Eleventh Grave in Moonlight

by Darynda Jones

  “I swallowed a god and lived to tell the tale. I’m good.”

  He had yet to move, but his glistening gaze missed nothing. The cracks in his skin where my energy had seeped out of him had almost completely healed. Only faint purplish lines remained on his face and neck. He wore a black long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, so I couldn’t see much beyond that.

  “And you’re sitting here in the dark because…?”

  “I was waiting, but you’ve scared them off.”

  I sat up straight, alarmed. “Them? Who were you waiting for?”

  “Two men have been casing my house. I did a rather elaborate ruse to get them to think I was out for the night. They were just about to break in when you pulled up.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re hungry already,” I said, teasing him. “I wasn’t enough for you?”

  “I told you, I could live off you for all eternity. But a guy likes a snack here and there.”

  “Are you okay, really?”

  He didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did talk, it had nothing to do with my question. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you. I’m checking on you.”

  “You don’t look good in guilt.”

  I dropped my gaze. “I’m so sorry, Osh. I almost killed you.”

  He leaned forward. Took my chin into his hand. “You did what you had to do. And what I never in a million years thought you could do. One of these days, I’m going to stop underestimating you.”

  “Yeah, well, one nasty god down and one to go. Any suggestions?”

  “Only that I don’t think I can take you in again and live to defend my strip poker title.”

  “I would never do that to you.” When he cast me a dubious stare, I added, “Not a second time.”

  “Then you’ll lose.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I glanced up at him in question. “If you aren’t willing to do anything, to sacrifice anyone, then you will lose and your daughter will be dead before she’s old enough to know what a wuss her mother was. Which is probably for the best.”

  “Because I’m not willing to sacrifice you—”

  “Anyone.”

  “—we will automatically lose?”

  He stood and raked a hand through his hair. “This god, this Eidolon, doesn’t play by the same rules you do. The odds of you trapping another god in that glass … let’s just say they aren’t in your favor.” When I didn’t respond, he changed the subject. “How’s your uncle?”

  “Still slated for hell.”

  “Why?” He sat down again and leveled a curious stare on me.

  “What do you mean, why? Reyes saw it. He killed people. It doesn’t matter that they were horrible and were planning on abducting me so their boss could eat me. Uncle Bob made the decision to hunt these men down and take human life, so he’s automatically penciled in for an eternity of agony.”

  None of it made sense. Nor was it fair. Why would a noble pursuit sentence Uncle Bob to hell? Reyes explained it once. Said that Ubie had taken lives on purpose when there were other options. It was not self-defense, but premeditated. Still …

  When Jehovah and I finally meet face-to-face, we are going to have a serious discussion.

  “No, I know all that,” he said. “I was just wondering why. Want a beer?” He stood and turned on several lights before heading to the kitchen. I followed him.

  “What do you mean, why? I just said why.”

  “Okay.” He took out a beer and popped the top off.

  “No, not okay. What do you mean, why?”

  He grinned at last, and I felt like the joke was definitely on me. I just still had no idea what the joke was.

  “I just figured since you were the reaper, you’d do something about it.”

  “About what?”

  “About your uncle being slated for my birthplace.” He walked back into his living room and picked up the TV remote.

  I took it from him. “Osh, what do you mean? Spill or I’ll … I’ll melt your remote with my … my fire.”

  His brows inched higher, unimpressed. “You aren’t the quickest rabbit in the race, are you?”

  “That’s it.” I focused all my energy on his remote and—

  “Okay,” he said, jumping up and grabbing it from me. “Chill. All I’m saying is, you’re the freaking reaper. Just, you know, do what you do. Unmark him.”

  He sat back down and turned on the TV while I stood there in a sea of confusion.

  When I didn’t move out of his way, he leaned to the side, unfazed.

  “I can do that?” I asked at last.

  “Of course. Isn’t that your job, anyway? Part of it, at least.”

  I sank back onto his sofa. “But I didn’t even know he was marked.”

  “You just didn’t look. It’s there, plain as Dayton, Ohio. Want to watch Buffy?”

  “Oh, hell, yes,” I said, snuggling into his cushions. Then I remembered I had places to be. “Crap. I can’t. I’m going to be late for class.”

  “Class?”

  “I’m taking a business class so I can run the world once I take it over. You know, from a fiscal standpoint.” I hadn’t really grasped the whole fiscal concept as it applied to world domination, but I loved saying it out loud. It made me sound smart.

  “Ah. Well, get your ass out then. Maybe I can still salvage my evening. Snack on a couple of thieves.”

  “Osh.” I took his hand in mine.

  He eyed me warily.

  “Are you mad at me for almost killing you?”

  The once-over he gave me, the one filled with appreciation and interest and humor—mostly humor—warmed me to my toes. “No, sugar. I’m honored you think so highly of me to entrust me with your light.”

  “Also, you were the only one who could have handled it.”

  “There’s that,” he said with a grin.

  I considered everything else I was willing to entrust him with—namely, my daughter, the future of the world, my daughter. Mostly my daughter.

  “I thought about selling it on eBay,” he added, “but I had no idea how to ship a box full of all-powerful, omnipotent light.”

  I laughed, leaned in, and kissed his cheek before heading for the door. Just as I was about to go through it, he said, “Oh, I meant to ask you, what’s with all the angels?”

  7

  I just ordered a Life Alert bracelet, so if I get a life, I’ll be notified immediately.

  —BUMPER STICKER

  I called Uncle Bob on my way to class. I’d considered telling him about his impending doom, but I didn’t know how. Or what to say. Or where to start. He’d want to know exactly how we knew. Did I then tell him about his inevitable trip to Lucifer Land? How could I?

  He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, pumpkin.”

  “Hey back. So, I was wondering if I could find out who was in charge of the abduction of Dawn Brooks. And if you could get me everything you have on it.”

  “I can look into it. What are you doing?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Heading to class.”

  “Class?”

  Why was everyone so surprised I was taking a class? “I’ve decided to become an exotic dancer.”

  “Sounds good. Do you think you could do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Could you, maybe, stay home for a few days?”

  I waited for a solid minute for him to clarify and/or explain. When he didn’t, I asked, “Can you tell me why?”

  “Oh, you know. Just a lot of crazy in town lately.”

  That was so amazingly lame. “That’s the best you got?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Then, no.”

  “I could make you stay home.”

  I’d pulled up to a stoplight, and thank goodness I had. His statement stunned me. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’d like you to stay home for a few days.”

  “I’m heading to class.”

 
; “Skip.”

  “No.”

  “I insist.”

  “Then I desist.”

  “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

  “Uncle Bob—”

  “I could order you to.”

  “Well, you’d best be ordering your coffin at the same time.”

  “I mean it, Charley.”

  “I suggest a nice mahogany.” The car behind me honked before I realized the light had turned green. I pulled into South Lot and shifted Misery into park. “Uncle Bob, until you can give me a legitimate reason—”

  “I’ll have you arrested. How’s that for legitimate?”

  Boy howdy, did Cookie nail his mood. What the frackin’ hell? “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just threaten me.”

  “I’ll have campus police pick you up in ten.”

  He hung up before I could gasp in his face. Via an electronic signal transmitted through radio waves. But still.

  * * *

  I made it to my classroom on the main UNM campus with few incidents and fewer arrests to speak of. Two men in my life, two of my favorite, were suddenly ordering me around. Like they had the right. Just no. Besides, Ubie had no grounds for an arrest. Not without signing his own warrant as well. He was an accessory to many of my out-of-the-box crime-fighting procedures. If I went down, he went down.

  Men.

  Our business teacher, a Mr. Hipple, was a fine instructor as instructors went, but he seemed to lack my enthusiasm. My vision. My complexity.

  I raised my hand.

  He kept talking.

  It reminded me of grade school when my PE teacher wanted us to climb a rope and I asked her if she could apply that skill to a real-life situation. You know, so I could understand why I had to climb the rope. I hated the rope. It chafed. And made my arms shaky.

  I kept asking Mr. Hipple, a very tan man in the prime of his midlife crisis if the shiny new Corvette he drove were any indication, to apply a broader scope to his principles. Like, say, in a world domination kind of way.

  I raised my hand again. Mr. Hipple let loose a loud sigh and said, “Charlotte?”

  “Oh, just Charley. Okay, so let’s say the world was headed for another economic crisis and the housing market were to totally crash again—how would, say, a god fix it?”

  Mr. Hipple scrubbed his face with his fingers, then pinched the bridge of his nose before replying. I took that as a good sign. Like he was really mulling over how best to answer my question.

  “Charley, would you like to ask a question that actually pertains to this class?”

  A couple of students snickered, and I folded my arms over Danger and Will and sank down in my seat. What was the point of my taking the class if I couldn’t use the information in the future?

  Reyes must have felt the same way. He was still following me. Still incorporeal. Still dark and brooding and hotter than a sidewalk in August. As Reyes’s heat blasted across my skin, his anger at Mr. Hipple’s answer apparent, Mr. Hipple went on with his pointless lecture.

  I supposed I couldn’t blame the guy. It was an odd question, but I was beginning to think that taking over the world might not be such a great idea. I knew nothing about management beyond my own PI firm, and Cookie handled most of that. I knew nada about performing miracles or parting seas or calming storms when asked.

  I was in way over my head. Mr. Hipple was right. Not that he said that, but I felt it was implied.

  Reyes had taken the seat behind mine. They were the kind where the desk folded away to the side if you didn’t need it. As quietly as I could, I folded my desk away in anticipation of our break. Since the class only met once a week, it was almost three hours long, and I’d had a lot of coffee before coming in. My bladder was screaming at me.

  No, wait, that was the departed girl who ran up and down the halls screaming for someone to lend her a pencil. I’d had that nightmare a few times myself. She was in a hospital gown, though, so I wasn’t sure why she was haunting the UNM campus instead of, say, a hospital.

  She’d rush into the room, scream for someone to lend her a pencil before it was too late, then run back out again, disappearing through the wall in which she came. Poor kid.

  I felt the warmth of Reyes’s gaze on my back before he returned his focus to the angel leaning against the wall in the front of the classroom. This one was probably the most surprising I’d seen yet. He was a ginger, and while he wore the requisite long black coat, he wore something I could only describe as a kilt underneath. It wasn’t a true Scottish kilt, but it resembled one in that it was a man-skirt. A black leather man-skirt that came to his knees. The belt at his waist was wide and held a variety of weapons, and his sword was strapped to his back.

  He was a scrapper, through and through. And Reyes kept a close eye on him. Close enough to be mistaken for aggression. I swore if those two threw down in the middle of my business class, someone was getting an ass kicking. Most likely me if I tried to step in, but I needed to pay attention. We had our first test next week. I didn’t have time for rumbles.

  “Miss Davidson,” Mr. Hipple said, drawing me out of my musings. “May I speak to you?”

  I glanced around as students rose and filed out of the classroom. He’d called break, and I missed it. I had no idea how long we had.

  I nodded and wound my way to the front of the room, coming way too close for comfort to William Wallace, the highland angel. But he was too busy staring down my main squeeze, who’d followed me, putting them within fist-throwing distance. Damn it.

  “Miss … Charley,” he corrected. “Can you tell me what you hope to get out of this class?”

  “I put that on the questionnaire you sent around the first night.”

  “Yes, you did.” He pulled out my answer sheet. “You are taking this class to learn more about business administration and management should you succeed in taking over the world.”

  “Was that redundant? Putting down both administration and management?”

  “Not at all. My point is, I assumed you meant that metaphorically.”

  “Which part?”

  “The part about you taking over the world.”

  “Oh, right.” I was leaning against the desk, and Reyes leaned against me. Leaned into me. His warmth soaking through to the marrow of my bones. “No, I meant it quite literally, though I probably should have phrased it differently.”

  He braced an arm against the desk, putting a barrier between the angel and me. It was protective and kind. Despite his anger at my taking the Foster case, he still protected me. It would’ve even been romantic had the kid not come in again and screamed in my face.

  My shoulders wilted. I had to help her.

  “I did mean it metaphorically, Mr. Hipple. I’m sorry. I’ll stop asking questions.”

  “I hope not,” he said, surprising me. “I’d just like them to be something I can answer. If you really are taking over the world, I think you need to take a class that’s more advanced than Intro to Business 101.”

  I laughed softly. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”

  Just as I was headed out the door, he called out to me. “I think they cover world domination in Business 350.”

  I laughed again and left, knowing I wouldn’t be back. I couldn’t learn how to run the world, possibly the entire universe, from a classroom. I needed real-world experience.

  Issues girl got all up in my face. She did it to everyone. What she didn’t expect was for me to see her.

  “I need a pencil!” When she screamed, her mouth opened really wide, and her tongue was a little blue. Of course, that could have been a side effect of her being dead.

  I did a mom thing and grabbed her ear.

  “Ouch,” she said as I dragged her into the restroom. “What the hell?” She rubbed her ear when I let go. “How did you do that?”

  “Haven’t you noticed that I’m a little brighter than the other kids on the playground?”

  “So, I still need a pencil.” />
  “You don’t need a pencil. And your screaming is the most grating thing that’s happened to me all day. That’s saying a lot. Trust me.”

  “Wait. You can hear me?”

  I finished checking the stalls and then went to a sink for a hair check. Still longish and brown. Okeydokey, then.

  “Yes, I can hear you. What the hell is up with the pencil?”

  Now that I had her attention, she seemed perfectly sane. “I just … I needed a pencil for a test.” She turned around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. Maybe not that sane. “Is this a hospital gown? Does it open in the back? Can you see my butt?”

  “Do you remember what happened to you?”

  She stopped twirling. Thank goodness, because I could indeed see her butt.

  “I was … I fell. I remember I leaned over to ask another student for a pencil and the room started spinning. I…” She looked at her hands. Then the gown. Then her bare feet. “Am I … am I dead?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was two semesters away from graduating.”

  I hitched a hip onto the sink and waited for her to absorb it all. She walked into a stall and sat on a toilet.

  She buried her face in her hands. “How is this even possible?”

  “I don’t know, hon, but since you didn’t cross when you died, you can cross through me. I’m sure you have family waiting.”

  “Cross?”

  I nodded.

  “Like, to the other side?”

  Reyes materialized then, but he kept his distance this time. Not that it was a very big restroom. He crossed his arms at the farthest end and leaned against the back wall.

  “I believe you missed the sign on the door outside,” I said, teasing him even though he was a grumpy bear.

  He took me in from head to toe, then back up again, pausing at my mouth. Both times. Sizing me up?

  The girl rose and peeked around the stall door.

  I refocused on her. “Yes, hon, to the other side.”

  “But I can stay if I want to?” She had yet to look back at me. Her gaze was laser locked onto my husband.

  “Or you can go. Just walk right through me,” I said, encouraging her. “Your family will be excited to see you.”

  “That’s okay.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “I think I’ll stay.”