Smitten With Death

by Sharon Saracino

  Frankly, not killing myself was my top priority, but that’s just me.

  “Um, okay then…here I go.” I scooted closer to the edge and bit my lip, shooting a furtive look at Granny and half hoping she had a few more kernels of wisdom to impart.

  “Have fun, dear.” She turned her attention, and her freaky head, back to the chaos on the screen and shoved another handful of gray chips in her mouth, chomping happily, and effectively dismissing me.

  All righty then. I was pretty sure fun wasn’t on the menu, but it was nice of her to send me off on an optimistic note.

  Why was I doing this again?

  Oh yeah, broad shoulders, great ass, promise of a date, Zombie King, saving the world. Check. I took a deep breath, swallowed a scream, and dropped into nothingness.

  Which lasted about ten seconds before my feet hit a solid surface and I landed like a ton of bricks, smack on my tailbone.

  Yes, it hurt like hell.

  I continued my southerly journey in a spiraling downward slide that reminded me of the Drop of Doom at Feel the Wave Waterpark, minus the water. And the middle-aged men parading around in manties. Trust me, even working your eyes over with a cheese grater doesn’t erase that image.

  Remember when I said I was afraid of heights?

  Perhaps this would be a good time to clarify. It’s not the actual heights that bother me as much as the falling. Okay, maybe not the falling itself which, let’s be honest, is relatively painless. The real problem is that sudden stop at the bottom. I always suspected it would be a real bitch. I discovered I was absolutely right, when instead of a gently lapping pool of chlorine scented, kiddie pee-warmed water, this particular Drop of Doom spit me out flat on my back into a clearing of hard-packed earth, littered with very large rocks. Well, at least it wasn’t gray.

  Um…freakin’ ouch.

  I probably could have lounged there for hours staring at the swirling red sky and determining whether I was dead or alive with my mother’s fugly necklace scalding a brand into my chest indicating a portal was nearby, except for two things. First, my mother’s fugly necklace was scalding a brand into my chest indicating a portal was nearby, and second, I detected a low growl which sounded much too close for comfort emanating from the trees surrounding the clearing. Not that comfort was currently a possibility on any level, but as Hell was a whole new travel destination, and I hadn’t thought to check the brochure, I had no idea who or what I might run into while waiting for the Grim Reaper to saunter by on his nature walk.

  Keeping my attention firmly fixed on the trees, I dragged myself backwards to the rock face from which I’d been ejected, and feeling like twelve miles of bad road, clawed my way to my feet. Then I cleverly pressed my back to the cliff to ensure nothing could sneak up behind me. Okay, maybe at the moment, it was less about intelligent strategy and more about avoiding the supine shuffle. Being flat on one’s back does put a girl at such a disadvantage.

  The low growls increased in volume, and the bushes near the edge of the clearing rustled ominously. Whoever or whatever was out there was getting closer. I sucked in a shaky breath, gasping as a sharp, burning pain in my side hinted at a well-bruised rib at the very least. Yes, clearly I was still discovering my supernatural superhero abilities.

  It’s all about trial and error, people.

  Still, I was pretty sure Wonder Woman never had to deal with any of this crap. With shaking fingers, I tugged my fugly necklace out of my shirt to prevent toasted ta-tas, and quickly zipped up my jacket.

  As I continued to stare and shake, a long black snout topped by two intense red eyes broke from the cover of the underbrush, and a shaggy, black wolf-like creature the size of a small pony slinked across the clearing in my direction. I slowly released the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding and straightened, carefully moving away from the wall.

  “Holy Mother of Pearl, Kane! You scared the bejesus out of me.”

  The animal offered no hint of recognition and simply continued its stealthy approach. I swallowed a brief flash of terror. He was still in there somewhere, right? I mean, he’d found and rescued me in his animal form once, so he had to be capable of rational thought. Sure, I expected him to be pissed I was here, but he wouldn’t tear my throat out at this stage of our relationship, would he? Of course, he very well might want to frighten a decade off my life if he thought it would teach me a lesson.

  Refusing to give him the upper hand, I leaned back against the wall crossing one ankle over the other and shoving my hands in my pockets, assuming the most nonchalant pose I could manage given my terror, multiple bruises, and possible broken bones. The Hellhound wasn’t nearly as large as I remembered, though granted I hadn’t exactly been lucid when I’d last encountered him. The animal was within a foot of me when his snout came up and he swung his furry head from side to side as he scented the air before resuming his advance. Suddenly he lunged forward, rising up on his hindquarters and planting a softball-sized paw against each of my shoulders, pinning me to the wall. His hot, moist breath fanned my face and ruffled my hair. It smelled like ass. Not that I make a habit of sniffing ass for comparison, but there was nothing wrong with my imagination.

  “Morgan, I have two words for you. Oral hygiene. Now be a good boy and get down. I realize you are simultaneously impressed and annoyed at my awesome escape skills, but I’m here now so what say you shift back so we can talk about it?”

  As though I hadn’t spoken, the animal simply continued to stare. Wait a minute, hadn’t Morgan’s eyes been their usual appealing green even when he’d been in Hellhound form? Oh, damn, they had! And this furry monster had red eyes. I had a heartbeat and a half to realize I might be in trouble before he buried his nose in my neck and then…

  “You scurvy bastard! Stop humping my freakin’ leg before I plant my knee right in your Cap’n Crunchballs!”

  Chapter 16

  I suppose this romantic little interlude may have continued indefinitely, if a tree limb hadn’t come out of nowhere and caught the rutting hound right in the back of the skull. His head came up with a snarl, and he bared a mouthful of teeth dripping with saliva and a few other things I didn’t care to examine too closely.

  May I remind you of his desperate need for oral hygiene?

  Seconds later, he was torn away from me by the scruff of his neck and flung across the clearing. He bounced off a tree with pained yelp and rolled to his feet, sides heaving. Shaking his head as though to clear it, he aimed a malevolent glare in my direction, and slinked off into the woods.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” roared Morgan Kane who stood not two feet away with his hands fisted at his sides and his nostrils flared like an enraged bull. He wasn’t nearly as impressed with my awesome escape skills as I’d hoped. In fact, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t even a tiny bit happy to see me. Oh well, at least I didn’t have to worry about him wanting to hump my leg, or any other part of me, any time soon.

  Can we spell peeved, boys and girls?

  “You don’t have to shout. I’m standing right here,” I snapped, planting my fists on my hips and stepping toward him with an arrogant toss of my head that was purely for show. Seeing his flushed face, I began to have second thoughts about leaving the cozy confines of Granny-Apple-Head’s water closet. It suddenly dawned on me that he was six and a half feet of solidly muscled Hellhound Grim Reaper, and he was royally pissed. At me. And we were alone. In Hell. I’d just seen him toss a three-hundred pound animal ten feet in the air. With one hand. Let’s face it, he could snap me like a twig should he feel so inclined. I wondered if I would ever reach a point in my life where I didn’t end up in a situation preceded by the conviction that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

  “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if I didn’t come along when I did?” He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers biting painfully into my flesh, and shook me to emphasize every word. “Do you?”

  “Well, clearly I would have had to trash my awesome ne
w leather pants,” I choked out. “Because, you know…ewwww.”

  Whatever he’d been about to say next seemed to stick in his throat as he held me at arm’s length and regarded me with an incredulous expression.

  “You’re pushing it, Logan,” he growled at last, loosening his grip but pulling me closer. “Have you ever considered using a glue stick instead of a lipstick every once in a while? No? You should. I had a perfectly good reason, several in fact, for not bringing you along. Was it really so difficult to accept I might know something you didn’t, and just do as I asked?”

  The more he talked, the more certain I became I was about to rock my very first assault charge. I wondered if it could be counted against me in the real world. Of course, I probably shouldn’t take the chance. A life in prison just doesn’t work for me on a number of levels. I’m pretty sure the coffee sucks, the doughnuts are stale, and while Bodacious Bertha in cell block C is undoubtedly a lovely person underneath that beard and all those tattoos, I’d rather not spend ten to life as her soul, er…cellmate. Also, like pastel pink and pea soup green, prison orange is not my color.

  “Asked?” I sputtered in self-righteous indignation. “I guess I must have missed that part. Or maybe the sound of the big, heavy, immovable object sliding in front of the bathroom door drowned out your polite request. And I don’t use lipstick. I prefer vodka lip gloss, thanks.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he simply stared at me for a moment. Then to my utter astonishment, he pulled me into his arms and rested his chin on my head with a heavy, resigned sigh. I buried my nose in the front of his T-shirt and drew in a deep breath. Ah, the irresistible aroma of jelly doughnuts took the fight right out of me. Between that and the shoulders—and lest I forget, the magnificent ass—exactly how was I expected to resist this guy? I’m only human, after all. Even if he isn’t. Just saying.

  He pulled back to look down into my face, and I was struck yet again by the sheer perfection of his features even with the faint hint of scarring that remained, and the ragged remnant of that one tattered ear. With an amused expression, he reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, and as his fingers brushed my cheek, I felt something warm and wicked swirl in my gut.

  “What in the hell am I going to do with you? You shouldn’t be here, Logan. There are things here I would have preferred you never see, never know about. As a Retriever you’d have no reason to ever leave the Between. No one can touch you there as long as you stick to your target and your timetable. Here with me, you’re fair game. That complicates things.”

  As in, he wouldn’t simply have to worry about getting Buddy out, now he’d have to worry about me, too. Okay, so I freely admit I’d felt angry and betrayed and didn’t stop to consider whether having me along could make his mission extra problematic.

  What? You have no experience with bad decisions and knee jerk reactions?

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m sorry? I thought you just said I was right.”

  “I did.” I sighed, tipping my head back and losing myself in those incredible emerald eyes. “I know this will come as a shock, but occasionally I react before thinking things through. If you’re as smart as I give you credit for, you will let that remark slide without comment. I was angry you left me behind, and I…well, let’s just say I guess I thought I had something to prove. I really didn’t mean to make this difficult. Obviously, I can’t go back the way I came, so just point me in the right direction, and I’ll hoof it on back and wait for you at Granny’s like you, um, asked.”

  “Too late. Your friend Fluffy will have already announced our arrival, so stealth and the element of surprise are out. I’m going to have to do this through official channels. For better or worse, Logan, you’re going in with me. Just promise me from here on out, you follow my lead no matter what happens, and you do exactly as I say. Deal?”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “Well, it would sure as hell make things easier, but nothing about you has ever been easy. And just for the record, if you feel you have things to prove to yourself, have at it. But you don’t have to prove a damn thing to me.”

  His statement produced a profound thought.

  What? It happens.

  For too much of my life, I’d based my self-worth on the opinions of others, or at least those opinions as I perceived them to be. But letting others have that power has taken me right down the road of unhappily-ever-after more than once. And if I ever hoped to be truly happy again, I had to be me, warts and all. I hadn’t exactly been on my best behavior since we’d met, and Kane seemed okay with that. Sure, I intended to cooperate. But if his whole plan went south? Well, I couldn’t make any guarantees if I came up with a better idea.

  “First of all, I’m already in Hell prepared to take on Buddy and his teenage angst. Let’s be clear. Fluffy is no friend of mine. Stop gifting me with these losers. Secondly, where are we going on our date? And third, blind obedience is not my forte, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Well, that’s more than I thought I’d get.” He didn’t argue, he didn’t demand. One corner of his mouth even curled up as though he would have been disappointed if I’d responded differently. I resisted the urge to stretch up on my toes and press my lips there. Yes, he was drop dead gorgeous. But beyond that, there’s something incredibly appealing about a man who isn’t trying to change who you are. Now if I could just work up a good fart, I’d be able to conclusively confirm he was my soul mate.

  Kane squeezed me gently and stepped back. The sensation of his arms lingered even after he released me. In order to divert attention away from my breathless trembling, I dug in my pocket for some chocolate covered courage.

  “Want some?” I generously offered him the bag as I tossed back a handful of beans.

  As you may have already guessed, he’d made the top of my short list as evidenced by my willingness to share my drug of choice.

  “Man cannot live by coffee and chocolate alone, Logan.” He laughed and shook a few into his palm and popped them in his mouth.

  “Well, duh, that’s why God invented doughnuts.” Honestly, I would have thought that was obvious to anyone. “And just for the record, no matter what you thought when you left me behind, I don’t have a problem with you being a Hellhound. I must warn you, however, if you ever turn furry and try to hump my leg, I may have to reconsider my opinion.”

  “There were other reasons for leaving you behind aside from what you might think of my beast, as you’ll find out soon enough. And don’t worry, Logan.” He started walking in the direction he’d thrown my admirer, and I fell in step behind. “When the time comes, I won’t be furry, and it won’t be your leg.”

  And didn’t that visual make me trip over my own two feet.

  Being uber talented, I managed to stay upright, but I was thankful Kane hadn’t bothered to glance back to gauge my reaction since I was pretty sure even with my mad ninja skills, I could not have disguised it as an intentional dance move. It turns out Denise had been correct in her assessment of the unpredictability of March weather and the warmth of my jacket. I was sweating like a hooker in church and drenched in several places I can’t politely mention, most of which I couldn’t honestly attribute to my awesome ensemble.

  As we broke through the trees moments later, Kane stopped in front of me so suddenly, that distracted by my lascivious fantasies, I plowed right into his broad and thickly muscled back. This, of course, necessitated yet another balance-restoring ass grab.

  What? I was embracing life, remember?

  And if the Grim Reaper’s gluteus maximus happened to keep getting in the way, who was I to fight fate? I was delighted to discover it hadn’t sagged a bit in the past few hours and was just as scrumptiously round and firm as before. Keeping a secure hold on his tempting globes, I peeked around Kane to determine the cause of his abrupt halt. In front of us, beyond a grassy plain, was a wide river, which I assumed to be the river Styx. My fugly necklace was still cooking at a temperature I could
feel even through my shirt, though whether it was the river itself or some other nearby portal causing the reaction, I wasn’t sure. At any rate, it was comforting to know there was the potential for a quick getaway should Morgan and I become separated and an escape be required. On the banks of the river ahead, a small group of people stood in an orderly line near a short, wooden pier while a large number of others wandered aimlessly along the shore as far as the eye could see.

  “Who are they?” I whispered, though there was no one else close enough to hear.

  “The souls of the damned. The ones waiting for the ferry can pay. The others are doomed to wander the shore for a hundred years before they can cross over.”

  “Well, I suppose there are worse things than having to delay your arrival in Hell, right? What about us? I should tell you right up front, I didn’t bring my purse, and I’m not much of a swimmer. I am, however, a heck of a doggie-paddler.”

  “No worries.” He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a collection of small irregularly shaped coins. “I never cross the veil without some viaticum just in case.”

  “Some what?”

  “Viaticum. It’s a Latin term referring to a provision for a journey. It’s also popularly known as Charon’s obol. Considering your extensive familiarity with epidemiology, Zombie research, and other relatively useless information, I’m surprised you don’t know that, Logan. You want to cross the river, you’ve got to pay the piper, or in this case, the ferryman. In ancient times, the dead were traditionally buried with small coins, and in some regions, the tradition continued right up into the nineteenth century. Eventually it died out, no pun intended, and that’s why you see so many souls left to wander. They can’t pay the fare.”

  “What about the ones waiting in line? Some must still follow the custom?”

  “Not deliberately, but you’ve heard the saying you can’t take it with you? Some people are greedy enough to try.” He shrugged. Wide shoulders, big muscles.