Unfallen Dead

Powell flashed a fervent smile. “Kill her, Liddell. She can’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I don’t have to kill you to hurt you, Wi

“She’s lying,” Powell snarled.

Meryl arched an eyebrow. “You think? I’m willing to stake my life on it.”

Powell drew herself, haughty and assured. “Then I will kill you, Meryl.”

“You took me by surprise, Wi

Powell looked smug. “I’ve already died once for Liddell. I’ll do it again. The Guild will protect my soul stone as long as it thinks it can arrest me. I’ll come back here next Samhain and destroy you.”

I pulled Powell’s soul stone from my pocket. “Would that be this stone?”

Powell let out a growl of anger from deep in her throat. Viten lifted his hands, charging them with the pale essence of TirNaNog.

“It’s over, Viten. Step away.”

Viten set his jaw with smug assurance. “Kill her,” he said.

Meryl and I exchanged glances. “What?” I asked.

“I said kill her.” Viten pulled Powell into a tight embrace, nuzzling the side of her head and murmuring in her ear. “I have missed you every day, m’love, dreamed of you every night. Not having you at my side has been a torment. Every minute spent here is a minute I wished you could see this place.”

Meryl rolled her eyes. “I think I’m going to be ill.”

She looked stu

Powell clutched at Viten’s coat. “The knife, love, get the knife.”

He smiled down at her and caressed her face. “We have no need of it. I appreciate what you’ve done, m’love. I do. I truly do. But you’ve accomplished more than you realized. I have some power here. Here is where I wish to stay. It’s beautiful, Rhonwen. It’s glorious. I don’t want to go back. You mean everything to me. I want you to stay. Here. Always. With me.”

She stared up at him, tears in her eyes. “Yes, love. Yes.”

They kissed with the pent-up passion of ten years apart. White essence burst in Viten’s hand followed by a loud crackling. With a sharp gasp, Powell pulled her lips away from his. She struggled for breath, her chest heaving as the dust of her soul stone poured through Viten’s fingers. Her mouth broke into an ecstatic smile, then her eyes rolled in her head. Viten caught her as she went limp and lowered her to the ground. He cradled her across his chest, smoothing her hair back from her face, a repulsive, satisfied smile on his lips. He kissed her again. “Tomorrow, m’love, tomorrow you will wake up here, and we will spend eternity together.”

Meryl’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Was that the most romantic and sick thing you’ve ever seen or what?”

CHAPTER 33

Viten rocked Powell’s body. I leaned down and ripped the silver-branch brooch from her coat. The colors leached out of her skin and clothes as she lost her physical substance, then she faded out into the air. Stricken, Viten clutched at her disappearing form until his empty hands groped at nothing. Somewhere in Boston, her dead body would turn up. He lifted red-rimmed eyes toward me. “You could have given me a few more moments.”

I slipped the brooch into my back pocket. “You’ve got eternity, right? Get out of my sight before I shove this spear through your chest.”

He rose with an imperious look and stooped for his sword. I stepped on it. “You won’t be needing that.”

Viten tried to stare me down. Like I said, that doesn’t work much with me. “Someday, sir, you will find yourself here. I will be waiting.”

“Thanks. Be sure to tell your funeral director I like Gui

Viten sauntered down the trail.

I picked up the sword and made a few swipes with it. It had a fine edge, the grip a little small, but a decent balance. I held the pommel toward Meryl. “For those times when an essence shock to the head is not enough.”

She tested its balance, then batted her eyes at me. “How thoughtful of you. Too bad you didn’t take his sword belt, too.”

I slid my belt off. “You’re just trying to get my pants off again.”

She snorted. “Trying? You’re a guy. A simple ‘take your pants off’ works.” She coiled the belt around her hips, looping it around the steel buckle to form a frog to slide the sword through. She tested the draw a couple of times, then rested her hand on the pommel. “I’m good.”

I don’t know what it is, but a woman with a sword works for me. Always. Granted, the pumpkin orange hair is unusual, but with Meryl, it completes the package. And the boots. The boots work, too. Meryl walked to the opposite side of the clearing, where the path took up again.

“This is the way to the henge?” I asked.

“You didn’t come in this way?”

I shook my head. “I sort of teleported.”

She chuckled. “ ‘Sort of’? Okay.”

Pink essence burst in my face. I was so on edge, I fell back with the spear up and my sword ready. Joe hovered away in outright panic. “What the hell is going on?”

I’d been trying to get Murdock not to overreact when Joe shows up, and here I was startling like a newbie in the Weird. I relaxed like nothing happened. “Hey, buddy. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Me? You’re in Anwwn, then I felt you teleport, and you’re surprised?” I couldn’t even begin to pronounce the Cornish word he used for teleport.

We made our way up the path. “Long story, Joe. How the hell did you get here?”

He flew a random pattern beside us that he used when he was on guard. His hand clutched the empty air at his side, which meant he was ready to pull his glamoured sword. “Flits always get into Anwwn on Samhain. Well, not always, but before, when the world made sense, and we could visit our dead friends proper every year. Except the Way finally opens and everybody’s ru

“Hey, Joe.” She gri

He twirled in front of us. “Are you guys Dead?”

“No, dead tired, though. You never mentioned teleporting is tiring,” I said.

Joe shook his finger. “And that’s another thing. What the hell is that? All of sudden, I felt you in this horrible rush of nothing, then I go and look and here you are.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re really not Dead, right?”

I shook my head. I held the spear out to look at it. “I have it on good authority that this buppy is called a sliver of the Wheel.”

Joe’s eyes bulged. “Where did you get that?”

I shrugged. “A fairy queen. It’s the traditional method if I remember correctly.”

Joe pounded his fists against his forehead. “I’m either too drunk or not drunk enough.”

“Story of my life lately,” Meryl said.

The sunlight dimmed as we hurried down the trail. A bank of clouds moved in, charcoal and thick, materializing in the sky with an u

Joe checked the sky. “Sure it does. Usually at night, though, and it always smells like fresh.”

“Fresh what?” asked Meryl.

He dropped his eyebrows at her. “Fresh like fresh. It’s not a difficult concept.”