Part 9 (1/2)

My encounter with Matyas put a damper on some of my enthusiasm toward Sebastian. I mean, he implied that Tereza was trapped in her corpse, but he kept reburying her. I didn't know all the details, but the whole idea troubled me. Besides, earlier this morning Sebastian had been a single, s.e.xy vampire.

Part of the fun of dating vampires was that they didn't come with families. No in-laws, as it were, to meet and greet. Sebastian had a kid and a kind of dead ex-wife or whatever Matyas's mother was to Sebastian. Things had suddenly become more complicated than I'd bargained for, and I hadn't sortedout how I felt about all of them.

”It'll give me a chance to explain myself,” Sebastian added, as though reading my mind. I continued to hesitate until he said, ”Anyway, I bought everything I need to fix us a proper English tea.”

Who could resist that?

While I called work, Sebastian set up lawn chairs and a table in the shade of a sugar maple in his backyard. I watched him from the porch, which wrapped around the southeast corner of the house. The day had turned warm, and the air was infused with the fresh scent of loamy earth after a rainstorm.

Once William was on the phone I decided to be blunt about my reasons for not showing up at work today. Not having to lie about playing hooky seemed like it ought to be one of the perks of being the manager. ”I had great s.e.x, and I haven't quite recovered yet. I'll be in tomorrow,” I said without a hint of shame.

On the other end of the phone, I heard William choke. ”Oh, okay. It's been slow anyway. Have... uh, well, have a good time.”

”I did,” I said. ”And I will.”

”Oh,” William said. ”A sales rep for Llewellyn is supposed to come today. Should I take care of it?”

”No!” I shouted, remembering his inability to be cruel to people. ”Give me the number, and I'll reschedule.”

As William searched through the computer files for the number, I scanned Sebastian's property. The gravel road I'd come up last night extended past the house to an old-fas.h.i.+oned red barn, complete with grain silo. I surmised that Sebastian owned only the buildings and a couple of acres, because thin green lines of new corn stretched for miles in all directions, no doubt maintained by some local farmer.

Low lilac bushes lined a wooden fence surrounding a mowed section of gra.s.s that took up a small portion of the property near the house. Bright yellow dandelions dotted the lawn. On the other side of the fence, I could see the beginnings of Sebastian's herb garden. A twisted path of flagstone made a curious route through newly turned dirt. I had the distinct impression it was meant to be a magical symbol, but it wasn't anything I recognized. I'd ask Sebastian about it later.

William got me the number, and I was able to remember it by repeating it over and over. I quickly left a message to reschedule and prayed that the rep hadn't already left the office. Ah, well, if William overbought on anything, I could always see about making an exchange later. I hung up the phone and went to join Sebastian under the shade of the maple.

Bless him, he was just setting out a fresh pot of coffee. He'd gone all English gentleman on me. He'd set a linen-covered folding table out between the two chairs. The bone china had a delicately painted peach and yellow Art Deco geometric design on the border, and there were lace-trimmed place mats under each service. ”I didn't know straight guys even owned things like this,” I said, admiring the teacup before I took a sip of the coffee.

”It was once fas.h.i.+onable to lay out a good tea,” Sebastian said. ”Speaking of which, I've got somesandwiches to make. Wait here. Enjoy the view.”

I sat down and let out a long, contented sigh. A pair of white b.u.t.terflies danced around the unopened lilac buds. Unfortunately, just beyond them I could see the headstones of the graveyard.

Probablynot the view Sebastian intended for me to enjoy.

Especially since it made me think about being buried alive again. At least this Tereza of his wasn't rotting in her grave. No, I thought, feeling breakfast swirl around in my guts again, I wasn't sure anything made it better.

Tearing my gaze away from the granite markers, I tried to focus on the delicate pink-and-white flowers of the bleeding hearts Sebastian had planted along the side of his house. Okay, I thought, the guy tends gardens. He's a killer who sets a gorgeous table. Maybe he had his reasons for his apparent cruelty to Tereza.

Sebastian came out with a silver platter full of honest-to-G.o.ddess cuc.u.mber sandwiches cut into cute little triangles.

”This is amazing. They look too pretty to eat.”

Sebastian nodded his head slightly and then turned the lawn chair around so that, when he sat, he faced me. ”Just try the d.a.m.ned sandwiches,” he said playfully.

I dutifully took a bite, tasting a crisp cuc.u.mber, a hint of dill and lemon, and something soft and smooth, like, ”Cream cheese?”

He nodded. ”Good, aren't they?”

Surprisingly, they were. And here I'd only heard disparaging remarks about British food. My eyes strayed back to the headstones, and I couldn't contain my questions any longer. ”She's not buried next door, is she?”

”I doubt she's buried at all right now.”

Eew? ”What does that mean?”

”Matyas habitually runs off with Tereza's body. If he's come to taunt me, he has her.”

There was so much I wanted to say, but all I could think of was, ”Your family is really f.u.c.ked up.”

Sebastian took a sip of his coffee. ”Yeah, it is.”

I didn't quite know how to ask the question I wanted to, so I plowed ahead. ”Would destroying her body free her spirit? I mean, you havehad the body, right? So why not just... you know, let her go?” I asked, wondering if I was on dangerous ground. Sebastian's eyes stared straight ahead, and his face betrayed no emotion, so I continued. ”Like, well, cremate her?”

A male cardinal alighted on the wooden fence and let out a loud peep. Sebastian turned to glance at it as it darted away, a red flash against a blue sky. Our eyes met, and he said, ”I have considered it. I've even, almost... How can I explain how difficult it is to stand over the corpse of your lover with a spade in yourhand, ready to decapitate her? I loved Tereza, and she'snot dead. Not entirely.”

Sebastian paused, taking a long draught of his coffee. The leaves of the maple had not entirely filled out, so sunlight filtered through in patches. The air was cool in the shade, and the coffee cup felt good in my hands.

I could understand Sebastian's reaction, a little. My very first cat, Yeep, had died under somewhat mysterious circ.u.mstances-a seizure in the middle of the night-and I'd balked at the idea of an autopsy when my vet suggested it. Something about cutting up poor old Yeep's body, just to answer medical curiosity, hadn't sat well with my grief. Yeep had always hated going to the doctor's while he was alive, and I couldn't stand the idea of bits of him ending up in vials to be scrutinized and poked in some sterile medical lab. I just wanted him to have the rest I felt he deserved, even though I knew his spirit was long gone from the limp body I'd handed over to the vet to cremate. Looking back at it, I'd probably been overly sentimental, but that didn't change my reaction.

And, Yeep, faithful companion though he was, had not been my lover. Still, I'd been weirdly protective of a body I knew to be devoid of spirit; I was certain Yeep's soul had crossed over to the great mouse fields of the Summerland. Even with my squeamishness about Tereza's situation, I could allow Sebastian some of the eccentricities of his grief.

I helped myself to another sandwich. A chipmunk dashed across the gra.s.s with a crocus bud between its teeth. I smiled to watch its striped tail curl close to its body as it made off with breakfast. Sebastian's bite had drained me, quite literally, and I felt, despite everything, I could sink back into the cloth weave of the chair and sleep forever. ”Do you think she suffers?”

”She seems at peace,” Sebastian said. ”If she had breath, I'd say she slept deeply.”

That was something, at least. ”So, you don't think she knows she's trapped?”

”She may not.”

”But she might?” I asked around another bite of sandwich. ”How can you bury her, if... well, if you think she might be at all aware of that?”

”What would you have me do?” Despite the question, Sebastian's voice didn't strain. He merely sounded tired. ”She's a corpse, Garnet. Hospices usually consider their work done once people are, in point of fact, dead. It's not like I can prop her up in a chair at a dinner party. Besides, she died over a hundred years ago. I certainly would have attracted some attention by now if I hauled a corpse along with me everywhere I went. Talk about an albatross around your neck. The grave is the safest place for her. No one besides Matyas disturbs her there.”

”Wait,” I said, sitting up a little straighter, ”How long? How long has she been dead?”

Sebastian's shoulders hunched in a slight shrug. ”Really, it's more like a hundred and fifty years.”

A hundred and fifty years of being dead/not dead? ”You still love her so much after all this time that you can't... I mean, you're willing to bury her in the ground, but you can't hand her over to a mortician to cremate her?”

”Things have gotten complicated,” Sebastian admitted. ”Not just emotionally. Though, truthfully, Matyas's constant devotion to his mother doesn't help me gain any kind of distance. Also, you can't justshow up at a funeral home with a body. They need a death certificate and any number of other things.

Sure, I could break in and somehow perform the work myself, I suppose, but then we're back to the problem of my inability to do her bodily harm in this suspended state.”

”Is the mandrake for her?” I'm not quite sure why I asked, but it suddenly occurred to me that maybe Sebastian was holding out hope for a cure for Tereza, after all.

He met my eyes for the first time since we started talking about her. ”Partially, yes.”

I put my hand on his arm. ”You can't cure death, Sebastian.”

”Actually, I can.” Even in the semidarkness of the shade, I could see Sebastian's eyes glitter.