Third Grave Dead Ahead (39 page)

“Artemis? A dog? Oh, my god, that’s right. I was indirectly responsible for her death when we wrestled behind the asylum. I just never imagined a dog. I’ve never seen a dog left behind. That movie wasn’t kidding when it said all dogs go to heaven.” I scratched her ears and hugged her to me. Suddenly the pain seemed minor. “I wonder if I should tell Donovan.”

“Is that your new boyfriend?”

Oh, geez, not that crap again. “Look, I get enough of that from Reyes about you.”

“He thinks I’m your boyfriend?”

“That’s what he calls you.”

He frowned. “So am I?”

“A pain in the ass?”

“You’re one to talk. We ever gonna hit it?”

“Ew. Not if you were the last skiptracer in the known universe.”

“What the fuck?” he asked, all offended-like. “You almost killed me.”

“
Almost
being the operative word.”

“And you practically raped that biker guy, which, by the way, what the fuck was that about? Scraping the bottom of the barrel there, Charles.”

“And that barrel is hot.” I looked down at Artemis. “And Donovan’s genuine. He would sell me to the highest bidder for a carburetor, and we both know it. So when it happens, when he lies and cheats and uses me as bait, I won’t be totally blindsided like I am when all the other men in my life lie and cheat and use me as bait. It’s called self-preservation.”

“It’s called self-loathing.”

“Whatever,” I said. Then I remembered we had unfinished business. “You never finished your list.”

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned his head back against the wall and asked, “Where was I?”

“You’re asking me? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Okay, let me think.” He counted off with his fingers. “The top five things you never want to say to a grim reaper: I’m dead tired. You’re killing me. I’m dying to try that. This relationship will be the death of me.”

“So, we’re at number one,” I said, trying not to laugh.

He grinned and fixed a steady gaze on me. “The number one thing you don’t want to say to the grim reaper is … Are you ready?”

“Would you just say it?”

“You’re going to love this.”

“Swopes.”

“Till death do us part.”

I stilled, reality slapping across my face like a physical blow, thanking god it didn’t come to that.

“I thought you’d like that,” he said, his mannerisms jovial, “you being almost indirectly responsible for my death and all.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t almost indirectly responsible for your death.”

“I lied.”

“See, blindside.”

“I’m planning on cheating later, too. Possibly using you as bait.” He smiled and locked his arms behind his head, seeming to bask in all the possibilities.

“You know, I feel a lot better about almost being indirectly responsible for your death.”

“I’m so glad. Who’s the dead chick?”

I looked over at Wednesday as she stood beside my bed. She had completely changed with the entrance of Artemis. She still held the knife as though her life depended upon it, but she smiled and ran her hand down the Rottweiler’s sleek back before looking up at me. Right at me. Like into my eyes. It caught me off guard, as did her crossing. Before I could even ask for a name, she stepped forward and crossed through me.

“Wow,” I heard Garrett say, but I’d closed my eyes and riffled through her memories for information. Her name was Mary. She died when she was six of the fever. She had no idea what year it was, but from the clothes and décor of her memories, I guessed it to be somewhere in the very late 1800s. She’d wanted a pony for her birthday, but her family couldn’t afford one. Instead, her father made her a doll and she threw it in the river behind her house in anger. Regretting it, she instantly jumped into the icy water to retrieve it and died three days later as a result.

Her family had tucked the doll in her coffin with her, never knowing what she’d done. But when she heard the angels talking about me, she exchanged the doll for a knife and decided to be my guardian until the real one showed up. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wasn’t very good. After all, it’s the thought that counts.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Garrett said, his face a picture of awe when I refocused on him. “It was like a thousand sparklers followed by a sunburst. Absolutely beautiful.”

I dragged in a deep, cleansing breath then planted my face in Artemis’s neck and said, “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your body?” When he didn’t answer, I looked up at him.

He was watching me, gauging my emotions. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s where you belong.”

His head tilted and he was at my doorway before I could blink. “You need to figure out what you’re capable of.”

I frowned. “That’s getting really old.”

“I heard Farrow. He wants you to figure that shit out because of some war. I thought he was exaggerating. I’ve heard things, and I was wrong.”

“I’m working on it,” I said, getting tired. I wanted nothing more than to bury myself against Artemis and sleep.

“Hon, if this war is half as bad as Farrow thinks it will be, you really need to figure these things out.”

Great. Another Riddler. Just what I needed. “So, what do you know about it?”

“I know that they’re coming. And Charles—” He planted a warning gaze on me. “—they’re mad.”

Before I could ask for a little elaboration, he disappeared into thin air. Hopefully he’d stay in his body this time.

I scooted closer to Artemis. The coolness wafting off her felt good. She wagged her little tail and burrowed her nose under my neck. I glanced one last time at the door where Garrett had been before I let sleep overtake me.

Men.

Also by Darynda Jones

Second Grave on the Left

First Grave on the Right

Praise for Darynda Jones

“Hilarious and heartfelt, sexy and surprising.”

—J. R. Ward

“Jones perfectly balances humor and suspense in her tight second paranormal thriller featuring grim reaper, PI, and ‘all-around badass’ Charley Davidson.… The fiery relationship between Charley and Reyes will satisfy paranormal romance fans, but it’s the distinctive characters, dead and alive, and the almost constant laughs that will leave readers eager for the next installment.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review) on
Second Grave on the Left

“Jones skillfully establishes the novel’s setting and keeps up the pace with plenty of action. And let’s be honest—the sex is pretty hot, too.”

—
Library Journal
(starred review) on
First Grave on the Right

“A true paranormal princess has been proclaimed. Bravo, Ms. Jones, you have just hit the big time.… A brilliant novel … Do not walk, run to get your copy.”

—
Night Owl Reviews
on
First Grave on the Right

“Sexy, sassy … Jones’s characters, both living and dead, are colorful and endearing.… Cheeky charm … sarcastic wit.”

—The Associated Press on
First Grave on the Right

“Jones’s wickedly witty debut will delight aficionados of such humorous paranormals as Casey Daniels’s Pepper Martin Mysteries and Dakota Cassidy’s Accidental Friends series.”

—
Booklist
(starred review) on
First Grave on the Right

“Snarky, sassy Charley is back and taking no guff in Jones’s funny, action-packed new offering. This time it’s her traditional PI skills, rather than her grim reaper credentials, that are essential to solving two urgent cases. There is murder and mystery aplenty in Jones’s fun read.”

—
RT Book Reviews
on
Second Grave on the Left

About the Author

Winner of the 2009 Golden Heart for Best Paranormal Romance for her manuscript
First Grave on the Right,
Darynda Jones can’t remember a time when she wasn’t putting pen to paper. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of more than twenty-five years and two beautiful sons, aka the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys. Visit
www.daryndajones.com
.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD.
Copyright © 2012 by Darynda Jones. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

ISBN 978-1-250-00154-2 (hardcover)

e-ISBN 9781250008701

First Edition: February 2012