—the ecstasy of the predator—

The dead man was laughing, a warble that vacillated somewhere between being a madman’s giggle and a death rattle. He ground his teeth together in anticipation as he watched Lorelei drag herself to her knees and then up to her feet. Shattered pottery and mummified organs bobbed in the fetid water around her. “Run girl,” he rasped, “run.”

Toying with her, he was toying with her. Lorelei imagined he liked to get his meals good and hysterical before he finished them off. Well not me. He’s going to have to work a little harder for this tender vittle.

The incantation came easily; it was one of the first ones her mother had ever taught her. When the final syllable left her lips, the slivers and shards of the ruined canopic cars leapt up and attacked the dead man, swarming around him, their jagged tips gouging his moldering skin. 

Lorelei was about to gloat when she heard him whisper the counterspell. The chips of pottery fell from the air or remained half buried in his leathery skin.

Great.

The dead man snorted, “Another trifling spell? Better to attack me with a child’s toy or with your soft white hands.”

The next incantation she chose was a bit more obscure, a bit more draining. It lifted the dead man a few inches off the ground and then set him shaking with deadly vigor. Lorelei watched as rotted flesh and soulwyrms were flung against the walls and ceiling. This invocation will leave an ordinary man dead of a brain hemorrhage in under a minute, it should at least get the late great Sandor Perth out of my hair for the time being.

The dead man screamed, a drawn-out alien sounding cry. With each moment the sound continued, the vibration dwindled until he was standing triumphantly before her. His pale yellow eyes had burst, soulwyrms writhed from the gaps in schelera. His scalp was hanging in loose flaps. The dead man grinned.

Goddess! All I managed to do was make him uglier!

“You wish to play at sorcery with me? My magic has toppled far greater than you,” the dead man hissed before casting an invocation of his own.

The counterspell died on Lorelei’s lips as she felt her lungs filling with fluid. She choked and swayed on her feet, a black syrup-like substance spilling from her mouth with every cough.

The dead man closed in, cooing with the predator’s ecstasy.

Quivering with pain, Lorelei willed the last of her energies into a final invocation.

—the past hemorrhaging through the future—

. . . the dead man’s head darts forward, his yellow-gray teeth snapping down on Lorelei’s vulnerable throat. She sputters and flails her arms but it’s already too late. Her warm blood sprays the inside of the dead man’s mouth, exciting him. He shakes his head like a frenzied dog . . .

The pain had brought on visions aplenty but Jason Magwier did not need them now. He had Akantha right where he wanted her. All he had to do now was get free.

Reaching for the metal spike with his manacled hands made the torment worse. Muscle and bone cried in protest.

. . . it is just starting to snow. I lean against the fountain, wishing for a cigarette. The bus’s suspension squeals as it pulls out of the visitor’s parking lot. I watch it disappear down a side street. The abandoned girl comes running down the sidewalk, a half-eaten frozen custard in her hand. Instantly I recognize Lorelei from my dreams and premonitions. My heart begins to hammer in my chest . . .

He grabbed hold of the spike and tried to pull it free. Within moments he was gasping and trembling.

. . . the numbing heat and the sounds of chaos faded. I stand, wipe the lather from my face and grin. “Just a little scorched that’s all. Get up Lorelei, the worst is ov—”

A gunshot cuts me off. A bullet impacts the blackened plaster near my head. Lorelei peers out of the carpet of foam to see Michael burnt, enraged and drawing closer.

“You.” he snarls, “You knew what I would see out there.”

With a cry of frustration, he scrabbled at the spike again, his fingers slick with blood. This could not be how it ended for him, not like this. He would have seen it coming; he would have felt it coming. 

Wouldn’t he?

And what about Lorelei?

. . . Lorelei straddles me, her lithe form still warm from the shower, her hair hanging in damp ringlets around her face, “You really wrote that poem for me?”

“Yes.” I whisper, her robe has fallen open, tentatively I slip a hand inside and stoke the gentle curve of her hip. “My heart’s blissful dream, song of my soul, without you I’m cold and empty”

My words bring an uncertain smirk to her lips, “Talk is cheap.”

Mustering my courage I crane my neck upwards, kissing her gently, I feel goosebumps rise up on her skin... 

With a grunt and a hiss, he tried to sit up, pushing against the spike with all his might. He felt it give a little, then swooned back down onto the table.

“Who the Hell are you?” she asks, her boot planted on my neck, a switchblade in her hand, “Why are you following me? Who do you work for?”

“You’re in danger,” I gasp, desperate to make her believe me, knowing that the assassin is drawing closer. “You have to believe me.”

She grinds her heel, “I’m not in the habit of listening to my stalkers”

“I’m not a stalker. I’m a friend. My name is Jason . . . Jason Magwier.”

“Well ‘Jason Magwier,’ I’m Lorelei but you know that already, don’t you?”

I can only grin sheepishly . . . 

Bracing his manacled feet against the hard wood of the table, he tried to rise up once more. All it would take was a simple sit-up and he would be able to rescue Lorelei. She needed him, he could not falter now.

With a sob of frustration, he collapsed back on the table.

. . .“I came here to talk to phantoms, not the dead.” I give Lorelei a kiss on the forehead and withdraw from her embrace. “And I’d best get started, places to go, people to see . . . well sort of. Anyway, be a dear and set up the tent for me, I’ll be tired when I get back.”

“Jason?” the subtle whisper of cloth sliding over skin halts me in mid-step, “can’t you stay a little while longer?”

There is something about the way the light from the fire tinted her ordinarily fair skin that sets my mouth watering. With a speed that makes her squeal I take her in my arms and sweep her off her feet.

Almost.

Upper body strength has never been my strong suit. We collapse onto the warm desert floor. Lorelei’s squeal becomes a giggle, I chide myself, “Rhett Butler I’m not.”

She gently kisses each blushing cheek, “You do fine by me.” . . .

It was moments like this that set him wondering. If he died here and now, would the world really go on without him? Would the Cause go on without him? Would someone else finally give the Gray Mandarin his comeuppance? Would Lorelei fall in love again?

. . . I fall back against the doorframe, the motel room key slips from my hand. The sound of the bathroom door slamming is like a gunshot. “What’s—what’s going on here?”

Lorelei hastily wraps herself in the bed sheet, tears glimmering in her eyes, “Jason—”

Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear the Hierophant’s mocking laughter . . . 

“No!” he shouted, “No!”

With agonizing slowness he raised himself up, pulling the spike out of the table. Then he tore the spike from his shoulder. Blood soaked his shirt and jacket, but there was no time to worry.

Gripping the metal, Jason hopped from the table. Walking as best he could with his manacled feet he made his way to the landing. Akantha was halfway down the stairway. He had taken too long. Hobbled as he was, there was no way he could catch up to her.