Eighth Grave After Dark (26 page)

“Yeah. In a well. It's a long story.”

“Okay. Well, congratulations to you both.”

“Thanks. Get us those files.”

“They'll be there in an hour.”

*   *   *

As soon as Cookie got up and got her hair under control, I set her to find out everything she could on our potential kidnapper. They found no evidence that he really took Faris, but I knew one way to find out for sure.

I had Denise take Beep to change her and lay her down for a nap. I was going fishing and she didn't need to be around when I caught anything.

I walked into the office while Cook was making coffee. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and summoned Colton Ellix.

Nothing. Either I was losing my touch, or he'd already crossed. And if he was kidnapping girls, then I was pretty certain I knew which direction he went. But that was the problem. He'd crossed and I needed to know where Faris was. According to Rocket, she was still alive. I checked. But again, the good news was given with a dire warning. She wouldn't be for long. That told me she was imprisoned where she was either going to suffocate or die of dehydration. Those were the most logical reasons for why she wouldn't have long to live. He could have hurt her, however, and she could be lying somewhere with an infected wound.

There was simply no telling, but I wasn't about to give up yet.

I took off in search of Osh. Only two beings on this earth knew my celestial name, and he was one of them.

I found him in the kitchen raiding the fridge. We still had a lot of food left over from the caterers and the cookout.

“No,” he said before I could even get a word out.

“But you haven't heard—”

“No,” he said again, standing up with his arms full of leftovers. “And that's final.”

“How do you even know I want something?”

“It's how you walk. You have a determined walk, your footsteps harder, when you want something you know you can't have. So, no.” He dumped his haul onto the countertop, since we no longer had a table, and went in search of a plate and utensils.

“It's a really simple request.”

His shoulder-length black hair had been slicked back, still wet from a shower. It glistened almost as much as his dark bronze eyes. I'd never seen eyes quite that color before.

“Nothing is simple with you, love.”

Glancing around, afraid Reyes might be near, I stepped closer and pleaded. “It's important.”

He took a plate out of the simple cabinets and turned to me. “It always is.”

“I need to know my name.”

He stilled, looked me up and down, then asked, “Why?”

“The man who most likely kidnapped my client's niece,” I said, trying to get him to connect with Faris, let him know she had family who was worried about her, “died two days ago, and she is being held somewhere. We need to find her. She's going to die soon if we don't.”

Without breaking his mesmerizing gaze, he pulled a knife out of a drawer behind him. “No.” He took out two pieces of bread, preparing to make a BBQ sandwich while I struggled to come up with some leverage or a trade or something, anything, to get him to comply.

“You said when I learn my name I will understand so much more. I will have all my powers. Everything I am capable of in a few, tiny syllables.”

“And what would you do with that power?”

“I need to summon the guy from hell. I can't do that right now. I need more … mojo.”

He shook his head as he took out some lettuce and tomatoes. On BBQ? Oh well, to each his own. At least he was eating a tad healthier than I did seven days out of the week.

“The kind of mojo you would get … it's not like you think. And besides. It's not my gift to give. It is something you will learn with your passing. Rey'aziel would never forgive me.”

“Why would you need his forgiveness for anything?”

He paused, put both hands on the counter. “We all need forgiving at some point.”

“Is that why you're doing this? Is that why you're helping? You need forgiveness?”

He turned to me then, as though I'd offended him. “What do you think?”

“I think you're not really afraid of Reyes.”

“No, I'm not, but if we fought and I killed him, you'd never forgive me.”

“I'm not worried about you killing my husband, Osh.”

“Look, we don't know what will happen when you learn it. That's what he's really afraid of. He thinks that you might ascend. That you might quit your human body and become the grim reaper for real. That you might leave him. Or worse.”

“What can be worse?”

“That you will go back to your dimension. That you'll leave him forever.”

“But I wouldn't do that.”

“There is no way you can know what you will and won't do once you have all your powers. Or what you can and can't do. Hell, love,
we
don't even know. Not really. You're not just the grim reaper. You're also a god. The first pure ghost god. Do you have any idea what that means? It makes Lucifer and all his power look like child's play.”

“Then why not give me that power and end all this? Beep is in danger because of him. Because of the hellhounds. Why not just let me fix it so we can get on with our lives?”

“It doesn't work that way, love.”

I was growing more frustrated by the minute. “Why? Why doesn't it work that way?”

“Because if you will notice, you have power over souls, right? You have the very rare ability to mark them.”

“Yes, and?”

“That's it. We believe that when you agreed to come here to this dimension, you had to agree to abide by the rules of this universe.”

“Man, you people love rules. And what rules are those?”

He slapped his bread together, turned to me, and took a huge bite of his sandwich. Mumbling, he said, “God gave humans the power over their own lives. They have the power to make their own decisions. To make their own mistakes. To follow the dark one or not. God kicked Lucifer out of heaven but not out of the game entirely. There's still a war raging, and you have no power to stop it. Only humans can really stop the war. Can really put an end to Lucifer. But, as you are well aware, there is a lot of evil in this world. Some people will always choose to follow him. And with every human he wins, his powers grow.”

“So, you are telling me I have no dominion over Lucifer? Over his demons?”

“I'm saying you cannot destroy him. Only a human born of flesh and blood can.”

“I'm human. Have been since the day I was born.”

He grinned, took a huge gulp of water, then leaned into me. “You're no more human than I am.”

“Wait. Are you telling me that is why all the prophecies say that Beep will destroy Lucifer?”

“She's human.”

“With supernatural parents. Surely, if she is going to take on Satan, she has to have some of our powers.”

“She does. She will. Just like you, her powers will grow as she gets older. But she was still created from the human sides of you and Rey'aziel. She was still born a human. She will ultimately have power over things you don't and never will. You can't break the agreement the God of this universe made. It's—” He stopped to think about his next words. “It's bad form.”

“So that was it. That's why our Beep is going to face off against Lucifer?”

“That surprises you? After everything you've read? After everything we've uncovered?”

“I was just hoping—”

“To find a loophole.”

I lowered my head. “Yes.”

Osh bit down in frustration. “Yeah, me, too. Of course, there's something else you have to consider.”

“There's more?” I asked, growing disheartened.

“You have to think about what you are, how powerful you are. If you learn your name before it's time, you might not be able to control that power. You could kill everyone around you in the blink of an eye.”

“So, that's a definite no to my celestial name?”

His mouth formed a thin line. “Sorry, love. I don't want to have to kill Rey'aziel. Not yet, anyway.”

This time I leaned in. “I think Rey'aziel can take you.”

“Every other creature in hell thought they could take me, too. They were wrong.”

I stole his sandwich and took a bite. “Then I guess it's a good thing you're on our side.”

A sweet lopsided grin softened his face, and I had to remember once again that he only
looked
nineteen.

*   *   *

I walked upstairs to check on Beep. The trip was much easier now that I wasn't harboring the little fugitive. I wasn't about to give up on talking to Colton Ellix. I had a backup plan. It scared the hell out of me, and I didn't dare tell Reyes, but it was a plan nonetheless. Reyes wouldn't see it that way, though. He'd have me drugged and locked away so I couldn't carry out my plan until it was too late to do anything about it. But at that point, Faris would be dead. I was not going to let that happen if there was even the slightest chance I could stop it.

I tiptoed up to the door to our bedroom. Quentin and Amber were in there with Beep. Quentin held her much the same way Reyes had, like a crystal football in danger of cracking should he hold her too tight, while Amber taught him how to give her a bottle, an expert after only a day.

I longed to breast-feed Beep, but I was out for so long after the whole well incident that they'd had no choice but to bottle-feed her. I didn't know if she'd take me now, but I wanted to try. Not, like, right at that moment. Quentin might get embarrassed. But soon.

I watched Amber as she interacted with my beautiful daughter. She had a particular sheen about her. Her hair shimmered in the morning sun filtering in through the curtains. Her skin sparkled. Then I realized she still had some glitter on her face from the wedding. But she was so pretty. A wingless fairy, tall and strong with delicate features and an all-knowing sense of the world. Then again, she
was
a teen. They did know everything. The thing about Amber, however, was that she approached her worldly knowledge with respect.

Spiritualist, I thought as I looked at her. It seemed appropriate. Important, even. Her deep connection to all things around her, all things in nature, gave her a sense of the bigger picture.

She giggled when Quentin let the bottle drop too low. “Up,” she said, pointing skyward. He obeyed immediately, his blue eyes sparkling as bright as the smile he flashed her.

“What?” Amber asked Beep as though the little rascal had spoken to her. She giggled again. “I think so, too,” she told her. “His is bright and clear as a summer day.”

Wondering what she was talking about, Quentin shrugged at her.

She signed to him. “She said your aura is nice.”

He raised his brows and nodded, not believing her for a minute. I, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder. Maybe Amber really was a fairy.

She looked down at Beep again and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I promise. It would only upset her anyway.”

“Upset?” Quentin said with his voice, deep and soft as it was. “Who?”

Amber pressed her lips together seeming to regret something that was about to happen. “Charley,” she said.

Quentin knew I was standing there. He could see my light. He gave me a sideways glance, then went back to his duties. He also knew Mo was standing by them, waving to Beep, touching her face. Mo glanced up at me, her hands clasped at her chest in adoration.

I gave her a wink, then left them alone, my curiosity burning. Amber had a powerful connection with every living thing around her, but to have a conversation with a newborn? That was novel.

I felt a coolness waft over me and turned to see that Sister Maureen, or just Mo, as she insisted on being called, had followed me out.

“Thank you,” she said, using a gesture of tipping a hat. She pointed to the bedroom. “She is beautiful.”

“I agree,” I whispered. “My contact at the Vatican sent a report to the higher-ups there. They will be looking into your and your sister's deaths as well as the priest's, naturally.”

She thanked me again. “You told them? My sister tried to save me?”

“I told them everything, Mo.” I walked to her, a deep sorrow for what she went through tightening my chest. “You can cross through me.”

She lowered her head. “I— I don't think he wants me.”

“Mo, of course he does. If he didn't, trust me, you'd be elsewhere.”

“You don't understand. I sinned beyond redemption.”

“Who hasn't? You should have been at my house Halloween night my senior year of college. You ain't got nothing on a French maid with a Jason Voorhees mask. That's what forgiveness is all about, and I have a feeling God will understand. We all get lost, sweetheart. He knows. I promise.”

She gave in at last and took a hesitant step forward, then another, and another until her face brightened. I could tell she saw someone, most likely a family member. She looked at me one last time, her expression full of gratitude, then stepped through.

She'd seen her father gunned down in Chicago. The memory had the weight and force of a freight train behind it. It knocked the air from my lungs as I watched a gunman roar up the street in a classic Ford. He stuck his head out the window, his arms full of the automatic weapon he carried, a tommy gun, and showered bullets down on the pedestrians.

Sadly, he was after one man, a mob boss from a rival family. But Mo's father, a baker carrying a fifty-pound sack of flour, had been gunned down in the process. He didn't even know what hit him. He had the sack on a shoulder, holding it steady with one hand, and Mo's hand in the other. They were looking at the Christmas-themed pastries he'd made in the window. Santa. Christmas trees. Stars. All brightly colored and begging to be eaten. By her and her sister, of course, who was home with a fever.