“If you have something to say, then yes. Any more questions?”
“Yes, but I can’t think of any right now.”
Heather gave me a quick hug. “This is not the tribunal, Daisy. Steve’s afterlife is not on the line today. It’s more of an informational meeting.”
I nodded and took a deep breath.
“Wait,” I said as Heather began to walk again.
“One more question, Daisy,” she said. “Being late isn’t smart.”
“Got it,” I replied, feeling woozy about the words on the tip of my tongue. “Scott Macon was killed by bees. Did you know that?”
Heather’s pause was approximately seven seconds too long. “I did. Karma worked pretty fast on that one.”
My mouth hung open. I wanted to ask another question, but I didn’t want the answer. Scott Macon’s death, no matter how it happened, didn’t affect Steve’s afterlife or my job as the Death Counselor. Therefore, it should be none of my business. The evil man deserved to die after his vicious murder of Lindsay, in my opinion, but that was all it was—an opinion. I would never act on it. I felt ill that maybe Heather had. It made going into the meeting all the more terrifying.
I dealt with the dead. I helped them. I cared about them. I wasn’t the reason for their deaths.
“Oh,” Heather said, breezing right past Scott Macon’s demise without concern. “Candy Vargo will be in attendance.”
“Freaking Candy Vargo is Immortal? Candy Vargo? Candy Vargo, who has hammertoe and an ear wax issue? Candy Vargo, who works as a cashier at the Piggly Wiggly?” I asked, shocked to the core.
“Yep,” Heather said with a chuckle. “That Candy Vargo. Thank God there’s only one. My advice is not to piss her off. She has a short fuse. You ready?”
“Hell no. Let’s do this.”
“That’s my girl,” Heather said with a wide grin.
I’d been in Clarence Smith’s office before. This time was vastly different.
The office was very masculine—dark wood and leather furniture. The walls were painted a hunter green and a very expensive Persian rug covered a large portion of the shiny wood floor. My eyes were immediately drawn to the ornate wooden table in the center of the room. The Immortals were already seated and waiting for Heather and me.
I would have liked to have been anywhere else in the world. I could literally feel the power in the room crawling along my skin.
Heather was correct. Candy Vargo was here and sitting at the head of the table. Charlie, Tim and Clarence Smith, aka John Travolta, gave her a wide berth and appeared to be slightly uncomfortable with her presence. I wondered if she’d monologued about her bone spurs. Once Candy Vargo got going about her feet, it was tremendously difficult to make her stop.
Charlie—short, round and adorable—gave me a covert wink, which relaxed me some. Tim, on the other hand, stared at me as if I were some kind of unpleasant science experiment. Tim was slightly unfortunate-looking. His eyes were a little too close together, and his thinning hair was parted unstylishly in the middle. He wore his postal uniform. Did he own any other clothes?
Candy Vargo simply picked her teeth and looked bored. She was a disaster—untucked, unbathed and rude.
“Thank you for coming, Daisy,” Clarence Smith said kindly as he put his hand out to indicate we should be seated. He was a handsome man, with thick white hair and golden-colored eyes, in his early seventies—or at least it was the version of himself he chose to show—and, funny enough, didn’t look a thing like John Travolta.
“I didn’t think there was much of a choice,” I said, making a joke that made no one laugh. “Umm… I’m kidding. I’m… umm… honored and you know… kind of, somewhat pleased to be here. So, thank you for having me.”
If I could have melted like the Wicked Witch of the West, I would have gladly done it. My lack of sophistication was showing and I was fairly sure it wasn’t going to be in my favor.
“Yes, well, let’s get right to it,” Charlie said, giving me a smile that warmed me all over.
He was as lovely and kind as June. Having him and Heather here was a gift and an incredible relief.
“Shall we start with introductions?” Clarence Smith suggested.
“I already know all of you,” I pointed out, confused.
“Yep, as far as you know, you do,” Candy Vargo said, tossing her toothpick to the floor and sitting back in her chair.
“Got it,” I said, wanted to gag at her manners. “My bad.”
“I go by Clarence Smith. My real identity is Michael the Archangel. It’s self-explanatory.”
I nodded because I was terrified that I was going to call him John Travolta.
“I go by Charlie Calvert. My real name is not easy to pronounce, so I stick with Charlie,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “I’m the Enforcer of the Immortals.”
“Tim. Just Tim. I can’t remember the name I was given,” Tim said with a shrug. “I’m the Courier. The almighty mailman of the Immortal Universe.”
I noted a slight eye roll from the others but Tim was oblivious. I was tempted to ask him if he stole mail from Heaven and Hell, but thought one shitty joke had been enough for this meeting.
“My name is Heather George. I’ve had a variety of names over the years. Occasionally I can’t remember who I am this century—comes with living forever, I suppose. I’m the Arbitrator between Heaven and Hell.”
The group chuckled. I forced myself to join them. Immortal humor was a bit above my scope of understanding and pay grade, but if I was anything, I was polite. Only Candy’s alias remained. I couldn’t even imagine what her Immortal job was. Her manners were heinous.
“I go by Candy Vargo.” She pulled a fresh toothpick out of her pocket and had another go at her teeth. “My real name is Karma. My job is my name. Figure it out.”
Karma grinned from ear to ear as my entire body chilled to the core. She then made a noise that sounded distinctly like a buzzing bee. I immediately regretted all the cookies I’d eaten. Heather wasn’t joking when she’d advised it would be unwise to be on Candy’s bad side.
My stomach churned and I stole a quick glance at Heather. She wouldn’t look at me. I had my answer about Scott Macon. I was too taken aback to know how I felt about it. Part of me wanted to thank Candy on behalf of Lindsay. The other part of me was appalled. I decided to feel nothing, or at least show as little on my face as possible. I didn’t want Candy to start helping me with my job. Blood on my hands, even if it was the blood of a murderer, was something I wanted no part of at all.
Taking a deep breath and remembering why I was here steadied my confidence. Steve was the only person who mattered, and I was his representative. “I’m Daisy Leigh Amara-Jones,” I said, using both my maiden and married surnames. “I’m the Death Counselor.”
“Names are such a telling thing,” Candy Vargo said darkly.
I was half tempted to shout no joke, but I bit it back. The fact that a sloppy, tooth-picking, hammer-toed Immortal was in charge of Karma was very dark indeed.
I really wanted to get out of here. The chances of me offending Karma with my new and constantly growing lady balls was high. There was no room for more trouble on my plate.
“Have the instructions for the tribunal been deciphered?” I asked, getting back to the reason we’d gathered so we could finish and I could get the hell out. I was seriously thinking about taking June up on her offer to stay at the house while I took a run. Running was about the only activity that made my mind go blank.
“We’re close,” Tim said, still watching me with a sour expression on his face.
I wondered if he’d heard I’d crushed my mailbox with a tree and was pissed. He was such a strange little man.
“However, there are some issues,” Clarence added, staring at me too.
They were all staring at me. Did I have food on my face? Shit. Heather would have told me if I was sporting cookie crumbs. Maybe there was lipstick on my teeth. I hadn’t asked for a teeth check.
Lady balls. Use my lady balls. If I had lipstick on my teeth, I would own it and pretend I meant to put it there.
“Issues such as?” I asked, leveling Clarence with a stare that meant business. “What was done to Steve was wrong. I will not abide by the decision.”
“You will have no choice other than to abide by the result of the tribunal,” Clarence shot back with a raised brow and an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
“I’ll win,” I said flatly.
My confidence might be lacking for myself, but when it came to the people I loved, I had it in spades.
“Ballsy,” Karma commented.
“Correct,” I replied. “What is the issue?”
I knew the issue. The issue was Gideon. I wanted to hear the solution.
“The Grim Reaper must be in attendance in order for the tribunal to be legal—so to speak,” Charlie said with a concerned expression aimed at me.
“Fine. I have no problem with Gideon being here,” I said with a shrug.
“You sent him away,” Tim pointed out.
“And you know this, how?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the bizarre man.
“Word gets around,” he replied easily. “He… or she who caused the problem must solve it.”
“What does that mean?” Heather demanded tightly. “Explain yourself, Courier.”
Tim sat silently and stared right back at Heather.
Great. Was I about to witness an Immortal smackdown? If so, my money was on Heather.
“It means that since Daisy sent the Grim Reaper away, Daisy must bring him back,” Charlie chimed in, avoiding eye contact.
“Impossible,” Heather snapped, jumping to her feet and eyeing the group with disgust. “That’s a death wish.”
“Out of order, Arbitrator,” Candy Vargo said with a laugh. “You should know better. Getting attached does have its pitfalls.”
Candy Vargo was a walking cliché. Karma was a bitch. She was mean, disgusting and deadly.
“Nothing is impossible,” I said, putting my hand on Heather’s arm to calm her. “You just have to believe.”
Heather closed her eyes and slowly sat back down. Steve’s afterlife was on the line. I would make the impossible happen. There was no choice in the matter. I just had no idea how to do it.
“Wise words for one so young,” Clarence said with admiration in his eyes.
For a while, I’d secretly pretended Clarence Smith was my father since I had no clue who my sperm donor was. He’d always been kind and fair to me all the years I’d worked for him. Of course, the distasteful fact that his daughter was Clarissa ruined the fantasy. Ironically, now I knew they weren’t related. It made sense. Clarissa was the essence of evil and Clarence was not.
“I’d say thank you, but I think it’s a little premature,” I replied cryptically. “What do I have to do?”
No one said a word. That did not bode well, and I was grateful to be seated. I’d accepted a whole lot of impossible recently. I wasn’t sure how much more my brain could hold.
“You knocked down a massive tree with your bare hands?” Karma inquired casually.
“With my fists,” I corrected her. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” she replied with a rude grin. “Just curious.”
“I see,” I said, getting irritated with the games. I didn’t like the rules. It was time to play by mine. “What else are you curious about while you have me here as a captive audience?”
The exchanged glances of surprise felt empowering. Hoping like heck I wasn’t reading them wrong, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. My bandages were on full display. I thought it was a nice touch—a bit arrogant, but a nice touch.
“You go into the minds of the dead?” Charlie asked, confused and concerned.
“I do,” I confirmed.
“How?” Clarence asked, sounding truly curious.
Should I tell them? Was it safe? Would I endanger my squatters by sharing my methods? Shit.
“It’s okay, Daisy,” Heather promised. “No one here has your power. No one in this room can harm the dead.”
Slowly letting my gaze hit every person in the room, including Heather, I nodded. “Fine. However, I want some kind of proof that what I say stays in the room.”
“Again, I say ballsy,” Karma said with a cackle and went back to digging in her teeth. “Who does this little chit think she is? I could eat her for dinner.”
“Dude, gross,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. Candy Vargo was an asshole. “Can you wait until the freaking meeting is done before you pick your teeth? I’m going to lose my cookies. And I do mean cookies,” I said, reaching into my purse and whipping out the napkin full of June’s masterpieces. “How about this? If you can contain your rank habit until I leave the room, you can have a cookie. If you can’t, no cookie for you. And just for your information, Karma, June made these cookies.”
The room went deathly silent. I would have laughed at the expressions on all of the faces if I hadn’t just stepped so far over the line and probably signed my own death warrant.
To say Candy Vargo was shocked would have been an understatement. I just hoped she would wait to kill me until after the tribunal.
“Can I have two?” Candy inquired with a wide grin as everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, including me.
“You going to put that toothpick away?” I asked.
“Yep.” She snapped her fingers and burnt it to ash.
“Well, that was certainly unnervingly impressive,” I said, handing her three cookies to be on the safe side.
“I’m good like that,” Candy replied, biting into a cookie. “Balls are good, little girlie.”
“My name is Daisy, and thank you,” I said, passing the cookies around the table. “I want proof that what I say doesn’t leave the room.”
All eyes landed on Charlie.
“Your secret is safe,” Charlie promised.
“That’s it?” I asked, surprised. “No blood oath or weird ritual?”
Charlie laughed and put his hand on his heart. “Trust me,” he said. “My word is law. No one goes against it.”
Karma shuddered and Tim looked terrified. I was satisfied. Apparently, sweet Charlie was quite the badass.
“I hug the dead who have needs more complicated than others. Most of the issues can be resolved by using a Ouija board, and then…”
I paused. I remembered Gram telling me that Tim had delivered the mail fraud box to her. However, the man was so strange, I didn’t want him to get his panties in a wad. Plus, I didn’t have any more cookies in my bag to calm him down if he threw a fit.
“And then?” Clarence asked.
“Tim?” I questioned.
“What?” he asked.
“Would you like to explain what I do then since you’re the one who provided the materials?” I asked.
“No.”
I shook my head and sighed. “Alrighty then, I forge letters and cards to the dead’s loved ones. I postdate them. It’s their final wish so they can move on. It’s illegal and I enjoy it. I’ve also committed a misdemeanor, and my lying skills have vastly improved.”
I was pretty sure I heard Heather snort.
“Is that all?” Clarence asked, looking a little dazed.
“Umm… no. I do squatter surgery regularly,” I explained to confused stares from all but Heather. “I glue appendages back onto my ghosts.”
“With what?” Charlie asked, trying not to laugh.
I smiled at him. “Superglue. I should take out stock. I go through a lot of it. The dead are a hot mess and incredibly clumsy. A detached head requires two tubes of glue. I’d also like to add they adore reality shows and I don’t.”
I was greeted with amused silence. It was a relief to speak about what I did and not be locked up in an institution for it.
“Now that I’ve spilled my secrets, someone needs to tell me what I have to do to find Gideon.”
The r
oom went from light to dark in the time it took to take a breath. The answer to my question was not going to be pretty.
“You must go to him and convince him to come back,” Clarence said.
“Got that much. Where is he?”
“In the mist,” Charlie said softly.
“Can you be a little more specific?” I asked.
“Gideon is in the darkness,” Heather ground out, unhappy with the fact. “Apparently, they want you to enter the darkness and convince him to come back.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked, feeling disengaged from my body.
“Then the Angel of Mercy’s edict stands. Your dead husband will never go into the light,” Karma informed me, sounding bored by all of it.
Refusing to go was a very bad option.
“Is there any other way?” I asked.
No one said a word. My answer was in the silence.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” I said, feeling shaky. “How do I find the darkness? Is there a map?”
“You find the darkness in the minds of the dead,” Clarence explained with no emotion in his voice.
“Shit,” I muttered as I struggled not to scream. I’d been told never to go into the light and never to go into the darkness. Never is a very long time. I supposed my never was very close on the horizon.
“You may choose one of us for guidance on how to navigate the darkness,” Charlie told me. “Choose carefully. Once the decision is made it cannot be retracted.”
“The rules are archaic,” I said, holding back an eye roll with effort. I’d pushed my luck far enough.
“We are older than dirt,” Heather pointed out.
“Speak for yourself,” Karma said.
“I am,” Heather replied. “And for all of us in the room.”
Glancing at each person seated at the table, I had no idea who to pick. None of them were familiar with what I did and how I did it. None of them had gone into the darkness.
Wait.
One of them might have…
“I choose Tim,” I said, staring right at the persnickety man.
Two conversations rang in my mind as I watched Tim preen for a moment and Karma get pissed. Gram had told me that Tim was the mailman for the living and the dead. And Heather had said not to discount him and that the bizarre little man had been everywhere.
Whose Midlife Crisis Is It Anyway? : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book Two Page 12