The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) Read online

  Hold it together, Bonnie. You're tougher than you think.

  “Aw,” a voice says suddenly, right behind me. “She's cute.”

  Turning, I find Hannah standing next to the sink.

  “She looks like you, too,” she adds with a smile. “She's got that slightly intense, furrowed brow expression. I like it. Then again, she seems to lack the manic, frazzled thing you've got going on there.”

  Taking a step back, I try to make sense of my spinning thoughts. A rush of panic fills my chest, and I look around, terrified that I might spot Dyson. This can't be happening, I can't have lose my mind again, not at the mere mention of my brother's name.

  “Relax,” Hannah says, “everything's fine. Dyson is gone. I've spent the past twenty years tearing him apart atom by atom and freeing the souls he'd consumed.” She grabs a potato chip from one of the bowl and dips it in some salsa, before taking a nibble. “I managed to send all the souls back to where they're supposed to be, and then I took what was left of Dyson and...” She pauses as she finishes the potato chip. “Well, let's just say that he won't be troubling anyone ever again. I took all the atoms from his body and put a field around each of them individually, to ensure they can't ever combine again. The universe could go through a billion more life cycles, and Dyson physically can't ever be reformed. It's quite neat, when you think about it.”

  I stare at her for a moment, before grabbing a knife and holding it up, ready to defend myself.

  “Seriously?” she replies, raising a skeptical eyebrow as she takes a cherry tomato from the bowl and pops one into her mouth. “You've aged,” she continues, speaking as she chews. “You've got wrinkles and lines on your face. It's cool, I like that about mortals. It's always pretty easy to work out how old you are. Not like me.” She grabs the knife from my hand and uses the blade to examine her reflection. “I don't look a day older, do I? Damn, I'd kill for a wrinkle or two. They add character.”

  “Are you real?” I stammer.

  Glancing at me, she seems amused by my reaction.

  “Are you real?” I hiss, although I manage to keep my voice low so that hopefully the others won't hear me from outside.

  She sets the knife down. “Do we have to go through all of this again?”

  “It's been twenty years!” I tell her. “Twenty years since that day at the jewelry store! I thought... I thought it was all in my head! I thought I'd just imagined you!”

  “No such luck,” she replies, glancing around at the kitchen for a moment. “Nice place.”

  “I never found out why he did it,” I say suddenly, blurting the words out before I even know they're coming. “My brother, I mean. I never found out why he and Jonathan did such an awful thing that day.”

  “And you never will,” she replies.

  “But I have to.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Do you know?” I ask.

  “I know why they were angry,” she continues. “They hated the world, they thought it was unfair. But plenty of people think like that, without doing what they did. So I don't know why they took those guns and killed so many people. I learned long ago that there are some facets of the human mind that even I can't understand.” She pauses. “That's a tough thing for someone like me to admit, by the way. The idea that I can't know everything is pretty annoying.”

  “I suppose I have to live with it,” I mutter.

  “You will.” She pauses for a moment. “I know one thing that might help,” she adds finally. “That night when you met me outside the prison, just after your brother had been executed... I wasn't there to check up on you, I was there to see him. I appeared to him in his cell. In his final months in prison, your brother was a changed man. Calmer. Wiser. He spent a lot of time counseling other prisoners and helping them see a future for themselves. Some of them were eventually released and went on to turn their lives around, so at least he contributed something in the end. It doesn't excuse everything else he did, but it shows he wasn't a monster.”

  “I should have gone to see him,” I reply. “I was a coward.”

  “You were just a kid.” She turns and looks around the kitchen, before glancing back at me. “Looks like you've got things sorted here, though. Sorry I couldn't come back sooner to check on you, but I've been kind of busy dealing with Dyson. I only finished sorting him out five minutes ago, but then I came straight back to see how you're doing. Clearly you don't need me, though. You've obviously built a good life here. Married to Josh, with three pretty cool kids and a nice house.” She takes a piece of sliced cucumber and slips it into her mouth, although she instantly spits it back out again, letting it fall to the floor. “I'm surprised,” she continues. “I thought there was a good chance you'd have completely lost your mind. I half expected to come back and find you sobbing in the corner of a padded cell.”

  I watch as she sticks a finger into the bowl of sour cream and then licks it clean.

  “That day in the town square,” I stammer. “It... I mean, did it...”

  “Did it really happen?”

  I shake my head. “It can't have. It's impossible.”

  “It happened,” she replies. “How are you holding up, by the way? You seem tense.”

  “Then how did it un-happen?” I ask, as I feel a headache starting to form.

  “How do you think?”

  “You changed time,” I say finally. “You literally rolled back the events in the town square and made it so that they never happened. People died and then they came back to life. Josh died, and then...” For a moment, I can't help thinking back to the sight of Josh's severed head, yet now he's out in the garden tending the barbecue. “He has no idea,” I whisper. “None of them do, but they were brought back to life.”

  “Technically that wasn't my doing,” she replies, as she starts chewing on a stalk of celery. “That was my... friend. It was one of the favors I called in while I was dealing with Dyson.” She checks her watch, and it's clear that she's anxious about something. “I don't have long,” she continues, with a hint of fear in her eyes. “I have to go and see him soon.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “My friend. The one who helped that day.”

  “But who is he?”

  “You don't need to know,” she says darkly. “Sorry, I'm not even sure I could explain it to you properly, but let's just say that I've been a bad girl. I made a mistake a long time ago, and I've been running ever since. The plan was to stay under the radar and make sure no-one ever noticed me, but I see to have started making too much noise. Maybe I'm not an under-the-radar kind of person, but hey, at least I tried.” Finishing the celery, she makes her way around the counter and takes a handful of olives and feta cubes. “I'm delaying things,” she explains. “I'm trying to fill up my time, wasting a few minutes here with you, but I know he's waiting for me.”

  “Waiting for you?” I look around, but there's no sign of anyone. “Who? Where?”

  “It's not going to be very nice,” she adds as she tips the olives and feta cubes into her mouth. “I don't know quite how it's going to straighten out, but I think there might be rather a lot of pain and screaming. From me, obviously. He's going to want to really ram the point home and make sure I never go rogue again, and I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to make an example of me, to warn the others. God, that's going to be embarrassing. I seriously doubt -”

  She stops suddenly as a brief surge of white energy dances across her left hand.

  “That's new,” she mutters.

  “But you'll be okay, won't you?” I ask. “What's going to happen? Will you be punished?”

  She nods, while staring at her hand as if she expects the energy to return. “He's reaching out,” she whispers. “Latching on, getting ready to take me.”

  “Should I come with you?”

  She turns to me. “Seriously?”

  “Maybe you need someone,” I continue. “I could offer moral support.”

  “You wouldn't last a second,” she re
plies. “Your entire body would be fried as soon as you left this reality. I'm going to a place where no mortal can tread and you, Bonnie, are most definitely mortal.”

  “So there's nothing I can do?”

  She shakes her head. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “Will you at least come back and let me know how it goes?” I ask. “I'd like to... I mean, I'd like to know that you're okay at the end of it all.”

  She smiles, but there's sadness in her eyes. “I don't think I'll be able to do that. Sorry.”

  “You could try, though.”

  “I could try.”

  “Or send a postcard or an email or...” My voice trails off as I realize how hopeless it all sounds.

  Another ripple of energy crosses her hand, this time making it all the way up her arm before fading at the elbow.

  “It's okay,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “I always knew this would happen. I thought I'd have longer to flit about, fixing things and putting the universe to rights, but at least I managed to make a few positive changes in the world here and there. There are people out there whose lives are better as a result of my actions, and remarkably few who ended up worse off. All that interference was strictly against the rules, of course, but I never liked rules. I thought I could ignore them, but -”

  Suddenly another blast of energy hits her, stronger this time. She winces and takes a step back.

  “Oh, he's angry,” she gasps, her eyes filled with shock. “I knew he would be, he had to be, but he's really not going to let me off with just a slap on the wrist. He's going to rip me a new...” She pauses. “Well, you know what I mean. There's going to be hell to pay. Maybe literally. I don't know why, but bosses never like me. I'm always -”

  Yet another surge of energy ripples across her chest, this time reaching her face. She steps back again and steadies herself against the counter.

  “It was worth it, though,” she continues, her eyes wide with fear as she stares down at the floor. “Never let it be said that I didn't have fun, that I didn't run with the possibilities. I really pushed the limits and tried to do things differently, and I changed a lot of lives, most of them for the better. If this is truly the end, I don't care what he does to me, or what he says to me, I still will not apologize for -”

  She lets out another gasp as she doubles-over with pain. When I rush to help her, however, she pushes me away.

  “Best not,” she hisses. “You can't do anything, anyway. He's just reeling me in. I'm sure he's got somewhere nice saved up for me, he'll deposit me in some kind of prison and then he'll let me know exactly what punishment he's going to dish out. He's had thousands of years to come up with a few ideas.”

  “But why would someone want to punish you?” I ask, trying not to panic. “You help people! You're a good person, Hannah! You saved me, and you saved my hometown, and -”

  “That's not enough!” she gasps. “Not the way he sees it, anyway. I broke too many rules. If he hadn't helped in the town square, I would have been noticed by the world, and that's the biggest sin of all.” She smiles, and I swear there are tears in her eyes. “I couldn't not help people, though. I just couldn't. What good are powers if you just sit on your hands and watch while people suffer? No, I'm not going to apologize for a damn thing. But there's still... I came to say goodbye, while you still know who I am.”

  “While I know who you are?” I wait for her to explain, but she seems to be in too much pain. “What's that supposed to mean? Hannah, I'm never going to forget you.”

  “You don't have a choice.”

  “But -”

  “He'll erase people's memories of me,” she continues. “He won't undo the work I did, he's not that cruel, but I know what he's like. He won't like people remembering me, so he'll wipe your minds. All of you, everyone I ever helped.”

  “It won't work,” I tell her, feeling a flash of anger at the idea that someone might try to reach into my head and alter my memories. “I won't let it.”

  “Just let it be,” she continues. “It'll be good for you, anyway. You're a mess right now. You're constantly terrified that you're going to lose your mind, and the worst part is, you're right. Mortal humans aren't supposed to be exposed to this kind of thing, your brains can't process it all. You've gone back and forth, constantly doubting your sanity. If you keep on like this, always second-guessing yourself and expecting Dyson to show up again, you'll go crazy. Absolutely, irreversibly out of your mind. So really, in your case, forgetting about me is going to be the best thing. You'll still remember what happened to your brother, but the rest... At most, it'll live on in your dreams, but it won't remain in your conscious memories.”

  I open my mouth to argue with her, but before I can say another word she takes a step forward and then almost collapses. Reaching out, I'm able to grab hold of her and keep her up, but she's visibly weakening a little more with each passing moment.

  “It's okay to forget about me,” she gasps, “but you're gonna have some... crazy dreams... and sometimes, you might even -”

  And then, in the blink of an eye, she's gone.

  I wait for her to reappear, but when I look around the kitchen I realize that she's really, truly nowhere to be seen.

  “Hannah?” I call out, hurrying around to the other side of the counter and looking through into the hallway, just in case she might miraculously show up again. She has a history of showing up just when I think she won't, but after a moment I realize that somehow it feels different this time. The look in her eyes just now was horrific, as if she was truly scared. Even when we were facing Dyson and the Flesh Weaver, there was always a hint of confidence in the way Hannah handled things, but this time...

  She was terrified. She was putting on a brave face, but she was terrified nonetheless. Wherever she was taken, and whoever she was going to see, the prospect seemed to strike pure fear into her soul.

  “Good luck,” I whisper finally, feeling as if there's nothing else I can do for her. “Dear God, if you have any control over the situation at all, let her be okay. She doesn't deserve to be punished.” I pause for a moment. “And I will not forget her. I don't care who tries to take her out of my memory, but I refuse to forget my time with her.”

  “Talking to yourself again?” a familiar voice asks.

  Turning, I see that Janey has returned to grab some more bowls from the counter. She's grinning at me, and it's clear that she thinks I'm a little nuts. She's always thought that, and I've given up trying to persuade her otherwise. I just can't go into all the details about Hannah and everything else that happened to me. Even Josh seems to have decided that I was rambling incoherently when I first talked about my time as a semi-ghost, and the last thing I need is to start bashing my head against a brick wall again.

  “Did you see someone else in here with me?” I ask, just in case Janey was aware of Hannah.

  “Should I have done?” She grabs the bowl of sour cream and balances it on the other dishes, before turning and heading back to the door. “You should come out and try to calm Dad down. He's got a mountain of meat and he seems to think we don't need any salad at all.”

  “That sounds pretty typical,” I mutter with a sigh.

  Rolling her eyes, she makes her way out into the garden, and I grab the last bowl of salad leaves before heading out to join the others. Janey was right, Josh seems to have bought every steak and burger in town, but then again he has a history of going a little overboard with barbecues. As I start setting the salad out, however, I suddenly notice that someone appears to have stuck a finger in the sour cream. I ask around, but everyone denies it was them, even though the evidence is staring up at me. Figuring that I'll never get an honest answer, I grab a spoon and give the pot a quick stir, and soon the surface is smooth again.

  After the barbecue, I finally talk to Janey about her uncle Malcolm, and about the awful thing he did one day several years ago. She asks me over and over if I can explain why he snapped, and I admit to her that I can't, a
nd that all I can do is pray that in some way, some day, he finds peace wherever he is now. She asks if I think he deserves peace, and I tell her I can't answer that question because he's my brother, and because I still remember what he was like before all the awful things happened. That answer, at least, seems to satisfy her.

  I wish it satisfied me.

  But that night, I have the strangest dream about a girl who seems to know the universe's darkest secrets. It's a hectic, crazy dream and I can't quite keep up, but I enjoy spending time with her, following her through vast, dark lands, and finally she leads me to a place where my brother is waiting. When I wake up the next day, I don't remember the details of the dream, or what Malcolm said to me, but I'm somehow calmer and more collected than I've felt in a long time. Putting the dream out of my mind as I head out to work, I tell myself it was just a dream, that I didn't really speak to my brother. Still, I swear the world seems different now. I'm not second-guessing or doubting myself nearly so much. Somehow, deep down, I'm at peace with my past.

  I just wish I could get rid of that faint feeling that I've forgotten something. Or someone.

  Epilogue

  She stops in the doorway, staring at the empty reception area. Nearby, a sign on the wall welcomes guests to Harper's Hotel, while over by the staircase there's a sofa and a set of chairs, with magazines resting on a coffee table.

  “Can I help you?” a voice asks suddenly.

  Turning, Hannah sees a bellboy smiling at her.

  “Do you have any bags with you, M'am?” he asks.

  She hesitates for a moment. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees a dull, nondescript suburban street outside, but she doesn't remember anything about her journey to the hotel. Finally she turns back to the bellboy, eying him with suspicion. “Um... What?”

  “Any bags, M'am?” he continues with a smile. “Perhaps you would you like me to show you to your room?”