by Judith Post
"There's a key under a block of wood I put there to support the board."
Loralei relayed the information, and Roy gave a cry of joy.
"Tell him to go to my post office box. His name's on it, too."
"Do you know what I'll find?" Roy asked.
"Twelve thousand dollars," Chantel said. "I was three short for the car I wanted."
When Loralei told him, Roy grabbed his cousin's hand and they practically ran down the stairs.
Chantel sagged, looking defeated. "Damn it, I was so close. Another two months, and I'd have been driving my dream car. Then I was going to start saving for the kids' college funds."
The toddler squirmed in Shade's arms, and he lowered her to the ground. She wobbled toward her mother. "I havta give it to you," he told Chantel. "You did a pretty decent thing. Now you and your kids can go Home."
"Can we visit Loralei first?" the ten-year-old asked.
Chantel frowned. "Leave it alone, babe."
"Can we see her cottage in the woods?"
Death looked at Loralei, surprised. "You told them about that?"
"What if she did?" Shade said. "So what?"
The girl took a step back, but persisted. "I want a cottage. Will we get one when we go Home?"
Shade cussed under his breath. "It doesn't always work that way, kid. Cottages are for workers who collect the dead."
"Then can we have a log cabin? Mom's always wanted one of those."
Shade stared. "Do I look like Santa Claus? What else do you want?"
A blush rose up the girl's neck to her hairline. She shifted from one foot to the next. "I want a family."
"You want lots of things. We all do." Shade glanced at Chantel uncertainly. "What about you? Do you want something? Or are you ready to go Home?"
Chantel locked gazes with Shade, studied him a long time, then she jutted her hip in her brave woman pose. "I'm ready to make you an offer."
"Really? And what would that be?"
She rubbed her arms nervously. "Death has a family. Why shouldn't you have one, too?"
"Why would I want that?" But there was a question in his voice that made Loralei think he'd considered the idea.
"Why wouldn't you?" Chantel forced a smile. "Some men like a little spice in their lives."
Shade hissed out a quick breath. "Like you?"
"And three kids underfoot."
Shade looked to Death for advice, but Death was clearly considering her offer. He looked to Loralei. "Loralei, talk some sense into him."
"Into me?" Shade stared. "You think this bargain might work?"
Chantel bit her bottom lip. "If we haven't won you over in three months, we'll go Home without a whimper. Promise."
If Shade could look more menacing, he managed it. "No, we do this or we don't. We commit, or it's not worth it." He tried to cross his arms. Couldn't. The boy gripped his hand and dangled from him like a spider plant.
Death glanced at Loralei and she gave a small nod. "You can stay with us until you have a place of your own," he said.
Shade's gaze flicked from one of them to the next. He settled on Chantel's three kids. "Are you all right with this? You haven't seen Home. You don't know what you're missing. "
The boy rested his head on Shade's shoulder, his arms around Shade's neck. "You'll like me, won't you? If I try to be good?"
Shade swallowed hard. "You're already good, and I already like you."
Chantel scrubbed at her eyes. "It's settled, then. We're yours."
Shade licked his lips, as though he were tasting those words. "You're mine. All mine."
Chantel's hand went to her heart. She rubbed her breastbone. "That's never mattered to anyone before."
"It matters to me." Shade reached for the older girl, and she stepped into his hug. Not wanting to be left out, Chantel went to snuggle against him.
A lump caught in Loralei's throat. Chantel and her kids looked like they belonged there, and they all looked happy.
Death grinned. "Well, then, everything's done here. It's time for me to walk Loralei to her hotel. If no one needs me, I'll stay with her tonight."
"You can do that?" Chantel gaped.
"Most living can't see me unless it's close to their time. I'll still be in this form, but at least we can visit."
They left the little family to themselves. When they walked out of the burned building, a breeze gusted. Dark clouds scuttled across the sky. Thankfully, the temperatures had dropped.
"Is it supposed to rain?" Loralei asked.
"Maybe tomorrow. A cold front's moving in."
"Will that make it so the arsonist can't work for a while?"
Death shook his head. "Even rain can't stop fires started in utility rooms or closets."
They didn't talk as they strolled around town. Loralei forgot occasionally and pointed something out to Death. Then people gave her odd looks. She settled into a comfortable silence beside him. They could always talk once they reached her hotel room.
She had her hand out, snuggly held in Death's, when they turned the last corner and Loralei stopped so abruptly, she jerked Death to a halt beside her.
He looked at her. "What?"
"The truck." She nodded toward a white, panel truck with plumbing logos on its sides and back. It was parked a few feet from the hotel's entrance.
Death tugged her forward, walking quickly. "He must be inside somewhere. Let's see if we can find him."
They were hurrying toward the double doors that led to the foyer when the driver, dressed in his customary collared shirt and baseball cap, both sporting plumbing logos, strode outside. He and Loralei squared off to stare at each other for a minute.
How could anyone be so sick? So cruel? she wondered.
Then he grinned.
Loralei's heart stopped. Goosebumps prickled her skin. She'd never seen such a creepy challenge in her life. It was as though he could already see her body engulfed in flames—and he enjoyed it.
"This is him!" she told Death. "We have to stop him!"
The man looked up and down the street. "No one's here, lady. It's just you and me." His lips curved higher in his round face—a pumpkin's maniacal smile. "I noticed you were staying here. Thought I'd stop by to make your visit more enjoyable." He tipped his hat and sauntered to his truck.
"No, you can't leave!" What could she do? Loralei thought about running after him, gripping his arm and screaming for help, but what could she prove? Nothing. She turned to Death.
He shook his head. "I'll call Shade. We'll find whatever device he used, and we'll turn it over to the police. Maybe they'll find fingerprints on it. With the description of the man and the truck, they should be able to press charges."
Loralei took a deep breath. It felt wrong, watching the man drive away, but Death yanked her into the hotel lobby. Once in her room, he called Shade, and then he called whoever he worked with on the police force.
Loralei watched him with interest. "How can a cop see or hear you? How does that work?"
He shrugged. "In most cities, a cop or two has been close enough to death, I've come for them, or someone they know. That's why you could see me, remember? I came for your mother. You were used to death and spirits, didn't block me out."
She'd never thought about that, never realized that when death became too common in a person's life, seeing the actual entity became easier. That's why Death usually took such care about not being seen in public. He only made exceptions this time because he was worried about her.
"So what do we do now?" she asked.
"We wait for them in the lobby."
The wait wasn't long. Shade joined them within minutes, and a few policemen showed up in less than ten minutes.
"You talk to them," Death told Loralei. "Then everyone can work together."
One of the cops introduced himself. "What can you tell us?"
Loralei explained their suspicions.
The cop nodded. "We'll start in the basement. If the guy wore a plumber's outfit, I'd guess he
planted his equipment down there. I'll have my men ask around."
They all went down the stairs together. The basement proved pretty standard for an old building. One side of the cement space served as a laundry room with bins full of dirty sheets and towels, filling an entire wall. Workers came and went in that area, too busy for a plumber to practice any stealth.
The other side of the area held an enormous furnace with giant, metal arms stretching across the wood ceiling. Water heaters and equipment were lit by bare light bulbs dangling overhead.
Loralei wrinkled her nose. A musty smell permeated the air. Condensation dripped from a water pipe somewhere, plunking onto the cement floor.
"Spread out," the cop said. "It should be here somewhere."
They each took a different section to search. Loralei watched men stand on chairs to flash light beams up and down ductwork. She tried to peer in small spaces between equipment and crates of wine and beer.
Shade called when he found the homemade set-up, taped on top of a thick, support beam. A good hiding spot, out of direct view, and nestled between a heavy beam and the oak floor above it—all old wood, perfect to start a fire.
The cop's white teeth gleamed when he smiled. "Looks like our boy will be disappointed tonight."
The team took over. Loralei, Shade, and Death went up to her room. An hour later, the cop knocked on the door.
"We took the whole thing apart, and we're taking it to the lab," he said. "Hopefully, we'll find some traces of evidence that will pin it on your driver."
"You're not arresting him?" Loralei asked.
"Can't. Don't know where he is. His license was stolen. He probably switches them like he does his logos. He'll be lying low until it's time to watch his handiwork tonight."
Loralei rubbed her arms. "And when nothing happens?"
The cop shook his head. "He'll know he was made. He might disappear for a while."
"But he's not usual, is he?" Death asked. "Most arsonists don't light one fire after another, this close together?"
The cop grimaced. "The truth is, unless someone spots him, there's not much else we can do right now. We put out an APB and description, but I'm not hoping for much."
Death nodded. "It was only luck we saw him this time."
The cop looked at Loralei. "He's taken a special interest in you. I'd guess he chose this hotel because he followed you here, knew you were in it."
She reached for Death's hand. "He knows I saw him at the apartment building and in the alley behind the hardware store."
"This isn't just about setting fires anymore," the man said. "This guy is warped. It's become personal."
After the cops left, Death turned to Shade. "I'm not leaving Loralei. If you want to go back to Chantel and the kids, go ahead."
Shade started for the door, then stopped. "If the nut case goes after Loralei, what can you do about it?"
"Plenty." Death flickered to a solid form for an instant, then back to a translucent Grim Reaper. "She's mine. I can bend the rules to keep her safe. If you take Chantel and her kids to make them yours, you'll have the same options."
"There's no if." A sappy expression crossed Shade's face, and Loralei smiled. "I'm happy for you," she said.
Shade masked his emotions quickly. "We'll see how it goes. That woman's a lot to handle."
"Exactly what you need," Death said.
Shade grinned before he left. "Call me if you need me."
Once she and Death were alone once more, Loralei glanced at her watch. "I hate to say it, but I'm starving. I haven't had anything to eat since I had the bagel this morning."
Death pushed to his feet. "Sorry, I forget. I only eat for pleasure. Let's get you something."
"Is it safe to go out and walk around?"
"Nothing's supposed to happen until everyone's asleep. That's when our guy will be somewhere, watching. I think we're okay now."
"But what if he saw the police at the hotel?"
"Even better, if he's smart, he's hiding, not taking any chances. He'll want to watch the flames tonight."
It didn't sound like a sure thing to Loralei, but she couldn't stay in her hotel room forever, and Death was with her, so they set off to find some place to eat. They ended up in a tiny booth at a pizza restaurant. Loralei faced the back wall, almost hidden from others' views by the tall seat. Death sat across from her, invisible to their fellow diners.
Death looked around. "I like this place. It feels like Italy."
"Have you been to Italy?" As soon as she asked it, Loralei shook her head. Of course, he'd been there. He traveled the entire globe to escort spirits Home.
He glanced at the red-and-white, checked, table cloths and the stuccoed walls. He inhaled the aroma of tomatoes, herbs, and dough. "I'd love to take you there sometime."
"Do you ever get days off? Can you stay mortal for a while to travel?"
"It's tricky." He watched her pour herself a glass of wine. "My assistants can handle everything if nothing big happens, but there are never any guarantees."
"Are all of your assistants like Shade?"
Death nodded.
She was about to ask how many assistants he had when a waiter flew out the kitchen door. She sipped her wine instead. Nothing like making an impression by talking to yourself. The question could wait.
Death smiled. "When this is over, I'd like to take a few days off to stay at our cottage, to spend time enjoying each other."
A pleasant tingle frizzed through her veins. She could almost feel Death's hands caress her skin, his lips pressing against hers. She smiled, too. "I'd like that."
Usually, she didn't mind his absences. It was intrinsic to who he was. Their time together more than made up for their time apart, but it had been a while since they'd simply been able to savor their time together. Sharing this supper was proving an intimate treat.
When Loralei finished her meal, they strolled up and down streets, lingering at the city park with its riot of flowers, until the sun lowered in the sky and it was time to return to their room.
Loralei sagged onto the double bed. She was more tired than she realized.
"Close your eyes for a while," Death told her. "I'll wake you if anything happens."
She didn't mean to sleep. She thought she'd just relax for half an hour, but she woke at 1:30 in the morning, feeling disoriented. Death stood at the window, looking down at the street.
"Is he there?" she asked.
"He's in the shadows, halfway down the alley across the street. He's starting to pace. He knows something's wrong."
"Have you called your friend on the police force?"
"He's on his way." Death leaned forward, watching more closely. "He and his team just got here."
Loralei went to the window, too. Four cops entered the back end of the alley as four more started down this end. The man saw them and began to melt into the ground. Loralei rubbed her eyes. "How's he doing that?" She gripped the window frame, straining against the glass to see better.
The man was only visible from the waist up now.
Death pointed. "See the metal, double doors? He opened them, and he's taking the freight elevator to the tunnels that run below street level for delivery to businesses and restaurants."
Loralei watched him disappear completely, and then the police followed him, taking the stairs and pulling the doors shut behind them. "How far do the tunnels go?"
"I've never used them. I don't know."
An hour later, someone knocked on their door. One look at the cop's face told them he hadn't captured their man.
This time, when Loralei slept, she tossed and turned. She dreamt of flames bursting from school buildings, from businesses full of workers, even from hospitals. Death finally woke her at 8:00. He sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're not going to like this, but Shade and I are finished here. If we want to settle Chantel and her kids on our property, we need to return to the cottage. I don't know how much longer we have before we'r
e needed again."
Loralei sighed. "We didn't catch him."
"I know, but we've helped the police. They know whom to look for now. It's mortal business. We've done all we can."
"Chris is going to be disappointed."
"We tried," Death said. "That's all anyone can do."
She nodded glumly. She knew he was right, but the whole thing felt unfinished. She packed the few things she'd brought, got ready, and they left the hotel. They were walking toward the burned-out apartment building when a plump man rushed out of a coffee shop and tossed the contents of a large, steirofoam cup at her. Loralei could smell the contents before they hit her—gasoline. He lit a match and tossed that next, but Death had stepped between her and the liquid. For one instant, he solidified as the Grim Reaper. The gas hit the fabric of his black robe, followed by the match. Death burst into flames, and the man gaped. Then, with one sweep of Death's scythe, the flames torched along its handle, down its blade, and leapt to her assailant.
The man hit at the blaze, trying to put it out. Then he ran in panic before he finally tried to drop and roll. Too late. Screams rent the air. He was one, giant torch. People gathered up and down the street, horrified, as they watched him burn.
The stench filled Loralei's nostrils. Revolting. The agonized screams tugged at her nerves. The whimpers brought tears. When he was little more than charred flesh, pulled into a fetal position, Death called his cop friend and explained what had happened.
Loralei turned her back on the scene, but Death gave a satisfied nod. "Karma."
They waited until the cops arrived and then went to fetch Shade. Shade and Chantel seemed satisfied with the arsonist's death.
"He liked fire. He became one with it," Shade said. He took Chantel's hand, and the kids formed a chain. They faded from view and traveled back to the cottage.
Death stayed behind with Loralei. "I'll ride with you for the trip back."
She was grateful. Even music wouldn't calm her.
"This whole episode needs a happy ending," he told her.
"Will there be one?"
He smiled. "Shade found a family. That works for me." But he had a smug look that made Loralei wonder.
They didn't talk much on the drive home. Some things are best left unsaid. Death's presence, alone, was enough to help soothe away some of Loralei's horror. When she reached the gravel drive that led to their cottage, she pulled to the side of the road and stretched to hug him.