Bad Seed

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Here you go. Drink up.”

Dane took a swig from the bottle and capped it as Sean eyed the glass he’d slammed on the counter. He looked a little better after washing up, all his scrapes clean and dirt gone. Almost normal. He was wearing one of Dane’s old hoodies and a pair of pajama pants, and he moved gingerly as he slid into the bar stool at the counter. Dane didn’t have a table.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Painkiller,” said Dane.

“Also a blood thinner.”

“Hasn’t killed me yet.”

Dane expected him to argue further, maybe, or push the drink away, but to his surprise, Sean picked it up and downed the entire glass—a generous three shots of bourbon—before smacking it back down on the counter and groaning. So he wasn’t the worst possible person to have gotten himself involved in all this s**t. He could at least take a drink. Dane leaned forward on the counter toward him.

“Another?” When Sean shook his head, he scowled. “What do you want to know?”

Sean started laughing, spread his hands, then winced.

“Everything,” he said. “The f**k is going on around here? I’ve seen some things—”

“You’ve barely seen anything,” said Dane, unscrewing the bottle again. Sean was watching him suspiciously so he pulled the empty glass over and poured himself about half as much as the professor already had. This was not Dane’s preferred way to drink.

“Great, that’s an excellent explanation. You going to drink out of that?”

“What? It just had bourbon.”

“But I…” Sean trailed off, shook his head.

“I kissed you,” said Dane, grinning as he saw how it made Sean squirm. “Think I care you used this glass?”

“You’re right. This entire place is so filthy you have bigger diseases to worry about.”

“Low blow, professor,” said Dane. He was going through the bourbon too fast. He set it back down.

“There’s mold growing in the bathroom!”

“The place was cheap. Not like I’m here much.”

“Because you’re off executing ghosts?” Sean looked like he was still struggling to process this. Damn, he was slow. After he’d been attempting to research werewolves ages ago on Friday night? “Ghosts are a thing now?”

“Ghosts were always a thing. Must suck to realize you missed out on all the excitement.”

“Why?”

Sean looked truly distressed by this. Dane finished the contents of the glass and set it aside.

“Not everybody stays dead, professor. Some people don’t like passing on. You see, Bleu Falls has these nexus points, kind of concentrated magical energy wells, more than most places, gets the ghouls really active.”

“You don’t have to lecture me,” said Sean.

Dane grinned. “Thought that was a language you spoke. What kind of professor are you, anyway?”

Sean looked away. “Greek mythology,” he muttered. “You know, can I get another?”

“What, after I drank from it?” asked Dane, but he was already pouring. Sean knocked this one back faster than the first. Dane approved. “There might be hope for you yet.”

“Shut up and keep talking,” said Sean. He shoved the glass away as though to keep himself from drinking more and leaned heavily on the counter. He looked tired, but then he’d had the hell beaten out of him. By a few trees. If they stayed talking after this, Dane would never let him live it down. “And stop smirking.”

“That’s going to be difficult. Never seen anyone have their ass handed to them by a couple of pine trees before.”

“Three. There were three.”

“What?” asked Dane, and Sean looked up at him.

“Oh, you’re using that dialectically.”

Dane glared at him.

“You’re disgusting.” He went ahead and had another drink from the bottle.

“Me?” asked Sean, nearly laughing. “None of my roommates are cockroaches.”

“You should shut it before I decide to kiss you again.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. Dane shoved the bottle away, wondering at that. Maybe he was only embarrassed in public. Maybe he’d actually liked being kissed. Dane would deal with whatever that meant later. If it got to be a problem. Like he handled everything else.

“Good. You met Ned, he’s my kind-of assistant. Gives me heads-up on what’s going on in the graveyard.”

“Cemetery.”

“Just f*****g be quiet, professor.” Dane took a step away from the bottle, thinking he probably shouldn’t have so much he’d be noticeably affected when he went back to Crypt Coffee. “That thing you ran into? Whatever’s leftover from Eliza Bartley, very deceased. That’s why you get cremated. Remember that.”

Sean nodded, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Sometimes the bastards come back, obviously. This one had already passed on and came back—that makes them more dangerous. Don’t ask me how it works, I just handle the disposal. You got your various ways of doing it, your spelled blades and your plain old spells, charged crystal s**t, etcetera. I like to use silver—clean work, you can put it on just about anything. It disrupts something with the magic or their power or whatever.”

“I’m not asking you how it works,” said Sean. He seemed more relaxed now, the bourbon probably working its own kind of magic. “Just hearing any of this s**t is real at all is a lot for me at the moment.”

“I bet it is. So ghosts are real and will f**k you up, magic is real, and you might get a call from someone from the Order at some point to talk to you about all this. Let them in, they’re only going to wipe your mind.”

“What?” asked Sean.

Dane grinned at him. “If I report you to them. Unless you think you can keep forever quiet without the help.”

“Wait, what’s this order?”

Sean was looking wary, true, but cool enough. Maybe Dane wouldn’t have to ask the Order to clean up yet another one of his messes. Maybe the professor could keep his mouth shut about everything. Would be nice for Dane to have someone he could talk to from time to time. He’d avoided Order meetups back in Minneapolis, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how isolated Bleu Falls was. And the professor was growing on him.

“What the hell, they’ll get rid of that, too if they’re wiping all the other s**t,” said Dane. “The Order of Decrypters is the organization keeping all the sad fuckers like me in line. I’m a Decrypter—I locate cryptids, ghosts, other s**t, and eliminate them. They got power, skills, money—they’re the ones who funded Crypt Coffee. You want to keep your memories? Keep low under their radar.”

“And hope you don’t report me. To some unheard-of organization with the ability to wipe my mind.”

“You sound skeptical, professor.”

“This is all beginning to be too much.”

“Suit yourself,” said Dane, then moved around the counter and offered Sean a hand. “But I’ve got to get back to the coffee shop now. Lots of customers to serve, and I got a few trees to burn later.”

Sean refused Dane’s hand and dragged himself to his feet on his own, wincing. Dane figured he was sore, even after the bourbon, but he didn’t complain about it.

“You’re burning them? After you shot them with all those bullets?”

“Silver-coated bullets work wonders, and yes. Had to burn a bunch of pigeons when they got possessed, too. Remember I mentioned you have to get yourself cremated when you die? Yeah, that helps get rid of things otherwise, too.” Dane paused. “I’ll have to do my best with her bones. Busy night ahead, so if you’re done, I’ll drop you off at your car and you can go back to a nice life, grading papers on how many people Zeus f****d and as what animal.”

Sean chuckled.

“What? Didn’t think I went to school? Could be my kink, for all you know.”

“Please don’t say that,” said Sean as he followed Dane out to his car and they got in.

“Or you won’t be able to look at homework the same again?”

“Or I’ll find you more attractive than I already do,” said Sean. “For all you know, it’s my kink, too.”

“Huh,” said Dane. That was unexpected. Maybe he’d given the poor professor too much bourbon.

The trip down the road to Crypt Coffee was short and awkward, the silence in his car stiff. Neither of them said anything until he parked and got out.

“When are we burning those trees?” asked Sean.

Dane turned to stare at him.

He laughed, briefly. “Come on, you gave me too much to drive.”

“Lightweight,” said Dane, and began walking toward the door. “I’m burning the trees. You’re going home and opening up a nice new pack of red pens.”

Sean moved closer and grabbed his arm. Dane turned, instincts telling him to punch, but resisted the urge. Something else flared through him, originating where Sean’s hand rested, and moved toward his crotch. s**t. Dane hadn’t gotten laid in so long, anything was arousing. He yanked his arm away before things got too noticeable.

“Might be difficult for you to accept, but I want to burn the hell out of those things. They almost killed me. Count me in. I won’t cause trouble.”

“You’ve already caused trouble,” said Dane, then rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever. Just stay out of my way today, got it?”

Sean did exactly that. He bought a coffee, a large amount of biscotti, and took his laptop to a corner to wait Dane out. He was half expecting the professor to leave at some point—go home to sleep or eat—but by the time ten o’clock rolled around—Crypt Coffee closed sooner on Sundays—Sean was still there, yawning and scowling.

“Get your ass up,” said Dane from where he was cleaning one of the many coffee machines. “Going to be burning some trees soon.”

“Great. Finally.” Sean yawned hugely as he brought his plate and mug over. “How long does it take to burn live trees? I have to be up at four-thirty tomorrow.”

“You poor bastard.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” Sean yawned again. “Half my students will probably skip anyway. You know how hard it is to get a full class Monday morning? You’d think they’d try harder with how much they’re paying…”

“I know you haven’t talked all day, professor, but I don’t see any reason you should start now.”

“What, you don’t want to know what I found out about Eliza Bartley?” asked Sean, following Dane down to the Lair.

Dane didn’t much care, but he didn’t try to get Sean to shut up as he grabbed up matches and a flask.

“She died of suspicious causes. After her death, her son published a couple of novels under a pseudonym, even though he could barely write an article for the newspaper he worked for. Can you connect the dots?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Dane. He led the way to first a can of gasoline and then out into the cemetery. “She’s been dead and passed on, presumably he’s been, too, all we have to do is cleanup.”

Although Sean seemed disappointed with that, he quieted and helped Dane push the bones up against the trees, douse everything with gasoline, and then light it up. Ned drifted over as they watched the trees burn, Dane noting Sean seemed comfortable enough with him around now.

“And this sends her back?”

“As long as she hasn’t left these trees all day,” said Dane. “Ned?”

“I was called away briefly,” said the ghost.

Dane pulled out his flask. f*****g flaky-ass ghosts.

“Disturbance a little way outside of town. Don’t give me that look, Dane. You’ll be interested. There’s been a murder.”