Second Grave on the Left (34 page)

I’d taken a sip of the iced tea Dad handed me and promptly choked on it. After a long and arduous coughing fit, I gaped at her as best I could. “Are you kidding? You were always the perfect one. And you had issues with me?”

“Duh,” she said, rolling her eyes. We were much more alike than I remembered. It was creepy.

“You don’t even say hi to me,” I argued. “You don’t even look up when I walk into a room.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” Her gaze dropped self-consciously along with my jaw.

“Why would you think such a ridiculous thing?”

“Because you told me never to speak to you again. Not even to say hi. And never, under any circumstances, was I to ever look at you again.”

What? I totally didn’t remember that. Well, there was that one time. “Dude, I was nine.”

She shook her head.

Okay, there was that other time. “Twelve?”

Another shake.

“Well, whatever, it was a long time ago.”

“You didn’t mention a time limit. You obviously don’t remember, but I do, like it was yesterday. And besides that, you were always so secretive. I wanted to know so much more, and you wouldn’t tell me.” She lifted her shoulders. “I always felt so left out of your life.”

It was my turn to shift uncomfortably. “Gemma, there are just some things you’re better off not knowing.”

“And there she goes again,” she said, tossing her arms into the air.

Dad had sat across from us, and he laughed. “She does the same thing to me. Always has.”

“Really, guys. I’m not kidding,” I said.

“Charley is right,” Denise said. “She needs to keep that stuff to herself.” We were venturing into Denialville again, which was not nearly as fun as Margaritaville. There was nothing Denise liked less than talking about Charley.

“Denise,” Dad said, placing a hand over hers, “don’t you think we’ve insisted on that long enough?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve always pushed her aside, refused to acknowledge her gifts, even when the evidence was staring you in the face.”

She gasped. “I have never done any such thing.”

“Mom,” Gemma said. She genuinely liked the woman. It boggled my mind. “Charley is very special. You know that. You have to know that.”

“And that’s why I did it,” Dad said, his face turned down in shame. “I knew that if Caruso came after you, sweetheart, you’d make it through unscathed. You always do.”

I wouldn’t say I’d come through the ordeal unscathed. I did have superglue holding my chest together. Well, for a few minutes. The cut healed almost immediately, but I didn’t have the heart to tell the doctor. Which was another aspect of me my family didn’t know, how quickly I healed.

“Dad, why didn’t you just tell me about him?”

A deep and sorrowful shame swallowed him whole, and I reached over and took his hand, afraid he would disappear. “I didn’t want you to know anything about Caruso if it could be helped. About what I did. We were hoping to find him before he could act on his threats.”

“Dad, you can tell us anything,” Gemma said.

“But you don’t understand. He was right.” Dad’s face fell in disgrace. “I was the reason his daughter died. We were in a high-speed chase, and I fishtailed him. He skidded into the guardrail, bounced off, and careened down a short embankment on the other side. His car rolled, and his daughter was thrown out.”

“Dad—oh, my gosh,” I said, exasperated with him. “That makes it his fault. Honestly, he’s in a high-speed car chase with children in the car?”

After a long sigh, he nodded. “I know, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.” He glanced back at me. “I just couldn’t tell you. But I did. Your turn.”

“Oh, man, that was totally a setup.”

Uncle Bob snorted.

“He’s right. You gotta give us something.”

Holy macaroni, if they knew I was the grim reaper … No. No way was I going there.

“For starters,” Dad said, “how did you do that thing the other night?”

“Do what?” I asked as Donnie, Dad’s Native American bartender, brought us our food. I took a moment to gaze at his chest; then I snickered when I caught Gemma doing the same. We high-fived under the table. “Hey, Donnie.”

He looked up and frowned. “Hey,” he said, his tone wary. He’d never taken to me.

“That thing,” Dad said when Donnie left. “The way you moved.” He leaned in close and said under his breath, “Charley, there was nothing human about the way you moved.”

Gemma’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “What? How did she move?”

Even Denise suddenly became very interested as she mashed her eggs and red chili together.

As Dad explained what I did,
how I moved
to everyone, I looked over at Strawberry Shortcake. She had appeared at my side. I scooted Gemma over with my hip and made room for her.

“Hey, pumpkin,” I said as she climbed onto the bench seat with me. When Dad stopped and the whole table stared, I rolled my eyes. “Okay, really, everyone here knows I can talk to the departed.”

“We know,” Gemma said. “We just want to eavesdrop.”

“Oh. Well, okay, then.”

Denise feigned an extreme interest in her food. I half expected her to snort or throw a fit, but I think she was realizing she was outnumbered. For once in her life.

“What’s up?” I asked Strawberry. “Is your brother dating ho’s again?”

“Charley,” Gemma admonished.

“No, he really does,” I explained. “He might need an intervention.”

“I don’t know.” Strawberry shrugged, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders. “I’ve been at Blue’s house. That old building. It’s really fun. And Rocket’s so funny.”

My heart kick-started when she mentioned Rocket. “So he’s okay?”

“Yep. Says he’s good as gold.”

With a sigh of relief, I wondered if Blue might have found Reyes’s body. I hated to say it out loud, but … “Did she find him? Did she find Reyes?”

Uncle Bob stilled. He was the only one at the table who knew anything about Reyes and the fact that he had escaped from prison, so to speak.

Strawberry shrugged. “No, she said only you can find him. But you’re looking with the wrong body part.”

My gaze darted to my crotch before I caught myself. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, did she tell you—” I leaned in and whispered. “—which body part I should use?”

Everyone at the table had leaned in as well.

“She just said to listen.”

“Oh.” I sat back, confused. “Did she tell you what I should be listening for?”

“I don’t know. She talks funny.”

“Okay, well, tell me exactly what she said.”

“She said to listen for what only you can hear.”

“Oh,” I said again, my brows furrowing.

“We’re going to play hopscotch.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, yeah, she said to hurry.”

“Wait!” But Strawberry was already gone. “Freaking dead people.”

“What?” Gemma asked, her interest utterly piqued.

It was kind of nice to be so open. I glanced at Uncle Bob knowingly. “She said that if I was going to find Reyes, I had to listen for what only I could hear. I don’t know what that means.”

“Charley,” Gemma said, “I know what you are.”

My jaw started to drop open before I caught myself. I glanced around self-consciously. “Gemma, nobody at this table knows what I am.”

“And why is that?” Dad asked.

Gemma grinned. “I know you’re in love with someone,” she said. Then she offered a conspiratorial wink, and I realized she was covering. She did know what I was. When the hell did that happen? “And I know you have abilities you’ve never told us about.”

Dad leaned back and eyed us both. He wanted answers I simply wasn’t willing to give. Not just yet.

“Would it help to know I use my powers only for good?”

His mouth slid into a thin line.

“What does your heart tell you to do?” Gemma asked.

I plopped my chin into a cupped palm and started stabbing my side of hash browns with a fork. “My heart is too in love with him to think clearly.”

“Then stop and listen,” she said. “I’ve seen you do it. When we were little. You would close your eyes and listen.”

I would. My shoulders straightened with the memory. She was right. Sometimes when I would see Big Bad in the distance—who later turned out to be Reyes—I would stop and listen to his heartbeat. But he was near me at the time. That was why I could hear it. Or was it?

Gemma chastised me with a frown. “Close your eyes and listen.” She leaned in and whispered into my ear. “You’re the grim reaper, for heaven’s sake.”

I kept my surprise hidden behind a mask of reluctance. “How did you know that?” I whispered.

“I heard you tell that kid Angel when you first met him.”

Holy cow, I’d totally forgotten.

“Now concentrate,” she said, eyeing me like she had all the faith in the world.

Drawing in a long breath, I let it out slowly and closed my eyes. It came to me almost immediately. A faint heartbeat in the distance. I focused on it, centered everything else around the sound. It grew louder the harder I concentrated, the rhythm so familiar, the cadence so comforting. Was it really Reyes’s? Was he still alive?

“Reyes, where are you?” I whispered.

I felt a warmth, a rush of fire and heat; then I felt a mouth at my ear and heard a voice so deep, so husky, the low vibration curled over me in sensual waves. “The last place you will ever look,” he said almost teasingly.

I opened my eyes with a gasp. “Oh, my god, I know where he is.”

I scanned the faces around me. They all sat waiting expectantly. “Uncle Bob, can you come with me?” I asked as I jumped up. He slammed another bite into his mouth and got up to follow. So did Dad. “Dad, you don’t have to come.”

He offered a sardonic gaze. “Try to stop me.”

“But this might be nothing, really.”

“Okay.”

“Fine, but your food’s going to get cold.”

He grinned. I looked back at Gemma, unable to believe that she knew what I was. But the thought of Dad knowing crushed my chest. I was his little girl. And I wanted to remain that way for as long as possible. I leaned toward her just before I ran out the door. “Please, don’t tell Dad what I am,” I whispered.

“Never.” She leaned back and smiled at me reassuringly.

Wow, this was nice. In an Addams Family kind of way.

*   *   *

Where was the one place I would never look for Reyes? In my own house, naturally.

I raced across the parking lot as fast as my killer boots would carry me, not waiting for Dad or Uncle Bob, and practically stumbled down the basement stairs. It was the only logical explanation. All the apartments were rented with college in session. Reyes had to be in the basement.

When I finally skidded to a halt on the cement floor, the door up top had closed, and I realized I’d forgotten one thing. Light. The switch was at the top of the stairs. I turned to go back up but stopped. An odd kind of anxiety skimmed along the surface of my skin, like static electricity rushing over raw nerve endings. The first thing that registered was an odor. A pungent aroma hung thick in the air. The acidic scent burned my throat and watered my eyes.

I covered my nose and mouth with a hand and blinked into the darkness. Geometric figures started taking shape. Sharp angles and protruding joints materialized before my eyes. When my sight had time to adjust, I realized the shapes were moving, crawling one over the other like giant spiders, dripping off the ceiling, crushing each other for a spot up top.

I stumbled back before I realized they were everywhere. I turned in a circle, completely surrounded.

“They sent two hundred thousand.”

I spun around and saw Reyes, fierce, sword drawn, so savage, so breathtaking, I shuddered.

“In numeris firmatis,”
he said. Strength in numbers.

They wanted him so badly, they were drooling. Literally. Dark fluid dripped from their razor-sharp teeth to form puddles on the floor. That’s when I saw his corporeal body, a shredded shell of what he was before, and my knees gave beneath me. I clutched at the stair rail to stay upright, fought back a dizzy spell with a shake of my head, then refocused. He was unconscious, soaked in a mixture of his own blood and the thick, black saliva of demons.

“This is all that made it through,” he continued.

All? The basement was hardly small and now held two, maybe three hundred of them. Demons. Like black soot and ash with teeth.

The light flickered on, and in that instant, I understood. They had been banished from the light. And in it, they disappeared. “Turn the light out!” I screamed, because I could no longer see them.

“What?” Uncle Bob asked from the top stair.

“Turn off the light out and stay out.”

“No, keep the light on,” I heard Reyes say. “If you can see them…,” he said, repeating his earlier warning.

But Uncle Bob obeyed.

Reyes growled in annoyance. He stood fully robed, the black mass rolling in waves around him, his blade glinting even in the dark depths of the basement. They were closing in on him, and they just kept coming, crawling over themselves, oozing out of cracks and crevices and dropping from the ceiling, fighting for a front position among legions.

My heart thundered in my chest as I scanned the beings around me. And just as Reyes had warned, they saw me. One by one, their skeletal heads turned in my direction. They seemed—in a nightmarish, optical illusion kind of way—to smile, their wide mouths and razor-sharp teeth forming an upturned crescent as they lowered their heads in preparation for attack.

“Turn on the light,” Reyes repeated, his voice strained as he swung his giant blade when one got too close. “It’ll blind them, give you time.”

“Charley, what’s going on?” Ubie called from the other side of the door. I looked up. The stairs were completely blocked now, packed with dozens upon dozens of real-life, state-of-the-art demons.

It took a moment to absorb the reality of my environment. I stood transfixed, utterly stunned.

Then Reyes was in front of me, the warning in his voice so desperate, so determined, it sucked the already fleeting breath out of my lungs. He held his blade at the ready, leaned in, and said, “Don’t make me kill you.”