by Gina Ardito
She looked up, her eyes hooded and her mouth twisted in a grim line. “You’re gonna hafta be a lot more specific than that. Do you have any idea how many kids pass through here?”
The kid’s name hadn’t left Sean’s lips since the night he died, though it was emblazoned on his conscience. “The kid I shot.”
Banality fled, replaced with utter disbelief. “You shot a kid?” she said in a shocked whisper. “When? How?”
“In my Earth life, Sammie. Not here.”
“Oh. Right.” She returned her attention to the black screen. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not proud of it.” An understatement.
“Is that how you wound up here?”
He offered her a half-hearted nod. “I couldn’t deal with it. It’s not exactly the kind of mistake you can just say, ‘Whoops. Sorry,’ and move on, you know?”
“Uh-huh.” She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a pristine snow-white clipboard. “Here. You want to put your hand on this right now to activate it.” Her light brown eyes glittered with intensity.
An odd request. Still...she seemed adamant as she held the board flat and continued to glare at him.
“O...kay.”
He laid his palm on the center of the field and impulses jumped into his synapses. Let’s get out of here. We need to talk.
Samantha knew something.
“Okay,” he repeated—this time with more certainty despite his doubts.
Rising from her desk, she said aloud, “Sherman’s been delayed, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you wait in his office. Come on. I’ll surge you in.”
Curiosity burning, he followed her past the queue of newcomers, beyond the fantasy garden, around the fountains to the double doors that opened with a soft snick at her approach. More proof of that electrical field, unique to each Afterlife employee, which ensured the ultimate security in this realm beyond death. No one ever fell “off the grid” or gained entrance to an unauthorized location.
After the doors closed again, Samantha turned on him, hands on her hips, expression murderous. “What the hell did you do?”
He didn’t try to hide his confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Your clipboard was confiscated by the Council.” She jerked her head at the board in his hand. “They’ll pick you up on that one before we leave this office. You’re being monitored, Sean.”
Oh, big fucking surprise. “Am I?”
“Don’t play around with this. You’re in big trouble. And after what happened before…” She shivered. “I don’t want to see that happen to you, too.”
Her hoarse reminder quashed the thrill of the challenge in him. Luc and Jodie. She referred to what happened to Luc and Jodie. Well, he had no intention of traipsing toward that ignoble end.
“What about the kid?” he asked.
She nodded. “He’s who you think he is. And you’re going to see him often. He’s got a position here.”
“Why? What are they up to now? What am I supposed to—”
Her hand shot up to stop the questions. “I can’t tell you anything else. But, listen to me, okay? You’re on the Board’s radar now, and that’s serious. So behave yourself and be careful. Please. They’re testing you. Don’t fail.” She shot a glance at the door. “We gotta get outta here before they notice. Come on.” She led him out of the office and back into the crowd. “Good luck,” she murmured and high-tailed it to her desk.
Loitering among the crowd, his new clipboard in hand, Sean allowed himself a chance to absorb her warnings. The kid was here. As a resident and employee like him. Why? This couldn’t be a coincidence.
They’re testing you.
Yep. Big time. Okay, then. He’d have to tread softly until the Board got bored and went after someone else. Board got bored. Heh.
He pushed past the throngs, prepared to return to his desk when a familiar figure staggered out of the auditorium. “Xavia.”
Chapter 7
Meeting with Uriah always drained Xavia to the point of exhaustion. Today was no exception. And she still had work to do, especially now that she had a new troublesome transfer in her department. In search of excess energy to propel her back to her office, she stumbled around the Reception area, picking up stray static.
“Xavia!” someone called as she wended her way past the queue of dazed newcomers.
She ignored the speaker and pulled leaking electricity from the busy Incoming Arrivals desk.
“Hey, Xavia. Over here.”
Recognition flourished, and she stiffened. Christ, how had she managed to conjure him from her thoughts? “Sean.” She stole a glance at the sealed auditorium doors. Uriah wasn’t kidding about them getting to know one another, was he? She turned to face the man she was supposed to stick close to. “What are you doing here?”
The smile of greeting froze on his face. “Jesus, what happened to you? Did you get hit by a bus?”
Great. So she looked as crappy as she felt. “No,” she replied on a sigh. “Just a routine meeting with my Elder Counselor.”
“Mmm...routine.” His gaze scanned her from head to toe in a clinical fashion. “You keeping state secrets or something? Because they really worked you over big time.”
No way did she plan to admit how close he came to the truth. She was, after all, his boss. “What are you doing here?”
He held up a clipboard. “I needed a new board.”
“What was wrong with the one I gave you?”
“Nothing. I just figured it was yours, and I didn’t want to inconvenience you.”
Suspicion had her eying him with scrutiny. Uh-huh. Right. “Bless your heart,” she said with a sugary smile.
He pointed a finger at her. “I know you don’t really mean that, but I’ll let it slide. Seems to me like you’ve taken enough abuse from your Elder. I won’t add to it. Look, I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot, you and I, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been having a rough time lately, and I took out my frustration on you. Which was wrong. And my fault. Completely. Maybe we could begin again. Whaddya say? Truce?”
Okay, what the hell was happening? Sean Martino, being solicitous? Was today Afterlife April Fools’ Day? What kind of mind voodoo were the Elders up to now?
As if to prompt her into action, he thrust out a hand. “Come on. I won’t bite. Promise.”
She took his hand, shook, but with no enthusiasm.
“Wow, they really wiped you out, didn’t they? What the hell happened to you?”
The concern in his tone became her undoing, and she sagged. “You have no idea.”
“Yeah, I probably do. Trust me. When it comes to the Board and the Council of Elders, I think they’re cruel, capricious, and downright carnivorous. They’d eat someone like you for a snack.” He glanced at the arrivals counter and back at her. “Pulling energy?”
“These meetings…” Her gaze fell to the floor. “...they take a lot out of me.”
He snorted. “I’d say that’s an understatement. Forget the energy. You can meld with me. I’ve got plenty to spare.”
“What?” Snapping upright, she studied him more closely, trying to figure out what game he played now.
“Meld with me. You’ve never melded?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, well, it’s a way to recharge by combining power. Bounty hunters do it when they’ve expended all their energies on a Fury.”
“A Fury?” Taking a step backward, she clutched her hands criss-cross around her waist to fend off whatever nefarious intentions he directed her way.
If he noticed, he didn’t react. His expression remained open, engaged. “A Fury is a particularly nasty type of spirit who fights retrieval. It usually takes two or three of us to get ‘em wrangled, and when we’re done, we’re all too drained to make the trip back here from Earth—especially with the added burden of an angry spirit. We have to combine our circuits. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but it causes some kind of nuclear
fusion that gives us enough power to get home with our quarry.” He must have sensed her uncertainty because he added, “It doesn’t hurt or anything. It’s like plugging yourself into a renewable energy source. Think jumpstarting a dead battery in a car.”
Another step back. “Uh-huh.”
He caught up to her in two long-legged strides. “Oh, for crying out loud. Here. Watch.”
Before she could flinch, he grabbed her hand and placed the palm flat against his hard-packed chest. His heartbeat pulsed into her flesh, strong and steady. White hot currents of electricity flowed from that contact source, flooding her with energy, until her synapses crackled to life.
“Holy…” She jumped back, pulling away, fists at the ready—for what she couldn’t say. She only knew that one surge had given her enough power to take on the entire Elder Council, if necessary. “That’s in...cred...ible.”
“Told ya,” Sean said with a nod. “So.” He clapped his hands. “Back to the office, boss?”
She could barely form a coherent thought. In all the time she’d been here, she’d never experienced this…what did he call it?...melding. What other tricks did bounty hunters have in their arsenals that she didn’t know about?
“Come on. I’ll race ya.” A boyish grin lit up his face, and any animosity she still held toward him disintegrated. For the moment.
A smile, long dormant in her muscles, broke out across her lips. “You’re on.” Rejuvenated, she spun into astral dust and projected herself back to her office. When she rematerialized behind her desk, Sean sat in the chair across from her, that same I-told-ya-so grin illuminating his soulful eyes.
She had to say something—his posture suggested he waited for her reaction. Good manners demanded she show her appreciation. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned back in the chair, expression solemn. “What’d they do to you over there?”
She sighed. Just because they’d melded didn’t mean she owed him an explanation. “Nothing they haven’t done before.”
“Who’s your counselor?”
“Uriah.”
“The bald guy with the eye makeup and the earrings?”
“Earring,” she corrected, holding up an index finger. “As in, ‘one.’ And a little kohl around the eyes. Very Egyptian. It’s not like he wears blue glitter eyeshadow or false lashes or anything.”
“Why’d you choose him?”
“A Yul Brynner fan moment, I guess. I mean, I barely remember how it happened. You know how it is. You’ve got so much pain on Earth, all you want is to end your suffering. You finally find peace for what feels like seconds, flying with white doves through eternal space, and bam! You wake up here with some snotty receptionist taking out her frustration on you because you died before your appointed time. Then they whisk you to that crazy, empty auditorium, and you’re standing in front of the Elder Council while some white-haired guy tells you to choose someone to guide you through your stint here. And all the while, you don’t have a frickin’ clue what ‘here’ is or how long you’ll be in this place.” Embarrassment scraped her throat like shattered glass. She’d never told anyone about her first day here, let alone rambled into an emotional minefield. To regain control of her pitching emotions, she turned the tables. “Who’s your counselor?”
“Verity.”
The name meant nothing to Xavia.
“Blue dress, dark red hair piled on top of her head?” he prompted. “Looks like she stepped out of a stage production of Pride and Prejudice?”
Nope. Not a clue. But his counselor’s identity really didn’t matter to Xavia. “Do you like her?”
“I used to.” He crossed one leg over the opposite thigh. “Now, I don’t like any of them. Don’t like them, don’t trust them.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. She knew what had changed his opinion—not the particulars, but the incident. Maybe she should get the details about that event. There might be something in his friends’ story that held a clue to her fate. “What...?” The question stalled behind her tongue, and she coughed to dislodge it. “What really happened to your friends?”
His posture stiffened, and he grimaced. “They fell in love. I don’t know much else. Something about their change in relationship apparently pissed off the Elders. Luc was sent to the Chasm on some trumped-up charge, and Jodie was ordered not to follow. She did anyway. You know the rest.”
Yeah, she did. Pink glitter that spilled all over the Chasm. She squirmed. Enough chitchat for now. That image would haunt her waking hours—which were eternal since probation officers didn’t have the need for, or the luxury of, sleep. “You should go back to work. It’s not good to leave a recent attempter alone too long.”
Sinking into her chair, she pulled open a desk drawer, pretended endless fascination with the contents, though the drawer held nothing. What she wouldn’t give for some paper clips, loose change, and staple bars. Anything that would make noise as she ran her hand around the interior to help her look busy and distracted. Instead, she’d have to use her words. “Besides, I’ve got my own offenders to see to. Thanks again for the...meld.”
To her surprise, no argument sprang from his mouth. Instead, he rose and offered a grin she felt in her toes. “Anytime.” As he strode out the door, she cast a quick glance at his retreating back. Progress. At least, she hoped so.
Somehow, though, she doubted the Elders wanted her to spend more time with him to learn melding. The butterfly of hope inside her shriveled up and died.
If Sean’s assessment of their characters was accurate, whatever she discovered in these casual conversations was meant to crush her. To destroy who she was, who she’d been, and all the comfort she allowed herself. A baptism by fire so she could prove herself strong enough to rise from the ashes.
But what if she wasn’t strong enough? Once someone had committed suicide to relieve an inordinate amount of pain, where else could she go to escape additional misery?
~~~~
After dinner, Isabelle sat on the lanai with Justin while Tony cleaned up the kitchen. Twilight faded to darkness as the night weaved its magic tapestry around them. The ocean kissed the sand in soft whooshes behind her. Citronella candles flickered in the dark and tinged the air with the sticky smell of insecticide. Her stomach pitched at the cloying sweetness. On rethink, she shouldn’t have eaten the entire dinner Justin had set before her. After the pills and the pump, she might have been better off with some broth and toast as her first meal—the diet choice of the ill and the elderly.
Still, she drew the line at gelatin. Hospitals probably received a kickback every time a patient swallowed a spoonful of that wiggly stuff. And a bonus if they got the patient to eat the green one.
Rolling to her side on the cushioned chaise, she brought her knees to her chest to soothe the ache.
“You okay?” Justin asked, perched on the edge of his chair—the consummate hero ready to fly to her protection should she whimper.
She nodded.
“Are you mad at me?”
That was pure Justin: all male hero with he-man pecs and protective nature, ruled by an insecure, little boy mindset.
“No,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
Her impatient nature wanted to tell him to reinforce his spine, but gratitude tempered the impulse. “Yes.” Best friends did not hurt each other’s feelings. They razzed and joked and one-upped for fun, but at the deepest levels of sincerity, best friends should never tear each other down.
“What are you thinking about?”
I’m thinking about a dead guy who promised me dinner.
Would Sean show up tonight, as he promised? Even if she wasn’t hungry? She shrugged.
“Nothing? Okay, then.” Justin’s voice obliterated her musings about her guardian angel—or whatever Sean was. “Now that we’re alone, we can discuss what happened yesterday. Let’s start with the big question. Why?”
“Why? That’s a letter after X and before Z.”
On a heavy sigh, he rolled his eyes in disapproval. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough. You have to.”
She gave him the stink eye, and he retaliated with duck lips. When it came to facial expressions, gay men did not fight fair.
“What’s the point?” she retorted. “I already promised I wouldn’t try again. Can’t we leave it at that?”
“You promised?” A glint appeared in his eye, and he leaned closer, one elbow perched on his thigh. “Who’d you promise?”
Oops. She’d promised Tony—and had promised him the promise would stay between them. “Never mind.” She rolled onto her back and stared at platinum stars winking in the indigo sky. “It’s not important.”
“Of course it’s important.”
She clamped her lips together, refusing to give up her secret.
Justin took her silence as a challenge and bounced two fingers on his chin. “Hmm...let me think about this. You’ve only spoken to a handful of people since doing the deed, so this shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”
“‘Doing the deed?’ Really? That’s how you refer to my almost-demise?”
He flitted a hand. “Don’t disturb me, sweetheart. Genius at work.”
Sitting up, she folded her arms over her chest and watched the...ahem!...“genius at work.”
“No way you promised Dr. Feelbeige anything,” he began. “Except maybe a black eye if he didn’t leave you be.”
She snorted back a giggle. Leave it to Justin to come up with the perfect name for that creep in taupe: Dr. Feelbeige.
“I doubt you and the nurse with the rotten rhinoplasty became BFFs, either.”
Despite her best efforts to remain expressionless, her arched brow and subtle shrug conveyed her approval. Was it any wonder she loved him? Not only did he nail the botched plastic surgery, he crossed another suspect off his list. He was two for two.
“And I know you didn’t promise me. That leaves Tony.” He pointed his index finger, pistol-like, in her direction. “Right?”