The Devil Dances (15 page)

“She didn’t kill herself out of despair,” I told John and Mary when I stepped outside the room. I thought about what she’d said last night, how she had offered me her soul. “I think she was sacrificing herself. She hoped to give herself to whatever is in those woods, to satisfy it.”

It took John a moment to emerge from his fugue. When he was sufficiently together again, he stepped back inside his mother’s bedroom to look down at the Bible with me.

“I don’t know why she didn’t wait, why she didn’t trust in my spell,” I added. “But I don’t think it was a suicide done in despair. For what that’s worth.”

He nodded. My words had lent him, if not peace, then at least determination. He straightened his shoulders and went back out to start discussing the funeral plans for his mother.

I went and stood over Mrs. Knapp’s body and wondered where she was—in Hell, or in some unnamed limbo space with the few remaining decent people in this world, waiting for the Throne to be filled so they could all be properly judged? I didn’t know, of course, not without going to Hell. And if I asked my dad, he wouldn’t tell me anyway. He’d just tell me to find out for myself.

I’d liked Mrs. Knapp. She was one of the few in this world whom I had trusted.

As I stood there, I felt a quick stab of pain somewhere in the vicinity of my left shoulder. I probed under my shirt, coming up moments later with a single, long, black plume. Huh, I thought. That’s strange. I wondered how a feather had gotten into my clothing.

After the coroner arrived and funeral plans were begun by the community, I took myself off and together Vivian and I endeavored to remain scarce for the rest of the day. I didn’t tell anyone about the entity in the woods, but I knew that, somehow, it was at least partially responsible for this tragedy.

The following day, the Swartzcopf buried Mrs. Elsie Knapp.

It was a somber, simple affair. There was a mass outdoor church service that we were invited to attend, much to our surprise. Abraham planned to speak about Mrs. Knapp’s life and struggles, and to reaffirm the power of community, but I knew I wouldn’t be attending. As a general rule of thumb, daemons and churches do not mix well.

The last church service I had attended was for my partner, Peter, in the NYPD. That had been held outdoors as well, a military-style service with a full twenty-one gun salute to honor his service as one of New York’s Finest. Peter had been a devout Roman Catholic, and the faith of the attending priest and surrounding mourners had been nearly enough to buckle my knees and make me heave into the sod. Peter’s mother, his only living relative, had bequeathed me his badge, and that small bit of brass had burned in my hand when I’d touched it. That’s how strong his faith in God and the System had been.

I’d learned my lesson since then. Now I avoided churches, crosses, and men of faith like a second-rate vampire.

Since Mrs. Knapp had had no living relatives outside the colony, the burial service in the private cemetery and the feast that followed was kept insular. No outsiders allowed. Mary fed the mourners who visited the house in shifts, ten at time. Since there were well over three hundred Swartzcopf in the colony, and all of them were expected to visit, I knew the funeral dinner would last for hours, if not days.

I didn’t want to be a burden, so while the black-hatted and black-capped Swartzcopf marched in and out of the Knapp farmhouse, I decided to go out and explore Mulberry Grove. Okay, I’ll be honest: I was feeling like shit. I had promised to protect the colony, but my presence had so far brought nothing but death and misery to these people. The little comfort I had been able to offer John just didn’t seem enough.

While sitting on the edge of the bed, tying on my Skechers, I asked Vivian if she wanted to join me in my informal hunting mission. I thought of how much stronger I would be with her at my side. These days, we were a little bit like the Bonnie & Clyde of the supernatural world.

She was washing her face in the wash basin, but grabbed a towel and turned to me. “Pass. Mary asked me to help out with the funeral feast,” she said through the towel.

I raised my eyebrows at that. “That’s surprising.”

“Why?” She dropped the towel and stood there in her conservative cotton nightgown, the same one she’d gone sleepwalking with, her hair in furious wet tangles over her shoulders. Somehow that made her look both angelic and demonic at the same time. She was frowning at me. “I’m a professional baker, you know… when I’m not waiting tables at that stupid steakhouse, anyway. I can cook up a storm when I want to, and Mary said they’re really short-handed. She’s interested in sharing her recipes with me if I don’t mind giving her a hand baking some of the pies and cakes.”

I tilted my head. “You like Mary, don’t you?”

Vivian shrugged, all that delicious hair springing around her shoulders in wet coils. Vivian hated her curls and was always trying to straighten them out. She even threatened to get a Brazilian Blowout once, but I thought her curls and freckles were adorable. “She’s not afraid of me… or, she’s not anymore. She just talks to me like I’m a regular person. No one’s talked to me like that since I was a kid. Billie used to talk to me like that.”

She stared down at her hands as she realized what she’d said. Billie had turned out to be a raging sociopath with an eye toward stealing the Throne by eating the angels and her own half-human child. I knew Vivian was thinking about that, what that meant about her choice of friends.

I hated seeing her upset. “If you like her,” I said, standing up and hugging her against me, “then you should spend time with her. I can think of worse influences.”

She grinned up at me. “Thanks, Nick.” She went to the antique wardrobe in the corner of the room and pulled out a long, dark blue dress that she pressed against herself. “Do you like it? Mary made every part of it herself. It was supposed to be for her eldest daughter, but she decided to leave the Swartzcopf after her Rumspringa, and none of her other children are big enough to fit in it yet. She gave it to me to wear to the funeral today. Look… no buttons. The Swartzcopf don’t use buttons. They use these hook and eye things.” She showed me how the dress was fastened together.

“You’re going to the funeral?” I said, surprised.

“You’re not?”

I told her what had happened when I’d attended Peter’s services. She looked concerned as she sat down on the edge of the bed with the dress in her lap. “So I can never attend church? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” I told her as I pulled on my coat.

Silently, she went back to the mirror inside the wardrobe and held Mary’s dress against herself again. Vivian was one of those buxom, curvy gals who could make anything sexy. She would have looked good in a gunny sack. I came up behind her and kissed her on the ear. “You look beautiful,” I said, and the mirror-Vivian offered me a wide, if uncertain, smile. I realized I had never seen Vivian smile quite as much as I had over the past couple of days.

I held her against me, marveling over her, how beautiful and brave and versatile she was becoming. “Well, I’m off. Won’t be long.”

Vivian’s sea-green eyes widened as she turned to look up at me. “Isn’t what you’re doing kind of dangerous, Nick?”

I shrugged. “I’m a dangerous kind of guy.”

“Don’t joke. This isn’t funny! There’s something out there. Something bad.”

“You’re right,” I acceded. “I’ll be fine, though. I won’t go very far, and I’ll be back long before nightfall.”

“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

I thought about that. “What happened to Mrs. Knapp is my fault—”

“It is
not
your fault!”

“It is,” I interrupted her. “I brought us here. I pissed it off. Now it’s afraid of me. And it’s going to keep taking that fear out on
them
until I confront it. If I can just figure out what I’m dealing with, maybe I can find a more permanent fix, you know? Maybe I can stop it without things escalating into a war.” I gave her pleading eyes. “I have to protect them, Viv. This is important to me.”

“Fine. Take me with you then.”

“You know what? I’d rather you stay here and look after these folks. You have power. You know how to use it and protect them, if need be.”

“What if
you
need help?”

I patted the Tanaka in its polycloth holster and gave her a peck on the nose. “I’m a big boy. I can look after myself.”

“I know that… it’s just…” She started touching me through my shirt, her hands leaving swaths of warmth in their wake.

I kissed her again, this time on the mouth. And again. I sucked at the sweetness of her lips. My familiar, Brownswick, once said that Vivian was my kryptonite, but she was more like my drug of choice. The more she gave me, the more I needed.
Hello, my name is Nick Englebrecht and I’m a Vivian addict. It’s been several hours since I last fixed.
Christ on a cracker, it was like I couldn’t get enough. I turned and pushed her down onto the bed, straddled her, and slid the nightgown up her long legs. I breathed in the scent between her legs. I licked her and she writhed.

“Nick,” she said, clenching her hands in my hair. “Nick, stop.”

I stopped. Don’t let anyone ever tell you I’m not a gentleman. “What’s wrong?”

She sat up. “Jesus. I’m attending a funeral today. Do you think this is appropriate?”

I don’t think I’d ever heard Vivian use the word
appropriate
before. Not to be an ass, but I doubted she even knew what it meant. “I want you.”

“You always want me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed with exasperation. “Look, I didn’t sleep much last night, all right? And there’s a ton of work to be done this morning.”

I dutifully removed myself from between her legs, smoothed her nightgown down. “Yes, dear.”

As I got up from the bed, Vivian grabbed my hand. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. If you’re not in the mood, you’re not in the mood.”

Vivian offered me a sweet little smile. “I know I’ve said it before, but do you know you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

I leaned down to kiss her properly on the forehead. “So I’ve been told.”

tried not to let Vivian’s rejection bother me too much as I made my ambling way across the pasture to the edge of Mulberry Grove—but of course it did.
Vivian saying no to sex was a little like Popeye saying no to spinach. It wasn’t natural. Or normal. Or right. Or…