The Graveyard Shift: A Charley Davidson Novella

by Darynda Jones

  “You mean to tell me,” he started, his voice razor-sharp, “that you’ve been able to see the departed all this time?”

  “Of course, I can see the departed. The question is, why can’t you? I mean, you worked with Charley for, what? Almost three years?”

  “Four. And in my defense, I didn’t know what she was for the first two and a half. No, wait, three.”

  “Then why on planet Earth would they put you in charge of Elwyn’s safety?”

  “That’s not offensive at all,” he ground out before pulling back onto the road.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you. It’s just—”

  “Oh, no. I get it. I’m useless. I have no powers. I can’t even see dead guys walking around at all hours of the day and night. I’m not even certain when the hellhounds are around.”

  “What?” she asked, her tone more a shriek than she’d intended. “You’ve never seen a hellhound?”

  “Really?”

  “You’ve… I just… I don’t even know what to think.” She put a hand over her mouth in bewilderment. “I mean, all this time, I just thought you had the sight.”

  “Well, I don’t. Can we move past this?”

  “Then why—?” She shut up before she stuck her foot in her mouth any further.

  Too late. “Then why am I in charge of the girl destined to save the world? Why did they entrust me with their most prized possession? I have no fucking idea, if you must know. I’m apparently on a list of some kind that our lovely Miss Davidson had in her head.” He tapped his temple to demonstrate. “Of course, no one knows who else is on this mysterious list because Charles didn’t bother to text it to anyone before she turned herself into the Astrodome over Santa Fe.”

  “Charles. I never did understand your nickname for Charley. And, by the way, it’s missus,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “You said Miss Davidson. It’s Mrs.”

  “Seriously? You’re correcting me?”

  “Which makes me wonder, why didn’t she take Mr. Farrow’s last name?”

  “Can we get back to the issue at hand?”

  “The fact that you’re completely underqualified for your job?”

  He drew in a deep breath, took the next turn so sharply that Marika slid into her door despite the seatbelt, and said, “No. Beep.”

  She grinned.

  “What now?” he growled, taking another turn, this one onto the road to the compound.

  She tucked the grin away, but explained, “You called her Beep. I haven’t heard you do that in a long time.”

  “Right. She decided when she was three-and-a-half that she was too grown-up for such a childish name.”

  “At three?”

  “And a half,” he corrected, holding up an index finger. “She got very into that. We couldn’t even call Osh by his shortened name anymore. It was suddenly Osh’ekiel or nothing.”

  “I never met him.”

  “Neither had she. Not that she remembers anyway.”

  “That’s right.” According to what Marika had learned, Osh’ekiel disappeared the day of the great battle. The same day Charley and Reyes ascended. “How did she get so, I don’t know—?”

  “Obsessed?” he offered.

  “Yes. I mean, the bracelet. The Osh doll—which is adorable, by the way.” She glanced down at her purse to take another look at it.

  “That would be my fault.”

  “Figures.”

  He cast her a sideways glance. “I told her about her parents. About Charley growing up. At least, what I knew. About Reyes.”

  “Did you tell her about you-know-what?” When he only raised a brow, she added, “About Reyes being the son of Satan. The very being she is destined to battle for all humanity?”

  “Oh. No. She already knew.”

  Marika let out a soft gasp. “Who told her?”

  “If I had to guess, one of her plethora of dead friends.”

  “She has departed friends?”

  “Many. May I continue?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “As I was saying, her mind is like a sponge.”

  He wound up a road that would take them to Los Alamos if they stayed on it. The scenery was breathtaking. Vast and stark and beautiful, much like the man in the driver’s seat.

  “She can’t get enough. I could talk for hours, and she’d always want more.”

  Marika could hardly blame her. What child didn’t want to know where they came from? Who their biological parents were? What was in store for them? Especially when the storyteller was Garrett Swopes.

  “Did you tell her?”

  Garrett glanced over at as his riding companion. All things considered, she was taking everything really well. Then again, she knew much more about his world than most.

  He thought back to all the talks and the bedtime stories he’d told Beep. Her grandparents told her stories, too, though they didn’t know near the extent of all things Charley Davidson and Reyes Farrow. But Garrett wondered just what Marika had told her. She kept Beep every once in a while. Playdates with Zaire. But knowing the child as well as he did, surely she bombarded Marika with question after question.

  “Did you tell her about Osh?” she asked him.

  “Yes and no. She found a box.”

  “A box?”

  “The container we’d stored his things in. She’d always been curious about him. The Loehrs told her who’d made her the bracelet she’d worn since she was a baby, but they only knew he was supernatural in some way.”

  He was supernatural in the most supernatural way possible.

  Five years ago, Osh’ekiel—his Daeva name that Beep insisted they use—had disappeared the same day as her parents. Since Garrett had no supernatural abilities himself, no way to help in a fight against a demon army, they’d sent him away that day with instructions that should anything happen to them, he was in charge. He was to watch over their daughter.

  The rest of the group, the supernaturally endowed members anyway, battled an army of otherworldly demons dead set on taking over this dimension. They’d almost succeeded, too, but Charley’d had a plan, and damned if she didn’t pull it off.

  Garrett had never been more impressed with the impish Charles Davidson than he had been that day. But it’d ended as quickly as it began, and then they were gone. Just…gone. They’d ascended and scattered their collective energies over Santa Fe, a mystical city in its own right, to form a shield, a protective barrier to keep their daughter safe.

  Their only lapse in judgment had been leaving Garrett in charge of Beep’s safety. If Osh were still around, slave demon from hell or not, Garrett was certain the girl would be at home, wreaking her usual havoc.

  Still, so much of that day didn’t make sense. Charles had sent Osh to watch over Beep during the battle five years ago. To keep her safe, which, in hindsight, Garrett had always thought odd. One of their most formidable allies, a powerful entity who fought his way out of hell, sent to babysit?

  To this day, it made no sense to Garrett, especially after he found out that Osh had never made it to Elwyn’s side that day. He’d disappeared. Apparently, there was a lot of that going around.

  Of course, Elwyn was more than just the daughter of two gods. It had been prophesied that she’d challenge Satan in a great battle. If she won, mankind would once again be safe for at least a thousand years. If she lost, hell would be unleashed upon the Earth.

  Garrett had been to hell once. He did not care to repeat the experience here on Earth. And if Elwyn Alexandra Loehr wasn’t found before Satan decided to storm the gates and unleash his legions upon the unsuspecting multitudes of humans, that was exactly what would happen. According to prophecy. One that Garrett himself had uncovered. Some days, he wished he could cover it back up.

  Chapter Four

  What (and I can’t stress this enough) the fuck?

  —T-shirt

  Garrett pulled into the compound, the area mostly empty of the worker
s and security teams that usually populated it. Only Beep’s grandparents were home at the moment. They lived in the main house.

  “I’ve called everyone back, but it’ll take a while.”

  “For?” Marika asked.

  “We need to regroup, especially with this new info. Robert may know something. What could have taken Beep off the plane?”

  “Right, the former angel.”

  Garrett bit down. “And to think, we’ve been arguing for weeks.”

  “We who?” she asked, her slender brows sliding together.

  “All of us. The Guard.”

  “The security team? About what?”

  “About what to do with her. Elwyn. Some want her in kindergarten next year, and some want her in high school. We’ve gone back and forth, delved into every pro and con, and we still can’t decide. Of course, it’s ultimately up to the Loehrs, but they don’t know what to do either.”

  The Loehrs were Beep’s grandparents, Reyes’s biological parents, who’d been entrusted to raise mankind’s most precious—if not frustratingly precocious—gift.

  “She needs both,” Marika said matter-of-factly as she raised her phone in the air, searching for a signal. Good luck with that.

  “Well, yes. That’s what I said. But it’s impossible.”

  Marika almost had a bar of service. Her face fell when it disappeared. “Not at all.”

  He turned off the engine and rested an elbow on the steering wheel. “I’m listening.”

  “She needs the socialization of children her age,” she said, giving up and putting her phone into her bag. “At the same time, she needs the intellectual stimulation she can only find in a secondary education setting. Or even higher, quite frankly.”

  When Marika spoke, her mouth moved in soft, whispery waves. Much like when they kissed, but that had been a long time ago.

  “And what do you propose?”

  She blinked at him. “Both. Aren’t you listening?”

  Garrett tried not to grin. “How do you propose we give her both?”

  “She goes to kindergarten in the morning and high school in the afternoon.”

  He felt his lids narrow in thought. “They can do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it wouldn’t be weird?”

  “Maybe, but we are talking about the daughter of two gods. Who’s to say what’s weird and what isn’t?”

  “True.” He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Do you know how long we’ve been arguing about this?”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “No. Let’s go.”

  The compound, with its main house and multiple outbuildings, was originally a monastery. They’d spent eight months in an abandoned convent on the other side of the mountain while Charley was pregnant. Sacred ground and all. A monastery was nothing new, but it did seem to impress Marika whenever she made the trek to pick up Zaire.

  She hopped down from the truck, stopped, and drew in a deep breath. “I love this place. It’s so serene and beautiful.”

  Garrett looked around. Every building had been remodeled before they moved in. A project that would have taken years only took a couple of months when one could afford a small army working day and night.

  One thing Reyes and Charley did not skimp on leaving their daughter was money. She was an heiress in every sense of the word. But that was one story Garrett had yet to tell her. He prayed he’d still be able to one day.

  “Okay,” Marika said, sobering. “We’re basically under a canopy. A supernatural shield, right?”

  He cupped a hand across his brows to block the low morning sun and nodded.

  “And we’re on sacred ground.”

  “One more level of protection.”

  “And the compound is full of your security team, surrounded by hellhounds, and backed up by a departed Rottweiler who served as guardian to Charley and now Elwyn.”

  “All of the above. Any supernatural entity that wants to do Beep harm will be blocked. In theory anyway.”

  “Then if something did take her, if something meant to do her harm, how did it get past all of that?”

  He tilted his head. “That is why you’re here.”

  “Right.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Show me exactly where she disappeared.”

  “This way.” He pointed and led the way around the main house to the wilderness trail behind it.

  Marika started forward, hesitated, then followed him, all the while scanning the area with a wary expression on her face.

  “What?” he asked as they made their way up the trail.

  “The hellhounds.”

  He stopped and turned to her. “You can see them?”

  “Of course.” She turned her head, her gaze stopping periodically on this spot or that. “And what a sight they are. Nothing that could see them, supernatural or not, would choose to go up against the likes of twelve massive beasts.”

  “Even Buttercup?” When she pinned him with a questioning gaze, he explained. “Beep named them. All twelve. And one is named Buttercup.”

  Marika snorted softly. “Right. I knew she named them. I can’t tell them apart, though, so I’ve never bothered to learn their names. My question is, does the hellhound know he’s named after a princess in a modern fairy tale?”

  Garrett grinned even though the thought of that day, the one where the little minx had christened all twelve hellhounds with a glow-in-the-dark fairy wand, caused the chasm in his chest to open up and swallow him whole. “What if we can’t find her?” he asked.

  A hand slid gently up the biceps on his right arm. “We will,” Marika said, her tone determined. “We have to.” When his gaze traveled from the small hand on his arm back to her face, she pointed and asked, “Is that the spot?”

  He shook out of his temporary trance and focused in the direction her index finger indicated. “Yes. Exactly. How did you know?”

  “Don’t you see it?”

  Alarm prickled across his skin. He stepped closer. “See what?”

  “A departed.” She started toward it, but he took her arm and went ahead of her.

  “Friend or foe?”

  “I don’t know.” She curled her fingers into a death grip on his shirt as she followed. “He doesn’t seem completely coherent.”

  “In what way?”

  “He knows we’re here. He’s very aware of our presence, but he’s staring past us. He’s tall, Caucasian, with a ragged blue coat and a knit cap. And he seems angry.”

  “Damn it. I need Robert. We have several…regulars, but hell if I know what they look like.”

  “I’ll try to talk to him, but I have to tell you, they rarely acknowledge my existence.”

  “Really?” Garrett asked, glancing down at her from over his shoulder. “Even if you can see them?”

  “Yes. I think it’s because I’m not really part of the club.” She eased past him toward the spot where Beep had disappeared.

  “First, what does that mean? Second,” he said, taking hold of her arm, “can he hurt you?”

  “I was born sensitive to the spirit realm. My grandmother felt it the moment I entered the world. But I had to learn to see them. If I travel beyond the veil, I can see them easily, but I had to learn to see them in this world. The physical one. I sometimes wonder if they don’t talk to me because I am somewhat of an outsider to them. An interloper.”

  “You can explain that later. And second?”

  “No, he can’t hurt me. At least, I don’t think so.” She stopped, nodded to the departed, and forced a smile onto her face. “I’m Marika, and this is Garrett.” She gestured toward him.

  “What’s he doing?” Garrett asked.

  “Staring.” She turned to look behind them and then shook her head. “I just don’t know what he’s staring at. There’s nothing there that I can see.” She refocused on the departed. Either that or she was as good an actress as he’d suspected her of being on occasion. “It’s like he’s in a trance. Catatonic.” />
  “Could he have taken Elwyn?” Garrett asked, his voice sharper than he’d planned. Frustration was ripping a hole in his stomach.

  “I honestly have no idea.” Her gaze drifted up to his, her hazel eyes glistening in the morning sun, her expression pained. “I’m sorry. He’s not giving me anything.”

  Garrett fought the urge to smooth the worry lines from her face. “Don’t be, Marika. Ask him about Beep. Elwyn. Call her Elwyn.”

  With a nod, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Can you please help us? We need to find Elwyn. Elwyn Loehr.”

  She gasped and looked back at Garrett. “He shook his head. Just barely.”

  “Try again,” he said, adrenaline racing through his veins.

  Stepping closer, she asked, “Do you know where she is?”

  After a moment, she winced and put a hand over Garrett’s. The one he had hold of her with. The one he was squeezing around her slender arm too tightly.

  He eased his hold but didn’t let go completely. “Sorry. I just…we don’t know what happened. He could be anything but a simple departed. You haven’t seen what some of these guys are capable of.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you.”

  A part of Marika sang in joyous harmony that Garrett would care enough to hold onto her. Well, they would have if her insides could sing. He stood so close that she could feel the warmth of him. His strength. The power that lay just beneath his rock-hard surface. Either his nearness was making her dizzy, or she still hadn’t fully recovered from the ritual.

  There was, of course, a third option, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge that one at the moment. Denial was a beautiful thing.

  “What’s his name?” Garrett asked. “I know several of their names.”

  She turned back to the departed man, his stone-like expression full of fury. But besides the one gesture, he didn’t move.

  “What’s your name, hon?” she asked. “Are you a friend of Elwyn’s? Elwyn Loehr?”

  The departed did it again. Shook his head, the movement so infinitesimal, she wondered if she’d imagined it.

  She decided to test him, and said, “Elwyn?” When he didn’t move, she added, “Elwyn Loehr.”