Styx & Stoned (The Grim Reality Series Book 2)
Read Styx & Stoned (The Grim Reality Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Boone Brux
Styx
& Stoned
A Grim
Reality Novel
By
Boone
Brux
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons
living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright ©2015 Boone Brux. All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in
any form or by any means. For more information regarding subsidiary rights,
please contact the author at
[email protected]
Edited by Book Alchemy, LLC,
www.bookalchemyinc.com
Cover Art by Jennifer Meyer
For Patty Ann and Suzie Q. Thanks
for all your support and love.
Las Vegas! All expenses paid!
Normally, a trip like that would be
a dream come true for an overworked, widowed, mother of three. Here’s the
thing, though; situations rarely worked out as I imagined. And usually not in
my favor. So, when my boss, Constantine, offered—well, not actually
offered…more like handed me—the plane ticket to Vegas and told me in no
uncertain terms I’d be attending the GRS annual convention, I was instantly
suspicious.
GRS stands for Grim Reaper
Services, of which I, Lisa Carron, am their newest grim reaper. And sadly, the
least adept. I
was
getting better, but I’d been a reaper for less than a
year and had nowhere near the skills my partner Nate possessed.
And don’t get me started about
Constantine. He’s our crazy hot Alaskan leader, but I still hadn’t decided if
he was human. Actually, I’m scared to be alone with him. Not in a
hockey-mask-psycho-killer way. More like,
if I was ever pressed up
against his body, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop my hands from roving to his
forbidden zones. I just couldn’t be trusted in a situation like that.
So here I was in sunny Las Vegas,
seven kid-free days, and none of it costing me a dime. I should have been
giddy, spinning around the baggage claim area like Maria in
The Sound of Music
.
But, like I said, circumstances were never what they seemed. I couldn’t shake
the feeling that this week had nothing to do with
Lisa time
and
everything to do with other people’s agendas. Even so, I planned to take
advantage of the numerous luxuries the hotel spa had to offer.
The airport’s electronic doors slid
open and the hot desert air enveloped me. Exhaust clawed at my throat. I gasped
and squinted against the blinding Vegas sun. How did people live in this heat?
The better question might be, why? Sixteen degrees and accumulating
darkness—that’s what I’d left behind in Anchorage. Las Vegas was like
anti-Alaska.
I hauled my ancient, massive
suitcase toward the line of taxicabs, beads of sweat instantly forming across
the bridge of my nose and forehead. The material of my long-sleeved T-shirt
clung like a second skin, and the sun reflecting off the pavement, plus all the
altitude changes, made my head throb. My flight had left Anchorage at midnight
and I’d spent several hours wandering around the Seattle airport, waiting for
the tram to start up so I could get to my concourse. Tired didn’t describe my
current condition.
Now I understood why people huddled
like vampires inside the dark, cool casinos. Sit at a slot machine receiving
free drinks, or venture into the blistering heat to stare at Hoover Dam. I know
what my choice would be.
“Cab?” A valet waved me over and
pointed at the first cab in the long line waiting at the curb. His tone was all
business. “Right here.”
I lopped toward him, but he’d
already focused on the person behind me, and was moving to the next cab. I
shoved my bag toward the cab driver. “The Venetian, please.”
“Excellent.” He grinned, his white
teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “Please, get in and enjoy the
air-conditioned comfort of my cab.”
His thick Indian accent and
invitation made him sound like a commercial for the cab company. While he
manhandled my suitcase toward the trunk of the car, I climbed into the back
seat. A sigh hissed from me when the cool air hit my skin. I tossed my jacket
and purse next to me and leaned my head against the back of the seat. My eyes
drifted closed. Several thumps vibrated against the back seat, sending a pang
of embarrassment through me. No matter how many times I’d packed and unpacked
to thin out what I’d need, I still ended up with far more clothes than I could
possibly wear in a week.
I lifted my head and opened my
eyes, squinting against the sun streaming through the front window. For the
first time I noticed the older man sitting in the front passenger seat. “Oh,
hello.” He didn’t respond. Maybe he didn’t speak or understand English. Now
committed to the acknowledgement, I repeated my greeting. “Hi.”
His head snapped around, his eyes
widening. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, I am.” Mystery solved about
not understanding English. I smiled. “You’re smart to stay in the car. That
heat is killer.”
“Very funny,” he said, glaring.
Then he shifted to face me.
“Crap.” The downside of being a
grim reaper was that I was always on the job. The right side of the man’s head
wavered like one of those heat mirages on the road. “You’re dead.” I scowled at
him. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” His lips pursed for a
second, looking dubious. “How can you see me?”
“Just one of the perks of my job.”
The trunk slammed, making me jump. Conversing with ghost tended to be
off-putting to those who couldn’t see them. I rushed on. “I’m a grim reaper. If
you’d like to cross over, I can help you with that when I get to the hotel.”
The cab door opened and the driver
slid in, cutting off my conversation with the spirit. “Venetian, you said?”
“Yes please…” My gaze cut from the
rear view mirror to the identification card fixed to the dash. “Rashid.”
“Yes, very good.”
“Cross over?” The spirit launched
into a tirade as the cab pulled away. “And leave this bonehead to run my
company into the ground? No thank you.”
Family drama, so not what I needed
right now. After a minute of trying to ignore the ranting specter, I realized
the only way to shut him up was to talk over him. “Rashid, does it always get
this hot in Vegas?”
“Oh, yes.” The cabbie smiled into
the rear view mirror. “But you’re in luck—it’s not supposed to get above ninety
this week.”
“That’s lucky?”
His white-toothed smile reflected
back at me, his head nodding vigorously.
I groaned. “How can you stand it?”
“I’m from India.” His gaze darted
from the road to the mirror, and then back again. “My parents moved us here
when I was twelve and opened the taxi business. When my father passed away a
year ago, I took over.” His smile widened. “Las Vegas is my home now. I love it
here, heat and all.”
“And if you spent less time
enjoying the sights and more time working—” the ghost grumbled.
Again, I cut the spirit off before
he hurled himself into another lecture that only I’d be privy to. “I think it’s
wonderful you love where you live.” Glancing at the ghost, I added, “I’m sorry
about your father’s passing.”
“Thank you. It was a great loss for
the family,” Rashid said.
“Of course it was.” His father
straightened, jutting his chin upward and crossing his arms over his chest. “I
held this family together. Obviously, the entire household is lost without my
guidance.”
“But…” Rashid caught my eye in the
mirror again and grimaced. “To be honest, he was a miserable man.”
“Miserable?” The spirit’s head
whipped toward his son.
I sunk deeper into the seat,
bracing myself for the wave of anger I knew would hit me in a few seconds.
“If working eighty hours a week to
put food on the table for my family made me miserable, then I’m guilty.” Like a
blast of Vegas heat, the ghost’s resentment pounded me—yet another the neat
side effects of being a grim reaper.
“He was never happy with anybody or
anything,” the cabbie continued.
“What was there to be happy about?
You’re all a bunch of boneheads. Never listened to anything I said.”
“On and on he’d rail about how we
didn’t appreciate what he’d built for us,” Rashid said.
“Yes, I’m getting that,” I mumbled
to myself.
“Because you didn’t.” His father
waved his hands in the air. “I’d barely been dead a month before this one—” He
jabbed a finger at his son. “—started taking Sundays off. No respect. No
respect!”
“Call me optimistic, but I like to
think he’s happy and in a much better place now.”
Instead of the sarcastic snort I
wanted to make, I pressed my lips together and nodded, giving him my best
empathetic expression. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Lazy dogs, every one of them.” The
ghost glared out the front window. “Your mother and I should have never
reproduced.”
“I’m certain he’s exactly where he
wants to be,” I replied. That wasn’t a lie, just the comforting truth Rashid,
and every other person who’d lost a loved one, wanted to hear.
“I loved my father and I miss him,
but I don’t miss his constant complaining.”
“Ungrateful…” The spirit faded,
taking his angry mojo with him.
That’s one downside of being a grim
reaper. People think the ability to see the dead is cool. What they don’t
realize is that the afterlife isn’t all white light and feathers. Sometimes
it’s just a lot of cranky ghosts that have their ectoplasmic panties in a wad.
Laying my head against the back
seat, I let my eyelids drift shut. The driver switched topics and began
regaling me with Las Vegas trivia. The combination of the cool air and my
exhaustion made concentrating on what he said impossible, and after a few
seconds, I dozed off.
When the taxi pulled to a stop in
front of the hotel I snapped awake, sitting forward with a jolt. A young man in
a gray suit yanked open the door. “Ma’am.”
“Oh…yeah.” I blinked a couple of
times, my lids scraping across my eyeballs. Still trying to get my bearings, I
scooped up my purse and jacket, and scooted out of the cab. “Thanks.”
Either Las Vegas had denser gravity
or my exhaustion was making it difficult to move my legs. Though Rashid had
parked under the hotel’s covered entrance, out of the sun, it was still hot,
and I was anxious to get to my room and crank up the AC.
“You made it.” Nate’s voice sounded
behind me. “I was getting worried.”
I pivoted to face my partner and
couldn’t help scowling a little. He’d arrived the day before and had time to
rest. As usual, his sandy-brown hair lay perfectly tousled, looking carefree
yet stylish. “Were you worried or irritated?”
“I’ve checked us in.” He smirked,
not answering my question, and then handed me a small envelope. “The room
number is on the inside of the booklet.”
“Great, but…” I glanced at him.
“We’re not rooming together—right?”
“You wish, Carron.”
“You wish I wished, Cramer.” Okay,
it wasn’t the best comeback, but I was tired and either needed alcohol and
something covered in cheese, or a bath and twenty-four hours of comatose sleep.
The sound of my suitcase hitting
the ground
thunked
behind the cab, followed by the rattle of its wheels
running across the tiled drive. With a pearly white smile in place, Rashid wheeled
the bag to me. Before I could fish money out of my purse, Nate handed him a
stack of folded bills.
“Thank you, sir.” Rashid’s smile
widened. “You’re very generous.”
“And thank you for a clean,
air-conditioned ride.” I said, hooking my hand around the handle of my
suitcase. “And information about Las Vegas. Truly enlightening.”
“My pleasure.” Rashid gave a slight
bow and pulled a business card out of his front shirt pocket. “Call me for all
your taxi needs—except on Sunday.”
Nice. My own personal driver. I had
no intention of leaving the casino, but I’d learned long ago my plans and fate
usually raced along different tracks, sometimes colliding. I accepted the card.
“I certainly will.”
“Here, let me get that.” Nate took
the suitcase from me and wheeled it into the hotel.
My eyes narrowed on his broad back.
Something was up. He was being exceptionally considerate and I didn’t like it
one bit. I strode into the hotel after him, my senses on high alert. Again,
lovely cool air greeted me when I entered the lobby. A myriad of dings, rings,
and bleeps filtered in from the casino. At the sound of their taunting call my
energy rallied. Maybe a few rounds of slots would help me unwind before
crashing.
Scanning the grand entrance, my
gaze skated over the opulent décor and landed on the milling crowd. My steps
slowed to a stop. “Whoa.”
Nate turned to me. “What?”
“Is it just me or are there a ton
of ghosts in here?” At least half the people were spirits, floating through the
living, talking, and some looking rather lost. Alaska didn’t have near this
number of spirits. “Is this usual of Vegas?”
“Probably.” Nate guided my suitcase
toward the elevators. “Don’t worry about it now. We need to get to the GRS
meet-and-greet.”
“No.” I groaned, my shoulders
slumping as I stomped after him. “I need a shower and sleep.”
“Later.” He pressed the up arrow.
“Put your suitcase in your room and come back to the third floor.” His
attention zeroed on me. “Attendance is mandatory—especially yours.”
A niggle of foreboding surfaced and
the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I cocked my head. “Why especially
me?”
The elevator to our right dinged,
settled, and the doors slid open. We shifted, staying out of the way to allow
the car to empty, and then entered.