by Judith Post
a constant source of joy
Loralei smiled when she saw Shade coming up the long drive that led to her stone cottage. Death had warned her that his assistant would arrive soon. The two men were meeting here before they went to a new job. Not that warning was the right word. She and the kids looked forward to Shade's visits.
Shade crossed the front porch, and Loralei opened the door to greet him. As he passed the threshold to enter the house, he shifted from his usual form—a hulking, dark shadow—to his mortal form—tall, bulky, and dark, with ebony hair and skin, and coal-black eyes. Muscles bulged under his jeans and white, T-shirt—the same outfit Death wore when he entered this house.
Shade's fierce scowl disappeared when Tammy and Chris swarmed him. Tammy gripped his hand, tugging him to Death's easy chair.
"How long can you stay?" Tammy plopped on the arm of his chair. "Can you eat supper with us? It's hot outside. Loralei made lemonade. Want some?"
He laughed and shook his head. "No time. Death will be here soon. But man, do I love coming here. It's like an oasis for the soul."
"There's always enough time for lemonade." Loralei went to fetch him some.
Shade settled in the chair and stretched his long legs in front of him, Ebony's invitation to jump on his lap. The cat didn't take to just anyone, and Shade knew it. When Loralei returned with his drink, his gaze flicked over her long, wavy, black hair and willowy figure, then slid to the kids and the cozy, open space with its kitchen, dining, and hearth room combined. "Death's a damned, lucky bastard, but he knows that."
"Is Scythe coming here to meet you?" Tammy asked. The young ghost refused to call Scythe by his true name—Death. She and Chris had taken to calling his assistant Raleigh, a name Shade had chosen from a mortal he'd especially liked. Since she and Death had adopted them, and they'd moved here, on this property, the young ghosts had reverted to their mortal forms, too.
Shade nodded. "That's the plan. We've had some particularly awkward pickups lately."
His answer piqued Chris's interest. The macabre intrigued most thirteen-year-olds. Ghosts were no exception. "Awkward, how?"
Loralei slanted the boy a look. Chris already knew that most ghosts stayed, trapped on earth, when their deaths were violent or sudden. Most overcame their shock and sought the Light, but it proved harder for some. That's when Death, Shade, or she tried to help them. She'd seen spirits for as long as she could remember, but it wasn't until she met Death that she'd reached her full potential to ease them Home…or call them back.
Exasperated, Chris put his hands on his hips. "You can quit treating me like a two-year-old. I've been dead since the late 1800s. I've seen plenty."
He had a point. Loralei forgot sometimes that Chris, in actuality, was much older than she. He still looked young and innocent, dressed in his dark breeches and checkered, button-down shirt—the outfit he'd died in.
Tammy stayed in the background, hoping Loralei would overlook her, so she could listen in. She'd died when she was only ten, and that had been recently, but even at ten, she was no innocent, thanks to her mother's lifestyle. Too much booze. Too many men.
"I haven't forgotten you're there," Loralei said. The girl squared her shoulders, ready to argue, but Loralei cut her off. "Shade can explain. He's seen the ghosts. I haven't."
Both kids hovered closer, crowding around Shade.
He wasn't one to mince words. "Someone, in a city near here, is setting fire to apartment buildings while people sleep. Some folks die from smoke inhalation. Some die, trying to jump out of high windows to escape. And some burn to death."
Tammy's hands went to her mouth. Chris moved toward her, ready to offer comfort, his hands curved into fists.
Loralei shook her head. "It's sad, isn't it?"
"What a coward!" Eyes blazing, Chris turned to Shade. "What are you and Scythe going to do about it?"
Loralei studied him, surprised. Her young ghost had a strong sense of right and wrong, but he was usually low-key. She'd rarely seen him so bothered.
Shade didn't answer. He cocked his head to listen. Ravens flew over the cottage and landed in the trees at the back of the property, creating a ruckus. Death would be here soon. Satisfied, Shade returned his attention to Chris. "We're not crime fighters, kid. Scythe and I collect spirits. We take them Home."
Chris whirled to Loralei. "You can help catch killers. You've helped people before."
The front door swung open and Death filled the frame. His long, black cloak swished on the floorboards of the porch as he entered the house. In a blink, her tall, handsome lover—clad in the usual jeans and T-shirt—strode toward her.
Shade glanced at his grim expression. "Another one?"
Death nodded.
"How many?"
"Thirty-eight." Death went to Loralei. "All ages."
"You have to stop him!" Chris trembled, he was so upset.
"Stop who?" Death's dark gaze rested on the boy. Loralei knew how much the kids meant to him. He'd never had a home, a family before. Theirs might be unusual, but it met each of their needs.
"People don't stand a chance against a sneak like that," Chris said. "He's probably not even there when the fire really gets going."
"He's there all right, somewhere, watching." Death pulled Loralei close, wrapping his arm around her waist. He relaxed slightly when their bodies touched. "Arsonists love their work. They wouldn't miss seeing it. The police will scan the crowds, look for a familiar face."
"A lot more people will die first." Chris jammed his hands in his pockets. He looked out the back windows, letting his gaze skim the yard and settle on the paddock at the back of the property and the old horse, Chestnut. Loralei and Death had bought the horse for him when a nearby stable closed. Chris had grown up, working in the barn or his father's fields. He still wandered out to brush Chestnut whenever he needed to quiet himself.
Death raised a dark eyebrow. "This is personal, isn't it?"
Loralei frowned. She knew how Chris died. He'd been working with a horse when a bee stung it. The mare had kicked him in the head—instant death. That, in itself, was bad enough. The fact that no one, not even his mother, had really mourned him held him here. He'd felt as though he had unfinished business—that a tear shed in private might send him on his way—but ghosts fade with time, and his family had thought of him less and less instead of more.
Chris looked down, embarrassed. He didn't like to talk about his past. "One time, my pa took me to town to help him load the wagon. Boys had caught a stray dog and tied rags to its tail, then set them on fire. The harder the dog ran, the faster the fire burned. I had to throw myself on it to put the flames out. The boys laughed at both of us. When my pa came to fetch me, I asked if we could keep the dog. He laughed at me, too, then whacked me for ruining my shirt."
Shade let out a sigh. "Mortals can be assholes."
Death spoke through tight lips. "I don't know how we could help catch this killer. Loralei can use her crystal ball to call back spirits who've been murdered, but I've talked to these ghosts. None of them have seen anyone or anything. They can't help us. They go to bed and the smoke or fire claims them."
"There has to be something!" Chris returned to Tammy's side, this time for her support. The two made quite the team. The girl's expression turned fierce. If Chris needed help, she'd wade through whatever was in his way.
Shade watched their exchange with interest. He finally looked at Death. "We're not really meant to interfere in mortal affairs."
"He's done it before," Chris said.
"Down, boy. I was just sayin'…." Shade shrugged. "Are there any guidelines? Rules?"
Death's gaze went to the windows and the view of the yard. The flower beds drooped a little in the heat. Ripe tomatoes clung to thick vines. Squash spilled over their raised beds, and herbs ran riot. "It's not forbidden. It's just not why I was sent here."
There'd been no need for an angel of Death until Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden. The job
had been given to him, and he'd faithfully fulfilled it from that time forward.
Chris turned to Loralei. "Can you help?"
"How? You've seen me work my crystal ball. I can force spirits to return here to answer questions when family members need closure, but that would be pointless if the spirits have no answers themselves."
Chris huffed in frustration. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length, soft-brown hair. Tammy's chin shot up. "You have powers. Help him," she told them.
Death went to kneel in front of Chris, so that he was eye level with the boy. "Shade and I will do everything we can to find this killer, but there's no guarantee we'll succeed."
Chris's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry. I've been…."
Death interrupted him. "This matters to you. I understand."
Chris blinked. Kindness was still new to him.
Death stood and his tone grew businesslike. "Shade and I have lots of spirits who need help. I'd like Loralei to accompany us. If she works with us, we'll have spare time to ask more questions. Will you two be all right on your own here?"
Tammy's hands went to her hips. "I'll take good care of Chris. We were on our own until we met you, remember? No problem."
Chris rolled his eyes, but he knew better than to argue with Tammy.
"Okay then." Death gave a quick nod. "Shade and I will go ahead. Loralei can drive to the city to meet us." He wrote down an address and gave it to her. "You'll need to find a decent hotel close by, too. I wish I could stay to accompany you."
"I'll manage." As a rule, Loralei was a homebody, but when galleries displayed her work, she was expected to attend. That's why she'd switched her focus from selling paintings to book covers. She knew how to make hotel reservations, though, and how to mix and mingle when necessary.
A smile tugged at Death's lips. "Are you packing anything glamorous?"
"To go with your Grim Reaper, basic black?" Once off this property, Death would revert to his work form once more.
Shade chuckled, and Death tossed a dirty look his way. "She has you there, man."
"Like you'll look any better. Come on. We've got work to do." Death and Shade walked out the door and returned to a skeleton in a long, black robe and a menacing shadow—both invisible to most mortals. As they walked down the winding, gravel drive, their shapes faded as they transported to the city.
Loralei opened her laptop and searched for hotels. That done, she went upstairs to pack. Ebony padded behind her, unhappy at the sight of the carry case. She stroked his sleek fur. "How many times do I leave you? Hardly ever. And you have Tammy and Chris. They'll remember to feed you."
He was unimpressed, but then again, Ebony had awfully high standards on how he thought the house should be run. Loralei laughed at him. "You'll live. I'll be back as soon as I can."
* * *
It had been a few months since she'd made the drive to the city. She passed a recently completed addition on the east side. Its houses circled a manmade pond, and a golf course stretched behind it. Too many people, too crowded together. A shopping mall sprawled between that and the suburbs. Things became more compact the longer she drove until she reached the small, older hotel where she'd be staying. She checked in and decided to walk the few blocks to the apartment building where Death and Shade were working. The heat and humidity leeched her energy, making her feel limp, before she reached it.
She stopped at the sight before her. The bricks were blackened at every door and window. Jagged glass, covered with soot and smears, was all that remained of windows, their wooden trim, charred and buckled. A hole gaped in the roof. Yellow, police tape circled the area.
Death worked with local police in each place he went. He'd gotten Loralei permission to enter the building. She stooped to duck under the tape, and a panel truck slowed to park across the street. The driver removed his sunglasses to see her better. Loralei tried to look official, as though she had a reason for being there. Fire experts could dress in jeans and gym shoes. Her collared, T-shirt looked more businesslike than her usual V-necks.
The driver stared. Chubby, with a round face and an odd, mocking smile, he reminded her of a clown. Clowns had always scared her. He made Loralei uncomfortable enough, she glanced at his white truck. Logos for a moving company scrawled across the truck's sides and back. The man's shirt and baseball cap had the same logos. She raised an eyebrow. Was he moving furniture or not?
He shook his head in disgust and moved on. In his mind, she was probably some sick citizen, trying to sneak a peek at a disaster.
She pushed him out of her mind and climbed the steps to the third floor, where Death had texted her to meet him. She smiled at that—a Grim Reaper with a cell phone. But times change, and progress makes everything easier.
"Good, you made it." Death was in a two-bedroom apartment with two, twenty-something, young men who looked bewildered. "They still don't believe they're dead," he explained. "It happened too fast. I'm working with them. It shouldn't take long. Shade could use you in apartment 3D. He's having some difficulties there."
She nodded, her thick ponytail snagging her collar. She usually wore her black hair down and loose, but she was worried that this place would be dirty and grimy. It was. She flicked her ponytail free and went to find Shade.
He stood across the room from a young, Hispanic woman and her three, ghost children. The older girl looked to be about Tammy's age, the boy six or seven, and the younger girl, a toddler. The kids clung to their mother's legs.
"I'm not leaving here," the woman insisted. "Roy will be back for us. He'll hear what happened, and he'll come back."
"You told me Roy left you." Shade's voice was calm, quiet.
"He was angry. We fought, but he'll come back."
"To what?" Shade motioned to the water-logged carpet, charred remains of furniture, and blackened walls.
The woman straightened her shoulders. She was petite with an hour-glass figure. "To us."
"How long has he been gone?"
She shifted from one foot to the other. Her long, dark hair framed a heart-shaped face. "Four months, but he always comes back."
Shade shrugged huge shoulders. "How do you make ends meet while he's gone?"
She motioned toward a melted mass of technology, what once had been a computer. "I type medical transcripts. I work from home."
"You can earn a living that way?"
She grimaced. "I earn more money than Roy does. I'm fast and efficient."
Sirens blared and flashing lights zoomed down the street below them. The lights bounced along the smoke-smudged walls, flashing through everyone but Loralei.
"And what do you hope to do with Roy now that you're dead?" Shade asked.
The woman stared at him.
"If he wouldn't stay with you while you were alive, why would he stay now that you're gone? Because you are gone. You just don't want to deal with it."
The ten-year-old girl, thin with dirty-blond hair, started crying. Must take after her father. Her mother wrapped an arm around her and glared at Shade. "Stop. You're scaring her."
"She'll never have another care in the world if you go to the Light," Shade said.
The woman lifted her chin. "After I see Roy."
Shade sighed and glanced at Loralei. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her."
The woman frowned. "You look like a real person."
"I am a person." Loralei smiled, trying to ease her fear. "Even if Roy comes, he won't be able to see you. No one can but me. I've seen ghosts since I was little."
"How many have you seen?"
"Hundreds. Most of them stay here because they're frightened or confused. Once they go to the Light, they're happy."
The mother crossed her arms over her chest. "There's plenty of time for that, but I can't leave without saying goodbye to Roy."
Loralei knew a losing battle when she heard one. After all, she lived with Tammy. She wondered who'd win in a battle between the two of them. Not her, that's for sure. She nodded and rea
ched for her cell phone. "Do you have Roy's number?"
The woman glanced at a warped, rectangle of metal. "It's in there."
"He has to have a last name. We'll start with that. And what's your name, so I can tell him who died?"
"Chantel. Just tell him that Chantel and his three babies died in a fire."
Loralei nodded and dialed directory assistance. Soon, she dialed Roy. The conversation was short and not very promising.
"She's dead?" There was a long pause while he processed that. "All of them gone? You don't expect me to cover the funerals, right? She has insurance for that. And savings. She was socking money away for a car."
Loralei gripped her phone more tightly. "The children are yours, right?"
"What are you getting at? If you need money to bury them, I don't have any."
"I just wanted to inform you of their deaths."
"Hey, thanks." He covered the receiver with his hand, muffling voices as he answered someone's questions. When he returned, his tone was friendlier. "You know what? I can get there some time tomorrow. Might not be till late afternoon. I have a party to go to tonight. You know how that goes. I'll be out late."
Loralei liked Roy less and less. She glanced at Chantel. She knew the ghost could hear their conversation, but the woman didn't seem surprised by Roy's reaction.
"I'll be at my hotel, attending to things, until two in the afternoon. I hope to see you by then."
Roy laughed. "I get it. You have other things to do, too. I'll be there at 1:00."
Loralei flipped her phone shut. She bit her bottom lip, better to keep her thoughts to herself.
Chantel's shoulders relaxed. The woman looked relieved. "Good, we can see him one last time. Then I'll do whatever you say. We'll leave here."
Shade shook his head. "Whatever. He seems like a waste of time to me."
"You don't know him."
"I've met a thousand of his kind before. I could miss one more." Shade looked around the charred room. "So what now? You're all going to settle in and get comfortable while you wait?"
Chantel followed his gaze. "I've stayed in worse places, but I always made sure my kids had a decent home…until this."