Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1)

by Kerry Blaisdell

  “Where?”

  Jason came around the car and grabbed my arm. “Forget the damn earring. We’ll move everything back to the BMW and take it to the docks after all.”

  “That yours?” Eric asked, gesturing at Nick’s car.

  “Kind of,” I said, hoping Jason was too engrossed in pulling me along to hear.

  Eric grimaced. “That is the one they are looking for. I recognize the plates.”

  “What?” I stopped and yanked my arm out of Jason’s grasp, turning away and lowering my voice as much as I could. “Who’s looking for it?”

  “The Dioguardis.”

  “How the hell do you know about them?”

  “Everyone in France knows the Dioguardis.”

  He had a point. I glanced at Jason, who’d opened the Peapod’s hatch and stuck his head inside, then I turned back and gestured for Eric to continue.

  “Alors—they tracked the GPS to here, but were…sidetracked. You heard the sirens? The police chased them. As I have said, I was caught in the crossfire.”

  I was so stunned, I didn’t even think to ask how he knew any of that. “Shit!” I turned to Jason. “Get Geordi out of the car—now!”

  He jerked out from under the hatch and glared at me. “That’s what I’m doing. Jeez.”

  “No! You don’t understand—the Dioguardis are coming. The sirens I heard are for them. They’ll be here any second!” Even in the dark I saw the shock on Jason’s face, and I hurried on. “We can’t take the BMW—they’re tracking it. We have to run.”

  Eric said, “My car is in the next block. Take me with you, and I will show you the keys.”

  I hesitated for a second. But once again, what choice did I have? “Deal.”

  Eric grinned, and I held up a hand. Luckily, Jason was now frantically getting Geordi and our stuff out of the car and didn’t notice me still talking to no one.

  “I’m not guiding you anywhere,” I said to Eric. “I’m going to Turkey. You can tag along if you want, but don’t get in the way. Especially on the boat. It’s pretty small.”

  The grin vanished. “Boat?”

  “Yes, boat.” I grabbed my bag, which Jason had tossed onto the street. He hefted a barely-awake Geordi in one arm and grabbed his own bag in the other, and I picked up Geordi’s backpack.

  Eric swallowed nervously. “I don’t like boats.”

  “Then don’t come,” I snapped.

  Jason shot me another glare. “Of course I’m coming. Let’s go!”

  I turned my back on him and mouthed to Eric, Which way?

  He blew out a breath and straightened his shoulders. I never knew dead folks acted so much like live ones. Except for me, of course.

  “This way.” He headed down the block, and I followed, Jason right behind. If Jason wondered why I went that way, he didn’t ask, just held Geordi tight and still managed to run.

  It occurred to me I knew even less about Eric than I did about Jason. On the other hand, Eric was dead, so it seemed like the worst he could do was lead us straight into whatever police battle had killed him. I was starting to wonder if that was, indeed, his plan, when at the next intersection he veered in the opposite direction. We were just out of sight of the block with Nick’s car when I heard shouts behind us.

  “Là! Cette auto—c’est à lui!”

  They’d spotted the Beamer. If I could hear their shouts, could they hear the pounding of our feet as we tried to escape? We ran harder, and I kept thinking, I don’t want to die again. Don’t let them get Geordi—please!

  Eric started to lag. Of course, he was already dead, and no one but me knew he was there. Still, I felt responsible for him. I’d agreed to help, though I had no idea how I could. Souls weren’t usually depicted as old and decrepit, or covered in the evidence of what killed them. Would Eric regain his original form eventually? Or did that only happen after passing out of this world, into the next? What if you never passed through?

  Death had clearly taken a lot out of him. Halfway up the block, he stopped and doubled over, wheezing. He pointed to a black Fiat. “That one.” Then he indicated a spot in the street a few feet away. “Keys…by curb.”

  I came abreast of the car, pretending to kick the keys as I ran, then scooped them up. I turned to Jason. “Look!” I made a show of searching the parked cars for a likely candidate.

  “Remote…lock,” Eric managed between gasps. “Gray…button.”

  I clicked the middle button of the remote and the car’s lights flashed twice, and the locks popped open. Bless Jason—once again he acted unquestioningly. He tossed Geordi in the backseat with our bags, then grabbed the keys from me and got in the driver’s seat. Eric shot him a dirty look. I don’t think he liked another guy driving his wheels.

  “He drives faster than me,” I said and ran to the passenger side, and Eric somehow got in the back without opening the doors. When I’d touched him, he felt solid enough. But of course, he wasn’t. He was a spirit, without a body, and I guess they really can pass through objects. I couldn’t. But then, I wasn’t exactly dead or alive.

  What was I thinking? I couldn’t find Satan’s minions, or be a guide for dead people. I couldn’t even care for Geordi, because I wasn’t really alive myself. And now I’d dragged Jason deeper into danger. He deserved better—so did Geordi, but I had to bring him. I couldn’t leave him behind, until I’d found a loving, safe family for him. Even then, I didn’t know how I’d do it.

  I turned to Jason as he started the car. “You don’t have to do this. You can give me the keys, and Geordi and I can drive to Denizli.”

  “Yes!” Eric said weakly from the back. “Please—I really hate boats.”

  I ignored him. “Jason—seriously—the Dioguardis are bad, bad folks. If you walk away now, they’ll leave you alone.” I glanced at Geordi behind me. He was fully awake, but quiet, and gave no sign that he sensed Eric next to him. I half-hoped Geordi could see him, so I wouldn’t feel so freakishly alone.

  Jason also glanced at Geordi, reaching over the seat to ruffle his hair. Then he turned back to me. “I’m not leaving you. There’s still your Rousseaux friends to worry about. And if you need to get to Turkey, the boat is faster.”

  I still hadn’t told Jason I was actually going to Turkey to find the Rousseaux, but now didn’t seem like the time. “If you’re sure…”

  “Positive. To the docks!”

  Jason put the car in gear and peeled out of the space, and Eric groaned. “Tell him to go easy on the clutch!”

  I shot him a repressive look, and he glared at me. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat, muttering, “Really, really, really hate boats.”

  Geordi caught the direction of my gaze and looked curiously at Eric’s seat, then at me. Damn. I’d have to be more careful about my actions. And my words. If, God forbid, Geordi did end up in the clutches of the Dioguardis, I didn’t want him more scared than he already was. In truth, as a child, they’d treat him like royalty. He’d want for nothing, from food, clothes, and toys, to the best education money could buy. It’s what they’d expect of him as an adult that sent shudders down my spine and panic through my heart.

  We turned onto the main drag, and Jason hit the accelerator and shifted up a gear. “Nice car. Guy’s got a police scanner.” He pointed to a fancy walkie-talkie type thing on the dash.

  I’m no expert, but it looked expensive. It certainly had enough buttons and switches. Luckily, it was off, but still. Just what I needed. Either Eric was a nut-job ambulance chaser, or he had more sinister reasons for monitoring police channels. I threw him a surreptitious glare over my shoulder and he shrugged.

  “I like to stay informed.”

  I couldn’t say anything back, of course, and I faced forward, suppressing my frustration. At least it explained how he knew the Dioguardis were near. What it didn’t explain was why he cared. Or why he’d left his perfectly safe car to run to them, thereby getting himself killed.

  Jason glanced at me and frowned. �
��You okay? You’ve been acting a little…weird.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Even this late, traffic was fairly loud around us, and I thought if I kept my voice low, Geordi wouldn’t hear. I said to Jason, “Promise me something. If Nick’s family comes for Geordi, and I can’t stop them, you’ll take him. Keep him safe.”

  “Hyacinth,” Jason said calmly. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

  I felt a bubble of hysteria, because of course something already had happened. And no, Jason had not been able to prevent it. Whoever he was, I doubted he’d be much protection against Demons from the Last Circle of Hell.

  The offer was nice, though. I touched his arm, and he shot me an intense look, his eyes dark in the unlit car. Quickly I took my hand away. “Just promise me. Please?”

  He was silent for a long time, staring at the road. Finally, he nodded. “From what I’ve seen of the Dioguardi empire, it’s no place for Geordi. I’ll do anything I can to keep him safe.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling like at least one load had been lifted.

  It wasn’t until a long while later that it occurred to me to wonder at his word choice. Eric was right—everyone in France knew of the Dioguardis. But exactly how much had Jason seen of their empire? And…when?

  But by then we were at the docks, parking near the slip where Vadim’s boat was tied, and once again, immediate survival took precedence. After all, Jason could drive the boat. I couldn’t, and Eric’s apparent “hatred” of them—not to mention his ghostliness—made him an unlikely captain. I had to trust Jason at least until we made it to Marmaris. After that, it was open season.

  Geordi and Eric followed us out of the car. Geordi shouldered his own backpack and tried to look stoic as we boarded. Eric looked a bit green in the dock’s floodlights, but he avoided my gaze and took a seat near the back. Except for when he’d gotten into the car, he seemed to move around like a live person. He’d left the car through an open door, and his feet even appeared to touch the gang plank. Why couldn’t he just float everywhere?

  I pushed the thought away. What difference did it make? I’d find out eventually, when my own death became official.

  I don’t know much about boats. Vadim’s wasn’t big, maybe ten meters long, but it did have a room below deck, with a table nailed to the floor and bench seats that converted to beds when folded out. It also sported a functioning toilet and a kitchenette. Above deck was open except for a small windscreen. There was a clear vinyl top that could be hooked on if the weather turned bad. It wasn’t much, but it helped.

  Geordi ran around, exploring, while Jason went straight to the controls and began flipping switches and checking gauges. A short while later, the engine roared on. At which point, Eric leaned over the back and hurled his dinner into the harbor. I use the term “hurl” loosely, since he was dead, and nothing actually came out. But the retching was real enough, and I could see why he hated boats, if he got this sick before we even left the dock.

  Oblivious to Eric’s plight—or, for that matter, to Eric—Jason looked at me and grinned. “Your friend Vadim knew what he was doing.”

  I joined him at the wheel, sliding into the cushy passenger seat. I’d only been on the boat a few times for day jaunts, but I knew Vadim had customized it for his “business trips.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, looking at the confusing array of dials and displays.

  “This is a nice cruiser. Inboard engine with a Volvo Penta IPS joystick.” I stared at him blankly. “Never mind. Here’s the really great part.” He pointed to two identical gauges. “Hundred-liter fuel tank—that’s about fifty gallons—and a spare.”

  “Is that good?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Very good. With two tanks, we should only have to refuel once, and we’ll be there in about two days. If we go fast.”

  “Does this boat go fast?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jason said, and revved the engine.

  “Excellent,” Eric muttered, and leaned over the side again.

  Chapter Nine

  “Die (verb): To stop sinning suddenly.”

  ~Elbert Hubbard (1856-1915)

  And that, kiddos, is how I found myself traveling to Turkey with the seven-year-old heir to the Dioguardi mafia empire, my own self-proclaimed babysitter-cum-bodyguard, and a seasick dead guy with nowhere else to go. At least my life-after-death was interesting.

  Except that suddenly, I couldn’t do anything about any of it. Ever since I’d found the rock, I’d been zipping from one crisis to the next. Once Jason got us out onto open water, I went from being in charge, making—literally—life or death decisions every five minutes, to sitting on a cramped boat with nothing to do but wait. Eric sat in the back, hunched over the railing, clearly wanting to be left alone. Jason did all the driving, refusing all offers of help. And even Geordi was occupied, exploring the boat and asking Jason about all the instruments.

  It was like going from ninety to zero in seconds flat, and it gave me way too much time to think. And remember. Geordi might be excited to be on the boat, but I knew plenty was going on under the surface. When the harbor lights had winked out of sight and I was reasonably certain no seaborne Mafiosi were on our trail, I went to find him. He’d taken a seat on the boat’s starboard side, looking away from his homeland. I could totally sympathize with that.

  I sat down next to him. “Hey.”

  He didn’t respond, and for a few minutes, neither of us spoke. We watched the black waters slip by, the chug-chug of the boat’s engine the only real proof we made any progress through the dark night.

  The truth was, I still had no clue what to say to him. He’d given me a pass earlier, when he brought up Lily’s death himself. But at some point, I had to learn how to parent him. Of course, if I waited long enough, I might not have to figure it out. I shoved the thought away. Better to plan on staying permanently.

  With that in mind, I cleared my throat and tried again. “How’s it going?”

  He shrugged, staring studiously at the horizon. I glanced away to find Jason watching us. I raised my hands in a helpless gesture, but Jason jerked his head toward Geordi. His message was clear: Giving up is not an option. Tactfully, he then went back to steering the boat, and I gave an inward sigh and reached for Geordi’s head, ruffling his hair.

  “This has been a lot,” I said. He didn’t pull away, so I stroked his head, much as I would have stroked Monsieur Lebeau’s cat, who had also regularly visited the back door of my shop, until she died last year. “It’s been really upsetting, for both of us.”

  He shrugged again and all at once, I couldn’t keep the tears back. Lily would have known what to say, how to fix it. I couldn’t fix this—I couldn’t fix anything. I was just as lost and confused as Geordi. I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me what to say, what to do, how to feel.

  And then it hit me.

  I stopped stroking his head and dropped my hands to his shoulders, turning him to face me. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I said softly, looking into his eyes, which were unreadable black pools in the night. “It’s okay if you don’t know what to feel right now. It’s horrible and awful and confusing. But you don’t have to have it all figured out tonight. I don’t have it figured out yet, either. But it’s going to be okay. I’m going to make sure it’s okay, for both of us.”

  There was a pause as my words sank in, and then he nodded, a jerky, quick movement, eyes shining with tears, before I pulled him in for a fierce hug. His arms wrapped me tight and we held each other for I don’t know how long. Eventually, I let him go. I smoothed his black hair off his forehead and smiled, and he smiled back, tentatively.

  I drew a shaky breath. However, much I might prefer to forget large chunks of today, he had a right to know. “Do you have any questions for me?”

  He thought a minute, then looked at the wide-open sea. “Where are we going?”

  I exhaled. Practicalities. Those I could handle. “Turkey.”

  He faced me agai
n. “Tonight?”

  Ah. Even more practical than I’d first thought.

  There was a soft step behind us, and Jason came to sit on Geordi’s other side on the bench. “I think I can answer that for you, buddy. Thanks to your aunt’s friend, we’ve got two big fuel tanks. I’m pretty sure we can make it to Malta at least before we need gas.” He sent me a questioning look over Geordi’s head. “Unless your aunt would rather stop somewhere else?”

  Geordi glanced at me, checking my response. I thought a minute, calling up a mental map of the Mediterranean and its various islands and coastlines. If memory served, stopping on Malta would get us almost exactly halfway to Turkey. Sardinia was bigger, but also nearer to France, which might necessitate a second fuel stop later. Not only did I not want to take the time, I didn’t want to risk showing our fake ID’s more than I had to. We were now the Leclerc family, traveling abroad from our home in Paris, but Jason’s friend had essentially lifted our photos from our old passports and pasted them, seals and all, into new documents. If anyone looked too closely, we wouldn’t pass muster.

  As if reading my mind, Jason said, “There are a few other ports, but one advantage to Malta is it’s smaller, maybe not as…stringent.” He shifted on the seat. “Or there’s Sicily…?”

  My eyebrows shot up. He couldn’t be serious—take Geordi to Sicily, straight into Dioguardi Central? I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Why, Tata?” Geordi asked, looking anxiously from one to the other of us.

  “Good question,” I said, glaring at Jason. “Why? Why would you suggest such a thing?”

  He shrugged and glanced up at the stars. Maybe he was checking our course. Or avoiding my gaze. After a moment he said, “Not everyone in Sicily is…unsympathetic.”

  I waited, but he didn’t elaborate, and I wondered again what his connection to all this was. It had to be more than just fearing the Dioguardis would kill him, to make him give up everything to tag along with me. But with Geordi between us, I couldn’t ask.

  When I didn’t respond he met my gaze again, his expression unreadable. “Or there’s Tunisia. The Leclercs are French, so like Turkey, we wouldn’t need visas.”