Song for the Dead: An Ada Palomino Novel Read online

  It’s Samantha! Lana yells in my head. The witch!

  The one that wants Perry.

  Not on my watch.

  I conjure up all my might, and with lightning speed, manage to close the portal back up, just in time.

  The demon is gone.

  Samantha didn’t have a chance.

  Max is saved.

  I take a moment to let it all sink in, then I collapse to my knees.

  Two

  “Life is hard, that’s why no one survives.”

  – Feet Don’t Fail Me Now

  The next morning, I wake up with screaming back pain. I guess opening portals like that does a number on you, and the small bed in the den doesn’t exactly spell out comfort. I make a mental note to do some stretching pre-demon slaying and post-demon slaying.

  I roll over, carefully, and smile to myself.

  Last night was fucking amazeballs.

  I finally was able to show my sister (and Dex) what I could do. I even impressed a witch. And I was able to bring Max back to life, so to speak.

  After I closed the portal, shutting the steroid demon and his witchmaster behind, I nearly went unconscious. I was so fucking drained. I heard Lana’s voice in my head telling me that I was safe, that I needed to take a moment. Thankfully it didn’t last very long, and I felt as good as new.

  So Lana went on her way, Dex went back in his own body and drove us, plus the newly-freed Max, to a bar not too far from the apartment for some much-needed drinks and celebrating.

  That’s when Max realized that when you’ve been dead for three years and have suddenly rejoined the living, it’s not as simple as returning after a vacation. I mean, the dude died. He went to Hell. Never mind the psychological implications he must have from all of that, now he’s back here and doesn’t have a job or a place to live or anything except the clothes he’s wearing. That’s fucked up. To say I feel sorry for him is an understatement.

  I yawn, taking in the smell of bacon in the air, and slowly get to my feet, slipping on these pink silk pajamas that some company gifted me if I wore them on my Instagram, which I did. The perks of being an influencer. Sometimes I think maybe I should just stick to that and my design school, and forget about all this demon slaying shit. I mean, it doesn’t pay any bills, it doesn’t bring any fame. I almost die every time. But the sense of pride and power and accomplishment that comes along with it can’t be beat, better than a million shares and comments and likes.

  I open the door to the apartment expecting to see Perry and Dex making breakfast in the kitchen, but instead it’s Maximus, his back to me, wearing the same flannel shirt and jeans as he did when he was technically dead.

  “Where’s the married couple?” I ask him, keeping my voice low. I notice their Frenchie Fat Rabbit, lying on the couch snoozing away.

  Max looks at me over his shoulder. “They’re sleeping. I thought you’d still be sleeping too.”

  I wrap my arms around myself and walk across the cold hardwood floors toward him, wishing I had brought slippers. I stop beside the stove, eyeing the bacon that’s sizzling on it.

  “Hungry?”

  “Hungover,” he says, flipping it.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Hungover? From what? The bar last night? You had, like, three beers.”

  He gives me a sheepish grin. “I don’t know if you noticed, but those three beers got me pretty drunk. Here I was, worried that perhaps alcohol wouldn’t have an effect on me anymore, and there I go, proving myself wrong.”

  “So being dead made you a cheap drunk,” I muse, leaning back against the counter. “Could be worse.” I glance up at the microwave. “Shit, it’s eleven.”

  “Have plans for the day?” he asks idly, reaching for the paper towels.

  “Well, no, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept in for so long. Are you sure Perry and Dex are okay?”

  “They’re fine,” he says. “I just saw Dex a little while ago. They’re both exhausted, I guess from the possession and all that woo woo nonsense. That’s why I’m surprised you’re up. You did a lot.”

  “Me? I can handle it. Last night wasn’t my first rodeo.”

  He puts the paper towel on the plate and places the greasy bubbling bacon on top. My stomach growls at the sight. “How do you want your eggs?”

  I can’t help but smile. “You’re making me breakfast?”

  “Of course. You think I’m going to eat all this bacon by myself?”

  “I don’t know. You’re a big dude, and you just got back from Hell, so I figured you’re treatin’ yo self.”

  He gives me a wry grin, shaking his head. “How long are you going to bring up the whole me going to Hell and back thing?”

  “Oh, I’m always going to bring it up. It’s impossible not to.” I grab the egg carton from beside me and hand it to him, smiling sweetly. “Over hard, please.”

  Then I head to the bathroom to quickly do my business and freshen up. I open the medicine cabinet and borrow Perry’s deodorant and spritz on a bit of fruity body spray that she probably got from Victoria’s Secret ten years ago. I make a mental note to get her some nice perfume for Christmas next year. This year I kind of dropped the ball and got her a gift certificate to Barnes & Noble, which I know she’ll get a lot of use out of, but still. I wasn’t at my sisterly gifting best.

  I pull my hair back into a high bun and check to make sure my face isn’t out of whack. I do look a little tired, but that’s to be expected. I just don’t want to horrify Max with my face during breakfast.

  When I come back out, he’s sitting at the counter eating, and he’s set out a place for me across from him. There’s even a steaming cup of black coffee with a pitcher of oat milk beside it, because Perry often doesn’t have normal stuff in her fridge.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, feeling strangely special. The last person to make me breakfast was my dad, and even though I know Max didn’t set out to make it for me specifically, it feels nice to be taken care of.

  I slide into the seat and start eating. Max is slowly picking at his food, so I end up doing the same thing until he looks up at me.

  “Don’t eat slowly on my behalf,” he says. “I’m not sure how my body is going to take this.”

  I nod and shrug, and start shoveling the food into my mouth because there’s no reason to impress Maximus anyway, and I’m freaking starving. Makes sense since I used up so much energy last night.

  “You know,” he says slowly, thoughtfully munching on a strip of bacon, “you really were something last night.”

  I swallow my eggs down and try to smile my thanks.

  “I mean it. What you did there, Ada…when I was with Rose, it took years of training until she got to that stage. You’ve been doing this, what was it again, a year?”

  I nod, washing everything down with coffee. I have to admit, I like hearing how good I am. “Just over a year.”

  “So you’ve had a good trainer then.”

  The smile falls from my face.

  Max’s brows raise as he notices. “Or not,” he quickly adds. “Sorry, I’ve missed a lot.”

  “It’s okay. You have. But I keep forgetting that you’re back. In a way it’s like you never left.”

  “Never died, you mean. Never left makes it sound like I moved elsewhere to start a new life,” he says, his southern accent coming out thicker. “Nothing started for me, darlin’. Everything ended.”

  I let the weight of his words wash over me.

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  He cocks a brow. “We?”

  “Yeah. We. As in, there’s no way that you’re going through the next steps on your own. We’ll help you figure it out. Help you get your old life back.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you,” he says to me. “But I honestly don’t know what’s next. I’m not sure anyone has been in this situation before.”

  “That we know of. Maybe you’ll find others. You can start a support club. Create a handbook for the recently dec
eased who came alive again.”

  He chuckles softly. “I have to admit, it was starting to feel a little like I was Alec Baldwin in Beetlejuice. Trapped in a house, dead, unable to leave. Too bad I was alone.”

  “But you weren’t alone for long.” I pause. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Perry happened to be in that house when you were? That you were able to communicate with her?”

  He shakes his head and takes a long sip of coffee. “Nah. It’s not. It’s destiny.”

  “This is the second time you’ve mentioned destiny. I never took you for a spiritual guy.”

  “This ain’t about being spiritual, Ada,” he says, giving me a steady look. “It’s just about what is. There’s destiny in all of this. I’ve always believed in it. Now I know for sure. That’s why I’m sitting here right now.”

  “But how can you be so sure?”

  His green eyes look exhausted for a brief moment before they sharpen again. “Because I have to believe it. I have to believe this all makes sense. You have no idea what I’ve gone through, what I’ve seen…to be back here like this…it’s for a reason. I just don’t know what that reason is. But I have no doubt I’ll find out.”

  I guess I can’t argue with that. The man definitely deserves to believe in something that makes sense for him, especially when there’s nothing about his situation that does.

  “So, I guess you’ll be bunking here for a while,” I tell him. “Don’t feel bad, I’m on holidays for the next week so I’m doing the same.”

  “Is it too much to ask for a ride back to Portland when you go?” he asks me.

  “Sure. But I thought you’d stay here with Dex and Perry.”

  He runs his hand through his thick red hair, the color of late autumn leaves. “No. There’s nothing for me here.”

  “And there is in Portland?”

  “I used to live there, remember? I could get my old apartment back if I needed to. And, besides that, there are answers in Portland.”

  “Answers?” I frown.

  “Jacob,” he says. “He got me as far as the Veil, but not the rest of the way. Why?”

  I snort, picking up my dish and reaching over for his. “You have another thing coming if you think Jacob is going to give you answers.”

  “He will,” Max says as I take the dishes to the sink to rinse them off. “Don’t forget, we go back a very, very long way. I’ve paid him many favors, and he’s done the same for me.”

  “You Jacobs are a confusing bunch,” I tell him. “Redheaded enigmas wrapped in a ginger puzzle.”

  When he doesn’t say anything, I glance at him over my shoulder. He quickly looks away, picking up his mug. Was he just staring at my ass? Granted, my ass does look banging in these pajama pants, so I guess I can cut him some slack. Besides, I’m pretty sure the gentle giant hasn’t been around women in who knows how long. Three years for sure, but I’m sure time runs differently in Hell.

  I’m about to ask him how he’s doing mentally, after all that, when the door to the bedroom opens and Perry comes out in her house robe, padding toward us in her slippers, her dark hair a wild mess.

  “You’re up,” she says to me, then looks at the plates. “And you’re doing the dishes. Quelle surprise.”

  “Why is everyone so shocked that I’m up?” I tell her while waving at Max. “It’s noon.”

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and I barely did anything last night,” Perry says, heading to the Keurig. She pulls out a pod and looks over at Maximus. “And honestly, I still feel out of it, like last night didn’t happen. But there you are, Max.”

  “Here I am, little lady,” he says, giving her a soft smile. “Guess I should tell you again, in case I didn’t enough last night, how grateful I am that you got me out.”

  Perry waves him away, turning her attention to the coffee streaming into her cup. “It was nothing.”

  “Can I at least make you and Dex some breakfast?” he asks, getting to his feet. “If you’re going to let me crash on your couch this week, I could become your live-in cook.”

  Perry laughs and brings her coffee to her mouth, facing him. “Sounds like a plan. But do you really think you’re going to find a place—and a job—in a week?”

  He glances at me before looking back to her. “Actually, I’m getting a ride back to Portland with Ada when she leaves.”

  Perry’s brows knit together as she gives me a suspicious look. “You’re going with Ada? Why?”

  “I have business there.”

  “What business? Why does it have to involve Ada?”

  Max laughs, running his hand over his chin. “I can’t tell if you’re looking out for me or looking out for Ada.”

  “Both of you,” she says. She shakes her head, putting down her coffee. “And I’m not…I’m just surprised. I didn’t think there was anything for you there.”

  “There’s nothing for me here, Perry. I have you and Dex, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want me crashing here forever. In Portland I have Jacob. That’s enough to get me back on my feet.”

  “You think Jacob can give you a job?”

  He gives her a funny smile. “You never wondered how I had money, when I never seemed to do anything but watch over Dex, and you? Perry, I’m a survivor. I’ve been around for a very long time, sometimes in my role as guardian, like for Dex or for Rose, sometimes just as a mere mortal. But I’ve always been taken care of. Don’t you worry about that.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “Wait, so like Jacob bankrolls you? Where does he get his money from?”

  Maximus shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh my god. He’s a drug dealer,” I mutter.

  “He’s not a drug dealer,” Max says. Then he thinks that over. “Okay, maybe he did a bit of that back in the seventies, but those were the days of rock ‘n’ roll.”

  “Money laundering,” Perry supplies.

  Maximus laughs. “No. Nothing illegal. Let’s just say immortality lets you make some good investments and leave it at that. Anyway, Jacob will help me regardless. He owes me that much for actually following through and getting me here, especially when I did the same for him back in Prague.”

  “So you’re going to be a man of leisure,” Perry comments.

  “I didn’t say that. Hell, maybe I’ll open a beach bar somewhere in Mexico. Spend my days slinging margaritas in the tropical sun.”

  “You’re going to burn so easily,” I comment.

  “I don’t know,” Perry says, trying not to smile. “He was in the eternal inferno and he seems fine to me.”

  “Very funny,” he says dryly.

  “Oh,” I say to Perry. “I should let you know that he thinks the whole went to Hell and came back from Hell thing is getting old.”

  She laughs. “Already? It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”

  “And I reckon that’s been long enough,” he says. “Now tell me what you and your husband want for breakfast before I make you something you hate.”

  Perry throws her hands up in surrender. “Bacon and eggs, scrambled. Dex will have the same, you know he eats anything.”

  “Done. Now go back to bed and I’ll call you when it’s ready,” he says, going over to the stove again.

  Perry raises her brows. “Wow. Sure I can’t convince you to stay longer?” Then she looks at me and says in my head, Are you okay with taking him back to Portland?

  I frown. Why wouldn’t I be?

  Perry studies the back of Max for a moment. He stops what he’s doing and looks over his shoulder at us. “For your information, ladies, I can hear your thoughts.” I flush, feeling bad. “And I’ll have you know, Perry, that I aim to be the perfect gentleman. I’m never not.”

  Perry opens her mouth to correct him and he quickly adds, “Aside from a few times.”

  But I know that Perry isn’t worried about Max being creepy or weird or anything like that. The two of us have always had an easy relationship, and even if he does get inappropriate, which isn�
��t really in his nature, I’ll put him in his place really fast.

  She’s worried because we don’t really know what happened to him in Hell and if there are any lingering effects. If it’s changed him in some way. And if he’s truly alone, so to speak. You don’t go through something like that and come back the same as you were before.

  I guess it’s just a matter of time before we find out how much damage was done.

  Three

  “I survived. I speak, I breathe, I’m incomplete, I’m alive – hooray!”

  – The Vampyre of Time and Memory

  “Get in, loser.”

  I gesture to my Mini Cooper parked on the street outside Perry and Dex’s apartment, the cold winter wind whipping my hair around my face.

  Max stares at the car for a moment, most likely wondering how he’s going to fit his massive frame into my mini-mobile. The ends of his black scarf dance in the breeze and he gathers his coat closer to him. Over the last few days he’s slowly been acclimatizing to the new/old world, and it turns out the guy gets cold easily. I guess the temperatures in Hell are insane, as to be expected, not that he’s discussed anything about that place with anyone so far.

  And it’s freezing here anyway. The damp cold that the Pacific Northwest likes to unleash this time of year really sinks into your bones. Because Max doesn’t have any of his magic Jacob money (which is what I’m calling it) at the moment, Perry and I took Max shopping for some winter clothes, with Perry fronting the bill. His coat is charcoal, knee-length, and pretty dapper, elevating his normal style of flannel shirts and jeans. Part of me is hoping that when we get back to Portland and he gets money, I can be his personal shopper and really give him a makeover.

  “Loser?” Max asks, glancing up at me, brow furrowed like I just insulted him.

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve never seen Mean Girls? We’ll have to fix that. Get in the car, big dude.”

  “I’m not sure I’m going to fit,” he says, opening the door.

  The thing about my car is that it looks small from the outside, but from the inside it’s surprisingly roomy. I get in the driver’s seat and buckle up, starting the car right away to get the heat flowing for the big ginger. I watch as he shoves the seat back and then presses his large hand against the ceiling.