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

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Well, your friends have one door in the front and two behind. They can figure that out, right?” Then he looked over at me. “Caleb,” he bellowed, “how are those dogs doing?”

  Who the hell knew? Out loud I said, “I got this, Gramps!” hollering back.

  “Ah-huh,” he said in a tone that clearly said, I'll believe that when I see it.

  More parents rolled up: Sophie's mom to drop her off and Helen and Bill, Jonesy's parents. Where were my parents?

  I asked Gramps.

  “Your mom is bringing some grub.”

  “Like what?”

  He looked at me, dead serious. “Everything else.”

  Huh. That sounded awesome, Mom could bake like a fiend.

  Helen and Bill walked up to Gramps, who had run over and worked his magic on the grill. He strode over to Bill, pumping his hand off in his typical, over the top handshake. “Bill, good to see you,” murderous guy-clap to the shoulder as Bill stumbled forward.

  “You too, Mac. Thanks for inviting us to your little soiree, here,” Bill said, looking around at the biggest green lawn he'd probably ever seen, which rolled all the way down to the shore's edge.

  “Look at this lawn,” Bill said with more than a hint of awe in his voice. “My dad used to have a lawn like this. How do you get away with it?”

  Oh brother. He's gonna Make A Point. I so knew where Mom got that.

  “Grandfathered.”

  “No shit?” Bill said incredulously.

  “Bill, language,” Helen said, not without affection.

  “Right, sorry. But, look at all this,” he spread his hands out. “And he's using real briquettes, I can smell them.” He stuck his nose up in the air sniffing like it was the priciest scent ever produced.

  What was the big deal anyway? Mom was totally into the environment to the gnat’s ass. But Gramps was... he was Gramps. Just thinking about them conjured my parents out of thin air. They pulled up and the Js suddenly became the most helpful kids on earth. Jonesy was first in line to haul all the food (there was a ton). I think Mom had baked the universe. Gramps was nodding in that approving way of his.

  “Your mom can bake up a storm,” he said, piling all the burgers on one side of a huge, stainless tray and the dogs on the other.

  Mom sailed over to Gramps, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Hey Pops.”

  He pulled her into a hug. “How's my girl?”

  “Ornery.” She smiled.

  “Excellent,” he said, grinning back.

  They'd be fighting inside a half-hour. They were so much alike and yet, not at all.

  Funny but true.

  Sophie walked over, her mom pulling away in her car. “Hey, how's it goinʼ?”

  We told her.

  “So, Clyde was zombie on the spot?” she laughed.

  “Yeah, but, here's the thing, he's getting...” I began.

  “Terribly lucid?” she said in her adult way.

  “Yeah,” Jade said.

  “I'm gonna get my trunks on,” Bry said to the group.

  “Where's Barbie?” Jonesy said from the doorway leading into the kitchen.

  “Don't worry, Jones. She's coming,” Tiff said, the comment punctuated by an eye roll.

  There was a collective groan, and Bry sighed. “Come on guys, I know her brother is an asshole.”

  Helen said, “Language!”

  Jonesy sorta cringed. I guess my mom wasn't the only Vulgar Language Radar Queen. How do they always hear it, anyway?

  “Sorry,” Bry muttered, and Helen huffed off with her hands on her hips, that hair of hers still looking like lost-animal-zoo-time on her head.

  “Anyway,” he began again in a soft voice, “I'm still digginʼ on her and trying to not dwell on that asswipe Brody.”

  “Well, good for you, but he was one of the eff-ups that gave Caleb the got-nailed-by-gnomes look.”

  “I've had that look before,” Bry said, noncommittally.

  Yeah, he had. Probably minus the internal fun, though.

  “I hate gnomes,” Tiff said with a shudder, casting a nervous glance around the lawn.

  Lot of lawn, lots of room to have lawn décor.

  “Don't worry,” I laughed. “Gramps doesn't believe in clutter,” I said making airquotes.

  “ʼKay, let's get the swimsuits on,” John said.

  “No-oh. You gotta have priorities,” Jonesy said. “And that'd be food.”

  “Your parents don't make you wait the hour after eating before going in the water?” John asked.

  We all looked at him like he grew a second head.

  “Ah-no. What kind of horseshit is that?” Tiff said, smacking some fresh gum.

  John turned a little red, struggling to explain, “Well, my parents—”

  “—are super-ancient,” Jonesy finished.

  John looked like he was going to say something then threw up his hands in surrender. “Yeah.”

  I clapped John on the back and winked at Jade. “Let's eat then change.”

  All of us walked into the house. Mom had spread food on the picnic-style table Gramps had set out for the teenage horde. The red and white checkered tablecloth looked like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

  We dug in.

  ****

  It was well-past supper. The second round of stuff had been consumed and I had eaten until the threat of puking was close, then finally had to hang it up. Late afternoon sun twinkled like wet diamonds on the water, and all of us were considering a righteous canoe fight—girls against guys—when Carson's dad showed up.

  That is how weird the day ended, my nemesisʼ dad showing up. Sorta put a damper on things.

  Dad sharpened right up, and walked over to the driveway. Like it was the most normal thing in the world that Carson-the-Creep's dad had arrived at the family BBQ.

  It so wasn't.

  Gramps gave me a look then came over. “Who's this jackass?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Carson's dad.

  I told him.

  “Well, I'll be damned. That SOB has brass cajones, I'll give him that. He may need a little persuasion,” Gramps said, getting That Look.

  “Ah, Gramps, let's see what Dad can do.”

  “Okay, Caleb. Your dad gets a little time to be diplomatic, and then, I will implement The Solution.”

  Jonesy was nodding. “See, Caleb, that's what I like about Mac here, he's got contingency plans.”

  I don't think Jonesy was really up on the total four-one-one on what Grampsʼ Total Solution would be for this.

  I knew things were gonna get interesting when Hamilton started jabbing my dad in the chest with a finger.

  The kids got quiet, and I walked over there; Gramps on my heels and Mom charging behind us.

  “Listen, I know you're a big-shot scientist but I don't think you appreciate my position,” jab-jab with the finger. “I speak for the people, and we don't need an AFTD corrupting our school and threatening my son.”

  Dad took the finger that was jabbing him, giving it a sharp twist and he flung it back at the guy. “Your political position has nothing at all to do with Caleb or his abilities. It was your son that did more than threaten mine. He injured my son, badly enough to warrant an overnight hospitalization and the attention of a Level Five Organic.”

  Hamilton crossed his arms across his chest (I was getting totally why Carson was such a bully-type). “So you claim.”

  “So I know,” Dad said.

  Gramps said, “Here's the deal. You need to get your pompous ass off my property right this second or I will escort you in a way I know you will not like.” His tone of voice said it all.

  Gramps had been a Navy Seal back in the day, and could still throw his weight around. He was the one that encouraged those push-ups I was doing all the time.

  Hamilton's smile went from condescending to full on grin. “Look, old man, you're not going to tell me what to do. I can be and say whatever I want.”

  Gramps belted him right in the
face without so much as blinking an eye and Hamilton stumbled back, landing hard on his ass. Not wasting any time, Gramps strode over, jerking him by the back of the collar. He dragged him out to where the driveway ended, Hamilton spluttering about his rights, heel-marks trailing after him.

  That worked really well for him.

  Gramps dumped him on the gravel threshold that separated the driveway from the road's shoulder.

  “I'd stay down if I were you,” Bry said, having run up behind Gramps. Hamilton's beady eyes shifted from Gramps, to Dad, to Bry, deciding he'd had all the excitement he needed.

  “I'm getting in my car now,” Hamilton said, eying the group warily.

  “Good thinking,” Gramps said, brushing off invisible dirt from his creased, old-guy-pants.

  Hamilton stood on shaky legs, walking over to the car. He turned, a safe distance from the group. “This isn't over, Hart. I will prosecute you for this.”

  “Grandfathered,” Gramps said in his matter-of-fact way.

  Jonesy chortled in the background.

  What a mess.

  He burned out, gravel kicking up and hitting Grampsʼ wood fence.

  “Isn't he a winner,” Gramps stated.

  “Oh Pop, couldn't you have...”

  “Been a sissy? No, not on your life, Daughter.”

  Mom sighed. “Are you okay, honey?”

  Dad clenched his fists. “Yes. The gall of that man to come here, to your dad's home and make those erroneous accusations. Without even a remote basis in fact. Untenable.”

  “From what Caleb tells me, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with that family,” Gramps commented dryly.

  Helen and Bill strolled up. “What a horrible man. How did he get voted into office?” Helen asked.

  Oh, shit. This was a Big Opener for Gramps.

  Mom slapped her forehead.

  “Well,” Gramps began, “it seems like the flock voted him in, doesn't it?”

  Helen looked puzzled. “What flock?”

  Don't ask, don't ask. But she was Jonesy's mom, so of course she asked.

  “The Sheep,” he said, like duh.

  Jade giggled beside me; she really dug Gramps. To her, he was invincible. He'd just handed Carson's dad his own ass; he was pretty high in all the kidsʼ eyes about now.

  “Oh,” Helen said, not really knowing how to respond to that.

  Join the club.

  Gramps turned. “Okay everyone, chow's ready, the interloper has gone, time to continue the festivities.”

  We all walked back to the BBQ area where a big fire pit was full of illegal wood.

  “Oh, Pop, are you really going to burn that,” Mom asked, pointing to the fragrant and neatly bundled wood.

  He nodded. “Yup.”

  She sighed.

  Bill shook his head and Dad expounded, “Grandfathered.”

  “Right,” Bill said. “I guess that is where the garbage can and lack of a gray water spigot comes in too.”

  “Yeah,” I responded.

  “I'm not using dirty ass water to wash my dishes,” Gramps said, and Helen flinched at the language while Mom quietly sighed again.

  Jonesy and the kids grinned. Gramps was expert at making everything über-awkward, and not noticing that he made it that way.

  Kinda terrific. Unless you were on the receiving end.

  The fire was blazing and Gramps had all the marshmallow sticks out and stuck with a marshmallow, handing one to each kid.

  When he got to Christi, who had arrived right after Hamilton left, she said, “I'm on a diet.”

  He just stared at her until she took the stick. “Fine,” she huffed and his eyebrows jacked down over his eyes. “Thank you,” she tacked on.

  Maybe she was smarter than she looked.

  There was a somewhat peaceful silence, where the adults talked quietly and the fire crackled, twilight sliding into night as we sat together on log rounds with uneven surfaces, pea gravel lining the pit, a rusty circle holding the chunky pieces of wood.

  I watched the firelight flicker on Jade's face, the sun having kissed her a good one today, her cheeks pink—mouth red. My gaze lingered on her lips and she laughed at my look. She knew I was digginʼ on her, thinking about studying French again. I looped an arm around her shoulders and she cuddled in next to me.

  It was Helen that got our full attention. “Bill and I have good news.”

  We all looked at her expectantly.

  “We're going to have a baby,” Helen said.

  What the hell?

  Jonesy spewed a chunk of hot dog at the fire where it landed with a plop, sizzling in the heat.

  Mom recovered first. “Well, that's... ah, wonderful news.”

  Bill was grinning to beat the band and Jonesy looked like he was going to puke. It's not every day that you find out, at almost fifteen, definitive proof that your parents have sex.

  Wow, so uncool.

  “Ah, could you guys like, have warned me?” Jonesy spluttered, completely discombobulated.

  “Well, son, it's not like we were asking permission,” Bill said, eyebrows arched.

  All the teens looked uneasily around at each other but Tiff said, “We have a big family and I always thought it was kinda weird once I met you guys, that the Js and Caleb were all only children. Now Jonesy gets to change poopy diapers and all that happy shit,” she said, juggling a hot marshmallow in her mouth.

  Mom gave Tiff a severe look but she didn't notice, going on, “My youngest brother is only five and my mom's pretty old.” Tiff lifted a shoulder. She looked a confirmation at Bry.

  “Yeah, she's like forty-something,” Bry said.

  The parents all blanched at forty-anything being old. I thought between Tiff and Jonesy something horribly obtuse would be uttered.

  Of course it was.

  John said, “Women over forty can successfully have children. In fact, there has been a significant increase in births in the over-forty group.”

  Helen beamed at him and we looked at him like he needed to go die. I mean, who would even care enough to know that?

  Apparently Alex. “And,” he began, adding to the knowledge base, “the incidence of Down Syndrome has been lessened with the marker's discovery and—”

  “—the subsequent pharmaceutical moderator,” Dad finished.

  “So maybe my parents won't have a flipper baby?” Jonesy asked.

  Tiff barked out a laugh. “Maybe they'll get lucky.”

  Bill looked ready to punch Jonesy, and Helen appeared crestfallen.

  “What?” Jonesy said.

  “Shutting up would be good right now,” Sophie said.

  There were a few awkward moments of silence and then Gramps suggested going inside to play some lame card game called Pinochle.

  He herded the adults inside and turned his face at the last moment, the light from the fire reflected on it as he winked. Gramps was making the adults go away so us kids could sit around. Righteous.

  We sat there poking our sticks into the fire. Christi piped in and said, “I feel bad about my brother hurting you, Caleb.”

  Maybe she was okay after all.

  Then, she ruined it by qualifying, “Not that I'm an AFTD lover or something.”

  Tiff glowered at her.

  Bry looked kinda embarrassed.

  Christi just had to go. I didn't care if she was the hottest girl alive. She was always casting spells and stirring her cauldron.

  “And you guys get on my dick about what I say?” Jonesy splayed his hands on his chest.

  “Ah, hold on there. Not all of us want to be ʻon your dickʼ.” Sophie said.

  Tiff and Jade laughed, raising their hands.

  “I think Jonesy was using an expression.” Alex pushed his glasses up with a finger.

  “How many of us want to be on Jonesy's dick?” Bry asked. “Raise your hand?”

  Mom popped her head out of the open window. “Are you kids talking about penises?”

  Oh. My. God. “Not re
ally Mom.”

  “Well, I don't want any inappropriate dialogue out there.”

  “Don't worry about it, Ali. We're just discussing the merits of porn!” Jonesy yelled.

  I put my face in my hands. This couldn't be my life.

  Jade started rubbing my back.

  Mom got up and Gramps grabbed her wrist, whispering in her ear. There were a few more words exchanged and she sat back down.

  Gramps had placated. That was close. I looked at the group. “Nobody talk, ʼkay?”

  “Your mom sure has cantaloupes about stupid shit,” Tiff said.

  True, but... “She's okay, she just wants to think I'm acting good.”

  Tiff shrugged. “I think our parents are kinda distracted with having all of us running around all the time.”

  Bry nodded, clearly agreeing.

  We started to get into the groove, dragging lounge chairs next to the fire, and we paired up.

  None of us said anything about Sophie and Jonesy sharing.

  The stars filled the sky, and this far out there was very much light pollution (as Mom called it). We sat quietly, whispering about school, the hide-a-way—stuff.

  The adults started to filter out onto the back deck, crossing the huge lawn and all the couples that had been practically lying on top of one another tried to shift apart so it looked better.

  Jonesy's and my parents weren't impressed. “Pop, are you sure you want this group overnight? It's mixed, yʼknow.” Mom frowned. “I think it might be—”

  “Don't worry about it, Alicia. If I can't handle them, I might as well give up now.”

  Mom's worry was on her face as she glanced at me. “You have to let him go, honey. He's raising corpses for God's sake, he can handle a little overnight mixed company. He's responsible. Aren't ya?” Gramps said, his eyes boring into mine.

  I nodded slowly. Like I'd say no.

  The Parents and Jonesy's parents rolled out the driveway in their mutual cars, Helen and Mom waving as they left.

  Gramps plopped down. “Okay kids, here's the deal: no sex.”

  Nuclear bomb detonated.

  John and Tiff looked at each other awkwardly; Bry and Christi (after she got done gasping like a trout) just stared at Gramps.

  Jonesy said, “Not here, Mac. The timing's off.”

  Gramps looked at him. “You shut your pie hole,” he said, pointing a stout finger at Jonesy, who looked back at him like, who me?