Garrett followed him, an impish grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I’m thinking you should take up a new hobby.”
Osh nodded in agreement. “One that doesn’t involve people or supernatural entities trying to kill you.”
I let out a breathy laugh, my relief complete, absolute. I knew who I was. I knew who they were. I was no longer floating in a sea of uncertainty. Not about my identity, anyway. I glanced at my husband and fought the concern that threatened to draw my brows together. He didn’t notice. He lifted me into his arms and left Osh and Garrett to discuss the cleanup of the warehouse.
I didn’t say anything when I nestled further into his arms in the back of an SUV that Garrett had rented. Having apparently come up with a plan, Osh and Garrett got in, and we headed to my apartment.
Reyes watched me the entire time. His fingers slid over my face, leaving a soft flame in their wake. It was the last thing I saw before falling into a deep, tranquil sleep.
When I jerked awake at three the next morning, still cradled in Reyes’s arms, we spoke little and loved a lot. A really lot. We made love more fiercely than I ever remembered. And yet, for some reason, I didn’t tell him that I had gotten my memory back. Not just yet. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. And I suddenly wanted to savor the anonymity of Janey for a few hours more. To stare at him and re-remember every curve of his face. Every line of his mouth. Every contour of his sculpted body.
And as ready as I was to go home, I had a few things to see to first, so I convinced him that it was okay for him to go to work, that I’d be there shortly—not that we wouldn’t be hours late. He set Osh out front to watch over me, no longer trying to hide that fact, and left with the reluctance of a man walking toward the executioner’s noose as I fought a grin behind him. And then I packed.
I looked down at my box of earthly possessions. I’d already said good-bye to Mable. She took Satana and offered to sell me the Fiesta. It was tempting, but I really didn’t want to drive it all the way back to Albuquerque, New Mexico. I left everything I owned—in the state of New York, anyway—in a box by the front door, said good-bye to Denzel, then turned my attention to Irma, the woman hovering in my corner.
I crossed my arms and leaned my head against the wall so I could see her face.
“Aunt Lil,” I said, trying not to laugh. Or burst into tears. I knew what she was doing. I’d had a tiny Asian man hovering in the corner of my apartment in Albuquerque for years. He turned out to be the equivalent of an archangel and had left to watch over Beep, so I figured Aunt Lil was going to take his place for a while. Perhaps to give me something familiar. Perhaps because Beep’s absence left her just as sad as it had the rest of us.
Playing her part to the end, she didn’t answer me.
I let out a soft giggle and hugged her to me. “I’m okay now, Aunt Lil. You can come back to me.”
She hugged me back. “Hey, pumpkin head,” she said, her sweet, toothless smile heavenly.
“Sorry I called you Irma.”
“Why? I like it. Might change my name permanent.”
We hugged for a long time, and then I told her I’d meet her in Albuquerque. She nodded and vanished before my eyes.
I got ready to leave for what would amount to my last day at work. Sadly, I would leave on a bad note. I was beyond late. Everyone would already be there. And boy, would I give them a morning they would not soon forget. I wanted to scream with happiness and a sad sense of regret, but I didn’t want to leave Denzel with a bad impression of me. We’d had some lovely nights, Denzel and I. Our parting would be such sweet sorrow.
With Osh following me from a distance, whistling as though he hadn’t a care in the world, I made a quick pit stop at Headless Henry’s best friend’s house and explained the situation. He looked at me as if I were the headless one, but I was okay with that. I felt calmness come over him as I spoke, as though he finally had permission to forgive himself for something he never actually did.
There were flowers on the doors of the café and a note saying the Firelight Grill would be closed for a funeral in two days. Shayla’s death would be felt for a long time to come. A somberness blanketed the café. Even those who didn’t know her well felt the loss.
I was well aware of how I looked. I healed fast, more so now that I was officially a god, but I still had fresh bruises, cuts, and scrapes across my face. So the concerned glances didn’t surprise me when I walked in and strolled straight to the kitchen, where a certain son of evil incarnate was making huevos rancheros.
He stopped, a coffee mug halfway to his mouth, and focused all his attention on me. I felt a languid appreciation roll out of him, and my chest contracted.
It was time.
I grabbed Sumi’s stool, set it before him, and stood to face him eye to eye.
“Are you going to tell me another lie?” I asked, my voice soft.
“I wasn’t aware that I had.”
I fought to keep a sad grin at bay. “Are you or are you not married?”
He put the cup on the prep table. “I am.”
“So, what? You’ve been having trouble? You’re not in love with her anymore? You’re separated? What lie are you going to give me next?”
“No lies,” he said, stepping closer.
I heard Dixie walk into the kitchen, felt the warmth she felt at seeing us. She knew. She’d known who I was and had been in on my wonderful family and friends’ plan for some time now. Reyes must have told her everything.
His expression softened, and his dark gaze flitted over my face with such appreciation, such admiration, my heart ached for him. But there was also a wariness, and I realized he didn’t know what I was thinking. He could no longer feel my emotions. So he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he suspected. Or—perhaps—he hoped.
“I’ve loved her for centuries,” he said. “And I will love her until the stars burn out.”
“Well, okay then,” I said, leaning into him. “That’s all you had to say.”
He stilled when he realized for certain that I knew. That I had all my memories back. The relief I felt from him melted me. His emotions were overwhelming, but he schooled his features as always, ever the poker player.
“Welcome back,” he said, wiping at the wetness sliding down my cheeks.
I reached up and did the same to him.
Then I remembered a conversation we’d had a couple of days ago. “Did you really think that when I learned my celestial name, I’d leave? I’d forget all about you?”
“You did leave. You did forget all about me.”
“That’s different.”
“The pain was just as real.”
I couldn’t argue that. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed as though his life depended on it.
“I’ll need to know what happened to you,” he said from behind the hug.
“Only if we can go home.”
He set me back. “Yes, ma’am.”
Cookie walked in then, and she seemed to be the only one who didn’t care that my husband and I were having a moment. “Where have you been?” she asked. “And why do you look like hell on a stick?”
I released Reyes and turned to her. She’d jammed her fists on her hips and was glaring. A real glare, too. Not one of those fake, pansy ones.
“I think I met your friend Charley.”
“You … did? When?”
“When I looked in the mirror this morning.”
She stood in disbelief for a moment. Then astonishment. Then doubt. Then hope. Then wariness. Aka, the five stages of Cookie.
She whispered, almost as though she didn’t want to get her hopes up too high, “Charley?”
I nodded.
An elated cry wrenched from her throat, and she ran to me.
And that was pretty much how the morning went.
“You know,” Osh said, when he came in, “you could have marked a few of these people for me. I’m starving here. That asswipe after Erin’s kid? I could’ve lived of
f that guy for months. But no. You send him downstairs. What are they gonna do with him? Let him burn in hell, that’s what. Doesn’t benefit anyone. Just sayin’.”
Garrett was a tad more grateful I was back. He pulled me into a long, warm hug and didn’t end it until Reyes growled. As far as Ian and the other bodies were concerned, they implemented a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy. I was down with that.
I did a quick exorcism-hug combination when Mr. P came in. I wasn’t sure why that demon had targeted him or why it was lying dormant, but all that really mattered was Mr. P. I gave him Helen’s message, the one about her son and how grateful she was to him for how much he was helping.
“It’s not out of the kindness of my heart,” he said. “Helen was a good kid growing up.”
Of course, she was sitting right beside him. “He knew me?” she asked, surprised.
“She was one of my best friend’s daughters. It never set well with me, the way they treated her. I think she ended up on the street because of her father.”
“I did,” she said. She put a hand over her heart, appreciation for him evident.
“Always felt like she deserved another chance.”
“Then you are helping her son out of the kindness of your heart.”
“Partly. But also the love of her mother. She was a good woman who died entirely too young. If Helen’d had her for just a little longer…”
“See?” she said, leaning over and laying her head on his shoulder. “Told you he’s the greatest.”
Dixie had called in another crew to work our shifts, and I found out that Reyes had been paying them to stay at home all along. “He told me you’d get your memories back. He just wanted you to have a job while you were here, and them to still have jobs when you came to your senses.”
Holy cow, I would miss her. “I don’t know what to say, Dixie. I owe you so much.”
“Nonsense,” she said as she pulled me into a hug.
We stayed for a while, eating Reyes’s huevos rancheros and chatting. I really wanted to say good-bye to Lewis, but I wasn’t sure he would come in. Francie and Erin had made it, though. They were both still grieving, but Francie seemed different. Completely taken aback by what happened to Shayla.
Erin had done a small drawing and presented it to me in private. It was of Reyes, and she’d captured him with stunning accuracy. That was one of the longer hugs of the day.
Lewis eventually dragged himself in, looking haggard and distraught. Red, swollen eyes and a broken heart will do that to you. I explained that my memories had come back, and he was genuinely happy for me despite his sorrow.
“I just want you to know,” I said to him, “Shayla told me she’d had the best days of her entire life with you. She loved you and wanted you to know how great you are.”
He lowered his head, and his shoulders shook a couple of times before he got his emotions under control. I pulled him into a hug, and he broke down completely, crying into my hair. It was okay. I cried into his as well.
When he couldn’t take it anymore, he tore away from me and went to work. At one point, Francie tried to console him. I felt genuine concern from her. Affinity and compassion and empathy. Lewis all but ignored all of it. Ironically, it seemed to crush her.
“I never saw him,” she said to me when I went to talk to her. “And when I do finally see him, it’s too late.”
“Give him time, hon.”
She gave me a quick hug. “I always liked you even though I didn’t always show it.”
“I always liked you, too.”
By the time Bobert walked in, aka, my uncle Bob, I couldn’t hold back. I ran to him, threw my arms around his neck, and burst into tears. How he got an entire month off work, I’d never know, but I owed him everything. He’d coordinated my round-the-clock surveillance. He’d made sure I was being watched almost every second of the day. Too bad none of those seconds were when Ian or Kuur had showed up. We might need to discuss the holes in his administrative skills.
“I missed you, Uncle Bob,” I said, and the sudden wetness in his eyes said he’d missed me, too.
I pretty much stayed glued to his neck for the next half hour until it was time to go home at long last. After another round of hugs and a promise from Reyes that we would drop in at the funeral home to say good-bye to Shayla, we left the Firelight Grill.
We swung by for my stuff and packed up the few belongings Reyes had in the motel room, and then Reyes and I sat arm in arm in the back of the rented SUV. He seemed relieved. Happy.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked him, and I didn’t have to elaborate.
He placed a powerful gaze on me. “Only that she’s healthy and doing well.”
I nodded. That was enough. It had to be. For now, anyway.
I nestled closer as we left the lovely town of Sleepy Hollow and wondered when I should tell him what my dad had found out. Namely about him. About when Lucifer had stolen the god glass from none other than God Himself. He used it to trap a god just as James was going to do with me. Only Lucifer, because he’s Lucifer, had ulterior motives. Craving the power of a god for himself, he had trapped one only long enough to harness its energy and create his only son with it, Rey’aziel. His plan all along had been to take over Reyes’s body, and with the power of a god at his fingertips, he could finally challenge the God Jehovah. He would finally have a shot at taking over heaven.
When Michael tried to kill me, he had talked about casting out the three gods of Uzan, very pleased with himself at the promise he’d gotten from Reyes. That we would do it. We would cast them out. All three of them. Problem was, one of them was the god Lucifer used to create Reyes. And of the three, the Razer, as he was known across the span of dimensions, was the most violent. The most bloodthirsty.
His name said it all, because that’s what he did. He razed. He demolished. He destroyed. And I was married to him.
I squeezed the god glass pendant in my pocket. My father was right. It could come in very handy one day.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author DARYNDA JONES won a Golden Heart and a RITA for her manuscript First Grave on the Right. A born storyteller, she grew up spinning tales of dashing damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by, annoying man and beast alike. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys. You can sign up for email updates here.
Also by Darynda Jones
Eighth Grave After Dark
Seventh Grave and No Body
Sixth Grave on the Edge
Death and the Girl He Loves
Fifth Grave Past the Light
Death, Doom, and Detention
Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet
Death and the Girl Next Door
Third Grave Dead Ahead
Second Grave on the Left
First Grave on the Right
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Ch
apter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Books by Darynda Jones
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE DIRT ON NINTH GRAVE. Copyright © 2015 by Darynda Jones. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover photograph by Herman Estevez
Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Jones, Darynda.
Title: The dirt on ninth grave / Darynda Jones.
Description: First edition. | New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2016. | Series: Charley Davidson series
Identifiers: LCCN 2015037096 | ISBN 9781250074485 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781466886155 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Davidson, Charley (Fictitious character)—Fiction. | Women private investigators—Fiction. | Women mediums—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths. | FICTION / Fantasy / Paranormal. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Occult fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3610.O6236 D57 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015037096
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First Edition: January 2016
The Dirt on Ninth Grave Page 30