’s vampire population while I hid in the ever-after. I don’t want to hide in the ever-after…

But that’s where I’d be if I couldn’t uncurse Brad.

“I’ll help you stash Kisten and find a replacement body,” she said. “But after he’s underground, I want to get some sleep. I am so tired, I could hibernate. And we are even after this, Rachel Morgan,” she added, face red. “You can’t hold me manipulating you with Kisten over me again. Got it?”

I puffed a strand of hair out from before my eyes, thinking I would manipulate her with anything I wanted, any damn time I felt like it.

“Sure.”