Suzanne McLeod - The Cold Kiss of Death

‘Get this stuff off me,’ Hannah said, flicking at the electrodes stuck to her chest. Doctor Joseph worked quickly, removing both the electrodes and the cap of wires that hatted her head. As soon as he was done, she fastened the gold locket around her neck.

‘Wow!’ she said, smiling at Janet. ‘You know what? I feel wonderful’—she held out her hand; it was shaking—‘if a bit quivery.’ She swung her legs off the altar and slid to the ground, reaching out to grab hold of Janet’s arm as she wobbled. ‘Time waits for no woman, or in my case, no sidhe fae. Shower first, then tidy up that mess you left at Granny’s. After that I’ll pay a visit to the bank. I still need to get the Fabergé egg.’

‘What’s the Fabergé egg for?’ I asked Cosette.

‘The egg’s a soul trap. Without it she can’t collect all those souls she’s gathered and hand them safely over to the demon, and that means the demon will take her own soul instead as payment.’

Ri-ight. So pretty much as Hannah had explained, except without the oh-so-relevant specifics.

‘What do you mean, tidy up round at Granny’s?’ Janet asked, her voice petulant. She popped another liquorice torpedo into her mouth.

Hannah gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Well, there’s Granny’s body for one, and that wood shaving mess in the hallway. The police will have found it all by now, won’t they.’

‘I s’pose so—but won’t the sidhe slut get the blame?’

‘Janet, little sister, I am the sidhe now—and if you ever call me a slut again—’ Hannah gave her a warning look. ‘And unfortunately, my stool-pigeon has flown the nest, thanks to you.’ She waved an imperious hand at Joseph. ‘Doctor, please shoot her and put her out of her misery.’

‘Shoot me?’ Janet’s mouth fell open as Joseph turned round, picked up his tranq gun and, without hesitating, aimed, then shot Janet in her ample chest—

She looked down, her eyes round with surprise. ‘But—?’ She dropped her sweeties.

‘Damage limitation, little sister dear,’ Hannah said briskly. ‘Someone’s got to get the police off my back, and since you’re actually guilty, you might as well take the blame for the baker’s, the boy’s and Granny’s deaths.’

Janet’s eyes fluttered, then she did a tree-topple and thudded to the floor.

‘Is Janet really her sister?’ I asked Cosette, stunned.

Cosette nodded.

Talk about dysfunctional families.

Hannah prodded the unconscious woman with her foot. ‘Don’t worry, if all goes well, I’ll try and get you out before they burn you at the stake.’ She looked up at Joseph. ‘Don’t just stand there; tie her up or something. You should enjoy that; after all, isn’t that what you like to do at that little club you go to?’

He pushed his glasses up his nose, lifted the tranq gun and pointed it at her.

‘Don’t be silly, Doctor,’ she sighed. ‘Just put it down, otherwise that DVD of you cavorting about in all that tacky leather and chains could still accidentally find its way onto the internet ...’

He did as he was told, his hand trembling.

‘You should be glad, you’re going to be labelled a hero for rescuing me from the dangerous sorcerer’s clutches.’ She smiled. ‘Which is much better than being labelled a pervert, isn’t it?’

His cheeks flushed with either anger or embarrassment and I remembered all the ‘clothes’ in his mirrored wardrobes—the ones he’d said belonged to a friend!

‘Compulsion spell tied to a nice bit of blackmail,’ Cosette muttered as Joseph pulled out the cord from Hannah’s discarded robe and started to tie Janet up. ‘She always was rather good at that.’

‘I see you started without me.’ A man strolled out of the gloom, his sun-streaked, gelled hair and well-trimmed van Dyke glinting blond in the candlelight, a red Souler cross pinned to the lapel of his smart grey suit. Neil Banner. Not totally surprising considering their supposedly separate but similar quests for the Fabergé egg. I wondered whether they were an established item, or if the egg had only recently made them soul-stealing mates. Not that it made any difference.

Cosette gave a small gasp and whispered, ‘That one is the necromancer who has been collecting the souls for her. I did not think he would be back so soon.’

‘Neil!’ Hannah held her arms wide and my body did a shimmy. ‘Look, it worked. Do you want a feel?’

His face twisted in disgust. ‘Not when you’re all covered in blood, Hannah.’

‘Genny,’ she snapped, ‘you must call me Genny, nothing else.’

He waved her anger away. ‘I will; it’s just that I still see your soul, not hers.’ He frowned, looking around. ‘Where is her soul, anyway?’

She patted the gold locket. ‘In here, of course.’

‘No, it’s not.’

She clutched at the locket in panic. ‘It has to be! I did the ritual perfectly.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Neil said calmly, ‘she can’t have gone far; she’s probably still disorientated from being cast out.’

‘You don’t understand—’ Hannah grabbed his arm. ‘I have to wear her soul close until tonight. What if it dissipates? Then this body will fade away and I’ll be left with nothing—’

‘Hannah, it’s you that doesn’t understand.’ He extricated himself, then with a self-satisfied smile he pulled out a bloodstained hanky from his pocket. ‘The sidhe’s hand was bleeding last night when I met her at HOPE. I managed to get a hook into her soul then.’ He touched the hanky to his nose, muttering as he turned a slow circle. ‘She’s not going anywhere.’

I clenched my fists. Bastard.

‘You must go, now!’ Cosette grabbed my left hand, in as much panic as Hannah, and touched the thin red thread there—it was stretching out towards Neil Banner.

Crap.

I tried to break it, but it was like pulling at elastic; it just kept stretching. ‘Go where?’ I demanded.

‘There.’ Neil pointed straight at me. ‘She’s hiding in the corner with that stupid child. Open the locket and I’ll call her to it.’ Hannah fumbled with the catch as he resumed muttering.

Cosette pushed at me frantically. ‘Go!’ She indicated the ethereal black silken rope that wrapped around my left arm and dangled down around my feet. ‘Follow it, and pray that the necromancer is not strong enough to call you back.’

Neil’s muttering rose to a crescendo and the red thread yanked at my hand, dragging me towards him. I stumbled, almost falling, but my fingers closed round the black silk rope—

—the rope slipped through my fingers as if it was slick with blood, and I fell, spinning out in the red-blackness ...

The red-blackness was as before: empty, silent, scentless ... nothingness. This time the mist that circled the blackness was no longer pale and far away, but pressed close, and shot through with hot golds and coppers and reds, like the rays of the sun that backlight the dark side of the moon. I didn’t want to think what that might mean. The black silk cord I tailed down and away below me.

Hand grasped tightly round the blood-slick silk, I continued to fall ...

Where was I, some sort of limbo place for the soul?

And how was this supposed to get me my body back, let alone save virgins and kidnapped ghosts? Use my connections, Cosette had said, which was fine, except she’d hadn’t told me how, thanks to Neil the necro turning up.

What I needed was help—but how, when the only ‘people’ I could talk to were other ghosts, or my local not-so-friendly neighbourhood necro? Of course, if I could make my way to a graveyard, I could talk to anyone living—whoever happened to be around at midnight. I could even touch them, since I’d be corporeal again for the hour between one day and the next—except that midnight on All Hallows’ Eve is traditionally when demons made their house calls, so midnight was going to be way too late.