Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

by Darynda Jones

  Artemis leapt up to me then and barked playfully. I kneeled down and nuzzled against her before looking up at Reyes again, thrilled that she hadn’t attacked him.

  “Why would they choose a boy like that?”

  “They have their reasons. The same reasons you need to leave.”

  “Can he be possessed again? Will they come after him again?”

  He looked back in thought. “It’s possible.”

  I rushed over to the boy, knelt down to push his hair back from his dirty face. Artemis came over and tried to lick it. When she realized she couldn’t, she hunched down beside him. “How can we make sure they don’t?”

  Reyes knelt, too, and checked the kid’s pulse. Artemis seemed completely uninterested in him until he reached for the kid. “They can’t touch him on hallowed ground,” he explained as Artemis scooted forward and licked his wrist.

  “Really?” I asked, surprised by both the information and Artemis’s reaction to him. I was worried that since he was the son of Satan, she’d try to rip out his jugular. “You mean like churches and cemeteries?”

  “Yes.” He offered her ears a quick rub, then turned the kid’s face up and lifted his eyelids. “He’s in shock.”

  “We have to get him to safety.” I put a hand on his forearm. “Please, Reyes.” Artemis whined as though asking for his help as well.

  Fighting the frustration he felt, he bent down and lifted the kid into his arms. He wasn’t exactly small, but Reyes had no difficulty rising to his feet with a sixteen-year-old kid in his arms. Artemis barked in excitement, offered me one last nuzzle, then disappeared to wherever she’d come from, leaping into the earth beneath us. I couldn’t help but be in awe. Where the heck did she stay?

  I looked back at the other man who’d been possessed, Reyes’s opponent. A current of guilt jolted through me. He’d been innocent, too.

  “Not that one,” Reyes said, kicking the door open. Most of the cars were gone. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. I followed beside them, watching the boy carefully.

  “Which one?”

  “The man inside. He was not worthy of your sympathy.”

  “But he was innocent.” I hurried around and unlocked the passenger’s door.

  “No, he wasn’t. Pull the seatback forward.”

  I noticed the kid’s incorporeal essence was no longer in my backseat. Was he back in his body? Is that how it worked? I pulled the seat forward and Reyes deposited the kid in the back.

  “Keys.”

  “Wait—are you driving my Jeep somewhere?”

  “I’m driving you away from here. Give me the keys and get in.”

  “I can drive myself, thank you very much.”

  “And what if he gets possessed again while you’re driving up I-25?”

  I tossed him the keys. “The transmission sticks a little.”

  He climbed in the other side as sirens sounded from the east. We headed west, skidding through the wet parking lot and swerving onto Second. “Where are we taking him?” he asked.

  “I know just where to keep him for now. They’ll know what to do. Just get to Central and head east.”

  Only after the sirens grew too distant to hear did I remember that we’d left Elaine Oake at the warehouse. I wondered if I should mention it, then realized I had to get over my pettiness. She could be in danger. “We left your girlfriend back there.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in indifference.

  “And we just left a crime scene.”

  Another shrug of indifference.

  “I can’t just leave a crime scene,” I said, realizing what I’d done.

  “You can this time.”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Maybe we should go back. They’re going to want to know how that man died.”

  He didn’t seem to care about that either. “Are you broke?”

  The last thing I wanted to talk about were my financial woes. I wanted to discuss demons and possession and how innocent children suddenly became pawns in this war Reyes had been warning me about. But I decided to placate him. Maybe my cooperation would help him open up.

  “I moved out of my offices,” I said, trying to block the pain of my father’s betrayal. Reyes would be able to feel it anyway. “And I just haven’t gotten back on my feet after the accident.”

  “You’re calling what Walker did to you an accident?”

  “It makes me feel better, so yes.” I didn’t enjoy pondering the fact that what Earl Walker did to me was no accident. He’d come after me with two goals in mind: Interrogate through the use of torture, then kill. But the word accident seemed to make the whole thing more palatable.

  Reyes’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Dutch. I never thought he’d come after you.”

  Hoping to dismiss the conversation, I folded my arms in suspicion. “Are you trying to get out of paying your bill?”

  He almost grinned. “How did you come up with a million dollars?”

  I plucked a string off my jacket. “I added my regular daily charge plus expenses, then rounded up.”

  After a quick sideways glance, he asked, “You’re not very good at math, are you?”

  Since we were on the subject of changing the subject, I decided to ask a question of my own. “Why are you staying with her?”

  He looked at me just as a passing car’s headlights lit his face, the low beams shimmering in his rich brown eyes. “She offered.”

  “You could stay with Amador and Bianca,” I said, mentioning the only true friends he seemed to have.

  He turned back to the road. “I could stay with you.”

  I snorted. “Not likely.” Though it was a ridiculously nice thought, one that sent a spark of interest jolting through my nether regions. Since we were being civil to each other, I said, “I’m glad you’re out.”

  “Prove it,” he said as a wicked grin spread across his face. I ignored the flip-flop of my stomach.

  “I’ll expect a check soon. Don’t make me come looking for you again. It’s just up here.” I pointed to a building that sat perpendicular to one of the oldest churches in Albuquerque. A sign outside it read THE SISTERS OF THE IMMACULATE CROSS.

  “You’re taking him to a convent?” he asked.

  “It’s hallowed ground.” And they would take him in. I looked back at the kid. How could they not?

  Reyes slowed to a stop beside the adobe building and put Misery in park. A single light illuminated the front door.

  Instead of getting out, I turned to my chauffer. “I have to know more about this, Reyes. If they’re after me, I have the right to know what’s going on.”

  He turned off the motor and gazed out his window. “I’m still working on the hows and whys.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll settle for the whats.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, I climbed out and pulled my seatback forward with every intention of dealing with him later. The kid was still unconscious, but he stirred. Reyes got out and came around the car just as another thought hit me. One I’d completely forgotten about.

  “I meant to ask you, when I saw you this morning outside my dad’s bar, another man waved at you.”

  He leaned against Misery’s quarter panel and folded his arms at his chest. “That happens sometimes. We live in a crazy world.”

  “No, I mean, you were there, right? Your physical body?”

  “Why do you ask?” he asked with an uncomfortable shift.

  “Because you dematerialized. You. All of you.”

  A devilish grin played upon his sensual mouth. “Dutch, you know that’s impossible.”

  “But—”

  The boy stirred again. I glanced at him. At his blond hair as it fell over his handsome face. At his long lashes and his strong jaw. He was going to be a lady killer, no doubt about it.

  With a smile of appreciation, I looked back at Reyes, but he was gone. I turned in a circle, scanned the area, walked around Misery, searching. He was definitely gone, vanished as sou
ndlessly as smoke.

  No way.

  7

  Happiness isn’t good enough.

  I demand euphoria!

  —T-SHIRT

  Clearly Reyes didn’t want to answer any of my questions. Then again, we were on hallowed ground. Maybe he couldn’t step foot on sacred soil? But could he really dematerialize his physical body? The mere concept left me flummoxed.

  I crawled into the Jeep beside the boy and pushed his hair out of his face. He woke up with a jolt and pushed away from me, half in confusion and half in fear.

  “It’s okay,” I said, showing my palms in surrender. “You’re okay, but I need to get you inside.”

  His gaze darted around wildly, squinting every time he looked at me as though looking into a bright light, and I realized, with no small amount of shock, that he was like Pari. He could see my light, and it was obviously disturbing him. I reached into the front and brought out my sunglasses.

  “This will help.” When he didn’t take them from me, I unfolded them and leaned in to slip them on his face, taking care to move slowly. He let me but kept his muscles taut, wary. “Is that better?”

  He examined his surroundings, then returned his wary expression to mine.

  “Oh, right. This is my Jeep, Misery, and I’m Charley.” The moment I said it, I wished I could take it back. Why would I introduce my vehicle to a kid who was, as far as he was concerned, being held captive in it? That would be like introducing Jonah to the whale after the fact and expecting them to get along.

  “Misery didn’t have anything to do with this, I promise.”

  “Why am I here?” he asked, and I realized why he wasn’t answering my questions. He didn’t use his voice. He used his hands.

  “Are you Deaf?” I signed back to him.

  He seemed surprised. “Yes.”

  “Well, then, I’m Charley,” I signed, taking a couple of seconds to finger-spell my name. I was suddenly very grateful I’d been born knowing every language ever spoken in the history of the world, including the vast and varied array of signed languages.

  “Who else?” he asked, and I furrowed my brows in confusion. “You introduced someone else.”

  “Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “I introduced my Jeep.” I indicated her with a sweep of my hand. “Her name is Misery.”

  “You named your car?”

  “Yes. And please don’t ask what else I’ve named. You’re too young.”

  The barest hint of a smile crossed his mouth. “My name is Quentin,” he said, finger-spelling his full name; then he raised his left arm and placed a Q on the outside of his wrist with his right hand, indicating his name sign.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, and as per custom, he reciprocated the sentiment, even though I doubt he meant it. “I brought you here for your safety. Do you remember what happened to you?”

  He glanced to the side. “Some things.”

  Crap. He would totally need counseling.

  I waited for him to turn back to me, and said, “It could happen again.” When he stilled and a ripple of fear wafted toward me, I said, “I’m so sorry. I need to get you inside this building. You’ll be safe there.”

  He leaned forward to take a look.

  “Do you have family here in Albuquerque?”

  “A-B-Q?” he asked, not recognizing the abbreviation, so I finger-spelled the whole thing. No easy feat.

  “Yes, you are in Albuquerque, New Mexico.”

  The shock on his face needed no interpretation.

  I put my hand on his shoulder for a minute, let him absorb that latest bit of intel, then asked, “Where are you from?”

  After a moment of recovery, he said, “Washington, D.C.”

  “Oh, you’re a long way from home. Do you remember how you got here?”

  He turned away from me to hide the tears that had pooled in his eyes. I took that as a no. He must’ve been possessed before leaving D.C.

  “I can contact your family. I’ll let them know you’re okay.”

  He covered his face with a hand, and a blanket of sorrow fell over my heart. I put a palm on his shoulder again. Rubbed. Soothed. He didn’t have to say anything for me to realize he had no family. I wondered if he was homeless.

  His sorrow had me struggling for air. To be so lost. So alone.

  “Are you going to come in anytime soon, because it’s getting really late.”

  I jumped in surprise to see Sister Mary Elizabeth standing outside Misery.

  Awe swelled inside my chest. “Did the angels tell you we were coming?”

  “No, I saw you pull up.”

  “Oh.” That was kind of anticlimactic.

  “And the angels never tell me anything. I just kind of overhear their conversations.”

  “Right. I forgot.”

  I coaxed Quentin out of Misery and introduced him to Sister Mary Elizabeth and the three other sisters who’d come out to greet us. They huddled around him like mother hens, checking a scrape on his face and a large cut on his wrist. A couple of them even knew ASL, to my utter delight. He’d be fine. For now, at least.

  They herded us into the convent, made us soup—which tasted much better than the vomit that still lingered in my mouth—and hot chocolate, and then proceeded to ask me a million questions about what it was like to be the grim reaper and what it was like when people passed through me until the mother superior came in and broke up our party. Sister Mary Elizabeth had told them all about me, so it was only natural they’d be curious. I couldn’t help but notice how they skirted the issue of Reyes. They knew who he was, what he was, and how we were connected.

  I turned to Quentin. He’d been having a riveting conversation with Sister Ann about how Xbox had the best graphics and the best live streaming. Sister Ann knew her game systems, and she had completely disarmed the shy youth.

  He put the sunglasses back on so he could understand me.

  “You’re going to stay here awhile—is that okay?” I asked him.

  “Can I stay with you?”

  “No, you need to be on holy ground to be safe. My apartment is more, well, unholy.”

  He nodded and looked around him, pretending not to be affected by the prospect of staying in a house with a bunch of nuns, though he did seem kind of relieved.

  “If you need anything, text me.” I handed him my card. “Wait, do you have a phone?”

  He patted his jacket and jeans pocket, then pulled out a phone with a huge smile. Then it faded as he tapped on keys. “Dead,” he signed with one hand.

  “I can get you a charger,” Sister Mary Elizabeth signed, her enthusiasm endless.

  “Thank you,” he said gratefully. Then he asked me, “What’s your name sign?”

  I bowed my head in mortal shame. “I don’t have one. None of my Deaf friends will give me one. Every time I ask, they say they’re still thinking about it. It’s like they’re avoiding the issue.”

  “Why?”

  “I think it’s because I have so many good qualities, they can’t decide which one to focus on for a name sign.”

  He chuckled softly. “Hearing people are crazy,” he said, his signs vague, as though pretending I wouldn’t understand him.

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, puffing up my chest. “Well, Deaf people talk with their mouths full.” I burst out laughing at the oldest joke in the Deaf handbook.

  Quentin rolled his eyes, and I took the opportunity to go in for a hug. At first he stilled; then he almost draped himself over me, hugging me back like his life depended on it. We stayed in that embrace until Quentin loosened his hold. I kissed his dirty cheek as we pulled apart, and he bowed his head in that sweet, shy way of his.

  “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  “Wait,” he said, suddenly worried. “Do nuns eat bacon? I really like bacon.”

  Sister Mary Elizabeth tapped his arm to get his attention, then signed, “I love bacon. I’ll make some for breakfast, okay?”

  He nodded, then let the sisters, thrilled with the
prospect of protecting him, usher him out to show him the living quarters where he could bathe and get a fresh change of clothes. He seemed relaxed and grateful, which made me relaxed and grateful. And I could tell the mother superior had taken a shine to him. Something deep inside her stirred when her eyes met his, something warm and maternal, and I wondered what memory surfaced when she looked at him.

  After everyone left, I pinned Sister Mary Elizabeth to her chair with my infamous fluster stare. She didn’t seem to get flustered, though, if her bright, slightly ADD gaze was any indication. A gaze I could totally relate to.

  “I know what you’re going to ask me,” she said in that rushed way of hers.

  “Good, then I don’t have to ask. What have you heard?”

  Sister Mary’s superpower lay in her ability to hear the angels. Literally. Like a supernatural wiretap without the wires. It was how she knew about me and about Reyes and about Artemis. She’d been listening to supreme beings talk about us for years. I could only wonder what they had to say. I wasn’t that interesting.

  She bowed her head and stared into her tea. It was unlike her. She was about to give me some very bad news.

  “They’ve discovered a way to track you.”

  Oh, well, that didn’t seem too bad in the grand scheme of things. “Who? The demons?”

  “Yes, the fallen. They’ve devised a new plan.”

  “They’re possessing people,” I said in disgust. “Is that their big plan? To take over humans’ lives? To destroy them? They possessed that boy for no reason.”

  “They had a reason.” She ran a fingertip through some spilt sugar granules. “They’re only possessing people who are sensitive to the spiritual realm. Who are clairvoyant.”

  I looked to where they’d led Quentin. “So, Quentin is clairvoyant?”

  “Yes. Quite.”

  “Cool, but what does that have to do with me? Doesn’t clairvoyance mean you can see into the future?”

  “Not necessarily. It encompasses all persons with clear vision. Those who can see into the spiritual realm. Some people are born with the ability. Some come by it through other means, like near-death experiences.”