Chapter 13

T he next morning, I was feeling more myself than I had since the train shed. There was a certain joy to be found in tormenting siblings with hangovers. Dare I say it was a special glee belonging to me alone. Since I was The Responsible One, I often had a front row seat for Josie and Matty’s regrets. This time, however, I had to admit they had outdone themselves.

Years ago, Matty egged Josie on to Frankenstein random vegetables and fruits into what they now called fruitables. Which they fermented into alcohol. It always— always —knocked them for a loop. And they never learned their lesson.

Honestly, I don’t think they wanted to learn aside from which fruitables produced the strongest buzz.

As the morning sun stabbed Matty in the eyeballs, I was doubly grateful I abstained from their nonsense.

“Oops.” I bounced the wagon through a pothole on the way to Bonaventure. “Sorry about that.”

“There were never this many potholes before,” he whined, his eyes swollen.

“Oh no.” I tapped the brakes. “A possum crossing the road.”

“You always blame a possum.” He curled in a ball against the door. “There aren’t that many in Georgia.”

“Maybe they all moved to Thunderbolt?” I dialed up the music. “They’re everywhere these days.”

“Why aren’t you punishing Josie?” He covered his ears with his palms. “She did it too.”

“Carter is handling her punishment.” I chuckled imagining what she would cook up for our sister. “You’re the one who thought it would be a hoot to get drunk on bathtub gin, or whatever you call it, during your workweek. You knew you had to wake up early, and yet you chose to party.”

And, since he was about to take a long nap, Pascal would be the one stuck with the consequences.

“I found out my sister died .” He glared at me through red-rimmed eyes. “I was traumatized.”

Smarting at how much truth I heard in his accusation, I hardened my resolve. I was an old pro at how the blame game was played when it came to mediating between my siblings. He had thrown a red herring in the hopes I would give him a pass. I might have, if he and Josie hadn’t broken my no drunks on the stairs rule.

They were going to break their necks one day if I didn’t keep hammering their thick skulls until they got the message. Then again, maybe that was the missing step. Maybe I ought to let them take a fall and then shove the warning into their brains along with any leaking gray matter.

Idiots.

Not to be distracted, I pushed him harder. “How long does it take for that poison brew to ferment?”

“Two weeks.”

“You two planned this two weeks ago. Before I died. Don’t blame my death for your bad decisions.”

“But we wouldn’t have gotten into it last night if—” He sagged against his seat belt. “I’m sorry, Mary. You don’t deserve that. How can we ask you to share your concerns with us if we throw them back at you to excuse our bad behavior?” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “I was upset about what happened to you, but I could have told Josie no when she suggested we sample our latest batch.”

“She suggested it, huh?” I rolled my eyes. “You sure that last bump wasn’t us rolling over Josie after you threw her under the bus?” I wished I could keep myself from caving, but it was a lost cause. “Brat.”

“But you love me.” He leaned his head on my shoulder. “I’m your favorite brother.”

“My only brother.”

“I’m your favorite sibling too,” he said sagely. “You just won’t admit it. Not even to yourself.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Because I did love him, and I was a giant sucker, I relented and made the rest of the drive smoothly.

A grin split my cheeks when I rolled into my usual parking space to find Kierce waiting on me with Badb.

Rushing through the usual routine with Matty, I seated Pascal within him for the day.

Paco, who was up in the Suarez rotation, had requested the day off, so his little brother was on deck.

“You’re sure you want to teach him to drive in the wagon?” Pascal slung an arm around my neck without evidencing so much as a twinge from Matty’s overindulgence. The guy had a cast-iron stomach. Even when the stomach in question belonged to someone else. “He’s a cool guy, don’t get me wrong, but the wagon? Don’t we have a clunker you can use for this?”

We’d had a ratty little pickup a few years ago. We let Josie drive customers home after dropping off their vehicles or pick them up once we finished with their cars. She’d sold veggies and fruits out of the back of it at the farmers’ market in town as well as hauling her gardening supplies. I’d had big plans for the Suarezes to finish rebuilding the transmission before moving on to the body work. I figured we could have it wrapped to advertise the shop, but then the Suarezes carved a classic car repair niche via Matty.

We’d started specializing, learned it was cheaper to send customers home in a rideshare than to let Josie run wild in any garden centers she passed by while playing chauffeur to customers, and we let it go to a neighborhood kid with a knack for rebuilding cars for the cost of repairs we had already done.

“I backed into the parking spot. All he’s got to do is drive a straight line, turn, and then we’re home.”

“It’s your car, Francita.” He raised his hands. “You do what you see fit with her.”

Had he been alive, I had no doubt the wagon wouldn’t have been a gift for me but for him. From him.

Much like Kierce’s rather specific interest in a 1976 Toyota Land Cruiser FJ40. What can I say? Pascal had a knack for conning people into financing his wish list of project cars. He might not get to keep them, but it was enough he got to restore them.

“You’ve been friends with us for too long.” He dredged up a sigh. “You ignored my guilt trip like a pro.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” I patted his shoulder. “I learned early how to tune out siblings.”

“Even other people’s siblings?”

“Especially those.”

His good-natured grumble about how he had experienced real hangovers in his day as I slapped a cold electrolyte drink in his hand, just in case, made me smile.

“Oh. I forgot to ask. Have you guys heard anything about disappearances near Limehouse?”

“Limehouse? That in South Carolina?” At the wagon, Pascal settled on the backseat and made the sign of the cross. “I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll ask Paco and Pedro when I get home.”

With a firm hand, I nudged Kierce behind the wheel then shut him in so he couldn’t change his mind and bolt. Tempted to mimic Pascal’s motions, I circled the vehicle to claim the spot beside Kierce. “This is going to be fun.”

Kierce, hands resting on his thighs, didn’t appear convinced by my enthusiasm.

“Place your hands at ten and two…” I walked him through the basics while we sat in the parking lot, then I encouraged him to turn the key. “Check your mirrors then ease your foot off the brake. Yes. Just like that. Now place it on the accelerator.”

Knuckles white where they gripped the steering wheel, Kierce followed my instructions, jolting when the wagon moved forward. He cut a panicked look at me, and Pascal jabbed a finger into his cheek to force his head forward again.

We lurched home in bursts of acceleration that broke Kierce out in a cold sweat.

As soon as the shop was in sight, he declared, “I’ve learned enough for one day.”

Shoving open the door, he stepped out of the wagon to suck in deep breaths.

“Guess this means we’ll practice parking next time.” I slid over behind the wheel. “Just a word of advice? Maybe don’t leap from moving vehicles?” I heard the question in my tone and knew it came from doubt I should be giving advice to anyone on that score. “Also? Put the car in park before you exit the vehicle.” I indicated the flat area where we sat. “Had this happened on a hill, the car—and its passengers—would have rolled away.”

“I apologize.” He wouldn’t look at me. “I didn’t think it would be so difficult.”

“That’s what I’ve thought after every lesson you’ve given me.” I patted the seat. “Do you want a ride?”

“No.” He stumbled back a step. “I’ll walk.”

After shutting the door, I guided the wagon the last few yards to the parking lot and turned in. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Pascal drawled from the backseat. “Are you waiting for me to say I told you so ?”

“You just did.” I twisted to face him. “Be nice, Pascal, I’m warning you.”

With a grunt, he exited the wagon and headed for the garage, shaking his head the whole way.

I didn’t get a chance to open my door before Kierce was there, doing it for me.

“I’m sorry I was so careless.” He held out his hand for mine, helping me exit. “I put you and Matty at risk.”

“This is a flat stretch of quiet road. It’s a great place for you to learn to drive.” I invited myself to cinch my arms around his waist. “You do have to be cautious while operating a vehicle or people will get hurt, but I won’t put you in a situation where that’s a concern until you’re ready. Just breathe. You did great.”

“Your definition of great concerns me.”

“The first time Matty drove,” I recalled, “he was so nervous he vomited on himself.”

Not his fault, really, when St. Mary’s made us walk anywhere we wanted to go. We had only been in the van used for school trips once, so it wasn’t surprising he had motion sickness from the hunk of junk I had bought for us. I saw now that the sisters had done their best to narrow the scope of our world and teach us as few life skills as possible so that independence frightened kids with more malleable personalities.

Even if we had stuck around to age out of the system, us Marys would have been the first three in line to receive our diplomas come graduation day. Better behaved children might not have known the fear that clawed my insides raw at night, but Josie was a hellion, and Matty and I had known the sisters for what they were: monsters.

“The first time Josie drove, she ran straight into a tree. She spent the next month sobbing that she was a murderer and healing its injuries.” I snorted. “She didn’t drive for a year after that.”

A curious lilt in his tone, he asked, “What about you?”

“I was never afraid of cars. I learned how to hot-wire them early.” I had been taught by the kids I ran with back then. “I stole cars for about a week before I felt too guilty. Without transportation, people can’t pay their bills. They rely on cars to take their kids to school, the doctor, after-school activities.” I sighed. “I couldn’t stomach that job and got put on another.”

Pickpocketing was more my speed. I chose targets who could afford a minor loss.

Guilt still clawed at me, but I blocked it out by hugging my siblings after I got in from a night’s work. I had done it for them. I would have kept doing it too. Had I not been a budding necromancer, I couldn’t have earned enough to break the cycle. I was one of the lucky ones.

“Is that what drew you to operating a car repair shop?”

“Huh.” I reflected on what I had told him. “I never considered that.”

The subconscious mind was a tapestry of past regrets, future fears, and randomness collected throughout our days woven together into the fiber of our beings.

“Why did you choose it then?”

“The reasons I gave you for not stealing a car are valid for why people repair them no matter the cost.”

People skipped meals to afford parts. They begged family or friends for loans. They worked extra shifts.

Good mechanics were hard to find, and car repair was as necessary as groceries in rural communities.

Amazing how much business you could accumulate if you charged fair rates, kept your promises, and did your best to patch holes in the supply chain before your bottom line tripped and fell into them.

“Then you made a wise investment in your future.”

“Seems that way.” I shrugged off the past. “We’re lucky we can afford to specialize these days.”

We still performed bread-and-butter routine services. Oil changes. Tire repairs, replacements, rotations. But the real money was in the classic car restoration. A niche I owed entirely to the Suarezes.

Though, to be fair, many of the cars weren’t classics during the Suarezes’ lifetime.

They were just, well, cars .

A horn blared in the distance, drawing our attention, and Carter rolled to a stop in front of the shop.

The window whirred as it lowered, and she called, “Hop in, you two.”

Crinkles fanned out from Kierce’s eyes as he smiled at her ordering us around like her underlings.

Once we got in and put our seat belts on, I met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

“Oh?” Her sly grin promised mischief. “Your sister likes it.”

“Eww, eww, eww.” I plugged my ears with my fingers. “I don’t want to know what she likes.”

As I hummed to drown out what she said next, a spear of heat struck me in the abdomen and yanked.

The light engulfing me ebbed until my vision cleared enough to tell I was answering a summons.

Again.

Dis Pater sat at his desk with his back to me. His laptop was open as he typed away on his next cozy. The chapter heading, containing a cat icon, gave him away. I read over his shoulder from where I drifted on a horizontal lean. I really needed to get the hang of this astral projection thing.

“What possessed you to name your character Kitt Gato?” I fixed my tilt but couldn’t get my feet to hit the floor. “Could you not decide on his age and thought Kitten Cat was a good middle ground?”

A long-suffering sigh bowed his shoulders before he hit save and spun in his chair. “You again?”

“Looks that way.” I spread my hands. “I assume Kierce is en route?”

“He is the one I summoned, so…” He winged his eyebrows high. “You do the math.”

“Are you an asshole to everyone, or am I special?”

A flicker of something crossed his features before he scoffed at me. “You’re not special.”

“Ah. You’re just an asshole then.” I shot him two thumbs-up. “Good to know.”

“Are you stalking Kierce?” Elbows on his armrests, he steepled his fingers. “Are you obsessed with him?”

“No.” I huffed at his nerve. “I’m not an obsessed stalker.”

“That’s exactly what an obsessed stalker would say.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh. That’s good. I can use that.”

While he jotted down his idea, I drifted to the window. Sure enough, Kierce was racing for the cottage.

“What would you do if I told you to stay away from him?”

Dis Pater’s voice drew my attention back to him. “Ignore you.”

“You’re not afraid?” He resumed his earlier pose. “I am a god .”

“You also murder people just to see if they’ll die or change into something more interesting.”

“Again.” He shrugged. “I’m a god.”

The door crashed open on a windswept Kierce before I could bite back at Dis Pater.

“Report.” He spun in his chair, turning his back to us. “What have you discovered?”

“Eleven of the skeletons are missing small bones,” Kierce gritted out, searching me over for injuries.

“They probably thought we wouldn’t notice,” I said smugly, submitting to Kierce’s examination.

“We?” Dis Pater glanced back at us, his gaze calculating. “ You helped him ?”

Keeping my mouth shut seemed like a great idea in the moment, so that was what I did.

“Can you sense their power?” His eyes gleamed bright. “What happens when you touch them?”

Oh yeah. I wasn’t saying a word. Clearly, I had already shared too much.

“What would you like me to do, Master?”

There was that word again. Master. Kierce used it as a diversionary tactic, but it set my blood on fire.

Pretty sure Dis Pater heard my teeth grinding, because he smiled at me. “Find them, of course.”

“I’ll take my leave then.” Kierce bowed to his chuckling god. “I’ll contact you as soon as I have them.”

“Take your little friend with you.” He flicked his wrist in my direction. “If she’s going to keep sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, she might as well be useful. Besides, with the two of you working together to find the bones, you can return them to their resting place that much faster.”

“You’re going to put them back?” I heard my doubt. “You don’t want to use them?”

“Listen, mouthy girl, some things are sacred even to gods.”

“Gods killed the Alcheyvāhā, who were also gods, so…” I watched for his reaction. “What’s the difference?”

“Kierce, your puppy is yapping.” He exhaled. “Take it on a walksie, or I’m driving it to the pound.”

The next flick of his fingers clenched my torso in an invisible fist and flung me away.

Clamping a hand to the side of my aching head, I cracked open an eye to find Carter’s face an inch away.

“Don’t eat me,” I breathed, heart rattling against my ribs.

“I’m not a fucking vulture,” she snarled at me. “I don’t go around eating people who look dead.”

“I fainted again?” I groped the seatback then decided lying down was good. “Ugh.”

“You slumped over midsentence.” She inspected my temple. “You need to get a handle on this.”

Pressure caused my ears to pop, and then Kierce was there, leaning over me. “Are you all right?”

“If I don’t figure this out, and soon, I’ll have to wear a helmet twenty-four-seven.” I groaned at the brush of his fingers across my cheek. “It’s that or risk brain damage.”

“I don’t understand how he’s summoning you.” Kierce drew me against him. “We’ll figure it out.”

Withdrawing from the cab, Carter jumped down from the running board. “Should I take you home?”

“I’m good.” Kierce, and me too, I guess, had our marching orders. “I’ll see if I can’t get through to Vi. She would know if it’s possible to block the connection to Kierce that’s causing this.” I curled a protective hand over the summoning token inked onto my forearm, the one resembling a tattoo of Badb in flight. “She might know a way to give me a warning anyway.”

A heads-up I was about to go bye-bye would allow me precious seconds to get flat on my back. That could prevent future head injuries. But the idea of leaving my body behind, without protection, was terrifying. I had seen the worst almost happen to women who passed out drunk on crowded streets. I had given up on filling my pockets to call the cops when someone was in danger. That did not endear me to the other kids who had to ditch their plays to avoid being spotted by officers who recognized them or their tricks.

So far, I had been lucky with my blackouts. Carter had been there both times to guard my body. Eventually, luck had a way of running out.

A call distracted Carter, who walked away from the truck wearing a scowl that morphed into a snarl.

Before I could ask what was wrong, she slammed my door then climbed behind the wheel. “Carter?”

“There’s been another abduction.” Her laugh was manic. “A bean sidhe from Florida in a sedan.”

“Then we’ve got witnesses.” I leaned forward then groaned as my head swam. “What did the officers see?”

“Nothing.” She screwed her eyes shut tight. “They’re gone too.”