Divine and Dateless

by Tara West

  The guys were dressed in head-to-toe black, except for Boner, who was butt-ass naked. Though I knew modesty required I avert my gaze, I couldn't help but gawk at that schlong! It was the longest freaking dick I'd ever seen, hanging down his thigh like a limp python.

  Holy shit!

  Now I knew where he’d gotten his nickname. It took a lot of will power to peel my gaze away from his third leg. When we momentarily looked into each other's eyes, Boner's face flushed from his wavy reddish-blond roots all the way to his scruffy beard. I couldn't help but like the guy for his modesty. If any of the jerks I'd dated had had a hose that big, they'd be parading it around everywhere, using it to lasso horses and put out fires.

  Sarge was at my side before I reached the elevator, wordlessly leading me inside with a gentle hand on my back. My nightie was so thin, I could feel the heat of his skin on mine. I tried to pretend his touch didn't set my flesh on fire. I tried really hard.

  I could hear my heart pounding in my ears when the elevator door shut on us.

  "Hey, don't freak out when we get to level one." Boner nudged me in the ribs. "You're about to find out why they call me Boner," he said with a wink.

  "Okay, but I'm pretty sure I've already figured it out." I smirked as I tried not to look down at the penis pendulum swinging between his legs. I swore I heard it swooshing as it slapped his thighs.

  "Just wait," he said. "And you'll see why they call him Crow." Boner nodded toward the old man who was hunched over his cane.

  "Who knows?" Sarge winked as he pressed my back with a firmer hand. "Maybe I'll find you a nickname after I discover your secret talents."

  Somehow, I got the feeling Sarge was referring to my talents in the sack and not on a ghosting mission. I flashed him a sideways look, only to see he was looking back at me. Well, at my tits. My nipples were so taut, I thought they might tear holes through the fabric. Not my fault. It was cold in the elevator. Damn cold. No wonder Sarge had wanted me to wear that nightgown.

  Sarge had sent Boner, Basil, and Crow ahead as soon as the intercom dinged level one. They’d disappeared into the inky blackness of the tomb where our elevator had landed, and I hadn’t seen them since. I was still trying to figure out what an elevator was doing inside a burial vault. I was willing to bet the residents of level one didn’t even know it existed.

  We slowly made our way toward the exit where the others had disappeared. Sarge’s leg scraped across the concrete floor of the tomb, making a sound like one long nail grating across a chalkboard. Had I still been alive and seen his apparition heading my way, I would have had nightmares for the rest of my life. He’d draped himself in a black, hooded cape, shrouding his entire body in darkness, with the exception of his gleaming silver leg. He looked like a phantom pirate.

  We escaped through a crack in the heavy concrete door, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The night was muggy, and mildly cool, but the air was invigorating, a mixture of fresh rain and wet pine. The dreary springtime Pacific Northwest evenings had always bothered me until now. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed them.

  As we made our way down an aisle of ivy-covered vaults and weeping statues, something about this cemetery was oddly familiar. Sure, they pretty much all looked alike at night, but I got this strange sense of déjà vu.

  The moon was nearly full, occasionally poking through the cloudy patches dotting the sky. The place was eerily quiet, even for a graveyard. A cool wind blew through my hair. Instinctively, I scooted closer to Sarge, not even minding his gentle hand on my shoulder.

  But then I'd hear the scrape of his leg grating across a marble square, reminding me we were the creepiest things in the graveyard.

  The plan was to ambush the punks with ghouls on all sides. I still wasn't sure how ghoulish I could make myself. Hopefully, I didn't fail at this job like I had at all my others.

  "Stop."

  I gasped when Sarge pulled me to him. His hood had fallen back, revealing dark, searching eyes that threatened to draw me into a trance. I shuddered when he ran his fingers through my hair, pulling out the little clips that held my wiry strands in place.

  "Don't." I tried to swat him away. "It's a frizzy mess."

  "I know." He flashed a long, languid smile while letting my hair fall down around my shoulders. "It's perfect for haunting."

  Tingling ripples of pleasure shot through me as his fingertips lightly grazed the side of my neck.

  He stepped back and handed me a bouquet of flowers he'd grabbed off a grave. "Now you look like a jilted bride."

  I brought the flowers to my nose, my eyelids fluttering shut as I inhaled their sweet scent. Everything on level one smelled so much more alive.

  "Damn, you're beautiful."

  My eyes shot open, my heart seizing at the molten look of desire in his eyes. This was so not good. "I bet you say that to all the ghouls," I said teasingly, hoping if I interjected a little levity into the situation, he'd back down.

  "No." He shook his head, chuckling. "Just you."

  I felt the color drain from my face as I gaped at him. He couldn't be serious. After all he’d put me through this week, he expected me to buy his load of horseshit?

  "Remember the day you projected to your mom?" he asked.

  "Yeah." My muscles tensed as I braced myself for another flirtatious assault.

  "When you see the punks, try to remember that feeling, okay? The others will go in first. You can follow their lead."

  I swallowed a knot of panic as my limbs iced over. My first ghosting and I had no idea what to do. "What if I'm not good at this?"

  He placed a hand on my shoulder, the look in his eyes so intense, it made me shudder. "You'll be perfect, MacLeod. I know you will."

  Sarge and I watched the vandals from behind a large tombstone. I had no idea why I was terrified of getting caught. Sarge assured me they couldn't see us unless I projected my aura as I'd done with my mom.

  The moon's light illuminated the area, a small patch of gravesites that had an oddly familiar look. The two smaller boys were laughing as they spray-painted indiscernible words over the marble slabs in bright orange. The biggest one sat on top of a thick tombstone, a shovel draped across his lap while he crushed an empty can in his hand.

  They had been easy to find, not just because they were noisy enough to wake the dead, but they’d left a trail of candy bar wrappers and beer cans. From the looks of them, they were college boys, wearing designer jeans, T-shirts, and black skull caps. I suspected the little BMW parked behind a copse of nearby trees was theirs, which meant they were probably fraternity pledges. I remembered Travis having been forced to do some weird shit for his fraternity, too. What freaking idiots.

  "Hey, look! A skeleton!" The smallest punk's voice bounced around octaves faster than an opera singer with laryngitis, suggesting puberty had come a few years too late.

  I peered from behind my hiding spot to see that a skeleton was indeed partially buried in the ground, as if someone had recently dumped it on a gravesite and tossed a few buckets of dirt on top. That meant this cemetery had been desecrated already. That thought made my chest tighten with anger.

  "Cool!" The big one jumped down from his perch and handed him the shovel. "Dig it up," he slurred in a tone that suggested he was already a six-pack past sober.

  "I'm not digging it up." Puberty Boy squealed, jerking back so fast, his skull cap fell off, revealing a baby face and cropped blond hair. "You do it!" The shovel made a loud clank as he threw it to the ground.

  Big Dude slapped Puberty Boy across the side of the head. "Quiet, asshole!"

  The other boy raised a shaky hand and pointed at the ground. "Hey! Look!"

  Big Dude spun around, snarling. "What?"

  The color drained from the boy's cheeks as he took several steps back, grunting as he stumbled over the shovel. "The fingers moved."

  Big Dude punched him in the shoulder. "Shut the fuck up!"

  "Do you mind?" I froze at the sound of Boner's lazy, stoner dude dra
wl. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

  I gasped as chunks of dirt burst from the ground and the skeleton pulled himself out of its shallow grave.

  Big Dude and Puberty Boy blanched and fell to their knees, their mouths hanging open while the third boy ran screaming. The skeleton's bones rattled as it walked up to Big Dude, peering down at him through empty eye sockets.

  Both boys cried out and huddled together, and then Puberty Boy mumbled an apology in a frantic slur of words.

  I covered my head and ducked as something swooshed over me. A huge winged creature landed on a tombstone, ruffling its black feathers before peering down at the kid through familiar wizened eyes. "Didn't your mama teach you to respect the dead?" Crow squawked.

  A bright orb flashed above the kids’ heads. "I weep for the souls of the tombs you have defiled." Basil's glowing body floated down from the tree limbs, hovering just above a gravesite that had been tagged with bright orange lettering.

  I rose from my hiding spot when her aura illuminated the lettering etched into the marble: Michael Davis MacLeod, beloved son and brother.

  My uncle's grave! Those assholes!

  "How dare you!" I shook Sarge's hand off my arm and stormed toward them. "How dare you defile his grave!"

  Instinctively, I raised my arms, screaming. The wind escaped my hands before I had a time to reign it in. It knocked the boys flat on their asses, their cries of mercy muffled by the gusts of air smacking them with dirt and empty cans. Then the shovel spun up from the ground, smacking Big Dude's forehead before landing against a tombstone. Puberty Boy screamed as Big Dude's head lolled to one side.

  I lowered my arms when I realized what I'd done. I looked at my fingers as if they were possessed. They were ice cold and glowing a pale blue. "What happened?" I cried.

  Puberty Boy jumped to his feet and ran away screaming, chasing after the BMW's retreating taillights.

  Sarge raced past me and knelt by the unconscious boy, checking his pulse. "Just knocked out," he said. "He'll wake up with a nasty bump."

  I barely felt my feet propel me forward as I drifted past them, falling to my knees on top of my uncle's grave. His tombstone was covered in bright orange frowny faces.

  Frowny faces? What dicks!

  "Are you okay?" Boner asked as he draped his skeletal fingers across my shoulder and squeezed.

  Funny how I didn't jerk away. A few weeks ago, I would have passed out from fright if I'd met Boner at a cemetery. Now nothing morbid or gross bothered me anymore. It was like weird had become the new normal.

  I sniffled as I wiped a tear off my cheek. "My mom's going to be so upset when she sees my uncle's grave." My throat tightened, and I had to bite my knuckles to keep from sobbing out loud.

  Sarge moved over to me, placing a firm hand on my other shoulder. "This is one of the nicer cemeteries." His soothing voice had none of the edge I'd gotten used to. "Don't be surprised if the ground-keepers have it cleaned up by morning."

  I looked up at Sergeant through tear-soaked eyes. "I sure hope so."

  Biker bars in Purgatory were a lot like biker bars on Earth, except the guys with knives protruding from their chests usually weren’t laughing it up with their buddies, leaking beer onto the floor through their gaping stab wounds. Sarge had taken us to his favorite hangout after our mission, letting me ride on the back of his bike while the others piled into Stoner’s van that looked like it had been ripped from Scooby Doo.

  Boner held out his beer mug and tipped it at me. “That was freaking wicked awesome, Ash.”

  I leaned against the side of the bar and smiled my thanks, taking a slow sip of my strawberry margarita while I tried not to be bothered by Sarge’s possessive hand on the small of my back. He’d staked his claim on me from the minute we walked into the place, draping an arm over my shoulder and leading me to an empty seat at the bar. He’d taken the spot beside me, scooting so close his leg was practically crushing mine, and hadn’t left my side since.

  “Nice work, Ash,” Crow said before shoving a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

  “What a bright aura you have.” Basil smiled and took a drag off her bong. “The aliens must have given you an upgrade.”

  “You guys were awesome, too. Wow, Boner.” I laughed before swallowing a gulp of my drink. “I thought your nickname was for something else?”

  He arched a brow, his expression reminding me of Jack whenever he farted and couldn’t find the origin of the smell. “What?”

  I shook my head, stifling a laugh. “Never mind.”

  I figured it would get real awkward, real quick if Boner and I started talking about the snake he kept tucked away in his pants. Besides, Sarge’s fingers digging deeper into my skin was signal enough I needed to change the subject.

  “You ready for another?” Sarge breathed into my ear.

  I looked down at my nearly empty glass. “I’ve probably had enough already.”

  “One more. You’ve earned it.” He whistled at the bartender and pointed to my glass. Then he edged closer, pressing hard against my back, as if he was branding my skin with his firm hand.

  It was becoming clearer he was determined to take possession of me. My head swirled at the thought. There were a whole lot worse fates than surrendering my body to a virile, gorgeous man, unless, of course, my heart was already pledged to someone else.

  As loud, head-banging music filtered in from the speakers above, filling my brain with a noisy fog, and swirls of smoke and dust swam before my vision, I realized that margarita sure packed a punch.

  And then Sarge went and handed me another. I suspected his motive behind the free drinks was to increase his chances of getting laid. Had I not already met Grim first, his ploy might have worked. Who was I kidding? Despite Sarge’s relentless torture this past week, I would have mounted that stud in a heartbeat, fucking his hard body like a rabbit on crack.

  “Thanks, Sarge.” I nodded to him as I stirred the strawberry swirls with my straw.

  “Santiago.” He flashed a wicked smile that nearly made me want to spread my legs right then and there. “I’m only Sarge when we’re at work, and you don’t need to thank me,” he said as those warm fingers of his worked their massage magic on my back. “I should be thanking you.”

  My eyelids involuntarily shut for the briefest heartbeat. His touch soothed my tight, sore muscles. “For what?” I murmured.

  He snaked his arm possessively around my waist, the heat of his body melting me from the inside out. “For proving me wrong. I didn’t think you’d survive this week. I’m glad you did.”

  “Me, too.” I tried to pull away from him, but I ended up turning into his embrace. As I looked into his molten gaze, the alarm bells in my head started ringing. A bright neon light pulsated beyond his shoulder. I shook my dizzy head. I almost thought it was flashing, “Run away! Run away!”

  But then I saw something that made my heart pump double-time. I struggled out of Sarge’s grip and slowly stood, gawking at a group of men gathered around the pool table. They had this look about them that suggested they could have been Grims. Maybe it was their dark scowls, broad shoulders, and beefy arms. Could have been that two of them clutched tall, gleaming scythes in their meaty hands. I watched with curiosity as one of the Grims hit a button on his scythe and the entire blade retracted into a compact square no bigger than a cellphone. He slipped it into his pocket before downing a bottle of beer.

  Oh, that’s how they do it.

  A tremor wracked me, not just because those dudes sure as hell looked badass, but because one of the men who had his broad back to me reminded me of my Grim. My heart sighed when he turned around, revealing a prominent nose, a ragged scar down the left side of his face, and a cold gleam in his eyes. He was not my Grim. Not at all.

  Damn.

  “He’s not here.”

  “Who?” I feigned innocence while biting my lower lip.

  “He walked out on you, Ash.” Sarge’s eyes brewed with dark clouds as he rose and cuppe
d my shoulders in a tight grip. “You need to move on.”

  I forced myself to look into his unwavering gaze. But it wasn’t Sarge my heart was seeing. My mind misted with memories of Grim. He’d made a vow to me that my afterlife would be better than the life I’d left behind. He’d made a vow and then broke it the day he walked out, because without Grim by my side, my heart was completely and utterly broken.

  Jack and I had just come from an invigorating morning jog (yes, I know I should be committed for using invigorating and jog in the same sentence) when I found Sarge sulking on my bed, just like he’d sulked last night after we’d come home, and just like he’d sulked during breakfast.

  Well, I’d about had enough of his moods. It wasn’t my fault my heart was pledged to another, and I refused to spread my legs like his subservient whore, no matter how horny he made me.

  Just as I was about to tell the grouch to go crawl back inside his trash can, he looked at me with brows drawn in a tight V.

  “You got company,” he grumbled, “waiting in the common room.”

  “Company!” I gasped, and then I was flying out the door without giving him a second glance. It had to be Grim. Hopefully he’d missed me as much as I missed him, and he was willing to work things out. Hopefully. I was nearly out of breath by the time I reached the common room, Jack barking at my heels.

  My heart lurched for a split second when I saw my grandma and uncle sitting on our threadbare sofa. I shook off my disappointment as I walked into Grandma’s open arms.

  “There you are! We’ve been worried sick about you.” She clucked her tongue before turning up the dial on her guilt-o-meter to full blast. “Thank goodness you’re still alive.”

  “I’m fine, Grandma.” I rasped as she squeezed me so tight, I feared our tits would pop like air bags in a head-on collision.

  She pulled back, scowling as she looked me up and down. “You could have left a forwarding address. Good thing that nice neighbor of yours was home or we wouldn’t have known where to find you.”