Putting the Fun in Funeral Read online

  Like he had any right to be frustrated. I couldn’t stir up any anger at his expectations or assumption that he deserved anything from me. It took an unbearable amount of energy just to mumble a few words. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  He pulled me around to face him. Water from my hair soaked through my silk blouse and trickled down my back. He scowled at me. “Why aren’t you slicing strips off me with that razor tongue of yours?”

  I wondered that too. Something had happened to me, like I’d been short circuited and all my wiring was fried. I just couldn’t scrape up any anger or, really, any emotion at all. Mostly I felt like I’d been worn down to nothing. Surely a couple of nights of little sleep and a little bit of alcohol indulgence hadn’t taken that much out of me? Maybe it was all of it—new freedom; confessing to the girls; the rescue of Ajax; and dealing with the cops, Damon, and Garrett. Maybe I just needed a vacation.

  “I’d like to leave now.”

  His big hands on my arms tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t really have one. Everything? Nothing? Beside me, Ajax growled deep in his throat as he eyed Damon balefully. I put a soothing hand on his head.

  “It’s okay,” I told him.

  “I see. You’ll talk to the damned dog but not me. Is that it?”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  He gave me a little shake. “I have things to say to you.”

  “That isn’t really my problem, is it?” With that, I stepped back.

  He looked down at his hands in shock. He no longer held me. I wouldn’t be able to tell him what had happened if he asked. The only answer I had for it was that it was magic, but nothing I could control or explain. It just happened sometimes. I turned into a ghost. Or something. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was really a ghost, with no soul and no heart. Just a shell of a person too stupid to know I was dead.

  What a ridiculously maudlin thought. Self-pity much? I really needed to get over myself.

  I settled back into a fully fleshed form and walked away again, stepping over the toadstools and continuing my way to my car with Ajax on my heels. I heard Damon swear and stalk after me. He overtook me again at the car. I’d already opened the door to let Ajax in. Damon grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him before I could follow suit. He knocked the door shut with is foot and set his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the car.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  He was pissed. Ordinarily that would have amused me. Just at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and go to sleep.

  “I want to leave,” I said. My words slurred with exhaustion.

  He scowled, shaking his head. “What is wrong with you? What happened to your glorious fire? All of a sudden, you’re an ice statue.”

  The look I gave him was vaguely vacant, as if I were the village idiot or something. He started swearing. He probably thought I was doing it on purpose to annoy him. I would be, too, except I didn’t care enough to make the effort. Maybe that’s why Ajax wasn’t smashing through the window to defend me, like I was pretty sure he would if he thought I were under attack. He must’ve been able to read my total lack of concern and decided if I wasn’t scared, then I wasn’t threatened. All the same, he wasn’t all that pleased to be on the inside while I was on the outside. He whined and scraped his claws against the glass behind me.

  “All right. I told you. I’m sorry about last night. Sincerely. Deeply. I didn’t mean to fuck up your meeting.”

  A spark of something almost like curiosity. I considered whether or not I wanted to make the effort to ask the question. I almost decided not to. I didn’t really care about the answer, after all. But I did want to take Ajax home. There was only one way to do that. I had to get rid of Damon.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  I had to debate again on whether I wanted to go to all the trouble of a full sentence. “Why are you interested in me?” There. That wasn’t so exhausting. Six words and a little up inflection at the end. So why did I want to sink down to the ground as though I’d just run up the side of a mountain?

  His bark of laughter hooked my attention for a fleeting moment, and then my interest faded.

  “Damned if I know. You’re all claws, teeth, thorns, and razorblades. If I had any sense, I wouldn’t come anywhere near you.”

  I was pretty sure none of that was complimentary. I tried to summon up some irritation and smart-ass words. Nothing. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was prolong this encounter. I thought longingly of my bed.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  I shrugged one shoulder, leaning back against my car.

  His scowl deepened. “What does that mean?”

  I shrugged again.

  His gaze narrowed and all of a sudden it felt like he was looking at me through a microscope. I looked back without any emotion whatsoever.

  “Something is wrong with you,” he said finally. He actually looked worried.

  “Probably. Mother always said so.” Why had I answered? Kneejerk, I supposed. I was well trained to respond to attacks. “I want to go home now.”

  With that, I dematerialized and slipped through his arms and the door like smoke. I solidified and started the car. My head and body were on autopilot. It was all I could do not to tip over and take a nap.

  Damon followed me home. Tailgated, really. I drove under the speed limit. Usually I liked to roll the windows down and practically break the sound barrier. Not today.

  I parked in the garage, hitting the button to close it. Damon stepped inside before it got halfway down. I didn’t pay any attention to him. I climbed up the stairs to my loft, stopping to rest every two steps. I didn’t bother closing the back door. Damon would have just broken it down, not that I had the energy to lock it.

  I dropped my things on the kitchen island, then got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with ice water from the refrigerator door. I drank it, refilled it, and then carried it into my bedroom. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, I stripped off my clothes and dropped them in a heap.

  I was aware of Damon’s watching, but it was like getting undressed in front of a lamp. Why be embarrassed? Or proud? Or anything else? I redressed in a tank top sans bra, wispy underwear, and a pair of cotton shorts and then crawled into bed. Ajax climbed up beside me, and I closed my eyes, forgetting all about Damon.

  Chapter 12

  I woke in the dark. Ajax sprawled across the bed beside me, his head on the other pillow. I stared up at the green light of the fire alarm on the ceiling. I had to pee. A shroud of debilitating emptiness folded over me, and it took a good five or ten minutes for me to make myself get out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. When I came out, the nightstand light was on and Damon leaned against the wall across from me.

  His gaze was hooded, his face like sculpted marble. Pretty. Ajax lay on the bed looking at me, his ears perked.

  “Want to go outside, boy?” If I had had to pee, surely he did.

  He gave a little bark and followed me out the bedroom door. Damon brought up the rear. We made an odd procession as we went outside to let Ajax do his business. It was night and the moon had set.

  “What time is it?” I wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer.

  “Three a.m.”

  I’d been in bed over fourteen hours. I didn’t even feel rested. “The pool should have made me feel better,” I said. It always had before. It was like plugging in to the energy of life, somehow. I hadn’t done that this time. Never again. Damon had broken it. That was sad. At least I was pretty sure it was sad, but I didn’t feel it.

  “Come on, Ajax.”

  Our little parade went back inside. This time I rested every step. I was late on Ajax’s food and medications, which gave me a pang of guilt. I took care of both then started to ch
eck his dressings.

  “I already changed them,” Damon said in his smoky voice.

  “That’s nice.”

  He made a sound in his chest, halfway between a laugh and a something harder, angrier. “Nice?”

  “Thanks.” That was the proper response. He should be satisfied with that.

  I drank some more water while he glowered at me, and when Ajax was done, I started back toward my bedroom without a word.

  “Rebecca—Beck. Stop. Talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

  I didn’t slow down. “I’m tired.”

  “Fucking son of a whore!” he swore and when I crawled into bed, he sat beside me, leaning over me and bracing his hands on either side of me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “The hell it’s nothing. You’re a zombie. What happened?”

  I tried to sort out an answer so I could go to sleep. I was so tired. “I’m fine. You should go away.”

  “Like hell. I’m not leaving. Not until you’re back to yourself, so if you want me to leave you alone, you’d better start talking to me.”

  I stared up at him. I had no words and no interest in finding any. Anyway, I didn’t believe he’d leave me alone. That was a lie.

  “Rebecca?” He brushed the hair away from my forehead with a feather touch then ran his fingers down the side of my face and rubbed his thumb back and forth over my lower lip.

  Something far beneath the layers of cotton encasing me shuddered and went still.

  “You’re not even giving me shit about your name,” he said. “You hate the name Rebecca.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He swore again, pulling his hand from my face, clenching it and punching it into the bed. Ajax leaped to his feet and snarled, snapping his teeth at Damon. The man ignored the beast. “For God’s sake, Beck! Something is terribly wrong. Help me help you. What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing.” Because that was perfectly true. “I’m just tired.”

  He rubbed a hand over his mouth and flung himself up, pacing beside the bed. I tried to watch, but my eyelids got heavy and I let them close.

  Chapter 13

  I was in water. It swirled over me and around me. I floated, boneless. A bar ran under my back, another under my butt. I opened my eyes then closed them against the brilliance of the sun. In that moment, I glimpsed Damon. His arms were the bars under me. We were in the river pool.

  “Come on, Rebecca. Wake up. Do what you have to do.”

  What I had to do? I had nothing to do. I said so. I think.

  “Yes, you do. You said this pool makes you feel better. That it didn’t work before. I brought you back so you could make it work.”

  “It’s broken,” I mumbled.

  “What do you mean?” His voice was gentle and raspy. Tired.

  “No one else was supposed to come,” I said.

  “My being here broke something?” he asked. “What?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Who does know?”

  When I didn’t answer, he slid a hand around my face and under my head.

  “Rebecca,” he said urgently. “Who would know?”

  “Where’s Ajax?”

  “On the sand. Who would know, Rebecca? Come on, tell me how to help you.”

  “She doesn’t know.” The voice was sharp, hot like cayenne pepper against my skin. I couldn’t see who spoke. But then, my eyes had closed again and I couldn’t bring myself to want to open them.

  Damon’s arms contracted, pulling me tight against the hard planes of his muscled chest. He was naked, or at least his top half was. So was I. Curious. Not enough to be interesting. Not enough to ask questions.

  “Who are you?” Damon’s accusing voice came out smoky dark and hard, all edgy and threatening.

  “Who do I look like, boy?”

  “Like an old cupid someone spray painted yellow.”

  “A cousin. Try again.”

  “This is stupid.”

  A crackling sound and Damon’s arms tightened harder. He made a squeaking sound.

  “Be polite. Have you not heard one catches more flies with honey?”

  “I’m in no mood for—”

  Another crackling sound and a twitching shudder ran through Damon’s body. I smelled something acrid, like burned hair. I fought to raise my eyelids. They were so very heavy.

  “Mind yourself, boy. Your mood is of as much concern to me as it is to the rocks and the river. My concern is for her. Now try again.”

  A beat of tight silence. Then Damon said “Buddha. The fat one.”

  “There you go.”

  “You’re saying you’re Buddha?”

  “I’m a buddha. The famous one wasn’t one of us. He merely borrowed our name.”

  “What does that matter? You said you were concerned about Beck. Can you help her?”

  “She’s correct. The power of the pool is broken. Or rather, it is invaded and overwhelmed.”

  “Told you so,” I whispered, but I don’t think either of them heard me. I wanted to see who Damon was talking to. I managed to get my eyes open a slit.

  The roly-poly little guy sat cross-legged about two feet above the water. His face was round, his head bald, his body a mass of rolls. He was also naked, not that I could see any private real estate. Between his fat and his crossed legs, his bits were well covered. He practically glowed buttercup yellow.

  “I did this? Following her here?” Horror colored Damon’s voice.

  “I do not think so. It matters not. She is dying.”

  “Why? How do I save her?”

  “Bring back the light,” the buddha said inscrutably.

  That made me laugh. At least inside. I knew him enough to know that was exactly the sort of thing that would piss Damon off.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? She’s in serious trouble here. Quit wasting time and tell me how to help her.”

  He’d have made a great drill sergeant. One of those that turned newbie soldiers into giant puddles of piss.

  “She has been cursed.”

  That sounded bad. Not that I knew anything about curses except what I saw in horror flicks. At least I didn’t have to ask who’d done it. The only candidate was my mother. She’d cursed me to sleep. Maybe some prince could come by and kiss me awake. But I didn’t want to be awake. The prince could kiss my ass.

  “I don’t see one.”

  “Because it’s a curse of blood, breath, and bone.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Her death will be a great loss. I will miss her.”

  He actually sounded like he meant it.

  “She’s not going to die.”

  The sound of Damon’s words was.… I drifted away for a moment. My mind flickered. What? Oh. Vicious. He sounded vicious. Dangerous. That reminded me of Ajax. I struggled against the weight in my mind. Who would take care of him if I died? He wanted—he needed—me. We needed each other.

  Wait—my dead bitch of a mother had left behind a curse to kill me? And I was letting it happen? She was so not getting the last word on my life. Plus, I didn’t want to see her again. Not that I planned to go to hell, but that wasn’t exactly up to me and God probably wasn’t all that eager to have me on Team Heaven.

  Damn but I could use a gallon of espresso. Mainline it right into my veins. At the moment, I could barely make myself keep breathing.

  What was a curse, anyhow? Magic, duh. A lot more complex than anything I knew. I didn’t think I could just bat it away the way I had Damon’s attempt at kidnapping me. From what the buddha said, it was inside me. A virus. A cancer. How do you cure those? Death worked. Well, it stopped them cold, anyhow, but wouldn’t be so good for me. Chemo, maybe. What was the equivalent of magical chemo? Or magical penicillin?

  So what could I do? Because sure as the pimples on my ass, I wasn’t going to let my mother beat me. Totally not going to happen.

  Despite my inner bravado, no plan came to mind.
I really had to do better than that. The trouble was, what I didn’t know about magic— Scratch that. What I did know about magic wouldn’t fill a shot glass. Maybe I should get Damon to teach me something if I survived.

  Maybe I should try a different approach. My mother had spent my entire life torturing me. She’d never wanted me dead. Why would she want it now? Maybe she’d thought I’d be the one to kill her and had prepared a post-mortem revenge. That sounded just like her. So did cursing me so she could keep torturing me after death.

  Why was Banana Buddha so certain I was dying? Had mom fucked up her curse? Maybe she didn’t know shit about magic either. Or maybe it was me. I’d never let her know I could do magic. I’d done all I could to keep it a secret from her. I’d probably made it go haywire somehow. Plus, I’m pretty sure if Mommy Dearest had wanted me dead, she’d have found a horribly painful method, not death by coma.

  Okay, then. She probably hadn’t wanted me to die, but she’d accidentally sent me on the way to my coffin anyhow. She’d cursed me without knowing I could do magic and that could have caused a bad reaction. Sorry, Doctor Witch. I had a bad reaction to the curse. I’m allergic. Note that on my chart, would you? Can we try a different one? Maybe get me an anticursetamine? Benadrylahex? Benakillacurse? Calacurse lotion?

  Oh, God. I was sliding off into the crazy swamp. Time to turn the train around.

  Which brought me back to the fact that I still had no idea what to do. I couldn’t let that stop me. So for starters, I should wake up. I couldn’t do anything asleep, not to mention floating naked in a river pool. Well, not so much floating as reclining on top of a half-naked man’s arms. I suddenly wondered what Damon looked like below the waist. Did he manscape? Was he loaded for bear or chihuahuas? What a disappointment if his equipment didn’t match the glory of his muscled torso.

  I was not ’scaped in any way, a fact he’d already discovered. Well, he shouldn’t have been playing the Peeping Tom if he didn’t want to see a full jungle. I wondered if naked me turned Damon on. I suspected I mostly made him question his sanity. His fault for stalking me and trying to kidnap me. Fuck him for thinking I wasn’t sexy anyhow.