by Tyla Grey
At that it simply became all too much. With a tiny moan, she threw her arms around his neck and rested her head against his broad, hard chest, listening to his heartbeat.
For a moment he held her tight, and then she felt the change. His awareness flared, and at the same time the garage grew dark and icy cold. He set her back from him quickly.
“They’re here, aren’t they?” Eve felt so scared she could barely stand up.
“Yes.” He placed one warm hand on her cheek. “Ready?”
“What about you?” she cried, panicked.
“As soon as you’ve gone, I’ll lock on to another dimension that is well known to them. They’ll realize immediately we’ve both gone, but they’ll follow the last heat signature – which will be me.”
“But – “
“Where I’m going, there’s a Stargate. I can travel through time and space; they can’t.”
The walls of the garage shook and rattled, and the iron on the roof started to lift.
“It’s time. Lock on! Go!”
Eve instinctively reached within to coordinates of the bright, hard path to the next pocket of time and space. The air around her drew tight, and there was the now-familiar sensation of being at one with magic and nature as she spiraled away. It happened so quickly; one moment she was looking into Hunter’s eyes; the next she was gone.
This time the nausea won.
She was dumped on her knees onto a manicured lawn that swept up to the broad marble steps of a two-storey white building. In the middle of the broad sweep of green was an elegant fishpond leaping with koi, graced by a marble statue spilling a sparkling stream of water from a tilted urn.
Eve barely saw any of it before she was heaving up her lunch. This was far, far worse than the previous occasions. Every bone in her body ached. Her head swam.
And oh, she was so, so sick.
Eve gripped the stone wall at the edge of the pond, felt the world tilt, then laid her head on her arms and closed her eyes. She wanted to die. If this was what crossing worlds did to you, she’d had enough. Enough.
After a time, the world stopped revolving around her and the violent shivering eased. The sun was blessedly warm on her back.
“Uh – excuse me.” The voice behind her was as warm as honey.
No. She couldn’t cope with anyone else. She just wanted ibuprofen and a dark room.
“Excuse me?”
Acutely aware of what she must look like, with her damp white capris streaked with dirt and her hair a salt-encrusted tangle, Eve pushed herself upright and turned, wiping her mouth with a sleeve of the grimy jacket. She looked up, and silently groaned. The woman who stood staring down at her was immaculate: from the auburn hair that fell to her shoulders in a glossy, straight sheet to her peep-toed black high heels. She was dressed in a black suit, with the severity relieved by a cream blouse in some filmy fabric.
Eve got to her feet, staggering a little. “I’m sorry,” she said inadequately, gesturing towards the fishpond. “I – uh – I was sick.”
“Yes,” said the woman. “I saw. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Are you here for Mrs. Turton?” She gestured behind her.
Eve looked, squinting against the thudding pain in her head, and saw a stream of people making their way along a path and up the wide steps. Some were sneaking glances at Eve while trying not to be too obvious about it. Others appeared to be too wrapped up in their own misery to care what she was doing. “The service is about to start, but perhaps you would like me to escort you to a private room until you are feeling better?”
A service? Eve twisted around to take a closer look at where she was, and saw the elegant bronze letters above the front doors of the building. CrossOver Funeral Home.
She was at a funeral home?
“I’m not sure I’m in the right place,” she said slowly. “I’m… supposed to meet my aunts.” She frowned and stared at the trim emerald lawn, trying to remember what Hunter had said. Then her mind cleared, and his words echoed in her mind. Their names are Helena and Sophie. You will arrive at their door, and they will be expecting you.
Eve raised her head and surveyed the double doors under the gleaming bronze letters. Surely this couldn’t be the place? She looked at the woman. “My aunts,” she said again. “Helena and Sophie?”
The woman’s mouth opened slightly. “Helena and Sophie are your aunts?” Her face wore a comical expression of disbelief. She surveyed Eve again, taking in every detail of her disheveled appearance, and for a second Eve thought she saw her lips twitch. Then the woman’s face smoothed into polite neutrality. She cleared her throat. “If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to them.”
Eve miserably trailed after her, around the side of the imposing white building and into an underground garage. The woman exuded sensuality, even clad in somber black. She looked, Eve thought, far too warm and vibrant for a place like this. Although what did she know? She’d only been in a funeral home maybe twice in her entire life. And never with the mother of all migraines to add to the experience.
They went through a glass door, up a spiral staircase and through yet another set of glass doors. Just past an office where another perfectly groomed girl sat tapping at a computer keyboard, Eve’s escort stopped and knocked on a door. If the gleam in her black eyes and the quirk to her lips was anything to go by, the woman seemed to be trying – not very successfully – to suppress her amusement. She wondered if The Aunts would also find it funny.
“Come in,” called a musical voice.
The woman opened the door and waved Eve inside. “Sophie,” she said in a voice that tried and failed to sound neutral. “This young lady says she is your niece. I found her out at the koi pond. She – uh – isn’t well.”
Eve looked at the tall blond woman directing a charming smile her way and thought, viper.
“Thank you, Ken. I think you had better return to the service now; they’ll be short-handed.” There was nothing in her aunt’s face to indicate this was a reprimand, but everyone in the room knew it was.
The woman nodded graciously and left.
Eve looked after her as the door closed and blinked. “Ken?”
“He’s a shapeshifter,” said Aunt Sophie. “A kitsune; he can assume any shape he wishes, but he mostly prefers to adopt the form of a woman. It can be handy at times in this business.” She took her time looking Eve up and down, her face remaining pleasant. “We were told you were coming.”
And I’m about as welcome as the plague, Eve thought. Holding on to her good manners by a fingernail, she smiled politely and said: “I apologize for my appearance. It’s been a long day.”
“I would ask you to sit down, but…”
“I know.” Eve followed her glance to the spotless oatmeal fabric on the seat of the chairs, and then looked down at herself. “I wasn’t able to bring anything with me. I – I’ll need to buy clothes.” She could imagine her aunt thinking just as well, considering the outfit she was wearing, but she couldn’t even begin to explain.
“Helena is in the mortuary. We might as well go and see her there.”
Eve nodded. And get me out of sight of your staff and patrons.
The barest hint of a snarl flashed in the back of her aunt’s eyes, and Eve suddenly realised the other woman could probably read her thoughts. Damn. Whole new ball game here. In a split second she buried her real opinions under a quickly-erected shield, and pushed other, innocuous thoughts to the surface. Not that I can blame her, I suppose. I’m not exactly looking my best. Aloud, she said “I’ll follow you.”
With another saccharine smile, Sophie walked past her and headed away from the entrance to a door at the end of the corridor. Eve took the opportunity to study her from behind. Her aunt was tall, around five ten, with a slim figure clad in a taupe suit. Her tawny hair was artfully streaked with shades of toffee and russet, and worn in a sleek, modern style that feathered around her ears and neck, and suited her small pointed ears. Her eyes were a shade o
f blue Eve had never seen before: a deep azure. She was an attractive, elegant woman.
Pity she’s a snake, thought Eve down deep, while on the surface she ran a mundane patter that she hoped would bore the stylish shoes off her aunt: I’d kill for a hot shower, God I’m tired, I wonder how long this place has been operating…
Then the thought struck her that she couldn’t read her aunt. She felt a curl of panic. So this is what it felt like when the shoe was on the other foot.
Sophie pushed the door open and headed down the stairs. More stairs. Eve could see she was going to get mighty sick of running up and down stairs if she worked here.
Which prompted another thought: what would they want her to do? What did people do behind the scenes at a funeral home? She hoped she wouldn’t have to have anything to do with the dearly departed. Maybe there was a clerical job upstairs, or she could interview families, or something.
Finally they arrived at a plain white door. Sophie opened it and motioned Eve through.
A pint-sized woman was standing on a box, bending forward over a very dead male, and pointing to his jaw while she shot rapid-fire instructions to a harried-looking girl. “…and up here, you’ll need to add a bit more filler. Then try to make him look respectable, for God’s sake. Bloody claws. They shred each other.” She looked up as the door opened, and made eye contact with Eve. Her jet black eyebrows came together in a frown, and her gaze shot to her sister.
Another snake, thought Eve. So that was what Hunter had meant. “Difficult” was probably a euphemism.
“You may leave us for a moment, Calendra,” said Sophie smoothly. “Start preparing the viewing room.”
“Okay.” With a curious glance at Eve, the girl removed an apron and sidled out. As soon as she had gone, Sophie said to Helena, “This is our niece, Eve.”
“Humph.” Helena stepped down from the box and put her hands on her hips and surveyed Eve, not bothering with a pretense of welcome. “Well, you were dropped on us like a bolt from the blue. We’d heard rumors of a baby from our step-sister’s fling with a mortal. Never expected to see you, though.”
Helena’s rudeness served only to stiffen Eve’s spine, but she was careful not to show it. Even if Hunter hadn’t warned her, she would have known on a gut-deep level that she had to be wary of these two.
With excruciating care, she extended her awareness to a hyper-alert level where she should be able to receive thoughts and impressions without alerting the target. Nothing. Either she couldn’t read fae minds, or these two were shielding themselves from her.
When Eve didn’t respond, Helena turned her attention to Sophie. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
“Give her shelter, mainly,” responded Sophie, staring at her niece assessingly. “Mother says she is to work here part of the time, and she will arrange lessons in fae customs and history. And other things.”
Helena ran a hand through her hair, looking exasperated. “As though we don’t have enough to do without training another newcomer. Staff go in and out of this place as though it’s a revolving door.” She glanced around. “I suppose you can clean the place up; hose it out. Wash the cars.”
Sophie gave a smile that was perfectly charming, but made Eve feel like a mouse between her claws. “Well, actually, mother tells me that Eve worked as a beautician on Mortal Earth.”
Helena’s frown magically cleared. “Ah.” She shot a glance back at the man on the table. Eve’s gaze followed hers, and she guessed immediately what was coming. Oh no.
“I’ve never worked with dead people,” she said quickly. “Only regular clients and accident victims. People who had some hope of healing.” She cast a nervous glance at the cadaver.
“If you can do makeup for the living, you can do it for the dead,” said Helena decisively. “Ken can show you how to use Restor-Skin and Plasto-Wax. He can teach you embalming, too.”
“That’s probably a very good idea,” Sophie agreed smoothly, as if it hadn’t been in her mind all along. “Stay down here in the background until you feel more comfortable with the services we provide. Heaven knows, we do need a mortuary cosmetologist.”
“People pay more when the word gets around that there’s a good cosmetologist on the staff.” Helena sent Eve a challenging glare. “We can always create an illusion that someone looks beautiful, but too many of our clientele can see through it. It’s a nuisance, but we need staff who can work on the physical plane. I suppose you are good at what you do?”
“With people who have a heartbeat, yes,” said Eve, striving not to show her irritation. Embalming? They had to be kidding.
“Well, the dead ones won’t give you any trouble. It’s the families you need to watch out for. CrossOver Funerals specializes in funerals for mixed partnerships. Vamps, wyr, fae – you name it, we do it. But sometimes the fur flies. Literally.”
“Fine,” said Eve, aware that she wasn’t going to win against these two. “Whatever you say.” Until Hunter comes for me and I can get out of here. “But meanwhile, I need a place to stay and some clothes.”
“You’ll be paid the basic wage. We can arrange an advance,” said Sophie. “Helena looks after salaries. And Mother has instructed that one of the fae safe houses be made available for you – apartment, actually. Ken can take you there as soon as the service is finished.”
Ken was going to be busy, Eve reflected sourly. Ken had to teach her how to restore skin – from people who had been clawed to death, by the look of the guy on the table; Ken had to teach her embalming; Ken had to drive her around.
No wonder Ken had looked pleased when she threw up in their fishpond. He probably had months of grievances stored up.
“I think you had better wait down here until Ken is free,” said Aunt Sophie. “I have a meeting upstairs now, and Helena needs to get me some information for it.” She nodded to a smaller room visible through an open doorway. “You can get a cup of tea or coffee in there. Let’s have a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss your hours. All right?”
Welcome to CrossOver Funerals, thought Eve. In a hidden pocket of a dimension where shapeshifters and vampires and fae co-existed – and fought over territory, apparently.
Welcome to her new life.
At least she was safe. For now.
***
If you enjoyed this book, then try…
Double Cross (Hunting Eve Book 2)
After seven months at Elm Crossing, Eve is adjusting to life as a mortuary cosmetologist at CrossOver Funerals in Elm Crossing.
Surrounded by shapeshifters, fae and vampires, her life is not remotely like it was back on Mortal Earth. With an unknown enemy seeking to kill her to ensure a prophecy can’t be fulfilled, she has been trained in combat and defense skills – but nothing can prepare Eve for the type of enemy that finally discovers her hiding place.
When Hunter returns to warn her and flush out her would-be killer, Eve is shocked to discover that the assassin could be a lot closer than she had expected.
Just who can she trust?
Does she have the skills to survive in this new world?
In Double Cross, Eve is put to the test.
***
If you enjoyed this book, please tell your friends – and I’d love it if you have time to leave a review here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009DYKY50
Drop into my blog at www.tylagrey.com and join in a discussion about Eve – and those who hunt her.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/tylagreybooks
Twitter: @TylaGrey http://twitter.com/TylaGrey
ss="
yscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share