“There are shades of gray around every corner,” he replied, as cryptic as ever.
I was tempted to ask him to be more specific, but that was a question. His idea of specificity could be more cryptic than the statement I wanted clarified.
“Ambiguity is such an unfortunate personality trait,” I said. “Doesn’t really look good on you.”
It didn’t look good on me either, but at least I was working on it. Maybe I’d inherited it…
“Be that as it may, facts change when you live as long as I have,” he pointed out. “Vague statements tend to hold true far longer.”
I called him Darth Vader, but I should switch to Yoda with the truisms he was spouting. I did not want to leave this meeting more confused than when I came in.
“Whatever,” I said rudely. It was a little difficult to be rude on purpose, but I was seriously annoyed. “I believe that you know exactly why Clarissa is after me.”
“You have proof?” he asked.
“Nope, but I did just earn another question,” I shot back. “I have three now.”
John Travolta arched a brow in surprise. “I’m not on my game this fine morning. So be it. Ask your questions.”
“Why is the Angel of Mercy out to destroy me?”
“She’s not out to get you,” he replied. “Two more questions.”
“Were you born an asshole and a liar or did living forever make you that way?” I shouted.
“That was two,” John Travolta said. “I’m not lying. As to being an asshole, it would depend on with whom you’re speaking.”
Shit. I’d wasted another question and got a lie in return. Fine. There was no cryptic way around the next question.
“If it’s not me, then who is she after?” I hissed, wanting to headbutt the Archangel.
He eyed me for a long moment. Again, I held his stare.
He was the first to look away.
“Answer me. You made the rules. Play by them,” I ground out.
“The Angel of Mercy’s ire is directed at Alana. It has been Alana the entire time.”
“Repeat yourself,” I demanded. “Now.”
“Clarissa wants to destroy your mother—not you.”
I came as close to an out-of-body experience as I’d ever had. The ringing in my ears was high-pitched and made me grind my teeth. My hatred for the man who was a lying sack of shit grew to a proportion I was unable to control.
My instincts took over and it wasn’t pretty. In the moment, I felt no shame. I had no clue how I would feel later, but I didn’t give a damn.
There was no shade of gray lurking around the corner.
This was a black-and-white situation. The lies had to end.
“Liar!” I screamed, diving across the desk with the intention of rearranging John Travolta’s face.
Gideon burst into the room just as I got one solid, bone-cracking punch in. I felt the sensation reverberate all the way up my arm into my shoulder when my fist connected to his face. My father’s head jerked back, but he didn’t lift a finger to defend himself.
If I wasn’t crazy—and that was entirely up for debate, considering I’d just delivered a powerful left hook to the face of an Archangel—I would have said he looked relieved that I’d punched him. Unfortunately, Gideon pulled me off of the Angel before I could test the theory.
My behavior horrified me, but I wasn’t ready or able to stop.
“No, Daisy,” Gideon said as he held my live-wire body tight against his chest. “What the fuck did you say to her?”
My father gingerly touched his nose, which was broken if the gushing blood was anything to go by. I knew I could slip from Gideon’s embrace easily, but it was a good idea to stay put right now. My rage was still at a boiling point and my fists wouldn’t unclench.
“The truth,” John Travolta said, tonelessly. “I told Daisy the truth.”
“Bullshit,” I hissed. “My mother is in the darkness. You know that as well as I do. Why Clarissa would be after a dead woman living in Hell is beyond me. It’s the stupidest excuse to protect the Angel of Mercy I’ve heard yet. You disgust me!”
My father’s expression deserved an Academy Award. His confusion at my statement was so truthful and honest, I laughed. He was one hell of an actor.
“Alana is not in the darkness,” he said, shaking his head.
“Again, I call bullshit,” I snapped. “What is wrong with you? She committed suicide. That’s a guaranteed trip to Hell, from what I understand.”
Gideon’s hold loosened, and he turned me around in his arms so we were face to face.
“Daisy, your mother is not in the darkness,” he said.
This could not be happening. Was it Lie to Daisy Day?
Twisting out of Gideon’s grasp, I heard a grunt of surprise from John Travolta. I was sure letting him know my strength wasn’t in my best interest, but he should have gotten a clue when I’d broken his nose so easily.
My own violent streak shocked me, but to be told something I knew as truth was a lie—something as serious as my mother’s death and afterlife—short-wired my tenuous grip on sanity.
Pacing the office and wanting to peel the skin off my body, I did breathing exercises. They weren’t helping, except they did stop me from speaking. I had nothing nice to say. Usually, in that situation I said nothing. However, I was sorely tempted to say all kinds of awful things right now.
I was ready to tell both of them to take a hike. My new plan was to round up Heather, Tim and Candy. We could go after Clarissa ourselves. Maybe Charlie would join my new team. He was an insane badass.
However, when we found her… she was mine.
Gideon and John Travolta were out.
And now I needed to get out.
Slipping off my high-heeled boots, I held one in each hand. I was sure I would cut my feet up running fifteen miles barefoot, but the pain would be refreshing after the lie-fest.
“Daisy,” Gideon said carefully. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
John Travolta still seemed to be absorbing all I had said.
“Gonna run,” I replied. “Need a little alone time.”
“Please be seated,” my father said, eyeing both Gideon and me. “I’m perturbed by this conversation, and we need to get to the bottom of why Daisy believes Alana is in the darkness.”
“Nope,” I said, walking to the door. “I’m good. Had about all the bullshit I can take today.”
The door slammed shut by itself and a strong wind laced with gold flecks picked me up and set me on the bench next to Gideon. I was literally glued to the damn bench.
John Travolta was cheating, and I was having none of it.
Slicing my hand through the air, I cut through whatever spell he’d cast and stood back up.
“That was all kinds of rude, Darth Vader,” I snapped as he stared at me like I had three heads. “I will not be kept anywhere against my will. Ever. You feel me?”
“Dear God,” he gasped out, looking down at his hands in utter disbelief. “How?”
“She can also escape my embrace,” Gideon said, watching me with the same surprised awe as my father.
“She can escape death?” my father choked out.
“She is right here,” I snapped at both men. “And I really don’t see the big deal. I don’t like to be trapped. No-brainer.”
“Yet you have no footprint,” John Travolta said, perplexed.
“Correct,” I replied with an eye roll.
The men silently stared, and I began to grow uncomfortable.
And guilty.
Shit.
Closing my eyes, I dropped my boots to the floor and joined them. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry like a child. While John Travolta made a practice of lying to me, Gideon did not. Hell was large, I would think. Was it possible he didn’t know all the residents?
“My mother is in the darkness,” I said softly. “She fell in love
with one of the dead she was counseling. I don’t know what sins he committed in life, but he went into the darkness. In order to follow him, she killed herself so she could join him in Hell.”
The room was silent. I didn’t make eye contact with either man.
“How do you know this?” my father inquired, sounding older than time itself. “Who told you this?”
Glancing up at him, I felt bad that I’d busted his nose. Why? I had no clue. He’d deserved it, but…
“Gram,” I said hollowly. “Gram told me.”
Gideon sat down on the hard marble floor next to me. He extended his hand and I warily took it. “How would Gram have known this? Did your mother leave a note behind?”
I was stunned. He’d made an interesting point—and one I’d never even considered. How did Gram know? She’d told me she wasn’t familiar with my mother’s beaus—not even John Travolta, who’d knocked my mother up. Gram couldn’t see the dead after my mother took over as the Death Counselor, so there was no possibility that she knew the ghost my mother had fallen in love with and followed into the darkness.
“She must have left some kind of note,” I whispered, wondering for the first time if the information was incorrect. “She had to have left a suicide note. No other way Gram could have known.”
“She fell from a bridge,” my father said. “She did not jump. Alana would not have left a suicide note since it wasn’t a suicide.”
My bullshit detector was exploding in my brain. The damn thing was probably broken. It flashed so fast and bright, I had to close my eyes. “And you know this how?” I asked in an icy tone. “Were you there? Or maybe you pushed her?”
“I loved her,” he said. “I would have never harmed her.”
“But I’m fair game?” I asked emotionlessly.
John Travolta said nothing. At least he didn’t lie this time.
I looked at Gideon. The pain in his expression matched what was raging inside me. I trusted the Grim Reaper. I loved him and I knew he loved me.
“She’s not in the darkness?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “She is not in the darkness. I promise you.”
“No chance you might have missed her?” I tried again. I wanted to believe him so badly, I could taste it.
“Not a chance,” Gideon replied.
I nodded and sighed. “So, she’s in the light?”
Gideon and I both turned our heads to the Archangel. He met our gazes evenly and without hesitation.
“Answer me,” I insisted.
“Alana is destined for the light. That’s all I can say.”
If looks could kill, John Travolta would be dead. Hate didn’t begin to describe what I felt for the man.
Gideon stood and helped me to my feet. “You ready to leave?”
Turning to my father, I tried one last time. “Are you going to answer any more of my questions?”
“I can’t,” he replied.
“You won’t,” I contradicted him.
The man said nothing. I’d expected the response. I’d hoped I was wrong.
I wasn’t.
“I’m ready to leave,” I told Gideon then turned my attention to the evil behind the desk. “I despise you.”
My father nodded. His face was devoid of emotion. “As you should.”
His answer was as horrible as anything I’d heard him say. It was a knife to my gut.
Without another word, I turned and left. Gideon followed.
“Where should I take you?”
“Home,” I said, feeling so tired I just wanted to sleep. “I need to have a chat with Gram.”
Chapter Sixteen
Gram’s grayish complexion paled considerably. My stomach cramped and guilt ate away at me. Upsetting the woman who I loved unconditionally by asking her to talk about her only child’s death went against every instinct I had. Her confusion threw me, but doors that were once closed and locked slowly began to creak open.
“It’s the truth,” Gram insisted, her expression perplexed and her eyes huge. “It has to be.”
Staying calm was key. I sucked up the need to freak out. It would get us nowhere fast. The pieces of the missing puzzle were important. I could feel it in my bones. But did all the pieces go to the same puzzle? I was pretty sure I was close to at least a couple damned pieces that might fit together, but the picture I was creating was anyone’s guess right now.
“Okay,” I said. “But tell me how you know she took her own life. Did Alana leave a note?”
Gram tsked and waved her finger at me. “Daisy girl, it’s disrespectful to call your mama by her first name. I won’t be havin’ a conversation if you can’t mind your manners.”
Looking down at the whitewashed slats on the front porch, I counted to ten and remained even-tempered. Gram wasn’t making it easy. She was grabbing at straws to avoid answering my question.
“Sorry,” I said, to keep her calm. “You’re right. I was rude, and I was brought up better than that. I understand this is difficult, but I need you to answer me, please.”
Gram nodded and wrung her hands nervously. “Feelin’ kind of sick,” she muttered. “Darnedest thing, since I’m dead. You’d think you wouldn’t get a bellyache after you kicked the bucket.”
“That is strange.” It was odd that she felt a physical ailment. None of the others, even with the frequent loss of body parts, had ever complained of normal human aches and pains.
She fluttered around the porch and shook her head so fast, I thought she might be having a seizure.
Shit. This was a terrible idea. I sure as hell hoped the outcome was worth it.
“Come on over here,” I said, sitting down on the swing and patting the seat next to me.
We were the only two on the porch. Gideon had gone in the house with Steve and a few other squatters when we’d arrived, and I’d stayed outside with Gram. Jimmy Joe Johnson had wanted to hang around, but I’d asked him politely for some privacy.
He’d cried for about ten minutes, but eventually departed. I didn’t enjoy hurting his feelings, but the Unofficial Mayor of Squatter Town was quite the cry baby. I never knew what might set him off.
“Come sit, please,” I coaxed her with a smile.
Gram floated over warily and seated herself next to me.
“Take my hands,” I requested, reaching out to her.
“Oh Daisy,” she whispered sadly as she placed her cold hands in mine. “I’m scared. I lost her, and now I feel like I’m gonna lose you, too.”
“It’s okay, Gram,” I promised. “I’m right here. I’m going to tell you a few things that I learned—not sure I believe them yet, but that’s where you come in.”
“I’m puttin’ on my big girl panties,” Gram said, holding her chin high. “Not that I change my panties anymore.”
Despite the serious nature of what I was about to share, I couldn’t help myself and grinned. “That’s kind of gross,” I pointed out.
“Darlin’, it’s a perk of being dead,” she informed me with a wink.
She was relaxed and more herself. I needed her to stay that way.
“I love you, Gram.”
“Love you more, sweetheart.”
“You going to stay with me?” I asked cautiously.
She nodded. “If I freak, just yank me out of the air and slap me upside the head.”
“Mmmkay,” I said with a small smile. “I don’t think my mother is in the darkness.”
Gram eyes lit up with joy for the briefest of moments and then dilated strangely. Her body jerked and trembled. The reaction was bizarre.
“Can’t be, Daisy girl,” she whispered woodenly. “Your mama killed herself to follow her lover into the darkness. Suicide. Guaranteed ticket to Hell.”
“Can I see the note she left?”
“What note?” Gram asked, confused and still sounding robotic.
“Her suicide note,” I clarified. “She had to have left one or you wouldn’t have known the circumstances of how she died.”
“Your mama killed herself to follow her lover into the darkness. Suicide. Guaranteed ticket to Hell,” she repeated like a broken record.
“You met her lover?” I pressed.
“No,” Gram said, tilting her head to the side and squinting at me. “Did you?”
“No, I couldn’t see the dead when I was little,” I reminded her. “Ohhh, of course you didn’t meet her lover. You couldn’t see the dead then, either. Right?”
“Yep,” Gram said. “Once your mama took over, the dead went away just like they did when you took over. Your mama never brought her beaus around.”
“Right,” I said, nodding slowly. “So, you don’t even know for sure if she had a lover who went to the darkness.”
“Your mama killed herself to follow her lover into the darkness. Suicide. Guaranteed ticket to Hell,” Gram said in a monotone, growing agitated and paler.
If she wasn’t already deceased, I would think I was killing her.
Something clicked in my brain. What if getting her to admit she might be wrong could destroy her?
The thought was horrendous, but it was possible.
Anything was possible…
Change of plans. One where Gram would stay safe and I could possibly find out the truth. Which meant speaking to Heather was on the top of my list.
“You’re right, Gram. I guess it’s just wishful thinking on my part,” I said, squeezing her hands gently. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Her relief made me want to cry. “No worries, Daisy child. Everyone gets confused.”
“How about we watch a marathon of The Price Is Right?” I suggested as her eyes went back to normal and a bit of color came back to her papery cheeks.
“That sounds like a right fine idea,” she said with a grin. “Haven’t spent any time with my boyfriend Bob in a few days.
“Jimmy Joe Johnson isn’t jealous of Bob?” I asked with a smile of relief that she was no longer in a robotic state.
“Nah,” Gram said with a cackle. “Jimmy Joe has him a crush on Vanna White. Works out just fine.”
“I’m sure it does,” I said with a tiny eye roll and a laugh as I followed Gram into the house.
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel : Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 14