Sixth Grave on the Edge

by Darynda Jones

  “For the survival of humankind,” I said defensively. “Or something like that. Who are the Twelve?”

  It took him a while to answer. Brooding did that. Took its time. Meandered. Wandered around, oblivious of the needs and impatience of others. It was kind of like a small child that way. Just when I was about to fill the uncomfortable void of silence with the theme song from Gilligan’s Island, he answered. Disappointment washed over me.

  “The Twelve are most commonly referred to on my plane as the Twelve Beasts of Hell. But here on earth, they are most often referred to as hellhounds.”

  “Hellhounds?” I asked, astonished. “For real? They’re hellhounds?”

  “Yes. They were imprisoned centuries ago. It would seem they’ve escaped.”

  I let a whistle slip through my lips. “Honest-to-goodness hellhounds. That’s unreal. Why were they imprisoned?”

  “Have you ever met a hellhound?” He worked his jaw. “They’re unruly. Uncontrollable. They kill anything and everything in their paths. They were one of my father’s experiments gone bad.”

  My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “He created them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like he created you?”

  “No, not really. My father created me from his own flesh, which is why I am his son. He created no other being like me.” He gave me a sideways glance. “That’s not arrogance. It’s simply fact. One I’m not proud of.”

  I was still busy trying to wrap my head around the whole hellhound thing. “Wait, what about the Dealer? You said he didn’t fall from heaven.”

  “He was a slave, one of millions, also created by my father.”

  “You called him Daeva.”

  “Many scholars on earth believe Daeva and demons are one and the same. They are wrong. Demons, true demons, fell from heaven. They are the Fallen sons.”

  “So, like, they’re purebred while the Daeva are, I don’t know, clones?”

  “They are slaves. Period.”

  I didn’t like that word unless I was using it to refer to Cookie. “You know, traditionally, slaves are simply an undervalued race of people. They are every bit as good and worthy as you or I.”

  “Daeva are not a race,” he said, his voice hardening. “They are a creation of my father’s.”

  “Why do you feel so much animosity toward them?” I asked, surprised.

  “Who says I do?”

  “Reyes, come on.”

  “It’s complicated,” he answered at last. “When God first created the angels, they were referred to as the sons of God until he had one true son, created to lead humans, to clear their paths into Heaven. In that same sense, when my father first created the Daeva, they were called the sons of Satan until he had a one true son. Me. Then they were nothing but Daeva. They were not Fallen. They were not the sons. They simply were. And just as some angels became enraged by what they perceived as injustice from God’s favoritism of man over his own creations, some of the Daeva felt slighted when my father sought to create me. It complicated matters.”

  “But you knew him? The Dealer?”

  “Everyone knew him. He was a champion. He was the fastest and strongest being in hell, but he was a slave, destined to always be a slave. It was a position he didn’t care for.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” I said, letting the sarcasm drip off my tongue. Then Reyes’s words sank in. “Wait, was he faster than you?”

  Without looking at me, he nodded. I sucked in a soft breath of air.

  “Stronger?”

  After a lengthy pause, he said, “Yes. We never fought, but if we had, he would have won.”

  I wouldn’t have been more surprised if a two-by-four appeared out of nowhere and slammed into my face. “So, really? He can beat you?”

  “I believe he could have, yes, but that was in hell. This is a different plane with a different set of rules. Who’s to say what he can do here?”

  “But why did you try to go up against him? If he’s that dangerous, why risk it?” When he didn’t answer, I pushed him, growing angry that he would risk himself so frivolously. “Reyes, why would you do that?”

  “I’m too stunned to answer that right now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I am astonished that you would ask me such a question.”

  “Really? Do you know me at all?”

  * * *

  “Well, this has certainly been a day of revelations,” I said as Reyes and I walked from Misery into the apartment building together. He was apparently not leaving my side. “So, the Twelve beasts, huh? I’ll bet they’re fun at parties.”

  “Not unless you like massacres,” he said, scanning the area as we walked.

  “Not really. We probably shouldn’t invite them to our engagement party.” When he glanced at me in surprise, I added, “You know, if we have one.”

  He followed behind me on the stairs. “Probably not.”

  “I want to know more about the Dealer,” I said over my shoulder. “I mean, I didn’t even know they had slaves in hell. That place has to be bad enough without throwing the title of indentured servant into the mix.”

  “My father has millions. He can create them from the remnants of lost demons.”

  “Like from their DNA?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So, this Dealer was a champion? Of what? Volleyball?”

  “Think more along the lines of gladiator.”

  “Seriously? They play gladiator games in hell?” It just seemed unfathomable.

  “We had a lot of free time.”

  I stopped on the landing and turned toward him as he ascended behind me. “Reyes, I want you to give him a chance. I think he really is out to help us. You can be mad at me if you want, but I just think he really does want to see your father fall.”

  “Sure he does. Wouldn’t you want to see your captor fall? It doesn’t mean we can trust him.”

  “I think you’re letting your prejudices get in the way,” I said, turning to ascend the next flight.

  “Dutch,” he said, taking my shoulders and urging me to face him, “you can’t ever trust Daeva. No matter how much they help. No matter what they do for you, they simply cannot be trusted.”

  “I understand the generalization, but he’s different. There’s something very special about him, and I have a feeling we are going to find out what that is someday.”

  “Not if you’re smart, you won’t.”

  “I’m not stupid,” I said, growing tired of his questioning everything I did. “I do use common sense.”

  “You have to have common sense to use it.”

  I stiffened. He did not just say that. “You did not just say that.”

  “When it comes to humans, Dutch, you are blind. You do things for them that no other person alive would do. And if you believe even remotely that this Daeva will help you in that endeavor, you’ll lose everything to him.”

  “No person alive would do for me? That just goes to show how well you know humans. You may have been one for the last thirty years, but you know nothing of our spirit. Of our generous nature. It’s different for everyone, but most humans are kind and giving. And we care about our fellow man. And woman.”

  “I know enough about humans to realize not one person on this earth would risk his life to save yours.”

  “You’re wrong. And if my suspicions about the Dealer are right, you’ll be eating those words before all this is over. We allegedly have twelve very nasty creatures to fight, and I’d bet my last dollar he will be with us to the end.”

  “At which point, he will trick you out of your soul and grow fat and old on you.”

  I unlocked my door and shouldered my way in to block his entrance. “I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He offered me an angry nod, then turned toward his own apartment.

  I shut my door softly. He slammed his.

  * * *

  Cookie came in later than I did. I could hear her familiar footste
ps on the stairs. She knocked softly before opening it, which was so not like her. “Are you still up?” she asked.

  “I sure am. How’d it go?”

  She still looked great and had a fresh glow to her face.

  “Wait, you’re not falling for Barry, are you?”

  “Oh, heavens no. But we had such a good time. It was fun to get out.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Did Robert, I don’t know, ask about it?”

  I giggled. “He did. It was great. He was dying to ask me, but it took him a while. Did you see the look on his face when he saw Barry?”

  “Yes. Charley, I feel guilty.”

  I pursed my lips. “Cook. I can feel emotions, remember? And it’s his own fault.”

  “Oh, right.” She grinned. “I think this could work. He was stunned speechless when he saw my date.”

  “Honey,” I said, putting a hand on hers, “he was stunned speechless when he saw you.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. I don’t think he’s into men.”

  She dismissed that with a wave.

  “You know what I mean.”

  She had stars in her eyes. I guess I’d never realized how much she liked Ubie. I mean, it was Ubie. Who could’ve guessed that?

  “So,” she said, easing up to the bigger questions of the night, “how was the card game?”

  “I lost my ass. And, well, have you seen my ass?” I patted it to emphasize my point.

  She laughed at first, then sobered. “Wait, really? You lost money?”

  “Nah, I convinced the Dealer it would be in his best interest to let that one slide.”

  “Oh, good. So, was he really a demon?”

  “Yep, or as they are called, a Daeva. A slave demon.”

  “They have slaves in hell?”

  “Apparently. Crazy, huh?”

  “Daeva. I like it.”

  I explained to her what happened in great detail, mostly because I was having a hard time wrapping my head around everything myself. When I finished, she just kind of sat there. And stared. For a really long time.

  I looked over at Mr. Wong. “I think I broke her.”

  “No, I’m okay, but holy cow, Charley. This just gets deeper and deeper. I mean, when you told me you were the grim reaper, I thought, ‘What more can there be?’ But it just goes so much further than that. And now the Twelve? Seriously? It’s endless.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”

  “Are you kidding? I love this shit. I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. Well, maybe the world. Is the Dealer in the market for a slightly used, thirty-something-year-old soul with a few dents in it? I could use a mansion in the Keys. And a Bentley. With chrome rims and a killer sound system.”

  I laughed, partly out of relief. “I figured you more as a Rolls-Royce kind of girl.”

  “I’d take either.”

  “I bet he’d take you up on that offer. I liked him,” I added, picturing his face.

  “The Dealer?”

  “Yeah. I mean, he was so young. Or, well, he looked young.”

  “You have such a soft spot for kids. Are you sure that’s not what you’re feeling?”

  “I love kids. They go great with fries and a shake.”

  She chuckled. “How does Reyes feel about him?”

  “He would rip out his spine if I let him.”

  She patted my knee. “I would expect nothing less from the son of evil incarnate. He’s a good guy.”

  “Yes, he is,” I agreed. “Even though he has a tendency to annoy me to the lowest levels of hell. Where there is no coffee.”

  “But he looks amazing in an apron.”

  “Right?”

  We both fell into a dream state for a few seconds.

  I snapped out of it first. “Okay, well, go to bed. We have a lot to do tomorrow. No rest for the wicked, and all that crap.”

  * * *

  Cookie was right. Reyes was a good guy. He’d done so much for me. And put up with so much from me. Then again, I had to put up with his alpha-esque personality. Lucky for him, I had excellent self-control. Otherwise, I’d end up kicking his ass every other day, leaving him fetal and whimpering, and then where would we be?

  I got ready for bed and changed into something more comfortable, namely a T-shirt with a pair of bottoms that said, PEEL TO REVEAL PRIZE. After weaving my hair into a soft braid, I curled onto my most fabulous mattress, the one I got at a going-out-of-business sale, and snuggled into the thick folds of my Bugs Bunny comforter.

  But even insulated, I could feel Reyes’s heat. It leached through the wall and surrounded me in a gentle, soothing warmth. He’d been living next door for a few weeks now, and I wondered if I’d ever get so accustomed to being enveloped in his delicious heat that I wouldn’t notice it. Probably not. Standing next to him was like standing next to an inferno—to me, anyway. And pretty much only to me. If Cookie had been there, she wouldn’t have felt it, which made no sense. Humans could feel the cold of the departed when they were near. Both the departed’s cold and Reyes’s heat were supernatural occurrences. Why could they feel one and not the other?

  But the fact that Reyes’s heat could penetrate walls had surprised me the first time I noticed it. Our beds butted up against the same wall, and I could tell the minute he crawled into bed every night. And not just because I was with him about half the time when that happened. Even in my own apartment, I could feel him. He was always hottest when he first crawled into bed. As he drifted to sleep, his heat dissipated a bit. He was still unnaturally warm even in slumber, but not so much as when he was awake. And especially not so much as when he was angry. Or, well, in the throes of passion. Scalding would be an appropriate adjective for that.

  But the heat wafting toward me now had the consistency of anger. I lifted a hand and placed my palm on the Sheetrock that separated us. It was scorching, almost painful.

  Yep, anger.

  He’d been lying in bed, probably thinking of the best way to dispose of the Dealer. I would have to convince him otherwise for the time being. The Dealer was different from other Daeva. He’d been born on earth. He was, in every sense of the word, human. Partly, at least. And very much like Reyes himself.

  So if Reyes was going to stew in his own anger, fine. I did what I had to do, and he would just have to learn to live with it. We were nigh affianced. He had to take the good with the bad. And besides, I could give Reyes Alexander Farrow something much better to think about.

  I wondered if he could feel my emotions through the wall, because his heat grazed over my fingertips and along my palm as though purposefully. As though it had an agenda.

  Reyes could do amazing things with his essence. He could send it out. He could skim it over my skin. He could bury it deep inside me until I writhed in ecstasy. I wondered if I could do that, too.

  I’d left my body before. I’d killed a man in the process, but from that experience, I knew it was possible, but could I control it the way Reyes could? He’d come to me hundreds of times, even when we were growing up, before I knew who, or what, he was. And now I’d done it. My essence, my spirit, had left my body. Could I do it again? The first time was under extreme duress. I wasn’t duressed at the moment. A little stressed, maybe. A little befuddled at what had happened with the Dealer, with everything he’d told us, but not duressed.

  Still, I was the grim reaper. I had to get a grip. Figure this shit out before I was ripped apart by a hellhound. I had to learn what I could and could not do, and I had to learn to control it. What better test subject than someone who was almost indestructible? I could be like a mad scientist, and Reyes could be my experiment. What could go wrong?

  Closing my eyes, I ran my hand farther up the wall. The sensation of fire grew stronger as I brushed my sensitive fingertips over the texture. I let it. I welcomed it, urged it closer, absorbed it until it penetrated my skin, soaked my bones to the marrow, and pushed up my arm. It touched my
neck, tingled along my cheek like a soft caress, laced across my collarbone, down over my chest and flooded my torso with a tart warmth. Danger and Will struggled against the confines of my T-shirt, their crests jutting out, the texture of the material only serving to harden them more. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core, rippling through me, pressing down until the heat dipped low in my abdomen, until it consumed every molecule in my body.

  But it was my turn. I was the mad scientist in this scenario. I wanted to do the same to him, to penetrate his body and soul the way he’d penetrated mine. I fought the unimaginable pleasure coursing through my veins and I focused. I pushed. I sent out my energy, let it glide along my nerve endings and up through my arm until it broke through the wall between us. I still couldn’t actually see Reyes, but I could sense him and feel him. I could very much feel him.

  I let my energy wash over him. Let it explore the hills and valleys of his muscles as they contracted and released under my touch. I felt the smoothness of his skin, the hardness of the muscles underneath, the tautness of his abdomen. Lower and lower until I was rewarded with a telltale rush of blood.

  He sucked in air through his teeth when I grazed his erection. The sense of accomplishment was heady, but I wanted more. I wanted inside him like he’d been inside me. I wanted to make him come from the inside out. I wanted to make him writhe in ecstasy. Beg for release. But he’d put up a guard. A mental block of some kind. Always wary of what I might see if he let me in.

  That was hardly fair.

  I sharpened my touch. Let my fingernails bite into his flesh. Coaxed and urged him to let me in. His arms were resting above his head, and he curled his hands into fists. Clenched his jaw.

  “Dutch,” he said in warning.

  I said nothing back. I wasn’t sure if I could. But I pushed again, opening his legs, and let my energy pulse over his body in electric waves. He threw back his head, pressing it into the pillow as his fingers became entangled in the sheets around him.

  And he lowered his guard.

  The moment he did, I entered him. Our energies collided in a rush of sensuous elation, the atoms pushing and pulling until the friction built to nuclear levels. He arched his back and fought me, each of us struggling to get the upper hand, to send the other over the edge first.