Pepper nodded her head with enthusiasm. “That’s it! That’s him. Remember how that turned out? With you crying yourself to sleep for what, two decades?”
Two and a half, but who’s counting?
Avoiding the subject of Hudson entirely, Rocky redirected Pepper. “Listen, forget that and focus on the problem at hand—which is an immortal being served her papers. Do you think I really want to be the one to tell that psycho Nina what’s truly going on here? Do you think I want to risk her choking me out, maybe even scarring me for life when she yanks my intestines out by way of my nose? But it’s the right thing to do, Pepper. Besides, they deal with unusual cases like this all the time at OOPS. It’s what they do.”
Pepper whistled softly. “She’s really as vicious as all the rumors say, huh? I heard she likes animals and children. How bad can someone like that be?”
Rocky lifted an eyebrow and planted her hands on her hips, fighting a grin of admiration. “She’s a monster. A monster with a heart, but a monster for sure. I’ll never forget the way she snatched up that one night nurse who dared tell her if she didn’t sign in on the visitor sheet, she was going to revoke Nina’s visiting privileges. Sweet reaper’s delight, she had her in a chokehold faster than you can say throat punch. It was insane.”
Pepper bit her lower lip, snuggling closer to Dwayne Johnson, who sat next to her in all his canine glory, snoring. “She’s going to kill you.”
“She can’t kill me. I’m immortal.”
“She can if she whacks your head off. It’s our one weakness, but even if she doesn’t, she’s at the very least going to rip you limb from limb, and then you’ll be a limbless immortal.”
“Then I’ll be a limbless immortal who still has most of her faculties. I don’t need much. But at least I’ll have made the effort. I can’t just let this go without investigation, Pepper. And might I remind you, it’s not your head on the chopping block here, sister. It’s not you who’ll have the entire paranormal world hot on your heels for taking an immortal’s soul—a revered immortal’s soul. It’s mine.”
Pepper sighed, twisting a strand of her mahogany hair around her index finger. “I know, I know. I totally get it. Your heart’s bigger than your brain. And I still don’t understand how an immortal got on the list to begin with. It makes no sense.”
Damn right, it didn’t make sense. “The only explanation I can come up with is the fact that Marty’s only half paranormal. The human half of her, the one susceptible to human ailments, is the part of her soul that triggered the reap.”
Reaching upward, Pepper stretched and grabbed a T-shirt from the pile on Rocky’s bed, folding it neatly before she said, “Now that does make sense…and by the way, I don’t envy your position. Not one bit.”
Looking around her bedroom, in all its soothing blues and creams, a color common for reapers due to the stress of their jobs, Rocky nodded and smiled at her friend. “So I can count on you to cover for me?”
“You can always count on me, Rocky. Always. But I was still never here,” she said on a nervous chuckle, her hazel eyes scanning the room as though she expected someone to pop out of her closet. “Consider me your distant support system. And I still say, asking those women if you can move into Marty’s McMansion and babysit her soul, while you try and figure out how she got on the reaper list to begin with, will be met not only with skepticism, but maybe even some violence.”
Yeah. This was likely going to be a hard sell. But she had her reaper robe and magic scythe as proof of who she was.
That should be enough, shouldn’t it?
Chapter 4
As she rang the bell to Marty’s insanely beautiful home, Rocky decided she either had to find a new line of work or build her own cosmetics company, because wowee—this was some serious crib, and she had some serious crib envy.
At a glance, Marty and Keegan Flaherty’s house was magazine perfect in a darkish blue with walnut wood shutters and varied gray accents that didn’t reflect how enormous it was until you got up close.
Tall, rounded pillars lined the long, decoratively paved porch in gray and rust—each pillar sporting a potted topiary in a rustic-looking pot beside it. As the frigid winds of winter blew at her reaper robe, Rocky took in the beautiful stained-glass insert of the double doors with a mosaic picture of colorful hummingbirds in flight and admired the smooth teak finish.
Enormous Adirondack chairs with small tables between them created vignettes of cozy warmth, making Rocky wonder how many summers they must have spent here, looking out over their football-field-sized front lawn.
Wind chimes hung sporadically from the porch’s ceiling, and some kind of vine, now dormant in the winter, wove over the rails from the garden below the porch.
Now that she was here, now that she was up close and personal, her heart did a nervous dance in her chest.
Maybe Pepper had been spot on. Maybe this was a huge mistake. Maybe the cosmos was right and Marty was supposed to die, and now Rocky would die with her because Nina was going to slice her head off with her own scythe when she heard her tale.
Maybe.
And maybe it’s just nerves, Rocky. Maybe you need to man the hell up, balls to the wall go with your gut. Stick to your guns. Show ’em who’s boss.
And if all else fails, there’s always Dwayne Johnson. Who could resist his sweet little half bulldog/half pug face?
No one—no demon or contrary half vampire/half witch anywhere in the land—could resist that wrinkled face, that’s who.
Kneeling down, as the wind blew and the dark clouds formed, she cupped Dwayne Johnson’s face lovingly. “I need you to be extra cute here, pal. Like pour on the cute so mama doesn’t end up with no head, okay? Nina loves animals. Make her love you the way I do.”
Dwayne Johnson grunted and licked her hand before dropping down at her feet to spread his legs and thoroughly clean his southerly parts, totally unaffected by her plea.
She gave him a pat on his tan and brown back and rose, straightening her shoulders.
Two things can happen here, Rocky. Either you die, or you live with some serious deficits. Drinking through a straw for eternity won’t be the worst that can happen to you. Stop being so farkin’ selfish and get on with it. It’s a disservice to the paranormal community if you don’t at least look into this.
One deep breath later, she hauled her backpack closer, tightened her hold on Dwayne Johnson’s leash and her trusty scythe, and rang the doorbell. Pulling the hood of her reaper robe around her face, she fought a shiver.
The elderly gentleman named Archibald—or Arch, as everyone in the group called him—answered the door with a question in his eyes, his flawless black suit jacket and shiny shoes sparkling even under the gloomy skies.
She’d wondered since she’d covertly witnessed this group at the hospital if Archibald was paranormal. There were no outward signs then, and there were none now.
“Good afternoon,” he said, articulately cordial, his hands clasped in front of him.
Swallowing hard, she replied, “Good afternoon.”
And then they stared at one another in uncomfortably awkward silence as the wind blew and the day grew shorter.
This was not going as planned.
But Archibald broke the ice so she didn’t have to. “I know I’m ancient, Miss, and my memory isn’t nearly as sharp as it once was, but surely Halloween has long past,” he said with a half-smile, his tone clearly teasing as his eyes swept over her reaper robe and scythe. “How may I be of service?”
She’d laugh if she wasn’t so dang freaked out right now. It was one thing to play this little scenario out in her mind, quite another to actually make it happen.
Licking her dry lips, she smiled at him. “Your memory’s just fine, sir. It’s not Halloween at all. My name is Rocky McNally, and I’d like to speak with Wanda Jefferson and Nina Statleon, please.”
Archibald assessed her in his ultra-proper way with a haughty glance. “They’re quite busy at present
. Maybe I can be of help to you?”
“No. No, you can’t help me at all,” she blurted as Dwayne Johnson rudely slurped his way along his back leg, making an ungodly amount of embarrassing noise. “I need to speak directly to them and only them. If you’d just tell them I’m here, and that it has to do with their friend Marty, I’d really appreciate it. It’s super important I talk to them. Super, super important. Vitally important.”
Dear God, she should have practiced this speech before she showed up, looking like an idiot and sounding worse, dressed in her reaper robe, which, for all intents and purposes, could have been bought at the local Walmart.
Now Archibald’s antenna was up and on alert. He squinted his soft blue eyes and lifted his sagging chin. “Please wait here,” he said curtly, shutting the door behind him.
She let her forehead rest against the side of the house, her cheeks hot, her mouth like the Mohave. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Her intro had been weak at best. No way they’d let her in now.
No way she was—
A firm hand stopped her internal fretting as it grabbed her by the front of her robe and literally hauled her inside, slapping her up against the wall in the entryway. Everything went blurry as the back of her head slammed into the wall, making her teeth clack together.
And then, surprise of all surprises, it wasn’t Nina staring back at her as she’d expected. It was Wanda, sans her usually serene face, her nostrils flaring and her artfully made-up eyes bulging with flashing fury.
“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?” she demanded through a tight jaw.
And all Rocky could think of was, holy cow, this was Wanda Schwartz-Jefferson, the Wanda Schwartz-Jefferson, knocking her around like a punching bag. Oh, the stories she’d tell. After her concussion healed, of course.
“Wanda! What the fuck?”
Through blurry eyes, Rocky saw Nina come up behind Wanda and put a hand on her shoulder, patting it. “Whoa there, Preggers. Ease up. Threats are my job. You have a bun in the oven to protect. Now chill and let me handle this.”
But Wanda’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “I said, who the hell are you? Answer me or I’ll make you wish you were dead!”
Nina’s eyes flew open in surprise as she clucked her tongue in admonishment. “Whoa-ho there, little lady. What the fuck’s gotten into you? Put the kid down, Wanda. I can’t believe I have to tell you this. Are we in some alternate dimension where I’m teaching you fucking manners?”
But Wanda wasn’t letting go. Nay, in fact, she gripped tighter and shook her, making Rocky’s eyeballs cross. As she hung there, pressed against the wall, her legs dangling, one of her clogs halfway across the floor, Nina reached around Wanda and began to pry her fingers one by one from Rocky’s robe.
“Wanda, I said let go. Let go now, or I’m going to drag your ass out of here by your perfectly groomed hair. Ease off and put. Her. Down,” she hummed in her friend’s ear with a snarl.
Wanda let go so suddenly, Rocky had no time to brace herself before she dropped to the floor like a rag doll, knocking over a nearby table and its contents with her flailing legs before the back of her head whacked the wall behind her.
“Rocky?” a deep voice called as she heard footsteps pounding down the stairs to her right.
“You know her, Hudson?” Wanda asked, backing away.
“I do. She works at the hospital,” Hudson Khalil said as he knelt down in front of her and pressed gentle fingertips to her head before using a thumb to pull her eyes open. “Rocky? Are you okay? Answer me, please.”
She looked up into his sharply angled face, her eyes crossing, but still able to see how incredibly good-looking he was—even through what she’d surely classify as a concussion.
Swatting at his hands, she tried to melt into the wall at her back to avoid his touch. Why was he suddenly everywhere she was? “I…I’m fine,” she said on a wince as he offered a hand to help her up.
“The hospital?” Nina balked with a frown and a huff. “Is she here for you? Arch said she wanted to talk to Wanda and me. Who the hell are you?”
As Hudson helped her rise, his big hand still holding hers, she heard him say, “Maybe we could give her the opportunity to tell us rather than knock her clear across the room?” Quite aggressively, if you asked Rocky.
“Oh, shut your sound, Birdman.” Nina flicked her long fingers in his face. “We were just doing what we do when someone suspicious shows the fuck up unannounced.”
Instantly, Wanda’s beautiful face looked horrified. Her hand went to her throat and the necklace she wore as she twisted it in her fingers. “Oh heavens, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s happening to me. Please…” She gestured to the kitchen, which was directly ahead of them. “Come in and sit down and we’ll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Or would you prefer something else? Hot chocolate? Coffee? Maybe something cold…?”
As Wanda’s voice trailed off toward the kitchen, Rocky remembered poor Dwayne Johnson, outside in the icy air. “My dog,” she managed to mutter through the throb of her head.
Hudson pointed to the grand fireplace in the middle of the living room, covered in beautiful white and gray stone. There, Dwayne Johnson sat curled up in a marabou-lined pink dog bed that was much too small for his overfed bulk, reveling in the warmth of the roaring fire.
“I take it that’s your dog?” he asked with a charming grin as he looked down at her with eyes of concern.
She inhaled a ragged breath and rolled her head on her neck. “Yes. That’s Dwayne Johnson. I’m sorry. I’ll get him. He has no shame. A bed’s a bed, pink and frilly, it makes no difference.”
“Leave him,” Nina ordered, sticking out a hand to prevent Rocky from collecting her dog. “He’ll be fine, won’t you, Dwayne Johnson?” she cooed in the dog’s direction, making kissing sounds. “Who’s a good-good boy?”
Vaguely, Rocky gave pause when she discovered the rumors that Nina appeared to love animals and children were true—before she realized she was still holding Hudson’s hand.
And it felt good, and warm, and reassuring, and that was not good and not really reassuring at all.
She didn’t want to get caught enjoying Hudson’s touch or making googly eyes at him. That was and always would be a no-no.
Rocky’s heart crashed in her chest in fear as she snatched her hand back. She lifted her chin and looked to the open kitchen area, where Wanda flitted about, and made her way in that direction on wobbly legs as fast as she could.
Wow, Wanda packed a serious punch. She rubbed the knot forming at the back of her head and stood on the threshold of the kitchen. The glorious, enormous, cream-and-antique-black kitchen, with a white farmer’s sink and an island the size of her bed, was as beautiful as one would expect.
As she absorbed the beauty of her surroundings, taking in the fresh flowers in the middle of one long length of glossy countertop and the basket of shiny red apples at the other end, she inhaled in the hopes a cleansing breath would ease her anxiety.
“Please, Rocky, is it? Do sit down, Miss, and let me make you comfortable,” Archibald insisted, handing her an ice pack and ushering her to the long wooden table, bleached white and antiqued to a rosy glow.
Wanda’s shoulders sagged in defeat as she looked at Rocky, clear remorse in her eyes. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I just reacted. I’m not sure if you know what we do, but we have enemies, and we didn’t know who you were or what you wanted and…”
“I… I know who you are. That’s why I’m here,” Rocky said, hesitantly slipping into one of the softly upholstered, beige-cushioned chairs in black wood and iron.
Across the table, Nina dragged a chair out and sat down, driving a finger into the top of the wood. “Explain,” she demanded with narrowed eyes. “And while you’re at it, explain the fucking Halloween costume, too.”
“Nina,” Hudson interrupted, his cologne filling her nose as he sat down next to Rocky, draping an arm around the back of her chair. “She’s
just had quite a crack to the head. Can we give her a minute, please?”
Her cheeks flushed warm and hot at Hudson’s defense of her, but she wanted to get this over with as much as they wanted to know what she was doing, intruding on their later afternoon.
As Wanda set a mug of hot tea in front of her, Rocky rolled the sleeves of her robe and took a deep breath. “All I ask is that you let me explain everything before you react and throw me against another wall.”
Wanda’s eyes immediately teared up as she reached over and squeezed her arm. “I’m so sorry, Rocky. I can’t explain why I’m behaving so poorly. My only excuse is I’ve been pregnant for what feels like forever and my hormones are on a hormones-gone-wild escapade that’s spun out of my control. I promise we’ll hear you out.”
“But I can’t fucking promise I won’t throw you up against another wall when you’re done,” Nina growled.
Rocky winced, but she managed to fight a cringe. “Fair enough. I’ll take my chances.” Wrapping her cold hands around the warm mug, she began, “Anyway, my name is Rocky McNally…and I’m a reaper. A grim reaper…”
An hour later, as everyone sat around the table stunned and wide-eyed, Rocky folded her hands together to keep them from shaking, waiting for them to get past the initial shock of Marty’s fate and begin the interrogation she was sure she was in for.
The good news? She’d survived liftoff. Now she just had to convince them to let her hole up here in order to protect Marty while trying to find out what the hell was going on.
“So lemme get this shit straight. You thought you could prove to us you were a damn grim reaper if you wore your reaper shiz?” Nina asked on a cackle. “Like, seriously?”
“Nina! That’s your takeaway from everything she just told us? You did hear her say Marty’s soul is in imminent danger, didn’t you? And she’s the one assigned to cart our best friend in the world off to this In Between?” Wanda hissed. “Forget about what she’s wearing, Elvira, and focus on the problem. Keeping Marty’s soul in her body.”
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