Abra Cadaver (12 page)

With a glance to the shovel she had left leaning against the shed, he set the body on fire instead. Since he wasn’t talking to Holly anymore, he didn’t need to live by her rules. Forget burying the bodies. It didn’t make sense anyway. They weren’t human.

As the fire died and the demon corpse was reduced to ash, Keane put the shovel away in the shed. On his way out, the door almost came off completely. After rummaging around in the few tools Holly owned, he found a screwdriver and tightened the hinge screws. A little grease in the hinge itself got rid of the lonesome squeak the door made every time it opened or closed. Enough moonlight spilled into the backyard to make this work possible, and he enjoyed feeling useful.

He was good at something besides killing demons. He had learned so much in his time on the planet and could fix absolutely anything from shed doors to motorcycles. He knew his way around the globe like no one else possibly could. He’d read all the science journals he could get his hands on and loved seeing the technology man had created for himself through the ages. He wasn’t sure where it would all lead, but there was great potential in the human mind. Part of him looked forward to being around to see the next big step humans would make.

Another part of him, however, just wanted to focus on Holly. He wanted to pay her back for giving him a room in her house. For taking him on that ride to the beach. For not flipping out that he’d met her parents.

For kissing a warmth into his body in the water four weeks ago.

That kiss replayed itself over and over in his mind. It tortured him, bringing both pleasure and pain. On the one hand, being that close to Holly—having his lips pressed against hers—had made him feel more human than he’d felt in centuries. On the other hand, the moment that dog interrupted with its barking, he knew he was far from human and not at all what she needed. When the dog had growled and snapped at him, he knew he had to forget any crazy notions of keeping Holly for himself.

Keane made sure the shed door shut properly after his quick repair. He headed up the back porch stairs and went inside. The TV was still on so he paused in the kitchen for a moment. He didn’t hear Holly stirring, and when he continued on silent feet into the living room, he realized why he hadn’t heard her. She was asleep on the couch, papers strewn about on the coffee table, books open on the cushions beside her, and a purple pen stuck into the sloppy bun she’d forced her hair into.

She looked absolutely amazing. He hadn’t truly seen her in a month, and now, in the dim light of a single lamp, he took his fill of admiring her. Her breath came in a steady rhythm in and out. Pure music to his ears. Stray copper curls framed her face, and her full lips whispered his name in his imagination. He longed for her to wake and pull him down to her. To say she wanted him and only him.

It should have been easier forgetting her since school started. She was at work from 7:45 a.m. to about 3:30 p.m. every day, but during those hours, Keane was trapped inside the house or on the porch out of the sun. He roamed from room to room wondering if today would be the day he was released from Holly. When her key finally jingled in the lock after school, he skittered off to his bedroom, afraid that if he actually had to speak to her, he’d end up doing more with his lips than talking.

She appeared to be keeping herself separated from him as well. She usually stopped in the kitchen after coming home, got a snack, then spent an hour or so doing schoolwork. The weather was nice still, and sometimes she changed into shorts and a T-shirt and went running outside. Keane would have loved to go with her.

At night, all he wanted to do was slip under the quilts of her bed and be with her. Hold her until morning came, then hold her some more. Make love to her until they both were too tired to do anything else but cuddle close. Instead, he forced himself to the post office to spend the nighttime hours sorting mail. When his shift ended, he hopped on his bike and rode around on the deserted roads until the horizon got that pink sunrise glow. Every seventh night, he jumped to his kill and wasted a demon so Holly’s life could continue. So she would get closer to doing her something important and set him free to find his next save.

He worried incessantly about the day he would have to move on. How would he ever be able to forget Holly? How long would his damned life exist? Had the witch meant for him to be immortal? If so, that made the curse even crueler. To live forever in a never-ending cycle of saving and killing was enough to drive a man mad.

Maybe he was already mad. Wanting Holly as much as he did was insanity.

No, you’re not mad. You’re managing.

Looking at Holly now, he pushed some of her papers aside and sat on the end of the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. Holly had been back to work for a while now, and he wondered if she enjoyed her new students. How many did she have? What were they like? What was she teaching them? He cast a glance to the papers and read the first paragraph on one of them.

My name is Emma. I have one younger brother and older twin sisters. That leaves me in the middle. Some kids don’t like the middle, but I don’t mind it. My dad is a middle child too. Once a month, he takes me out for a special dinner, just the two of us, so I don’t “get lost in the shuffle” as he says. We usually go for pizza, but sometimes it’s Chinese food. I don’t care what we eat. I just like being with my dad. He’s a fireman and the greatest.

The essay went on to describe the rest of Emma’s family, but she always went back to saying how wonderful her father was. It made Keane’s chest ache that he’d never have a daughter or a son who thought he was wonderful. That he’d never have a family he could call his own.

He shuffled through some of the other essays, and every one of them talked about family. Not all of them were happy essays, but they all illustrated the importance of human interaction. The importance of not being alone on this planet.

He put the essays down and heaved in a huge breath. He got up meaning to head toward his bedroom, but a picture on the coffee table caught his attention. He sifted it out and turned it around so he could stare at the face on what he soon realized was a wanted poster.

Alan Hendrick. Caucasian male. Approximately 40 years of age. Height: 5’8” Weight: 165 lbs. Eye color: Brown. Hair color: Blond. Identifying marks: Scar through left eyebrow. Wanted for molestation, kidnapping, and assault.

The poster provided information on where Hendrick had last been spotted and contact numbers should he be in the vicinity again. Keane did not like that he’d found this among Holly’s school things. Did not like that someone such as this might be anywhere near her and her students. He took a good long look at Hendrick’s face, committed it to memory. Another seventh night would come a-knocking soon enough. If justice existed in the world, this Hendrick would be a demon and Keane would be compelled to find him on night seven.

He went to the bathroom across from his bedroom. He cleaned his dagger and hopped in the shower to wash away what he’d done tonight. Never could get rid of the stain of killing even if only demons. It left marks on the soul.

In his bedroom, he dressed and considered his options. It was only 1:30 a.m. and he didn’t have to work. He could stay in the bedroom, but he’d spent most of the day cooped up in the house. He could watch some TV, but he’d probably wake Holly if he did that. He could go out on his bike and cruise around until morning forced him to come back. The last choice seemed the best, so he grabbed his leather jacket and made his way into the living room.

Holly was still asleep, and he paused to study her once again. He had the urge to rouse her and ask if she wanted to go for a ride with him, but that would be stupid. Instead, he tiptoed past the couch and opened the front door.

“Don’t touch me!”

Keane whipped around at the sound of Holly’s shout. He leaned over the back of the couch, but her eyes were still closed. She tossed and turned in her slumber, flailed out an arm, and Keane knew another nightmare plagued her. They were worse just after he’d killed a demon, as if the energy were too powerful right away so it had to unleash itself in the form of nightmares.

“Get away!”

Melinda’s sister had described the terrible dreams to him. They usually included chasing or torturing by gruesome, relentless beasts. Sometimes both. Looked as if Holly was getting the full treatment tonight.

After a few moments, she settled down, a few shudders rippling through her body. Keane wished he could take the nightmares away from her. Take himself away so her life could return to normal. It would happen soon enough once she did something important.

Keane took in a breath and sifted it out. Quietly, like a shadow, he turned back to the open front door and slipped into the night. Only the sound of his boots crunching over the gravel driveway and the end-of-summer song of some night birds echoed through the trees. Though the days were still warm, the nights were getting cooler. Summer was definitely over and surrendering to autumn. Keane wished he could smell that seasonal change in the air, but as usual, he couldn’t enjoy even that small pleasure.

He walked his motorcycle to the end of the gravel driveway and hopped on. He started her and hoped from this distance he wouldn’t disturb Holly. Not any more than the nightmares were at least. After pulling out onto the dirt path that led to the main road, he maneuvered around holes and muddy spots created during a rainy spell earlier in the week. When he emerged onto the main road, he picked up speed and asked the wind to blow his cares away.

Under the watchful eye of the moon, he zipped around tight corners, flew down long stretches of abandoned road, and spun out on patches of sand. Juvenile, but when you can’t die, you may as well enjoy some daredevil antics when no one is looking.

Finally the hours passed and a thin line of hot pink appeared on the eastern horizon. He turned around in a parking lot and raced home.

To Holly’s home.
That’s all it could ever be.

He pulled onto the driveway and cut the engine right away. Still sitting on the bike, he walked it down to where he usually parked it beside Holly’s car. He got off and decided to sit on the back porch until she left for work. Quietly, he walked around the house to the backyard. His boots kicked up demon ash from his latest kill.

On the porch swing, he was sheltered from the rising sun. He stared out over the backyard at two cardinals perched on the fence by the shed. A male and a female. The bright red male whistled a melody while the female preened her much duller feathers. The male hopped closer to the female and angled his head as he let loose another tune. The female chirped a response, and the two of them took off toward the feeder Holly maintained in the yard. As simple and ordinary as it was, a spark of jealousy ignited in him.

You’re envious of birds now?
He bent forward, rested his elbow on his knees, and supported his chin in his hands.

He snapped his head up when the porch door opened.

“Oh, sorry.” Holly started to close the door.

“No,” Keane said. “I’ll go. It’s your porch.” He stood, but didn’t want to walk past her at the door. Didn’t want to get that close. He hesitated and looked to the porch steps. Sunlight beamed in full force on the wooden steps now. Going down them and around to the front door of the house was out of the question. He glanced back to the porch door.

“Stay, Keane. I don’t need to come out here. I heard the cardinals singing and…” Holly’s voice dropped off. She shrugged, backed into the house, and let the door close a bit.

“Wait.”

He gave in and walked toward her. She stepped onto the porch with a mug of tea in her hand. The long green dress she wore made her eyes a shade of green deeper than a forest in summer. One side of her hair had been gathered in a comb with a mother-of-pearl design that shimmered in the morning light. She smelled like lilacs, and Keane furrowed his brows.

“What?” Holly said. “You look confused.”

“You smell like lilacs.” He dared to take a step closer and inhaled.

“My perfume. So what?” She sipped her tea and turned to face the backyard where the male cardinal had started his singing again.

“I don’t smell things, Holly. I can see, hear, and feel, but taste and smell have been gone for centuries. The last thing I remember smelling is the burned seaweed, mead, and ginger root that the witch mixed up when she gave me the abra cadaver curse.”

“You haven’t smelled anything since then?” She leaned her backside against the porch railing and looked up at him.

He shook his head.

“What about this tea?” She held the mug out to him. “Do you smell it?”

Keane took the mug careful not to make contact with Holly’s fingers. He held the tea beneath his nose and sniffed several times. “Nothing. What kind is it?”

“Cinnamon apple. Pretty strong scent on it too.” She took the mug back and set it down on the porch railing. She took two steps closer to him and moved her hair away from her neck.

Keane took the invitation and lowered to inhale. The lilac fragrance exploded and he closed his eyes. Clenching his hands into his fists at his sides to keep from touching her, Keane let out a sigh. Holly turned her head so her lips were inches from his cheek. Heat bounced between them in a silent, lilac-filled moment.

A moment Keane didn’t want to end.

Chapter Fourteen

Holly was tired as hell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept deeply. Those damn dreams never quit, and now that she was back at work, she realized just how much sleep she’d lost. She felt as if she were sleepwalking through her days.

Except for right now. Right now she felt quite awake.

Her skin tingled as Keane’s breath played along her neck. She never imagined that when she woke up this morning she’d end up standing this close to him again. All she had to do was lean forward a fraction of an inch, and her lips would be on his cheek. It wouldn’t be a far trip from there to his mouth. His full, soft lips that had once brought her great pleasure were right there. Waiting.