Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1)

by Kerry Blaisdell

  Right about then, I remembered Nick’s Beamer.

  I turned to look at him. Yep, still dead. I’d hated him for what he did to Lily, but I have to say, in death, he looked pathetic. Not that peaceful, sleeping crap people talk about. Just empty and gray, like the dead, papery skin shed by the world’s biggest snake. The thought of touching him again was icky to say the least. But he didn’t need his car, and I did, and every second I dithered brought me closer to a run-in with les flics.

  I dropped to my knees and gingerly patted him down. Sure enough, the keys were there, in the front left pocket of his jeans. His very tight jeans. Why couldn’t he have put them in his loose-fitting and easily-accessible jacket pocket?

  Earlier, when I said death was an everyday part of my life, I meant old death—mummies and tombs and sarcophagi. This was my first experience up close and personal with a new corpse. Besides my own, which didn’t count as I wasn’t technically dead. I think. Or was it the other way around, and I wasn’t technically alive?

  In any case, I’d managed to check Nick’s pulse and hunt for my cash without touching him too much. But to get those keys, I’d have to dig in. At least dead, I wouldn’t need to worry about the, um, region I’d be fiddling with.

  The jeans were snug, but with some wiggling I got the keys out and quickly let his body go. I tried to feel sadness at his death, but I couldn’t. He’d been too cruel. Maybe once he was sweet and innocent, like his son, but I’d never seen it. Still, the moment needed something, so before I thought about how ridiculous it was—after all, I already knew where he’d gone—I made the sign of the cross over his body.

  Then I rose and peered out the door. It was full-on night, but I could see the silver BMW parked right where Nick left it. I slipped out the door and locked it behind me, then stood on the stoop, scanning the deserted street. The air was warm and dark, filled with the scent of the clematis vines growing from planters on either side of my door. They formed an arch over my head, and I felt safer under their protection, their honey-sweet aroma familiar and reassuring.

  At some point, the cops would come for me. I mean, dead brother-in-law in my shop, dead sister behind it, and a missing mob heir last seen in my company? I’d want to question me.

  My best bet was to pretend I wasn’t here when it all went down, and hope Jason and Geordi played along. With luck, I’d buy enough time to escape and retrieve the rock, but I wasn’t holding my breath. If worse came to worst, though, I did have options. My clients appreciate me. Maybe not enough to bribe a judge, but enough to get me a really good lawyer. One client, in particular, might be helpful in finding Geordi a home.

  Ugh. Bad idea. Don’t think of Geordi, living with strangers, alone, scared, missing his mother and auntie. Michael had given me a chance to save him from the Dioguardis, for which I should be grateful. And I was. But first, I had to find him, which wouldn’t happen by hiding on the stoop. Plus, the street wasn’t getting any emptier.

  I moved to the Beamer, pressed the unlock button on the key fob, opened the door, and got in. Of course, I’d ridden in the car on the drive over, but sitting in the driver’s seat was a whole other experience. The engine fired right up, and I could tell immediately it had a ton more horsepower than the Peapod. Nice. If I had to steal a dead creep’s car, at least it’d be fun to drive.

  I noticed something else, though. Something…odd. The first time I got in, I was disgusted by all the leather, trying not to touch it or think about it too much. But now it felt almost…good.

  No, not almost. If I’m being honest, it did feel good. Really good.

  It smelled even better. I took a deep sniff, and the sensation almost overwhelmed me, the way I imagine getting high would be like. I did feel high—awake and sharp and alive.

  And starving. Like my appetite woke up and said, Hey, you, you might be dead, but you need to eat. Pronto. I’d have to raid Jason’s refrigerator, since I’d missed today’s trip to the markets, and there wasn’t time to look for an all-night convenience store.

  I flipped a quick U-turn and drove to my apartment, assuming Jason would head home. He didn’t have a car, but with his long legs he’d be pretty fast, even carrying Geordi. By my best guess, about forty minutes had passed since Lily shoved Geordi at him and they took off. Enough time to run to his apartment and hole in, but hopefully not enough for Geordi to freak out.

  I shuddered. How the hell was I supposed to tell a seven-year-old his mother was dead? And his father. It occurred to me that Lily and he both had their backs to Nick when he was shot, so Geordi might have escaped that horror at least. Then there was my death, too, but I couldn’t explain that to myself, let alone anyone else.

  I found a parking space and got out of the car. From a nearby window came the scent of bacon frying, and my mouth watered, and my stomach growled. I ignored it and ran for the stairs. On the first landing, I hesitated. Jason’s door was shut, the curtains closed. Every fiber in me screamed that I needed to get to Geordi now. But I had to get ready to leave, which would be a thousand times harder after I’d told him about Lily.

  I forced myself to keep going up to my apartment. I’d grab what I needed, so we could take off right away. I wasn’t even sure how we’d get to Turkey. The simplest would be by train or ship. From Vadim, I knew that Colossae is inland, near the city of Denizli, but Marmaris has a decent-sized port, from which I could rent a car and drive the remaining 150 kilometers.

  The first problem with that was the money. As noted, I didn’t have any. Second, if I hoped to stay under the radar, then waltzing down to the train station or the docks to buy a ticket would defeat the purpose. Unless I used a fake ID, which, believe it or not, I have no idea how to get. I might be a thief, but I’ve always travelled under my own name. Plus, I’m pretty sure you have to pay for fake documents, so, back to the money.

  Option two would be to drive, but not in my car. It’s three thousand kilometers from Marseille to Colossae by land, and at the Peapod’s speed, I’d probably get run over by anyone too impatient to pass me. I could take Nick’s car, but stealing it to drive home was one thing. Crossing international borders in it would net much higher jail time.

  Another option would be to beg a private flight from one of my clients, at least half of whom have jets. But I was reluctant to take anyone into my confidence. Let’s face it—people who make a game out of stealing from their peers probably aren’t all that trustworthy. Wistfully I thought of Vadim’s boat, which he’d left me in his will, and which I’d been keeping tied up at the slip he rented—largely because I had no clue how to drive it. So, back to square one.

  Feeling depressed and trying not to miss Lily even more, I crested the landing and abruptly realized I’d forgotten to stop by the landlady’s for a key. Which didn’t matter after all, because right then I noticed my door was open. What the…?

  I was positive I’d locked it when I left with Claude and Nick. Not only am I anal about these things, but I remember them standing around, two big creepy thugs, waiting for me to turn the deadbolt on the barn after the horse—a.k.a., my “liquid assets”—was already gone.

  I looked around, but the breezeway was deserted. The lady across from me travels a lot, and the two other tenants on our floor rarely have visitors. Call me stupid, but I tiptoed to my door and pushed it in. I was already dead, my sister was gone, I had the Devil’s minions to track, and the Angel of Death to please. It didn’t make me invincible, but it gave me a helluva lot less to lose.

  I stepped inside, then paused as my eyes adjusted. The apartment was dark and quiet, but something felt off. Then I heard it—the soft breathing of someone nearby, waiting, watching me.

  Two someones. I smelled fear and adrenaline, as though my nose, like my ears, was hyper-tuned to my surroundings.

  I whirled on instinct, but before I made it back out the door, someone grabbed me from behind, a large hand smothering my mouth and nose, cutting off all air, and I was dragged, kicking and scratching, backward in
to the apartment.

  Chapter Six

  “The idea is to die young as late as possible.”

  ~Ashley Montagu (1905-1999)

  The Dioguardis had found me. Somehow, they knew already that Nick was dead, and they’d come for me.

  I jabbed back, hard, with my elbow, and tried to stomp on his instep, but my attacker was taller and stronger, and lack of oxygen rendered me weak. Michael was right. I’d been running on adrenaline, and suddenly, I wanted to give up. Wouldn’t it be simpler to follow Lily, to forget about rocks and Michael and Satan? Even the threat that I’d go through door number two didn’t seem like a big enough reason to fight. My captor kicked the door shut, trapping us inside, and I sagged, exhausted, prepared to die for the second time today. Then I heard a boyish shriek, reminding me that all I needed was one small, seven-year-old reason to stay alive.

  “Tata Hyhy! Let her go! Let her GO!”

  Geordi tackled us with a heavy thwump! and my attacker let go. We all fell hard on the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs, and I scrabbled to get away.

  Geordi.

  I couldn’t let Nick’s family get him. Panic shot through me, and I snatched the first thing that came to hand, a stone statue I use as a doorstop. It shows Inanna, the Sumerian goddess of sex and warfare, standing astride two lions atop a large square base carved with sharply-pointed stars. Twisting to stand, I flipped on the light and brought the statue up, head pointing down, the heavy stone base aimed like a club, ready to bludgeon whichever Dioguardi peon lay before me.

  Instead, I came face to face with Jason, flat on the floor, panting under my struggling nephew. Geordi launched himself off Jason’s stomach, making Jason grunt in pain, and hurled himself into my arms. I dropped the statue with a heavy clunk and hugged Geordi tight, inhaling his earthy scent and relishing the warmth of his safe, living little body.

  Jason sat up, still breathing hard, eyes dark with shock. “Hyacinth…? Hyacinth? Holy shit—you were dead. I saw you—I checked your pulse for Chrissake, and you bloody well didn’t have one! What the hell is going on?”

  Well, hell. Here was something I hadn’t banked on. Not that any part of today was planned. But it never occurred to me Jason would stick around to see if Lily and I were safe. Oh, God—

  “You didn’t—Geordi didn’t—”

  Jason gave a quick shake of his head, his mane of dark hair damp with sweat. “We hid in some bushes until those men left, then I ran back. Alone. When you didn’t follow me out of the alley…” He shook his head again, this time in denial. “I saw you. I saw you.”

  He was haggard, like he’d been to Hell and crawled back out. But he was also…different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, other than to say he came off more serious than I’d seen him before, not even remotely the debonair playboy I’d come to know. Given the circumstances, maybe that wasn’t surprising.

  I gave Geordi another squeeze, and tried to figure out what to tell them. Every good liar knows it’s best to stick to the truth as much as possible. I wasn’t about to tell Jason the whole dead-not-dead thing, but I thought I could safely go partway there.

  “I tripped—must’ve passed out when I hit the ground, and the guy thought he’d shot me. Maybe you were nervous, and missed my pulse.” Okay, that sounded lame, even to me. And I hadn’t explained away the blood that must have been leaking out of me, and wasn’t anymore, but I couldn’t change my story now.

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. He examined my face, searching for the truth of my words. Then abruptly he pushed off the floor and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me under the light and staring at me hard, Geordi trapped between us.

  “You were all beat up—bruised and shit! What the hell happened to your face?”

  Merde. I turned to the mirror I keep on the wall by the door. He was right—not a single bruise or cut was left of the beating Claude gave me. Damn, damn, damn. Michael had said I would heal faster, but I didn’t know he meant this fast.

  Jason’s hands rested on my shoulders, his gaze boring into mine in the mirror. He towered over me and Geordi, looking madder than a stirred-up hornet. I suppose having a seven-year-old dumped on him, then thinking Lily and I were dead, and then having me magically reappear, alive and, quite literally, kicking, was as good a reason as any for getting pissed off.

  I shrugged helplessly. I couldn’t even come up with a half-lie for this one. “Jason, I know none of this makes sense, but please—I can’t explain it right now.”

  He glanced down at Geordi, whose face was buried in my abdomen, then looked back at me and mouthed, Lily?

  I shook my head. And suddenly I couldn’t hold it in any more. The tears welled up and before I knew it, Jason turned me around and pulled me close, cupping my head to his shoulder, not saying anything, just holding me while I cried and held Geordi. I’d never had a hugging relationship with Jason, but now, in this moment, it felt natural. He was tall and strong and warm, smelling of sweat and dirt and life. It was the first time I’d felt safe since I met the Rousseaux at the shop, and I let the sobs overtake me, clinging to my nephew and letting the one friend I had left cradle me close.

  When I came back to myself, Jason’s shirt was wet from my tears, his arms were tight around my waist, and he muttered into my hair, “Jesus Christ. You sure know how to scare a guy.”

  Geordi squirmed to get out from between us, reminding me I wasn’t done with the hard stuff. Lost in my own grief, the monumental task of telling him about his mother had slipped my mind. I let him go, and Jason let me go, and I stood there, unsure what to say. To either of them.

  In the end, Geordi solved the problem for me. He looked me in the eye and asked solemnly, “Did Mommy go up to Heaven?”

  “Yes,” I said, the sheer relief of knowing I was right making the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do a tiny bit easier. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so-so sorry.” I choked back a new wave of grief and waited, letting him guide the conversation.

  “Oh. Did she want to leave me?”

  His voice was small, and my answer came out thick with tears. “No, sweetie. She wanted more than anything to stay. But she had to go, and I know she’s up in Heaven, sending all her love to you right now.”

  “Will there be sugary slugs up there?”

  “Yes. So many, she can eat them all day long.”

  Geordi thought about that. “What about my dad? Did he go to Heaven, too?”

  This was trickier. I was pretty sure scumbag Nick took the down stairs, but I couldn’t tell Geordi that. “I’m sure he did,” I said at last. Over his head, I met Jason’s steady blue gaze, and he gave a slight nod of approval. What else could I say?

  Then Geordi asked the worst question ever. “Will you die?”

  “Oh, honey.” I dropped to the floor and cupped his small, serious face in my hands. “I don’t expect to die for a long time. I’m going to take care of you as long as you need me.” God help me for the lie. The thought of leaving him, ever, broke me in a million pieces. But Michael had made it clear this was a temporary fix, just to get Geordi settled.

  Which reminded me of my task. “Sweetie, we have to get out of here. There are some people who might be looking for us, and there’s something I have to do. It might be a little scary, but I’m going to keep you safe. I promise. Will you come with me?”

  I held my breath and waited, and after a minute, Geordi nodded. He was trying so hard to be brave, when everything about today had to be even more terrifying for him than it was for me.

  Then Jason said, “I’m coming, too.”

  “No!” I shot up. “I have to do this alone.”

  “Why?”

  That stumped me. Michael had never said I had to find the rock by myself. In fact, he hadn’t said much at all about my parameters.

  I countered, “Why do you want to come? You don’t even know where I’m going or what I’m doing.” Ha. Score one for my side.

  Jason looked profoundly uncomfortable, and I knew he was trying to figure out a
way to lie, or at least, to flit around the truth. Good liars recognize a kindred soul. But instead of the expected whopper, he sucker-punched me with logic.

  “Let’s just say, some of the people who are looking for you, might come looking for me.” He glanced pointedly down at Geordi, then met my gaze again.

  Damn. He had a point. I was pretty sure that, to the Rousseaux, we were about as significant as dirt. I mean, what could I do? Tell the world demons existed and…what? They’d stolen a talking rock? Yeah, that’d go over well.

  The Dioguardis, on the other hand, had every reason to want me dead—plus anyone who helped me. Sure, they could run me to ground, take Geordi, and leave it at that. But I was Lily’s sister, Geordi’s closest blood relative, able to make a fair claim for custody. Unless I was dead, I’d be a constant thorn in their side. At least, I’d try to be. Jason they’d squash like an ant out of spite. Or to keep him from making trouble after I showed up dead. But would he be safer if he came with me? Or in worse danger? For that matter, would Geordi?

  I looked at my nephew, so young, so small, plucked from everything good in his life, cast off, rootless and adrift on the winds of Fate.

  I’m doing this for you, so I can keep you safe.

  I had to do it, and I had to take him with me. I had no choice.

  Jason saw the direction of my gaze and said, “Look, wherever you’re going, if it involves the kind of men you were with today, you’ll need backup. Or at least a babysitter.”

  He put a hand on Geordi, who seemed to readily accept him. Not just accept—Jason’s touch seemed to physically ground Geordi, anchoring him in place, in a good way. Geordi took a small breath and stood a little taller, and watched me with solemn eyes. But should I base a decision of this magnitude on the feelings of a traumatized child?