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

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  The man bore down on Madeline, backhanding the girl so quickly that she had no time to defend herself. The girl sprawled on the ground.

  Beth reacted immediately. The man looked up in shock.

  “You're never going to hit her again.” Beth held tightly to his wrist, which he’d pulled back in preparation to deliver another blow to Madeline.

  Her words had rolled out before she could squelch them. She knew he was a hundred pounds heavier than her—and inches taller.

  But he was inebriated, and his self-destructive alcohol consumption and neglect had made him slow.

  “Then I'll use you as a punching bag.”

  Beth grinned, and a flash of fear flared in his eyes.

  He jerked his wrist, and without thinking, Beth crushed the bones together. He howled, kicking out.

  She blocked his leg and swept his large body to the ground, using his wrist as leverage as he fell like a tree without roots.

  She hopped on top of him.

  Her fists fell like a rain of flesh hammers.

  “Stop!” Madeline screamed.

  Beth paused.

  She asked the most logical question of the day. “Why?”

  “He takes care of my mom.”

  Beth met her eyes. After a few heartbeats of silent communication, Beth stood.

  She threw her instep out with precision, stomping the male’s crotch.

  He shrieked into the night. The sound cheered Beth.

  It felt almost as good as watching Merrick do the same to the corrupt cop—almost.

  *

  “Maddie!” Jacky called as the girl tried to pick herself off the ground. Twice.

  She was shaking so badly that Beth went and hauled her to her feet, but Madeline shrank from her.

  “I won't hurt you.”

  Madeline nodded a little too quickly.

  “Remind me never to piss you off,” Merrick said coolly, a smile ghosting his lips.

  The male rolled around the weedy lawn, grabbing his privates while moaning about retribution.

  “Shut your pie hole, or I shall kick that, too.”

  “Syntax, Jasper.”

  Beth glowered at him.

  “Piss off, Merrick.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Yes!” He raised his fist.

  Beth glared at him.

  The teens were speaking quietly. Jacky had his hands on Madeline's shoulders, and even at his young cycles, he was taller than she was.

  Beth thought Madeline’s eyes were ancient, though her assessment told her that the girl was only nearing full maturity.

  “They can help ya, Maddie… give it a chance—please!”

  Hearing a Three plead was something to behold.

  The light grew dim.

  Night had sunk its teeth into the day, shaking it like a dog with a bone. The light gave in and evening slid into the shadows and spilled toward them.

  Beth walked to the teens.

  Principle they are young. Still, she recognized that without her stylized training, she would not feel so much older. The girl was only a few years younger.

  Madeline's lower lip trembled. “Who are you?”

  Beth shook her head. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

  “I know just the place,” Jacky said.

  Merrick toed the writhing male on the ground. “This one will remain incapacitated for a time.”

  Beth's eyes went to Merrick's.

  “Where?” Jeb asked.

  “An abandoned dump. There's a sort of fort there that these teenagers use—”

  “Let's go,” Merrick said, cutting him off.

  The girl tried to pull away, but Merrick held her fast by the shoulders.

  She seemed positively frail next to Merrick, probably how Beth looked next to him. The thought made Beth frown.

  “Please… don't hurt me,” Madeline begged.

  “I would never hurt a female,” Merrick said with a disdainful grunt.

  “What?” Beth asked, lurching forward from the grim tone of his voice alone.

  Merrick closed his eyes and recited the part of the assessment, which made Beth feel ill.

  “Multiple fractures in various states of healing. Deep contusions, old and new.”

  Merrick bared his teeth, popping open his eyes, which appeared eerie in the low light of the fading day. “I'm not asking now.”

  “Okay,” she said in a meek voice.

  Jacky Caldera took her hand and led them to their next jumping point, or so Beth hoped.

  *

  The dump was the strangest place Beth had ever visited. The assortment of Sector Three trash was utterly fascinating.

  It had been a long walk from the far eastern Quadrant of Kent to the lip of the valley below.

  Beth doubted that any of the people of this quadrant knew that their valley of cement structures and highways, which would become obsolete in a hundred years, had once held a great river. The valley had held trees with trunks wider than some of the domiciles they'd just rescued Madeline DeVere from.

  Beth looked at Madeline, feeling a pity that was uncomfortable to bear. The girl’s frail beauty made feelings of protection an almost automatic reaction.

  “You don't have to take care of me, Jacky,” Madeline said.

  “Chase would've wanted it.”

  She hung her head.

  Merrick raised his palm.

  “I want explanations, and I want them now.”

  “People in hell want ice water, I bet,” Jacky said.

  “No—Jacky, don't. They helped us.”

  Jacky swung his gaze from a pissed-off Merrick to Madeline.

  “Ya can't go back. Ya gotta know that. He'll beat you til he kills ya.”

  “No one's beating anyone,” Merrick said in a bald voice.

  Beth nodded. Truth.

  “You don't know Chuck, guys. He's got no built-in stopping point.”

  “I know the kind of male you're referring to.”

  Beth didn't expound on Merrick's comment. She knew he was thinking of Lance Ryan, languishing on Sector One because of stopping points or his lack thereof.

  Merrick went to Madeline first, ducking below the strange subterranean building of crushed antique cars, squished like rotting corpses of metal above his head.

  Jacky nodded. “Go ahead. They're too damn uptight to be dangerous.”

  “I don't know, I saw her do pretty well earlier.” Her voice was shaky.

  “We are breaking a lot of our rules by meeting with you… and the boy.”

  “Teen, pal.”

  “Technically, you're not a teen until you're thirteen, right?” Beth asked.

  “Yeah.” Sullen green eyes, muddied from the dim surroundings, narrowed on her.

  “Are you able to go places others cannot?” Merrick's attention was focused on Madeline.

  She nodded, cupping her elbows.

  Merrick's shoulders dropped. “Why is it you keep your ability secret?”

  “Because he'll beat me when I come back.”

  “Who?” Merrick's eyes cut to hers. “That unscrupulous male who struck you?”

  Madeline didn't respond and stared at her hands instead.

  “He will not hurt you again,” Merrick promised.

  “That's what adults say, but then they make her go back.”

  Her chin kicked up. “I'm almost eighteen, then I'll be free.”

  Beth wouldn't have guessed the girl was nearly eighteen cycles—almost a woman.

  That she had survived what Beth had witnessed was even more amazing than the rest.

  “These guys are Dimensionals.”

  Madeline's face jerked up. “Really?” She turned to Jacky. “What color are they?”

  Jacky cleared his throat self-consciously. “That's kinda what it looks like—color, but… it's a hard thing to describe.”

  “What are you saying?” Beth asked.

  “He's a Sensitive,” Jeb said with certainty.

  “No,” Jacky said, c
learly not appreciating a term he was unfamiliar with.

  “He's an Aura Reader,” Madeline offered.

  Merrick looked at her.

  Okay, so different names for the same thing, Beth decided.

  “You see… what?” Merrick asked.

  Jacky shrugged. “I see… color around people.”

  “Like a halo.” Madeline laughed.

  Beth liked the way her laughter chased the fear that hung on her like a bad smell.

  “Do you need a reflection to jump?” Beth asked.

  Madeline's brows came together. “Ah—no.”

  “How do you”—Merrick spread his hands—“go to another world?”

  Madeline shrugged. “I don't know exactly.”

  “She goes a lot when Chuck starts in,” Jacky said.

  “Is that true?” Merrick asked.

  She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

  “Okay,” Merrick began. “First, you're not a Dimensional or whatever this sector calls it.”

  Beth opened her mouth, but Merrick drilled her with a be quiet look.

  Fine.

  She crossed her arms and blew hair out of her face to keep her words to herself.

  “I am Jeb Merrick, and this is my partner, Beth Jasper.”

  Madeline looked at them both.

  “I'm Maddie DeVere and this is my friend, Jacky Caldera. He—he was the little brother of my boyfriend, Chase.”

  A heartbeat of weighted silence passed.

  “What happened to Chase, Maddie?” Beth asked.

  “He died last year in a car accident.”

  Merrick inclined his head in understanding. “Pre-hover.”

  “Huge fatalities,” Beth replied.

  Jacky and Maddie looked at each other.

  “Definitely aliens,” Jacky said.

  “Not exactly…” Beth said with a small smile.

  “What are ya called then? I mean, if you're like Maddie?”

  She noticed Merrick had skipped over the Eleventh Directive smoothly. They’d done a lot of that of late.

  “Reflectives.”

  Eleventh: do not divulge your identity.

  We’ve blown that all to Hades.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jeb gazed at the younglings and immediately corrected himself.

  No matter how naïve Madeline appeared, she was just over two years younger than Jasper, not technically a youngling.

  It was hard to wrap his mind around. He flicked a gaze Jasper's way and back to Madeline.

  “So you're saying that you guys come from places I've gone?”

  Jeb shrugged. “I don't know where you've jumped. However, if I were to guess, I'd say there are some sectors you've escaped by sheer luck.”

  Madeline shook her head, dark-brown hair sliding over her shoulders, her eyes a little wide.

  “No,” she glanced at Jeb and Jasper. “I've been somewhere scary.”

  “What's a sector?” Jacky asked.

  Jeb raked a hand through his hair. He was digging their grave deeper with each word he said.

  “There are thirteen sectors—worlds. Like this one.” Jeb pointed outward.

  When the pair turned with his motion, they looked out over nothing but the twisted metal of the roof on top of a small shed.

  “We inhabit Sector Ten—Papilio.”

  The boy and young woman were silent for a moment.

  Then the boy said, “So… you guys hop planets and beat people up?”

  Jasper sighed.

  “No, we police sectors that have used their advancements to the detriment of those who live under their rule.”

  “So someone gets intelligence, like the whole inoculation, gives people a little power then uses them.”

  The boy’s presumption was basically correct.

  “You kicked Chuck's ass, the clown stepdad from hell.”

  What Jeb heard was: the abuser's name was Chuck and he was from Hades.

  Beth read his expression.

  “He's not actually from Hades, Merrick. They use similar expressions.”

  “Not so similar,” Jeb countered in vague disagreement.

  “Do you guys speak English?” Jacky asked, giving Jeb a sharp look.

  “Latin,” Jasper admitted reluctantly.

  “Wait a sec,” Madeline said. “You—I knew something sounded familiar.”

  “What?” Jacky asked, walking over to an old camping light and pulsing it on with his thumb. “Awesome! Still works—sweet!”

  His enthusiasm was contagious. If things hadn't been so dire and their return so important, Jeb would have enjoyed conversing casually with Threes for the first time.

  Normally, he and a Reflective partner were in foreign sector for only twenty-four hours before returning to Papilio for a day's respite. If the next jump’s purpose wasn't collecting intel, it was reconnaissance, or—in the case of the latest jump—completing a small but critical mission.

  Bright light surged through the space, and Jeb took in upturned milk crates used as makeshift furniture, the lamp that burned brightly, and a small—what is that? Jeb broke from the group and walked to the small box.

  He opened it, releasing a smell that was so awful, it made his stomach turn. Jeb coughed into his hand, slapping the door shut again.

  “That's rank, man!”

  “It's an old fridge,” Madeline said evenly, and Jeb could see she thought he was a dipshit.

  He felt like one.

  “Anyway,” Madeline began, “I'm catholic, and I’ve heard that word, Papilio. I know what it means. It took a while, but my mom's made me go to mass since forever, and there was this Sunday school teacher that had little stickies…”

  Beth frowned.

  “Little pieces of paper with a sticky edge to attach to stuff,” Jacky explained.

  “Hmmm,” Jeb said, palming his chin, listening.

  “So one of the stickies was stuck to a butterfly.”

  “You're from the butterfly world?” Jacky asked. With disbelieving snort, he laughed. Then he guffawed, holding his ribs.

  “That's wicked funny.”

  Jeb didn't think so. “They're a sacred insect on my world.”

  Jacky got quiet. “Okay, I don't wanna dis you, my man, but butterflies?”

  He flapped his hands near his shoulders.

  “They identify Reflectives at birth,” Jasper said.

  Madeline sat up from her perch on the plastic crate. “Really?”

  Jasper nodded.

  “Are they pretty?” she asked.

  “They are beautiful,” Jeb said without a hint of embarrassment.

  “So you kick-ass military guys”—Jacky turned to Jasper—“and girl…”

  Jasper smiled.

  “Get picked to be Dimensional by bugs?”

  “Technically, they're insects,” Madeline said.

  “Yeah, whatever. It's too weird for words.”

  He was giving Jeb a speculative look.

  “I think it's neat,” Madeline said.

  “Nobody says that anymore, Maddie.”

  “My mom does.”

  Jeb felt the silence.

  “You're concerned about your parent.”

  Madeline exhaled in a rush. “She works grave so Chuck'll sleep it off or tear the house up. He won't get her.”

  This time. No one said it, but Beth was certain they had all thought it.

  “Your mother works in the evening,” Jasper clarified, and Madeline nodded.

  “She is safe until she returns.”

  Madeline drew her pulse out of the pocket of her denims, swiped her thumb, and sat silently for a moment. “Nine hours, thirty minutes, and five seconds.”

  Jeb scrubbed his face. “Does she—is she Dimensional?”

  “Too old.”

  The mother of a daughter as old as Madeline would not be in that segment of the population affected by the Zondoraes’ intervention. Only adolescent younglings inoculated with their chemical concoction manifested the ass
ortment of paranormal talents these younglings possessed.

  “Chuck doesn't have dick, except access to the nearest bottle.”

  Jeb frowned at the crude tongue on the boy, but the information was good to know.

  “I have an idea,” Jasper said slowly.

  Jeb had been stewing over the inevitable: Jude Calvin's arrival because of the botched mission. He was open to reasonable suggestions.

  “If Madeline doesn't need a surface, I can act as a sort of focus, and we can get home—tonight.”

  Jeb shook his head. “Sounds good in theory but what if something goes wrong?”

  “She's Reflective, Merrick.”

  He turned on her. “No, she's not. She doesn't need a surface, Jasper—she just jumps.”

  “They've done something. Messed with a process.”

  “You mean, you guys didn't get a shot? No one made you this way?” Jacky asked.

  Jeb shook his head again. “No. We are born Reflective.”

  “I'm doing this jumping, but you need…?”

  Jasper looked at Madeline. “We need a surface that reflects to jump.”

  “There are varying degrees of finesse, of course.”

  Jacky gave a low whistle. “So those ass cracks, the scientists—”

  Madeline cocked her head to the side. “Zondorae.”

  Jacky snapped his fingers.

  “Yeah, those butt munches. They're the ones that gave us the special sauce then ran off with their pathetic peckers…”

  “Jacky—God, quit!”

  “It's true, Maddie.”

  “Yeah, but you're not being a very good example of our world or whatever.”

  Jeb's thoughts turned to the corrupt law officer and Chuck, the female beater.

  He said in a low voice, “I don't think he's the worst of what we've seen in Sector Three.”

  “That's what you call Earth?”

  Jeb nodded.

  “Let's go, Merrick. We can explain things to Rachett.”

  “You mean I can.”

  Jasper had the grace to look embarrassed.

  “I don't want to get anyone in trouble,” Madeline interjected quickly.

  Mind made up, Jeb decided returning with a Three who was a Reflective—or at least this world’s version—would be the order of the night.

  What is the Three expression?

  Better to beg for mercy.

  *

  Jeb had trouble navigating the narrow and shallow tunnel that led out of the partially submerged pile of old motor vehicles. Something similar had existed on Papilio, but the old machines had been reduced and reused for clean-burning fuel two hundred years before.