Here's a another little taste of
Death Goddess Walking (The Books of Apep #1). While I have been working on this series, I'm pushing the Kickstarter campaign to early 2024 in order to make sure all four books are completed prior to launch. I don't need a campaign to be interrupted by major life rolls like the Soccer Moms campaign was.
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Mother Neit, forgive us our offences. Grant us your mercy that we may see the fires of the afterlife and your wisdom that we know the truth that drips from your lips. – Prayer to Neit, The Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, Deir el-Bahri, Egypt
A different kind of fear forced bile up the back of Billie’s throat. She raised her left hand to shield her eyes from the cruiser’s spotlight, but the snow collecting on the sidewalk reflected the white beam across her retinas. Reasons for being out in this weather raced through her brain, but none of them were remotely plausible enough to satisfy the cops.
The high-pitched yip made her jump. The police officer jerked, too. Snowfall muffled the chung of the second door opening on the SUV. “Keep your hands where we can see them, ma’am,” a male voice said.
Raising both hands, she glanced down at the dog and said, “Thanks a lot, buster.” He had the nerve to wag his tail like their situation was some big joke. Snow floated into the gaping neckline of her coat, sending another round of shivers through her body. Facing the shadowy figures, she said, “I’m sorry, officers. My dog got loose.”
The first officer lowered the spotlight enough the animal was now caught in its beam. “What the hell kind of dog is that?”
“A mutt.” She shot her companion a nasty look. “A pain-in-the-ass mutt.” His tongue hung out in a canine grin as he looked up at her. “One who should have stayed where he was.” But no, she had to feel sorry for the creature.
“He’s a damn ugly mutt.” The male cop started to lower his weapon, but the dog growled and the officer flashed the weapon back up in the canine’s direction.
Billie lowered a hand and flicked the closest pointed ear. “Hush. You’ve gotten us in enough trouble.” He sat, but not before he gave her a glare that promised payback. She raised her hand back up when the male cop’s aim shifted from the dog to her.
“We got reports of animals fighting in the cemetery.” The female cop’s voice carried a friendlier edge.
Billie forced an exaggerated sigh. “That’s because my dumbass dog slipped his collar and chased a tomcat into the graveyard. I’m really sorry about all this, officers.” Her shivers became downright quaking, and her bruised hip threatened to give out from under her.
“You on something?” the male cop asked.
“No, sir.” She shook her head. “I’m cold, and I slipped on the ice and fell on the road in the cemetery.”
The male cop holstered his gun. “Let’s see some I. D.” Apparently, he wasn’t willing to forgive and forget the dog’s challenge to his authority.
Her heart lurched. The hunting knife was still sheathed at her back. If the cops decided to frisk her—
She forced logic through panicked brain cells. Right now, the officers had no probable cause for a search. “It’s in my back pocket.” When neither officer commented, she slowly lowered her right hand again to the back of her jeans and plucked out the plastic card.
He walked over, took the proffered driver license, and trudged back to the cruiser. “I’m calling this in.” Billie closed her eyes and tried to control her shakes. This whole thing was getting ridiculous. She’s just fought monsters to protect some dead children, sucked venom out of a ghost, and now she would freeze to death because some cop had a burr up his butt over a dog that wasn’t even hers.
Her eyes popped open at the female cop’s next words. “Geez, Burns, it’s freezing out here.”
“And?” He paused climbing back in the driver seat of the patrol SUV and glared at his partner.
“Let her get in the car and warm up.”
He shot Billie a ticked-off look. “Fine, but you’re cleaning up any mess that dog makes.”
##
Twenty minutes later, Billie stood huddled on the front porch of the ancient Victorian while the female officer rapped on the door. Her partner had insisted on checking out the graveyard. Thankfully, the snow had fallen fast enough to obliterate any evidence of the battle with the three monsters. The storm wasn’t letting up either. The wind had picked up again. Heavy flakes swirled underneath the security light and skittered past the swing to collect in the corners of the porch.
Warmth spilled from the house when Nettie jerked open the heavy oak door. She blinked, taking in the two officers, Billie, and finally the almost-but-not-quite-normal dog.
Heat flooded Billie’s cheeks, the only part of her body remotely warm, despite the fact the female cop had cranked up the cruiser’s thermostat on the ride home. Somehow this was worse than the deputy who’d dragged her home to her foster parents after her runaway attempt, though she wasn’t entirely sure how.
“What’s going on, Billie?” Nettie turned to the female cop. “Officer Houlihan?”
“How’s it going, Professor?” She nodded in Billie’s direction. “This one of your girls?”
“Yes.” Nettie’s deep brown eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
Thank goodness, she’d worked out her story with the police. Billie swallowed hard, hoping the professor would go along with it in front of them. Unfortunately, there was only one male name that popped in her mind. “When I took Porter for his walk, he slipped his collar and took off after a tomcat inside the old Hess cemetery.” She affected a grimace that wasn’t hard to fake. “I fell twice on the ice trying to catch him, and I lost one of my gloves. The officers saw us squeezing through the back gate after I corralled him. I know they were doing their job, but I’m tired and I’d really like a hot bath right now.”
After a slow nod, the professor stepped out of the doorway. “Of course.” Billie slid past Nettie’s rail thin form and headed for the main stair case. The click of nails on the hardwood said the dog followed her.
“And Billie?”
She paused by the thick post that anchored the hand-carved railing. The weird look in Nettie’s eyes sent a shiver up her spine.
“There’s extra towels and some sweats on the second shelf in my bathroom closet.” The professor’s husky voice held an odd note.
“Thanks.” Billie turned and climbed the stairs, her hip protesting every step. Why would Nettie offer her clothes? At six foot even, she towered over Billie and the twins. Though Billie was hardly petite, Nettie’s sweats would bag around her ankles, assuming she could get the damn elastic and cotton over her hips. She shook her head. Another surreal conversation on a night of surreal events. But at least, her landlady seemed to pick up her hints about the dog.
Muted voices trailed after her as Nettie spoke with the police. At the top of the stairs, she turned into the professor’s room and flipped on the light. She looked down at the dog, who paused at her side. “I suppose I owe you a warm place to sleep for your help with those creatures in the cemetery.”
He answered with a wide doggy yawn. Billie snorted. She knew better, but the appearance of his understanding of perfectly good English was downright eerie. Maybe the monster she’d killed had clocked her harder than she thought.
The dog stayed by the door as she crossed to the bathroom and found the requisite items within the closet. Deciding it would be best to deal with everything in her own room, Billie flicked off the light and headed down the hall.
Once inside, she dropped the mass of towels and sweats on the bed and began peeling off her outwear. Boots were thrown in the corner and the coat and scarf lay over the back of the dressing chair to air dry. The knife went under her pillow. Almost everything else was tossed in the hamper. The dog whined when she stopped at the ribbed cotton tank and panties.
“Sorry, boy. You’re as cold and wet as I am, aren’t you?” Billie grabbed a towel and knelt next to him. The motion was an exercise in pain. She yanked the elastic waistband of her panties aside to check her hip. The first hint of purple marred a huge dark pink stain on her skin. From the aches in the rest of her body, she’d have matching bruises in other places in the morning. Her lips twisted in a grimace. What a wonderful way to mark her thirtieth birthday.
She slid the elastic back in place and began rubbing down the dog’s fur. The texture was so silky she stopped to run her fingers through the damp strands. He leaned into her touch with a whimper of pleasure. His pelt didn’t have the coarse feel of a German shepherd. Nor did it resemble the down of a collie. In fact, the closest thing his fur reminded her of was human hair.
She jerked her fingers away and sucked in a shallow breath. Where had that thought come from? Maybe her sanity had finally left the planet. Schizophrenia. Yeah. Maybe she was just as crazy as her mom had been. Or Nettie. Maybe she’d imagined everything in the cemetery.
The dog whined again and pressed a cold, wet nose against her palm, wanting attention. No, the dog was real. The police had seen him. Nettie, too. And the bruises from the fight were definitely real.
Which meant the monsters hunting the ghost children were real.
“Damn.”
“What’s wrong?”
She jumped at the sound of Nettie’s words. No mean feat when Billie was already on her knees and her entire body felt like one gigantic sore.
“Twitchy tonight, aren’t we?” A slim black eyebrow rose toward Nettie’s tight, graying curls. “What really happened, Billie?”
Her mouth clamped shut of its own accord. She’d always been honest with the professor, but this story was too bizarre to relate even by her standards of weirdness.
Nettie’s eyes narrowed once again. “I covered for you with the police officers. I think I deserve an explanation of what you two were really doing in the cemetery.”
Billie swallowed. Hard. Guilt hung like a cloud. But she hadn’t done anything, dammit! The last thing she wanted was to lie to Nettie, but she didn’t need any of the professor’s nutty lectures either.
“Billie—” Nettie had softened her tone. “Does this have anything to do with the dead children?”
Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly before she whispered, “Yes.”
Nettie’s mouth opened, but Billie held up a hand. “Before you say anything, I need you to promise to just listen. And please don’t start any of your destiny bullshit.”
The professor’s jaw snapped shut and she nodded.
Billie waited until Nettie took a seat on her bed before she sat cross-legged on her bedroom rug and spilled the details. Drying the dog let her eyes focus on something else besides the professor’s face. She kept her story to the events in the cemetery. Despite only a fifteen-year age difference between her and Nettie, she wasn’t about to relate the emotions Kyra’s mysterious bouncer friend aroused in her.
Nettie was silent for a long time after she finished.
Billie continued rubbing down the dog. “Well?”
“It’s started already,” Nettie whispered. She stared at the dog, who made a soft woof. The professor cleared her throat before she added in a louder voice. “Maybe he should sleep downstairs.”
With a quick shake of his head and one of his odd high-pitched barks, the dog leapt into Billie’s bed and promptly sprawled across the foot.
Billie laughed at his territorial claim. “Guess he’s staying here. And, um, I appreciate the thought, but the sweats, um…” She climbed to her feet and yanked the clothing out from under the damp dog.
A frown twisted both Nettie’s brow and lips. She looked from the lounging black canine to the proffered gray fleece. She shook her head and took them. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Another strange look was aimed at the animal.
If her hip wasn’t so sore, Billie could have kicked herself. The professor must never have had indoor pets before. “I promise I’ll take care of him. Messes, food, everything. I’ll put signs up around the area in the morning. He’s pretty well trained so he must belong to someone.”
Of course, the damn mutt chose that moment to turn his head and growl at her.
“Hush.” She wagged a finger at the dog, but a quick glance showed no change in Nettie’s expression.
“Well, I’ll say good night then.” Nettie reached for the doorknob, but looked back at Billie. “Did the twins say when they’d be home?”
“No.” Billie’s stomach lurched. “You think those things could—” She couldn’t finish the horrendous thought.
Nettie shook her head. “I’m sure as long as they don’t cut through the graveyard and stay together, they’ll be fine.” She held up her handful of fleece, but her gaze was solely on the dog. “I’ll just put these on my bed. Good night.” The door closed behind her and her sweats.
Could this night get any weirder?
The ancient radiator rattled as the equally ancient steam furnace kicked to life. Billie pulled flannel pajamas and socks over her goosebumps. After swallowing a couple of ibuprofen pills and hitting the light switch, she climbed under the comforter and curled on her side. The knife hilt under the pillow added a measure of reassurance as wind and snowflakes whipped against the windows.
Her stray crawled across the covers until his back was firmly lodged against hers. They both sighed at the same instant. A certainty that the strange canine belonged at her back, that he’d protect her no matter what, sent a rush of security through her overwrought nerves.
And the warmth of a friendly body kept the nightmares at bay.
##
Billie’s eyes blinked open to wet, gray light. A roll and a stretch brought the awareness of her sore muscles. The motion also brought the realization something was missing. She jerked upright. The dog was nowhere in her room, and the bedroom door stood ajar.
Crap. She scrambled out of bed and grabbed her robe before sliding her stocking feet into her wool-lined slippers. If he made a mess on Nettie’s polished floors, the professor would have a royal conniption fit.
Both twins’ doors remained firmly shut. A quick peek in the shared bathroom showed nothing. Moving down the hall, she saw Nettie’s door open. Great, just great. But neither the professor or the dog were in the bedroom or the master bath.
Leather slapped on hardwood as she jogged down the stairs. The living room, formal parlor, and dining room were empty, which left the brightly lit kitchen. Double crap.
Nettie sat at the kitchen table, the Saturday morning Dispatch spread in front of her, a mug at her elbow, coffee from the tantalizing odor, as she scanned Section A. She glanced up at Billie’s presence in the doorway and nodded toward the steaming pot on the counter.
Billie took a deep breath and released it. “Have you seen Porter this morning?” She didn’t know what else to call the mutt. It fit though. The dog was even more of a mystery than the Kyra’s friend.
A thin black eyebrow rose as Nettie took a sip from her mug. “He had some business to attend to this morning.”
Heart racing, Billie crossed to the back door and yanked it open. Shivering under the assault of wind and cold while standing on the back porch, she searched the yard. White blanketed the dead grass and Nettie’s prized rose bushes. No footprints, canine or otherwise, marred the pristine crystals.
She slammed the door shut. “He’s not in the back yard.”
A bemused look covered Nettie’s face. “Of course not. He went out the front.”
Triple crap. “You let an untagged, collarless dog out the front door?”
The professor shrugged. “He asked.”
Planting fists on hips, Billie glared at Nettie. Had she forgotten her medication? Again? “So now you can talk to animals?”
“You talk to dead people.”
Since nothing she could say could top Nettie’s statement, she whirled and headed back upstairs. She mumbled curses under her breath as she pulled on jeans, a turtleneck sweater, and boots. What the hell had the professor been thinking? She grabbed her coat, scarf, and keys before she raced down the steps.
“Where are you going?” Nettie called from the kitchen.
“To find my dog!” The front door made a satisfying exclamation when she slammed it behind her.
