After the massive breach in security in the filing department, Sabrina and the rest of her colleagues had to participant in a week-long training programme. With our GA meetings cancelled I didn’t get to see her until they resumed a week later.
“Wowser,” I breathed as I sat next to her and got a good look at her face. “You look awful.”
She’d tied her blonde bob in a ponytail that just hovered over the line of acceptably dishevelled, as did her washed but not ironed jumpsuit. The shadows under her eyes looked as if they’d been drawn on with eyeliner, her laughter lines appeared much deeper and her face had an edge of gauntness to it.
“Thanks, Bridge,” she said without her usual enthusiastic sarcasm. “I can always count on you to make me feel better.”
I sat down next to her and patted her knee. “You’re welcome.”
“This last week of training has been exhausting.” She rubbed her forehead and then pushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face. “It’s worse than being in the marines.”
I moved behind her and undid her ponytail. I finger-combed her hair and retied it. “I thought it’d be all catered lunches and PowerPoint presentations.”
Sabrina snorted. “They want to make sure we’re über filing clerks. We’ve had the odd presentation but mainly the days have been filled with memory training exercises and exams on different procedures.” Sabrina paused to yawn. “And they’ve been waking us up at random intervals throughout the night and giving us a hundred or so forms to file. Seeing what our margins for error are like.”
I winced. “That sounds terrible.” Woe betide the man or woman who woke me up in the middle of the night to test my error margin.
“Yeah, about a quarter of people have already been reassigned.” She made air quotes around the word and covered her mouth as she yawned again. “So, how’s community service?” Sabrina had been excused for the first week because of her career training, and all I’d done so far was fill out insurance forms.
I groaned. “I can’t talk about it.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why not?”
I turned to face her. “Let me ask you, what’s your community service assignment?”
She opened her mouth to tell me and looked like she was choking. Her head jerked forward as she tried to force the words out. She coughed and tried again. And again.
I patted her knee. “Don’t strain yourself.”
“They couldn’t just ask us not to tell anyone?” Sabrina shook her head. “I goddamn hate this place.”
I nodded vehemently. “Oh, I hear ya.”
“Ladies, if you please?” Eleanor called to us from the doorway of the fort. “I know you both have had a particularly difficult first week or so here. I wanted you to know you can talk to me about anything.”
“I appreciate that, Eleanor.” I smiled. Since she was still making an effort, it would be rude to dismiss it.
“Me too,” Sabrina chimed in.
Eleanor gave us both a sympathetic smile. “Let’s go inside and get you a cup of tea. Tonight will just be a gentle refresher.”
Eleanor was true to her word and used the meeting to recap on things we’d already covered. She added a little more information and talked about different techniques for tunnelling and misting but it was an easy session. There was no group work involved because everyone was overly interested in us. I guessed news, or gossip, travelled just as fast in the afterlife as in the real world.
We’d not even made it out of the front doors before I could feel the familiar pull of a summoning. It was much stronger than Jeremy’s so I had no chance of just swiping this one away.
“What?” Sabrina glanced at me when I stopped walking.
It wasn’t a familiar pull either. I was getting used to being able to identifying between Madame Zorina and Jeremy, but I didn’t recognise this one at all. It felt … glittery. Sabrina read the expression on my face and took my hand.
She straightened up her drooping shoulders. “Just go with it. After recent events, I feel fairly confident we can handle most things.”
I relaxed into the summoning and let it pull me. I landed on solid wooden flooring and, despite an initial unsteadiness, I managed to keep my feet by bracing myself on the brickwork of the open window. I could tell from the view of the ocean and harbour we were towards the back of the city.
“Ta-dar!” a familiar voice yelled from behind me. I spun around, the room wavering slightly as I did so.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed Sabrina’s hand reaching into her pocket before she recognised our summoner. I knew she’d replaced her cudgel, since the GBs had confiscated it, and I was half tempted to ask with what but thought better of it. It was probably best I didn’t know.
“I thought you’d promised never to summon me again?” I folded my arms and arched an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Oh.” Madame Zorina swatted away my grievance with a wave of her hand. “I’m so glad you brought your friend. I wanted to show you this.” She raised up her arms and twirled around the empty room. Her bangles jangled up her arms and over the rolled-up sleeves of her loose fitting white shirt while her blood red skirt spun out around her like an umbrella.
I looked around at where we were. The room had a high, white ceiling with an uncovered light bulb dangling down from it and dwarfed by the space around it. Pale pink flowery paper that was sickly to look at covered the walls. Three sash windows on my right allowed a generous view of the ocean and another three on my left framed the moors.
“It’s lovely.” I turned back to face the now still Madame Zorina as she adjusted the red scarf keeping some of her unruly hair out of her face. “So glad you dragged me here to see it.”
“Don’t be so grumpy,” she scolded with a flick of her gypsy skirt, “or I might retract my offer.”
Sabrina folded her arms and radiated suspicion. “What offer?”
“And why was your signature all glittery?” I added.
Madame Zorina tossed me a small rock. The surface was rough like coral and sparkled as if someone had dipped it glitter.
“Fools gold.” She fluffed her hair then pushed it out of her eyes. “I use it to amplify my power if I’ve had a particularly stressful day.”
“Excellent.” Edith clapped behind us, making Sabrina and I jump. “You’re both here.”
“Can everyone please stop appearing behind me? My nerves can only take so much,” I said.
Edith walked around to face us, smiling widely, and stood by Madame Zorina. “Sorry, dear, I was just so excited. I knew you’d agree.”
Sabrina waved her hand and stepped back. “Whoa, we haven’t agreed to anything.”
“You’ve not asked them?” Edith frowned at Madame Zorina.
Madame Zorina folded her arms against Edith’s pursed lips. “You interrupted me.”
“Is one of you going to ask us?” I said, interrupting the stare-off between the two women.
Edith gestured Madame Zorina had the floor. “I’m opening a psychic detective agency and would like you both to join us.”
“Barry’s money come through?” Sabrina voiced my suspicion and Edith smiled in satisfaction. It explained why Edith’s eye had twitched when Madame Zorina said it was her business.
“It has, but this has been my dream for a long time.” Madame Zorina pushed her shoulders back and flipped her hair. “I was waiting to meet the right spirits to unite with in this endeavour.”
“Don’t forget the financial backing, dear,” Edith stage whispered to her.
Sabrina folded her arms. “Right. And exactly what benefits will we get from this arrangement?”
“It’ll give you something to do. Your afterlives must be terribly boring. It’ll give you a purpose, fill your time. I’ve known ghosts go mad from boredom,” Madame Zorina said.
“You know she’s right, dear,” Edith added. “Not about the having nothing to do, but about having something you enjoy to invest your time in.”
“We
can’t,” I said before Sabrina could get us involved in anything else. Sabrina gave me her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “We. Can’t.”
“Of course you can. We’ll be like d’Artagnan and the three musketeers.” Madame Zorina clapped her hand over her heart. “I shall be d’Artagnan, of course.”
“I hope that isn’t going to be your agency name.” I wasn’t too keen on associating myself with that, even if no one but us knew. It was the principle.
“I was thinking Psychic Eye,” Madame Zorina suggested, though the certainty in her voice told me she’d already decided.
“I can live with that.” Sabrina nodded.
I shook my head. “No, you can’t because you’re dead. And think of that thing we can’t talk about.”
Sabrina waved it off. “It’ll be fine.”
I had my hands in the air inches from her throat. “What’s wrong with you?”
She grabbed my hands and pulled them down, smiling at me. “We’re dead. What’s the worst that can happen?”
My eyes stretched wide in disbelief. “Why do you have to keep saying that?”
“And we already have a case,” Madame Zorina interrupted and produced a notebook from one of the many folds in her skirt. “The client’s name is Sarah Matthews. She’s having trouble selling her house. She thinks it’s because it’s haunted.”
Sabrina and I stared at her.
Madame Zorina’s glanced between us. “What?”
Before we could say anything, I felt the familiar pull of the community service officer. I blinked and found myself sitting on the front seat of a bus. Not any bus. The Bus of Death. Charon looked exactly as I remembered him, a twenty-something cherubic, demon driver. Tall, slim and athletic, his blond hair cut short on the back and sides but a little longer on top. He wore a slim-fit black suit with a narrow black tie. Despite the technicalities of his attire being similar to that of the police force, he looked the antithesis of law enforcement.
“You!” I leapt up from my seat and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You lied to me.”
When Charon had collected me on the day I died, he’d implied that I wasn’t dead. I assumed to make his life easier.
He gently removed my finger from his chest. “I did no such thing. I told you if your heart was still beating you could get back into your body. I just didn’t specify that your heart had stopped beating.”
“That’s a lie by omission.”
Charon grinned at me. “And you’ve never done that.”
“So, what am I doing here? You didn’t have anyone helping when you picked me up.”
He shrugged. “I thought it was about time I had a new conductor.”
I folded my arms and sat on the baggage shelf. “Why do I have the feeling you’re not telling me the whole truth here?”
“I’ve no idea.” He flashed me a wicked smiled and handed me a complicated looking metal contraption, resting his back against the driver’s compartment. “What are you doing time for?”
“Catching a murderer.”
He dropped his head forwards and laughed quietly. “Yeah. The rules are funny like that.”
“Hey. Is it just me?” It was a delayed reaction but I realised Sabrina wasn’t on the bus.
“Yep. It’s a one person job,” Charon said as he climbed behind the wheel.
“Oh. It’s just my friend got the same sentence as me. I thought we’d be working together.”
“How’d your friend die?”
“Drowned scuba diving in Corsica.”
“Then mostly likely she’ll be a water sports instructor for the holiday parks.” He grinned at me and threw the bus into gear. “I only have one rule. No throwing up on the bus. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”
Charon put his foot down and I felt fairly certain I’d be breaking his rule on an hourly basis. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass of the window. “I hate my afterlife.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Deader Still – book two in the Bridget Sway series.
Dear Reader,
I very much hope you’ve enjoyed Beyond Dead. If you did then keep reading because there’s a short sample of Deader Still, the second book in the series, for you to have a peek at after this letter.
Whether you did or didn’t enjoy Bridget’s induction into the afterlife I’d love to hear your feedback, good or bad. You can find me at www.JordainaSydneyRobinson.com Once there, if you sign up for my mailing list you’ll get a free Bridget novella called Just a Touch Dead which chronicles the moment she died up until she makes it to work. And who doesn’t love free stuff? Or you can email me at [email protected] Failing both of those there’s always trusty Facebook www.facebook.com/JordainaSydneyRobinson Or you can just leave a review. For good or ill, I read all those too.
Thank you so much for reading Beyond Dead. It’s been a pleasure having your company. I hope to hear from you soon and to see you on Bridget’s next adventure.
Until we meet again …
Deader Still Excerpt – Book Two in the Bridget Sway Series
“Is that really what my face looks like?” I leaned over the metal tray my corpse was laid out on and bobbed from left to right, examining my dead self from every angle. The morgue’s fluorescent light wasn’t helping. “It looks so …”
“Lifeless?” Sabrina spun around on the swivel chair she’d liberated from the office area in the far corner of the room. She was a blur of lime green in her work jumpsuit, swinging her legs in the air, her stubby blonde ponytail jerking with the movement. “Blank? Dead? Gormless?”
I frowned at her spinning form then turned back to my corpse. Sabrina had a point. My dead self did look sort of gormless. My corpse’s fire engine red hair seemed oddly lank and dull. It shouldn’t. I’d had my fringe trimmed and my roots done the day before I’d died so it should’ve been practically luminescent. Yet it wasn’t. Her English rose complexion appeared sallow when I knew that, despite being dead and somewhat ironically, ghost-me glowed with health. My corpse’s beautiful blue eyes had been sewn shut, leaving our dark eyelashes to amplify the bags under her eyes that I knew ghost-me didn’t have. And my lips would never have been called pouty but someone had obviously gotten a little too enthusiastic when sewing my corpse’s mouth closed because she barely had any lips at all. Ultimately, I was not impressed with the mortuary makeover.
“I don’t look like this. Right?” I asked Sabrina as I twisted a strand of hair around my finger and lifted it to the light to check it wasn’t the same colour as my corpse’s. “Like, in real life? I don’t. Right?”
Sabrina stopped spinning and dug her heels into the navy linoleum flooring to drag herself towards me. She peered at my corpse’s face and shrugged. “In real life you’re dead. So, yeah, in real life, you kinda do look like that.”
I pointed to my dead body’s face. “You’re talking about my corpse’s face now, right? Not my actual face. My afterlife face. My ghost face. The one I’m speaking out of now …? So, really, there’s no need for me to kill you and stuff your mean, doubly dead body into one of these drawers,” I said, gesturing to the wall of shiny body-sized fridge doors.
“Exactly. Your ghost face looks a lot more alive than your corpse’s face.” Sabrina angled her head as she looked at my dead body. “You don’t look happy.”
“I’m dead and they’ve sewn my eyes and my mouth shut. How happy do you expect me to look?”
“Happier than that,” she said as she lifted a strand of my corpse’s hair and dropped it. “Your hair looks dull too, but at least that’s a nice dress.”
It was an empire line, yellow sundress with a navy and violet floral print. On paper it should have been horrific but it was actually quite pretty. I assumed my mum had bought it for me so I could look all summery in my coffin. She had great taste and it would have looked great on her. On me, however, it amplified the sallow complexion of my skin and made it glow a lovely yellow as if I were radioactive. The style also made me look g
aunt. I wasn’t. I was on the fit side of slim but whatever the butchers at the funeral home had done to me had taken maybe twenty pounds off. But only off my corpse, not off my afterlife body. I couldn’t decide if I was happy with that or not. My corpse’s cheekbones did look awesome though.
“I know I talked you into attending your funeral but I thought we’d just attend it, y’know? Listen to all the nice things people said about you. I didn’t think we’d be doing all the backstage stuff. At two in the morning.” Sabrina smoothed the dress over my corpse’s knobbly knees and frowned. “Do your knees really look like that?”
I rolled up the leg of my mauve jumpsuit. She leaned down to look and then back up to examine my corpse again. “I see what you mean. You do look weird.”
“You can tell from my knees but not my face?”
Sabrina shrugged, flopped back into her chair and spun around again. Even sitting down her jumpsuit uniform fitted her a lot better than my mauve one fitted me. Hers was lime green because she was a trainee coordinator, which basically meant she filed stuff all day, and mine was mauve because I was a trainee facilitator, which meant I haunted people all day. It sounded a lot cooler than it was. The haunting, not the filing. I was pretty sure filing was the same in the afterlife as it was in life.
Sabrina was maybe an inch or so taller than my five feet five inches and what I’d call buxomly athletic. And buxom looked good in these jumpsuits. As did her holiday tan.
“Who do you think will say the nicest thing about you?” Sabrina asked, halting her spin. She dug her heels into the floor again and dragged herself to the next fridge door and peeked inside.
“Michael-the-cheating-scumbag.” I reached into my pockets and pulled out an array of cosmetics I’d “borrowed” from the nearest department store since Oz, my parole officer/guardian angel/pain-in-the-neck, was still dragging his feet on fulfilling my requests. I’d been dead two weeks and I still didn’t have any makeup except my Chanel bronzer.
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