Graves and Golf Carts

by Annabel Chase

  As I tried to roll to the side in an attempt to throw him off, I felt something shift in my pocket. A key?

  My spirit soared when I realized it was something better.

  I’d been carrying around that coin from the leprechaun like it was a lucky talisman—and maybe it was. I had to get him off me now or I was as good as obliterated. It occurred to me that there was one part of a man that was universally vulnerable—aside from his eyeball.

  Think of another set of balls.

  I stopped struggling for a fleeting moment.

  “Had enough?” he sneered.

  His seconds of smug relaxation gave me the precious time I needed. I jammed my knee into his groin and silently thanked my brother for years of sparring. Roderick groaned and clutched the crotch of his trousers. With both hands off me, I made my move. I whipped the iron coin out of my pocket and I thrust it into his eye. His scream was surprisingly high-pitched and I wondered exactly how much damage I’d done to his groin.

  I bolted for the handcuffs and he grabbed my ankle, which sent me crashing to the floor again. I managed to hold on to the coin and held it in a threatening manner. “There’s more where this came from. Iron is way worse for you. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  I used my free foot to give his arm a solid kick. He howled in a mixture of pain and anger and pulled back, leaving his glove behind in the process. I barely noticed the handcuffs until they were practically hovering over us. Thankfully, Roderick was too intent on me to spot them. I craned my neck to see Agatha moving her finger through the air. She was using the same magic she’d used to move chess pieces. Before he could react, the cuffs snapped on the fae’s wrists and he shouted obscenities.

  “Not very gentlemanly of you, Roderick,” I said.

  He turned to look at Agatha, too weak to rise to his feet. “My love. How could you?” His voice cracked and I almost felt sorry for him. “I did this for you.”

  Agatha’s face was pained as she towered over him. “Don’t ever say you committed such heinous acts to defend my honor. I want no part of it.”

  “But I love you,” he whimpered. “I would’ve done anything for you.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to do anything for me. There are rules, Roderick,” she said. “Just like in golf or chess.” She grimaced and jerked her head aside. “I can’t even look at you anymore. You disgust me.”

  I patted him on the head. “And that’s checkmate.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the time I pushed open the door to 47 Hamilton Street, I was bone tired. I felt like I’d spent all day and night on a pub crawl but without the benefit of alcohol.

  Mischief greeted me at the door, her tail swishing in distress. I crouched down to pet her. “Were you worried about me? I guess it makes you anxious when I disappear.” Her PTSD was understandable.

  Mischief meowed and I lifted her into my arms and carried her into the bedroom. She didn’t know about the visit from upper middle management and, as much as I wanted to avoid the conversation, I knew she had to hear it from me.

  I placed her on the bed and flopped beside her, flinging an arm over my head. “We need to talk.”

  The Siamese cat curled against the curve of my hip and I could feel the vibrations of her soft purring. It had been easier when I died because I didn’t know it was going to happen. I didn’t have to say goodbye to her or anyone else.

  “I made an arrangement with some bureaucrats,” I began. She raised her head and looked at me with accusatory eyes. “Bureaucrats. Not cats.” She lowered her head, satisfied by the distinction. “Anyway, they’re going to take me to the place where I supposedly belong.”

  “Meow?” Mischief said.

  I scratched behind her ear. “I don’t know what that means for you. Hell, I don’t know what it means for me. I’m going to do my best to make sure we’re a package deal, but I can’t promise anything.” My throat thickened and I found it difficult to continue. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know that you have been the best companion a single, hopeless woman could ever ask for and I have been extremely lucky that you chose me.”

  She climbed on top of my chest, blowing her tuna breath on me, and licked my nose with her sandpaper tongue.

  “I love you, too,” I whispered. I didn’t even mind when her teeth clamped down on my nose.

  I fell asleep with Mischief on my chest, probably obstructing my airway. My dreams involved dancing hot dogs with mermaid tails and a swimming pool filled with margaritas. It was bonkers and exactly what I needed to get through until morning.

  I wasn’t surprised when I awoke to find Mischief on my bed with a note in her mouth. She dropped it on my stomach and meowed loudly.

  “Don’t bully me,” I muttered. Begrudgingly, I opened the note and read the contents. “They want me down at the HOA building at nine. What time is it now?” I figured I’d have a leisurely breakfast and see if there was anything I wanted to steal on my way out of the village.

  Mischief nudged my arm with her wet nose.

  “What?” I glanced at the clock and jolted to my feet. “Nine? How is it already nine?” And what would happen when I wasn’t there on time? I ran around the bedroom like a lunatic, trying to make myself presentable. It would be the last time I saw anyone. Would I even get a chance to say goodbye or would they whisk me away in a phone booth? Wait, that was Dr. Who. Oh, for fox sake, what if I didn’t get to say goodbye? The afterlife was so unfair.

  I started to cry and realized that the stress of the situation was overtaking me. Mischief hissed and I knew she was trying to snap me out of it. I looked at her in frustration. “What do you want me to do? This is the afterlife. I don’t have any control here. If they want me to go, I have to go.” The cat glared at me. “Don’t you give me that face.”

  She scurried into the closet and I chased after her. I stopped short when I realized she was trying to drag my hot dog suit out of the closet.

  “What are you thinking, Mischief?”

  Then it dawned on me. She did not want me to go softly into that good night. She wanted me to go loudly—the way I go best.

  “I like the way you think.”

  As the Rocky theme song blared in my head, I took the hot dog suit off the hanger and slid my body into it. Although I didn’t have a megaphone, I knew I could project my voice well enough when called upon. I’d attended enough rock concerts and church services to know that much.

  I held out my arms. “How do I look? Ready to not go down without a fight?” Mischief purred and I scooped her off the floor. “Let’s go, partner. I can’t do this without you.”

  Mischief and I took the half-painted golf cart to the HOA building. I parked right out front in clear violation of the rules. Ha! Hera would have to eat the cost of that ticket.

  Randolph was pacing in the lobby when I entered. His head swiveled toward me and I saw the combination of relief and fear in his eyes.

  “Where are they?” I asked, marching forward with Mischief trotting beside me.

  “In the first meeting room on the left,” he said. He threw his arms around me and squeezed. “I’ll miss you, Eloise.”

  Part of me was glad I had a thick layer of fabric sausage between us. I patted the elf’s head. “There, there. You’ll manage. Make sure a deserving supernatural gets my house. Someone with good taste who will fit in my clothes.” I paused. “Is Beyoncé a supernatural?”

  He remained rooted in place.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Is it just Madam President and the firing squad?”

  He nodded glumly.

  I inhaled deeply and surged forward. I found them in the room where I was first brought after I landed in the cricket field. Four heads turned toward me, but only three seemed surprised by the state of my appearance.

  “Ah, the infamous cat,” Miss Black said, noting Mischief beside me.

  “Let the hearing
commence,” I said with a sassy snap of my fingers.

  “There’s no hearing, Miss Worthington,” Mr. Grey said. “We made a deal. We’ve completed our end. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Thank you for that, by the way,” Hera said. “Roderick’s case will be handled by our Judges of the Dead. Agatha has agreed to testify.”

  “If you would permit me to make my case,” I said.

  “There’s no case,” Mr. Beige said. “And please remove that ridiculous attire.”

  I looked down at my costume. “This is a special outfit. I wear it to all my most meaningful protests.”

  “Before you go, tell her what you told me,” Hera urged. “She deserves to know.”

  I looked at the trio expectantly.

  “You should know that you’re not to blame for the recent spate of obliterations,” Mr. Beige said.

  I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know for sure?”

  “I had a word with upper upper management and they informed me that Divine Place was due for a shakeup,” he said.

  I frowned. “A shakeup?”

  He gave me a dismissive wave. “Oh, you know. Like a comet hitting the earth or Dante’s arrival in the First Circle of Hell or Kirstie Alley replacing Shelley Long on Cheers. Your arrival was probably mixed in with that rather than the cause of it.”

  “A coincidence,” Hera said. “Imagine that.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for letting me know.” Despite the circumstances, I felt a little bit better.

  “What do you care whether it was your fault?” Mr. Grey asked. “I read your file. You’re far too selfish to be concerned with any destruction in your wake.”

  “I have friends here. If I knew for a fact that I was the reason they were in danger or that I was rocking their boats—and not in a good way—then I wouldn’t want to stay. In fact, you wouldn’t even need to escort me out. I’d run, not walk, to the nearest exit.” Now that I knew I wasn’t the cause, however, I felt my resolve strengthen.

  “Miss Worthington, if you’ll follow us,” Miss Black began, “we’ll take you where you belong.”

  “This is where I belong,” I insisted.

  Mr. Beige grunted. “We’ve been over this. Divine Place is for supernaturals, not for humans and certainly not for their living cats.”

  Mischief hissed and swatted at his leg.

  “I don’t want to go,” I said. “I’ve made friends here. I have a job I like. I’ve put down roots.” I touched my scalp. “Okay, well I have roots, but the point is that I like everyone here.” And some of them I liked more than I’d ever liked anyone. Maybe even loved.

  Randolph hovered in the doorway of the meeting room. “We can accommodate her here. We have the facilities and there’s no danger of being over capacity. She already has a house.”

  “47 Hamilton Street,” I said. “Named after my favorite musical.”

  Miss Black nudged the elf aside. “Miss Worthington, while we appreciate your commitment to Divine Place, I’m afraid it’s not your decision, nor yours, little elf.”

  My palms began to sweat. The reality of leaving this place was too overwhelming to contemplate.

  We crossed the lobby and I was surprised to see Harold in front of the exit. The old wizard blocked the way with his staff. “You shall not pass,” he boomed.

  I offered him a sad smile. “I appreciate the gesture, Gandalf.”

  Mr. Beige gently moved him aside and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  We exited the HOA building and I was shocked when I saw the scene that awaited us. Picket signs dotted the sidewalk and Gia stood at the front of the crowd with a megaphone, shouting something unintelligible. She looked more like a goddess to fear than a goddess of good cheer.

  I peered into the throng of bodies. “Is Dean in a matching hot dog suit?” With his one eye, the cyclops managed to make the hot dog suit look like an alien food group.

  As upper middle management tried to pass by, Gia shouted in their ears with the megaphone. “Free Eloise!”

  “She’s not under arrest,” Miss Black said primly.

  “Feels like it,” I mumbled. As distressed as I was, it was heartening to read some of the signs—Supernaturals For Human Rights, Justice for the Human, Worthington Is Worth It.

  Damn right I am.

  Jules strode up to them, her fangs on full display. “Nobody manhandles my friend.”

  “That’s right,” Mitzi added, scrambling to catch up. “And I suck at magic, but I will make an exception if it means doing a spell that gets rid of the three of you.”

  “You’re the best,” I said.

  “There’s no need for a mob scene,” Mr. Grey said. “We’re under orders.”

  My heart lifted when I saw Cole push his way through the crowd. “I’m a demigod, son of Tana and Zeus, a protector of justice and social order.” He swaggered toward us, placing himself between me and my doom. “And this woman isn’t going anywhere that she doesn’t want to go.”

  Gia jumped in front of us. “I may be a goddess of good cheer, but mark my words, you do not want to see my dark side.” She shoved an angry finger in Miss Black’s face.

  “You really don’t,” I said. “I accidentally backed over her azaleas and it was ugly, let me tell you. I think she might breathe fire.”

  Miss Black blew out a weary breath. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

  “Then let’s make it easier,” a steely voice said. The crowd parted as Hera threaded her way through them. “Simply leave her be and report back that you never found her. Tell them the letter was a practical joke. That someone here wanted to test the system.”

  My jaw unhinged. Hera was defending me? Madam President of Rules and Red Tape? And here I thought she’d be happy to see the back end of me.

  Miss Black matched her menacing gaze. “We have the utmost respect for you and everything you do here, Hera. You know that.”

  The goddess’s expression hardened. “Then show me your appreciation by leaving Miss Worthington here and walking away.”

  Cole’s grip tightened around my waist and I felt the tension emanating from his body. He was worried. Really worried.

  He wasn’t the only one. Now that he was next to me, the thought of being separated from him for eternity was more than I could stand.

  “If she goes, then I’m going with her,” Cole said. “I’m part human. I must qualify for their purgatory, right?”

  I looked at him. “You would do that?”

  “For you? Yes.”

  Mr. Beige shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. Your godly side outweighs your human side.”

  “Then take it away,” he said. “What do I need godly abilities for? I never use them.”

  I patted his chest. “Well, let’s not be hasty. You used them pretty good the other night.”

  The three members of upper middle management finally seemed to grasp that they were surrounded by an angry mob of supernaturals.

  Mr. Grey looked at his companions. “I don’t know about you, but they don’t pay me enough for this.”

  “I’ve already put in for a transfer,” Mr. Beige said.

  Miss Black let loose a disgruntled breath. “Please let us pass so that we can go.” She made no move to take me with her.

  “And you’ll be leaving Marshal Worthington in Divine Place,” Hera said.

  “We never saw her,” Mr. Beige said.

  Miss Black looked at him. “Saw who?”

  The trio walked away from the building and I held my breath as I watched them go. Only when they completely disappeared from view did I exhale.

  “So I’m staying?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

  Cole pulled back the top of my hot dog suit to free my face. He leaned down to press his forehead against mine. “This thing isn’t hard to get off, is it?”

  My lips curved into a sly smile. “No, and neither am I.”

  The kiss that followed left me in no doubt as
to how he felt about me. I didn’t care that we had an audience. I hooked my arms around his neck and kissed him again.

  “I hope you’re ready for a long-term relationship,” he murmured, “because there’s nothing longer term than purgatory.”

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  And I wanted the rest of my afterlife to start right now.

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