Dead Man's Hand (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #2) Read online

  It did not.

  Hopefully my magic would do something about that smell before I made things worse by puking on the guy.

  Channeling the ever present current that sizzled through my core, I let it ripple out in emerald waves that crackled their way down to my fingertips. The pads of my fingers made contact with crunchy flesh, prompting a cringe I couldn’t have suppressed if I tried.

  Normally, I tried to ease into awakenings. No one likes a harsh wake-up call. But in the case of human-brisket Nate Charles, the quicker I got him up and around, the better it was for all parties involved. Clenching my teeth, I let my magic slam into him. It coursed through his depleted vessel with a force that blew my hair back and rattled the I.V. bags from where they hung on the walls.

  How a person died had a powerful effect on their temperament when they woke up.

  I knew this all too well.

  Yet, it still came as a complete shock to me when he came shrieking back to life like he was still on fire. Which, in his mind, he probably was.

  “AHHH-AHHHH-AHHHHHHH!”

  Clamping my hand over his now-healed and plump-with-life features, I shot a glance over my shoulder in fear the ambulance doors were about to be ripped open. When that didn’t happen, I spun around on Nate.

  Eyes wild with a mix of panic and confusion, his gaze swept his surroundings in search of answers.

  “Nate? I need you to listen to me, okay? My name is Octavia Hollows. I’m a necromancer, and I brought you back to life.”

  From behind my hand came an involuntary whimper.

  “I know this is a lot to take in, but everyone outside of these doors thinks you’re still dead. If they find out you’re not, neither of us will be leaving here. I’ll be subjected to a slew of questions I can’t answer, and you’ll be poked and prodded like an undead guinea pig. What we need right now is to be cool so we can get out of here. If I move my hand, can you promise not to scream?”

  Dutifully, he nodded.

  “We have time for one question, then we need to move. That seem fair?”

  Again, Nate’s head bobbed.

  Filling my lungs to capacity out of fear of the worst, I hesitantly pulled my hand back. “What’s your question?”

  “Can you get off me?” Nate wheezed. “You’re kneeling on my nuts.”

  “Oh, shit! Sorry!” Springing off the gurney, I turned my back while he repositioned himself. “As first questions go, that was a stellar one.”

  One element I failed to consider: he was a burn victim, meaning his clothes had burned off, too. A public outing for Little Nate did not figure well into our travel plans.

  Grabbing one of the blankets off the floor, Nate eased himself out of the body bag and tied it around his waist. His shiver of unease did not go unnoticed. “Thanks. So… I died? For real?”

  “Those were questions two and three. Which I already mentioned we do not have time for.” Shoving him aside, I bundled the remaining blankets into the body bag, hopefully giving the appearance there was still a charred corpse inside, and zipped the thick plastic bag shut.

  Mouth hanging slack, Nate adjusted the blanket beneath the thick paunch of his midsection. “I’ll… talk in statements, then.” Voice high-pitched and frantic, his tone bubbled with barely contained hysteria. “I bet you have a plan to get us out of here. Which I would love to hear, mostly because I feel another shriek coming on.”

  Peeking out the back window of the ambulance, I mentally maneuvered a route that would keep us out of sight. “I’m going to open this door enough for us to slip out, then we’re going to run like hell. How’s that for a plan?”

  “Running naked in broad daylight? Are you sure I’m not still dead? Because that sounds like my personal definition of hell.” Realizing those were more questions, I watched Nate struggle to find a way to fix his faux pas. “I mean… uh…”

  “Save it.” Crouching down, I ducked out of view as Jonah darted past in pursuit of a wiener dog. “The pig just led everyone on another loop around the port-a-potties. We need to move.”

  Eyebrows raised, Nate’s mouth opened with a pop. “Okay, but that sentence just prompted a whole new set of questions.”

  “And I will do my best to answer them all, as soon as we get out of here.” Glancing back, I jerked my chin in his direction. “Blanket in place? It’s time to move.”

  Chapter Three

  I pushed the door open as quietly as I could and peeked out to make sure we had a clear getaway path. “I’ll go first. No one will think things have gone full Dawn of the Dead if they see me.”

  “That’s offensive.” Nate’s lower lip protruded in a mock pout. “I mean, I haven’t seen a mirror, but unless there’s some tragic facial disfigurement, this Humpty Dumpty has been put back together again.”

  “Oh yeah?” Face crinkled into a grimace, my gaze swept over him. “So, this wasn’t your first horrible accident, then?”

  That was just me being a salty bitch. Truth be told, for a dead guy, he looked great. No trace of the trauma he endured could be found. That was what set me apart. While most necromancers could only resurrect bodies into mindless meat-puppets, I returned them fully. Body and soul. The Real Deal Holyfield. That was my own brand of weird.

  Any trace of emotion scrubbed from his features, Nate clamped his lips into a thin white line. “I get that was sarcasm, but it was a hurtful thing to say.”

  “Noted. Now, can we go, or would you like to stay for your autopsy?” Not giving him a chance to answer, I stepped out and gestured for him to follow. “When I say go, I need you to stay behind me and move quick. Got it?”

  “On second thought, I don’t think I’ll be taking orders from a rude, bossy stranger today. At least, not without an apology first.”

  “You have got to be kidding. The coast is clear. We need to move!”

  Nate folded his arms over his bare chest with a huff, one brow lifting in challenge.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” I hissed in an urgent whisper. “Fine, I’m sorry! Now, will you please exit the vehicle?”

  Seemingly satisfied, Nate hitched up the bottom of his blanket dress and stepped out of the ambulance. “I have no idea who you are, yet I’ve taken your word on everything thus far. It would be a shame to mess things up by questioning you now.”

  Hearing voices approaching, I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him around the passenger side of the ambulance. “Go! Move!”

  Backs pressed to the rear quarter panel, we held our breath while whomever it was darted past. While I couldn’t see my motorcycle from there, I did have a clear shot of the service alley that ran behind the laundromat next door.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I tried to steady my hammering heartbeat. “I’m going to create a diversion. When you’re sure all eyes are on me—and they will be—you run for that alley. Follow it down to the sidewalk, then walk east toward the strip. Hold your head high and own that blanket. Anyone you pass, invite them to a toga party at Caesar’s Palace. This is Vegas. No one will give it a second thought. Any questions?”

  “Yeah. What are you going to do?”

  Pushing off the side of the ambulance, I strode in the direction of the pet-pocalypse ruckus. “Watch. Marvel. And don’t repeat a word of what you’re about to witness to anyone.”

  Bacon had been in my life for a few months now, meaning we had time to learn the idiosyncrasies of each others’ personalities and behavior. Translation: I knew how to work him up into an excitable swine-clone (pig cyclone) with a booming hog call that would have impressed the most seasoned farmer.

  Filling my lungs, I threw my head back and shrieked my embarrassment to the world. “Sooooooooooeeeyyyyyy!”

  Bacon immediately responded with a series of enthusiastic snorts. The sound grew closer by the second, ushered in by a cacophony of pattering footfalls. As it turns out, dogs were equally fascinated by my call. The pack rose over the top of a dirt pile with Bacon lea
ding the charge. The sight of all their eager little faces was adorable… for about fifteen seconds. That’s how long it took me to figure out they weren’t slowing or stopping.

  “Ah, hell.” Stumbling back, I spun on the ball of my foot and sprinted for my bike for all I was worth. “I did not think this through!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nate hesitating in his runner’s stance. Frantically waving him on, I veered in the opposite direction, knowing without a doubt that my four-legged pursuers would reroute right along with me.

  Big Mike huffed and puffed his way over that same rise of dirt, his face beet red and dripping with sweat. Hands on his knees, he gasped for air. “Stop… running. They think… you’re playing.”

  “I think we’re past that point!” Legs pumping, I developed a sharp stitch in my side. I definitely needed more cardio in my life. If I had to keep this pace up, I was going to need that oxygen mask and defibrillator hanging in the back of the ambulance. “Now… holy crap, I’m out of shape… how do I stop without getting trampled?”

  Complexion fading to a more human shade, Big Mike jabbed his finger toward the front of the job site. “Inside,” he managed, “stairs!”

  “You got even one verb to help that sentence along?”

  Jonah’s head popped into view alongside Big Mike. Hair still coiffed in messy-styled perfection, he showed no signs of being even remotely winded. No doubt he was the kind of dude that took yoga, spin classes, and all of that bullshit daily. In that moment, I hated him for that far and above all his obnoxious comments combined.

  “They reflect whatever emotion you convey. If you offer serenity into the universe, that’s what you’ll get back,” he offered.

  I get he was trying to help.

  I still wanted to throat punch him for uttering those words.

  “It’s hard to be serene when you’re being chased by furry death!” Rounding the front corner of the framed-in garage, black spots danced before my eyes. That was it. The deciding moment. If I made it out of this alive, I vowed to invest in a gym membership. I could find one of those nationwide chains with a franchise in every city. I’d sign up for Zumba and yoga. Those are things, right?

  Ducking inside the garage, I pressed my back against the rough surface of the cement block wall. Chest rising and falling in ragged gulps, my head fell back against the cool stone. I could only pray that the big dog would finish me off before the little nippers dove in. Somehow, death by a million tiny bites sounded far worse.

  Bacon was the first to round the corner, his beady little eyes wide with panic that far surpassed my own. The second he saw me, he leapt into my arms, fully trusting I would catch him.

  Yep, that terrified little pig flew.

  Eyebrows raised, I gathered him to my chest. “Oh, you can start the riot, but you can’t finish it? We will be discussing this later, young man.”

  The nose of the Great Dane poked around the corner, emitting a thundering Woof!

  One after another, more of the wayward canines peeked in, adding themselves to the growing pack. Licking their lips, all their attentions were fixated on my favorite little pork rind.

  “Okay,” I corrected, swallowing hard. “We might discuss this later. If we haven’t been eaten by then.”

  Like dingoes after a baby, they crept in, slowly surrounding their prey.

  Pulling back as far as the unyielding wall behind me would allow, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for that first vicious chomp.

  What came instead was a pitiful whimper.

  Prying open one eye, I risked a peek down at the dogs. A nervous peal of laughter bubbled from my chest. Each pooch had politely sat down. Tails wagging, they anxiously awaited the next round of chasing the ole pig-skin.

  See what I did there?

  “Let this be a lesson to you, Bacon,” I giggled to my quivering pig, offering him a scratch behind the ears. “Don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’.”

  Huffing and puffing his way into the garage, Big Mike sagged with relief at the sight of the tamed canines. Collapsing with his hands on his knees, he peered up at me from under his sweat soaked brow. “Always a pleasure to see you, Octavia. Thanks so much for dropping by.”

  “You say that,” I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and shook my head, “but the vibe coming off you tells a far different story. You know how when it’s really hot outside you can see heat ripples on hot asphalt? That’s you right now.” Shifting Bacon to one hip, I provided a visual aid by rolling my hand. “See this right here? This is your current level of annoyance: scorching asphalt mad.”

  “If you’re talking about auras, that’s a real thing.” As if forever waiting just out of sight for the perfect moments to inject useless information, Jonah picked that moment to appear. “I read an article last week in The New Yorker about a new kind of research that proved some individuals who claim to see auras actually do have a neuropsychological phenomenon known as synesthesia. Which, for the first time, offers a scientific rationalization to that phenomenon.”

  Head tilting, I offered him a winning smile for no other reason than to further irritate Big Mike. “Thank you, Jonah, for your wisdom. It’s so nice to have my random sarcasm validated. ”

  Pushing off his knees, Big Mike stood and arched his back to stretch out his cramping spine. “Friggin’ millennials.”

  Flipping a wave of black hair from his eyes, Jonah pulled a knit beanie cap out of his back pocket. Thumbing his nose at the ninety-degree heat, he positioned it on his head with prime, fashion-forward expertise. “Seeing as we’ve been priced completely out of the housing market, our only options are to live with our parents, or in a one-bedroom flat with six other people. So, yeah, we read a lot.”

  Big Mike blinked his way in stony silence for a beat. “Every time you open your mouth, I question if you’re getting smarter, or I’m getting dumber.”

  Momentary fear of being mauled behind me, my thoughts drifted back to the resurrected corpse I sent off on a hike, clad only in a makeshift blanket toga. “I should go. Big Mike, if you remember anything else about the guy who came looking for me, you’ve got my number.” Turning sideways, I weaved my way through the blockade of dogs with Bacon cradled against my chest. Pausing in front of Jonah, I pantomimed a sad smile. “Aw, I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.”

  “What the hell? Where’s the body? The corpse is gone!”

  That shout from the recently vacated ambulance announced it was officially time for me to go. “Wow, well, that has nothing whatsoever to do with me. I can barely handle live folks, much less trying to steal a dead one. I mean, where would I even put it? Sling it over the back of my bike? That would be…” clearing my throat, I capped off what had turned into a painfully awkward ramble, “… weird.”

  Jonah’s eyes narrowed as he considered me. “I like you. You’re kooky. Hey, there’s this oxygen bar at the Venetian I think you would really be into, if you ever wanted to hang.”

  “Jonah! Come on!” Big Mike barked. “We need to get all these dogs back in their pens, then help the EMTs figure out how the hell they misplaced a body!”

  Backing out of the garage, Jonah treated me to what he must have considered an alluring half-grin and jabbed one finger in my direction. “Airdrop me your info. I’ll call you.”

  “Sorry, the pig is actually my husband. While our love is an unorthodox one, he’s the only one who truly understands me.”

  “I get that, I get that.” Jonah nodded a little too emphatically. “It’s all about love. Blessings to you both.”

  Turning on my heel, I strode to my bike without looking back and fastened Bacon into his carrier. “Sorry to bring you into that, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would accept a simple no.”

  Bacon’s body quaked with an involuntary shudder, as if shaking off all the crap we’d stepped in by showing up there.

  As I straddled my bike, I caught sight of the sheriff stalking my way with one hand waving ov
er his head. Pretending not to notice, I kick started my Scrambler to life. Gravel spit out from beneath my tires as I zipped in the direction Nate headed.

  I found him about a mile down, schmoozing bystanders into attending the fictional toga party with impressive finesse.

  Pulling up beside him, I tossed him my extra helmet. “Hop on. We need to get gone.”

  Nate glanced from his blanket dress, to the bike, and back again. “I’m… uh… not wearing anything under this.”

  “I am aware. Little Nate and I were briefly introduced in the ambulance.”

  “I’m just saying,” heat rose from his neck to the tips of his ears, “with the rumbling of the bike… if you were to feel anything poking you in the back, I don’t want you to think it’s in any way intentional.”

  I flipped down my tinted visor to signal this conversation needed to come to an immediate halt. “We will just add that to the growing list of things we’re never speaking of. Now, get on.”

  Chapter Four

  For years, my primary residences had been hotel rooms in various cities across the country. Home and community were an elusive concept I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. That being said, even I found Nate Charles’ apartment to be a huge friggin’ bummer. Actually, calling it an apartment was a really loose interpretation of that word. It more closely resembled a utility closet someone decked out with a hot plate and cot, all of which stank of Fritos and ball sweat.

  “It’s… quaint,” I managed. To avoid the smells aggressively trying to violate my nostrils, I tried to breathe exclusively through my mouth.

  “It’s a shithole.” Nate squatted down beside his cot to dig underneath in search of something. “But thanks to some less than stellar life choices I made, it’s all I can afford.”

  Looking for somewhere to lean, and/or sit, I found my only options to be his filthy cot, or a narrow folding table that was so cluttered with junk it looked dangerously close to the weight limit on its flimsy legs. Good thing I had tied Bacon to a bike rack outside. One excited little butt wiggle from him would have sent this whole house of cards tumbling. “And these life choices, did they play any part in your untimely death?”