The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Right,” Jade said. “I hear that, but everyone knows what I think.”

  I squeezed her arm. “We know, but trust us, if there was an easier way to shut those two down, we'd have done it. Some guys need a two-by-four to the head before they understand people aren't tolerating their bullshit.”

  Jade was quiet for a moment, then said, “I'll be there.”

  That's my girl. I almost did a fist bump with John, but played it cool.

  Then I remembered my big news. “I get the dog on Tuesday.”

  John said, “Wow, I didn't think that was gonna happen!”

  “Me either, but the parental unit caved. They think I've been traumatized by this whole AFTD thing... so, I get him.”

  “Have you been traumatized?” Jade asked with a trace of sarcasm.

  “Yeah... really, really bad. And I'm gonna need a lot of sympathy and attention.” I looked down at her with a perfectly straight face.

  She grinned. “Good luck with that.”

  John started howling and slapping his knee. “Yeah, that was priceless. You traumatized, yeah right!”

  My face got tight. “I mean, what if I had, ya know, been traumatized?”

  I looked between the two of them. They weren't buying it.

  That made John howl louder and traitor that she was, Jade joined in. And where-the-hell was the unspoken girlfriend-boyfriend code of honor? As if things couldn't get any funnier, Jonesy walked up.

  “What's so funny?”

  John and Jade were in the throes of laughter—at my expense— so I turned to Jonesy and said, “They don't think I've suffered a trauma.”

  “What... you? Hell, no! You're the man.” He clapped me on the back. “You don't need sympathy for anything.” Jonesy looked around for support, but John and Jade were busy busting a gut.

  “What's with them?” Jonesy asked.

  “I don't know,” I huffed. They quieted themselves down to a couple of random hiccups, then looked at each other and another hysterical bubble of laughter escaped.

  Jonesy looked perplexed.

  “You had to be here, I guess,” I said... or not, narrowing my eyes and giving them the look they deserved.

  Jade and John finally managed to quit laughing. I filled Jonesy in on the whole cop-showing-up-at-the-school thing.

  Jonesy said, “That's easy for him to say. It's not his ass catching crap all the time.”

  He had a point. Maybe Garcia was okay, but I wasn't trusting anyone. Enough with the gloom. It was Friday!

  “You guys want to come and hang at the house?” I asked.

  Jade hesitated for a second. “I guess I have to meet your parents sometime, huh?” She cast her eyes down to her feet, shifting her weight, but took out her pulse.

  “They're great! Ali makes the best food,” Jonesy said, “and Kyle is pretty cool.”

  The three of them whipped out their pulses and contacted respective parents and Aunt Andrea.

  Everybody could. I was about to ask how Jonesy had managed to get his pulse back early when Alex walked over and extended his hand. Jonesy gave the pulse to Alex, who ran his thumb over it, blanking it.

  “Couldn't live without your pulse?” I asked Jonesy.

  “Dude! It's been diabolical. Pure torture!”

  Jade rolled her eyes. I noticed the glint of excitement in her gaze. She was excited about coming over.

  John looked over Alex’s shoulder and asked how he managed that.

  “I did a delayed ID protocol,” Alex said.

  “How?” John was enthralled. We'd never get away once John started talking with another tech-freak.

  Alex demonstrated on his pulse. “After that, there are only three different timed settings to choose from.”

  Bor-ing.

  John was nodding, obviously feeling it.

  “John,” I said, breaking up the tech-fest.

  Gawd. “We need to go.”

  He sighed, turning back to Alex. “I want to know more, but I gotta book.”

  Alex gave John a mock salute and walked away. We headed to my house.

  I entwined my fingers with Jade's then noticed Jonesy was being unusually quiet.

  Just when I thought he had to be sick or something, he said, “Heard it's gonna rain this weekend.”

  John stopped and looked at him. He gestured at the perfect sky. “From this to rain?”

  “Yeah, man, it's Seattle, rain's inevitable. My mom is totally into NOAA, she keeps up on the weather. She says that a 'system' is moving in.”

  John nodded. “That means the barometric pressure should be dropping soon, giving rise to storms.”

  Wow, that sounded creepily adult like. I told him that and he smiled.

  “It'll just make things more dumb for Sunday,”John said.

  Duh, Pacific Northwest, it's an obligation to rain here.

  “Oh, I don't know,” Jonesy said. “Maybe Carson's gonna have to stick his head farther in that pipe. Too bad it can't work in a toilet.” He smirked. “Doesn't matter. He’ll still get his, rain or shine.”

  Nothing derailed the Jonester.

  We turned off the main road, making a left into my neighborhood. My house was last in a row of eight. A false street lay on the north side, where a fence stretched behind our backyard, running the length of the neighborhood.

  Jade paused as she walked through the stucco arches that led to the atrium. I looked around, taking it in from her perspective. A Japanese maple spread its delicate canopy over the pebbled cement walkway, its green leaves translucent with fiery-red veining. All around, flower beds burst with shade-loving plants.

  Jade looked over at me, her face alight. The Js looked like they would sleep as they stood there, but God love 'em, they were waiting it out. Now that was true friendship.

  “What is this?” she asked, gently running her hand over the delicate foamy purple frond.

  “An Astilbe,” I answered.

  The Js made kissy faces at me behind Jade's back. Jonesy made the vertical knife to the wrist motion—that meant morgue, he had explained at one point, whereas horizontal meant hospital. What a dumb ass. Not helpful.

  Mom saved everyone from the flower-worship situation. “This must be Jade.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Hart,” Jade said.

  “Oh no, please don't. I look around for Kyle's mother when someone calls me that. Just Ali. Nice to meet you.”

  Mom was pretty good at avoiding awkward turtle moments. “Hey, guys, I made banana bread today.”

  The Js raced into the house at the mention of food, shoving each other out of the way as they went. Mom and Jade rolled their eyes, laughing.

  I cut four slices for each of us. I slathered butter over Jade’s and mine. When I set the plate in front of her, Jade stared down at it with her mouth hanging open.

  Mom chuckled and removed three of the slices from Jade’s plate. “Here, this may be a little more manageable.”

  How do girls stay alive? A mystery for another day.

  Mom said, “You guys go get your crumbs all over the place outside, eh?”

  “Good idea, Mom,” I said with a tone.

  “Do you have a tone, Caleb?”

  How do parents always hear a tone?

  I grabbed the gallon of milk from the fridge and told John to get some cups.

  We sat on our deck, which was bordered by a built-in bench. Jade pulled a lilac branch close to her. Its flowers were such a deep violet they looked bruised. She took a moment to smell its powdery sweetness. The Js were inhaling their banana bread, but Jade was taking little bites of hers. Her awe at our small patch of garden told me that she didn't have anything like it.

  Jonesy was licking the crumbs off his fingers when I realized what I'd missed. I told everyone to hold on a sec, running inside to get a napkin, but Mom had one in her hand. She was on it.

  I winked. “No youngheimer's for you Mom.”

  She frowned.

  Alzheimer's was that freakish disease old farts got that cause
d their brains to turn to mush or was that mad cow? I don't know, I liked to use the non-politically correct terms to get Mom worked up. I could see her steaming in the kitchen, thinking about all the old people I had made fun of.

  Jade smiled, taking the napkin and using it to wipe her mouth and hands. John wiped his the pant leg of his jeans which was what I normally did. Jade saved me from these dire choices by handing me the other napkin. I looked back at Mom, pretty sly.

  A movie would be great. My pulse said four-forty-nine, pretty close to supper.

  “Mom,” I bellowed.

  Mom cracked the window open. “Caleb, I loathe yelling, as you well know, come in here or next to the window.”

  I sighed, getting up and closing the distance. “Can everybody stay for supper and watch a movie on pulsevision?”

  Before she could respond I asked, “Wait, what's for supper?” Not all my friends were gonna like some fish thing.

  “What day is this?” Mom asked matter-of-factly.

  “Ah... Friday.” Oh... duh. “Pizza,” I said, answering my own question.

  Jonesy, always a good one for hearing anything food-related shouted, “Pizza!” double-fisting pumping in the air.

  Mom looked over at him then back at me, that's settled. I told everyone to pulse the world and see if it was cool. Once again, everyone jerked out their pulses and after a few silent minutes of thoughts, the pulses were tucked away for the night.

  ***

  The movie was righteous with zombies chasing everyone around (the irony was not lost on me, the Js giving me sly looks during key scenes), heroes saved the world and fell in love. Jade liked the love story and the rest of us guys were diggin' on the reams of gore. The parents allowed four Pay-for-Pulse movies per month. It wasn't too expensive. It was a little like the Netflix fad that mailed (unbelievable) people movies and video games back around the time I was born. It all seems like a lot of work to me.

  Mom made two pizzas. Jade had one slice, and we guys feasted on the rest.

  Dad popped his head through the doorway right in the middle of the quintessential scene where one zombie gets an arm torn off and uses it to beat the tar out of an enemy. Dad shook his head, backing out of the room.

  The parents weren't big zombie fans.

  When the movie ended, all of us were secretly rubbing our eyes. The Js took off together, while Jade and I stood at the door.

  “Do you want me to walk you home?” I asked.

  “Nah, you don't have to.”

  “Well, can I anyway? Or do you really not want me to?”

  “It's okay,” she said with a small grin.

  Ah-huh, so she dug it. Girl-speak was sort of hard to figure out—definitely a learned skill. Like learning a foreign language.

  My parents told me to take my pulse. I held it up to show them I had it with me, its metallic black exterior glinting under the porch light.

  Jade's neighborhood was a fifteen-minute walk away, in the East Hill area. Most of the houses were built in the 1950s and in various states of disrepair. It was kinda depressing. On the edge of decaying lawns were crappy-looking junipers, which were outlawed unless they had been grandfathered. Huge water sucker.

  Mom was a big fan of the No Lawns Act and the Indigenous Plants Proposal.

  Walking deeper into the rows of houses, I felt a sense of foreboding.

  “You feel that?” she asked.

  “I feel something.”

  I sure wasn't needing anything besides the AFTD.

  “Don't worry. It's probably me spilling on you.”

  “Spilling?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sometimes when Sophie and me hang, I can leak some of the stuff I pick up onto her. She says it's major creepy.”

  “Why do you feel...” I struggled a second, not wanting to sound dumb, but the only word I could come up with was one my parents would use. “Um… why do you feel anxious?”

  “Anxious?” She giggled.

  I frowned. “You've been laughing at me a lot today.” I thought of she and John having hysterics over my “trauma.” Uh-huh.

  “Oh come on, Caleb. You can be really funny!”

  Yeah, hilarious.

  She slowed in front of an especially gross house. Paint peeled like ribbons of decay off the trim. The lawn, if one could call it that, started from some underground place near the house that teemed with a riot of overgrown bushes and became one with the sidewalk. The patch of ground was a dirty brown, somewhere between poop and mud. Strange mounds of dirt were sprinkled all over it like big pimples in an ugly face.

  “This is Brett's house,” Jade said quietly.

  I didn't really know what to say. I couldn't help but compare it to my house. The atrium, backyard, and the comfort smells of my home seemed like a dim light shining miles away when compared with Brett’s place.

  The sound of raised voices filtered from the house.

  Jade grabbed my hand. “Quick, hide!”

  I whipped my head around, looking for a spot. Before I could figure out where to go, she dragged me behind an overgrown hedge.

  A booming male voice was screaming words—bad ones. “You worthless turd! You wouldn't know sense if it knocked your dumb teeth out. Get the fuck outta here.”

  Jade flinched each time an F-bomb flew.

  I saw Brett’s silhouette through the window. I assumed it was him because the other person was much larger.

  “Don't hit mom!” Brett screamed.

  Even through the hedge I could see that his fists were clenched, definitely a Mason family theme.

  The dad raised his fist. I knew he was going to clock Brett, and I couldn't just sit there and watch. I started to step out from behind the bush.

  Jade grabbed my arm, eyes wide. “No don't.”

  I shook my head. I didn't care that it was Brett. The whispering that was always in my head grew in volume, and a dull, static roar filled my mind. It felt good, throbbing with my heartbeat.

  “Stay here,” I told Jade.

  I cleared the hedge as the man’s fist connected square with Brett's chest. The impact made a meaty thumping sound, and Brett staggered backward. The dad came right after him with purpose. I jumped up onto the porch and threw open the front door. In the back of my mind, I was grateful it wasn’t locked.

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  Brett turned toward me, wheezing and arms flailing. The elder Mason wore a comical expression of surprise. Wasn't used to be interrupted in his little family beat-downs.

  He recovered quickly. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Ignoring his question, I said, “You're not supposed to be beating on people.”

  Brett gave a spastic shake of his head, holding his chest with both hands. There was no love lost between the two of us but he thought I was insane to take on his dad.

  Me too.

  The dad stepped toward where I stood in the doorway. When he was younger, he may have been athletic, but the muscle was submerged in the hundred pounds he had on me. His gut hung over stained blue jeans, covered by an equally disgusting T-shirt. His fists were loosely clenched but ready for action.

  I took a few steps back out into the yard. But then I stopped. I refused to run. I had no plan except that I didn't want to watch some kid my age—even a dickhead like Brett—getting the crap beat out of him by a grown man. Brett’s dad stalked toward me, all shadows and menace. Brett followed.

  Without thinking, I let out the thing that was always curled tightly inside me. I didn't mean to, but like a caged animal suddenly freed, it responded to my distress signal. I was in trouble, with no plan whatsoever.

  My power responded like a dinner bell.

  Little dirt mounds in the lawn exploded, geysering like miniature volcanoes erupting. Clumps of crappy lawn and dirt rained down on all of us.

  Brett's arms fell to his sides, and he dropped to the ground, sitting on his butt. The breath I was holding slid out of me in a long line of relief. The whispering had stopped, and the lawn had blown
up, and I was feeling... fine.

  I heard a noise behind me and spun around.

  “Look.” Jade pointed at the yard.

  All around the lawn, moles—big ones—stood at attention, their reflective eyes like small silvered coins staring at me.

  “I killed all you,” Mr. Mason shrieked at the animals. “You're dead!”

  Priceless, of course they were dead, you dolt. I could hear their thoughts. They were waiting for me to tell them something, to issue orders.

  Mr. Mason pointed at Jade. “Aren't you that upstart LeClerc girl? The one that gave her daddy all the trouble with them cops?” He glared at her.

  She shrank back from his words and moved to stand behind me.

  The slug started making his way to where Jade and I were standing at the edge of the cracked sidewalk. The moles stood vigil, watching me.

  “You two are in my boy's class, a couple of losers from what I’ve heard. And I know how to take care of that. Yes indeedy, I do. I'll clean that attitude right out of ya both.”

  Mr. Mason moved forward as if to grab me.

  I let a little juice funnel through to the moles. They swarmed across the grass as one unit. Wait a second. Those weren't moles. They were... I searched for the name—gophers.

  I was jerked out of my reverie by a hand clenching the front of my hoodie, my toes clearing the sidewalk. I didn't struggle but hung like a dead weight. Jade squealed and yanked me back until I felt as if I were the rope in a game of Tug of War.

  I appreciated her efforts, but Mason had the manic strength that only the truly drunk have. I was betting he would be hella sore tomorrow, but for beating up teenagers, he was about inebriated enough to make a go of it.

  A gopher sailed across the remaining two feet, leaped, and landed on the back of Mason’s neck. It made a tight C shape with its body and sank its teeth into Mason’s exposed skin.

  Mason dropped me like a box of rocks and attempted to jerk the gopher off his neck. I could feel the gopher thinking with solitary purpose: Protect the boy. All it knew was that I was its master, and it would be torn asunder rather than allow harm to come to me.

  I turned. Like an invisible string, my power slid out, finding eager recipients. The other gophers jumped onto Mason. He did a little dance, hopping around and trying to get the gophers off. They were single-minded, biting and nipping any part of him they could reach.