Dead Demon Walking (5 page)

His scent enveloped the bed,
sandalwood and amber intensified by our body heat. With a body
temperature higher than a human male’s, he is a furnace on legs
when we make love.

“
A bad connection,
perhaps?”

I chewed on my lower lip. “You’re
probably right, but I can’t get her voice out my head. She sounded
desperate, and the line went dead. I tried Star 69, but the
number’s blocked.”

“
Don’t worry, sweetheart.
You cannot do anything about it.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you’re
right.”

He reached over and stroked my breast
with one finger. “You have a crumb there.”

I swatted his hand away. “Really? How
clever of it to land dead center on my nipple.”

“
If you insist on flaunting
your body at me. . . .”

I glamorously snuffed through my nose.
“I wouldn’t know how to flaunt if it upped and kicked me in the
butt.”

Wrong
thing to say, because his hand slipped over my hip to
investigate that part of my anatomy.

The plate disappeared and he leaned
over me with hands either side my waist. “You have crumbs all over
you, Tiff.” His head dipped, his long demon tongue swirled my
nipple.

My hands automatically curled to his
shoulder blades. I held my breath as the muscles in his back rolled
beneath my fingers and silken copper-gold skeins rippled over my
breasts.

He lifted his head and the heat in his
eyes all but scalded me. His voice came low and husky. “Are we done
with business? Can we get back to pleasure?”

I melted into a puddle all over
Royal’s blue silk sheets.

***

I lay on my side with my hand on
Royal’s sleek, hairless chest, reveling in the feel of his
satin-smooth skin. His fingers traced over the back of my hand and
twined with mine. I curled my fingers to trap his. He smiled,
although he didn’t open his eyes, because he knew I scrutinized
him.

He could have any woman in
the world. Why me
?
I’m stubborn, and can be short-tempered and cantankerous when
the mood hits me. Not only do I see dead people, I live with
two
. Life with me was not an easy
ride.
But I won’t ask him why he stays
with me. Hell no. Let’s not put ideas in his head.

Life with Royal was not a
breeze, either. He comes from another world inexplicably joined to
ours and I saw his people do things which turned my stomach. I
didn’t as a rule allow my emotions to overpower knowledge and
commonsense, and the latter two liked to remind me Royal took me to
witness what amounted to an execution. I didn’t blame him for
Maud’s death, but couldn’t easily forget he knew what would happen
when he whisked me off to Russia. He told me we went to attend the
death of a mortally injured Gelpha woman, to see if I could talk to
her shade. He did
not
tell me the Gelpha would help her on her way when I got there.
That was a problem.

But all couples have their problems,
don’t they? Ours just happened to be on a different scale. Give and
take. Right? A relationship is all about give and take. We wanted
to be together, we had a hell of a lot of fun, we . . . we fit.
Royal tolerated the idiosyncrasies of a woman who spoke to thin air
and I told myself I should not always expect to understand or
condone the motivations and strictures which ruled him. He was
still the best thing ever happened to me. I’d keep him around for a
while, for as long as it lasted.

When a tiny seed of doubt pushed to
the surface, I shoved it back down.

“
Tiff, I have been
thinking?”

“
You should watch
that.”

His chest flexed as he chuckled. “We
have been busy these past six months. We should take a break. What
do you say to a vacation?”

I folded one hand atop the other on
his chest and rested my chin on them, eyes turned up to see his
face. I had not been on vacation in years. “A vacation? Where? For
how long?”

His eyes sparkled. “Ever been to
Boston?”

“
Never. Why
Boston?”

“
It’s a lovely old town,
and my friend has a fine hotel there. I thought a few days there,
then work our way down the coast.”

“
So a week, two
weeks?”

“
Oh, a week and a half I
should think.”

Going over the pros and cons in my
mind, my gaze dropped to the column of his neck.

Royal joined his hands behind his
head, making his pecs swell beneath my cheek. “You don’t want to
go?”

“
I do.” I thought I did.
“But I’d have to leave Mac with someone. I’d have to put up with
Jack and Mel being totally obnoxious till we left and totally
obnoxious when we get back.”

“
You can leave Mac with
Janie - the scars must be healed by now.”

“
Ha ha.”

“
And according to you, Jack
and Mel are always obnoxious.

He had me there. I shifted to spoon
against him so I could doodle on his chest with one finger. “Will
we drive or fly? I can’t take my gun on a flight.”

“
You won’t need a gun, and
we don’t have to fly.” He brought one hand up to make a
zoom
motion through the
air.

I knew what he meant. Teeth clamped on
my lower lip, I visualized us as we blurred along at demon speed,
me clinging to Royal, with luggage and miscellaneous travel
necessities strapped all over me.

“
If we go, we fly,” I said
firmly, and lest he try to misinterpret, added, “in an
airplane.”

Chapter Four

“
You’ll be gone ages,” Mel
said. “We’ll go stir crazy.”

Leaving them for what could be a
couple of weeks did give me more than a twinge of remorse, but -
for God’s sake, I was not their mother! Why should I feel guilty?
“You’ll cope. You got along okay before I moved here.”

Wrong
thing to say.

“
And we were miserable,”
Mel groaned. “We spent our days looking at the walls or out the
windows at an empty street. We were bored silly.”

“
No television, no
newspaper, no books, no conversation,” Jack said

“
No whining,” I interjected
as I flung open the closet doors.

“
Oh, we had plenty of
whining,” from Jack. He struck a pose, hand on hip.
“
Jack,
how long
will we be here?
Jack
, I’m so bored.
Jack,
will we be here forever?
Jack -
”

“
You are so full of it,”
from Mel.

I decided to be patient with Jack and
Mel, because at least my pending vacation provided a distraction
and the leaden atmosphere had lifted. This was the first time I’d
seen and spoken to Jack since our chat about Dale
Jericho.

I looked in my closet -
what
did
one wear
in Boston in late August? “It won’t be the first time I’ve been
away from home.”

“
But not for so long!” Mel
whined.

I’d been away on investigations, but
never for more than a few days. “Two weeks at the most. What do you
want, an apology? You won’t get one.”

“
Perhaps a little
sympathy.”

I
tried
to be
sympathetic. I knew being stuck in the house, unable to enjoy
pleasures to which a living person is accustomed, must be boring
and frustrating. They would feel isolated with me absent from home.
But at least they could wander from room to room; at least they
could talk to each other. I know some shades who are restricted to
tiny areas, and some, like old Henry, stuck out in the middle of
nowhere. He can’t move an inch, poor old boy.

Henry? His nephew murdered him. The
guy’s wife distracted Henry as he came at the lewd old codger from
behind. Henry is the only shade I know with a permanent leer. Note
to self: take Henry a few Playboy copies next time you drive
through Wyoming. I could lay the pages on the ground and weigh them
down with rocks.

“
At least leave the TV on,”
Jack said as his head came through the closet’s back
wall.

I pulled the hangers together with a
clatter so clothes hid his face. “Get out of there! And no, I can’t
leave the TV on that long.”

“
You could get a house- and
pet-sitter,” Mel suggested.

Hands on the hangers, I considered the
suggestion. Mel and Jack could watch TV while she or he did, and
read if he or she read, and otherwise find entertainment from a
live person in the house. But leave Mac with a stranger? Mac would
be a pet-sitter’s worst nightmare.

Mac. Janie is the best, but I hate to
leave Mac. What if someone broke in her kennels and stole him? What
if her assistant left a side gate open and he escaped? What if he
became ill, and I had to leave his health-care to another
person?

Speak of the devil - Mac trundled in
the bedroom. Mel and Jack wandered out. I sat at my desk and fired
up the computer. As it did its thing, I dug in the bag of doggie
treats on my desk and tossed one to my boy.

Another dog would jump and snatch it
out the air. Not Mac. He let it hit the floor, gave me a
reproachful look when he had to walk a whole foot to get it, and
only then crunched it up.

I logged on to American Airlines and
punched in dates for a return trip to Boston, creating an imaginary
two-week time span because I didn’t yet know when we would leave.
We could fly via Dallas Fort Worth or Chicago O’Hare to Boston
Logan International.

I leaned back with a smile and a
contented sigh. Now I had firmly in my head we were going, I
anticipated the excursion with pleasure. Just Royal and me. No
snarky roommates, no cases, no shades.

I caught Mac’s eyes and lost my smile.
“Oh, Mac, you are gonna hate me for a long time.”

He responded to my tone, ears flat and
big, sad eyes. He came over and lay down with his chin on my foot.
I laughed. “You loon. You know how to work it, don’t
you.”

“
Tiff, got a minute?” Jack
whispered.

I cocked my head at where
Jack had materialized near my right shoulder. Now, Jack always
whispers, as do all shades to whom I speak. That’s the way I hear
their voices. But this time Jack
deliberately
whispered. I could
barely hear him. When I opened my mouth, he put one finger to his
lips. I caught on; he didn’t want Mel to hear us. Then I realized
he
asked my permission
to talk to me!

Dislodging Mac, I spun the chair to
face Jack. “What is it?” I whispered back.

“
I want to talk to
him.”

Confused, I glanced down, grimacing at
Mac. Jack wanted to talk to Mac? Why tell me? Why not go ahead and
talk to him? And since when did Jack have anything to say to Mac?
How weird was that?

“
To Dale.”

What?
My head went up so fast, I almost cricked my neck.
“Jericho?”

Jack nodded.

I squinted at him.
What
was
he
thinking? “
Not
one
of your better ideas, Jack; not to mention physically impossible.”
I squared my shoulders against the chair’s high back and clasped my
hands on my stomach. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

“
Things unsaid between us.”
Jack shrugged. “I can’t get what you said out of my mind. He
thought about me all this time. I think. . . .” He hung his head.
“Knowing what happened would bring him peace of a kind.”

He could be right, but I couldn’t tell
Dale what happened to Jack without an explanation I did not want to
give. “I can’t tell Jericho the truth. Sorry, Jack.”

“
You don’t need to. I will.
I don’t mean I’ll tell him what
actually
happened. I’ll make up a
story . . . I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

This conversation was way bizarre.
“You keep saying you’ll talk to him. Do you forget that’s
impossible?”

“
You tell people you have
psychic powers.”

I tucked my chin in my neck.
“So?”

“
Dale won’t know what they
are.”

“
He. . . .” I clamped my
mouth shut as I got his gist, shook my head. “You want me to act
the medium? No. Way.”

He came in closer. “Dale would keep it
to himself. I know he would.”

I coughed - all the whispering
strained my vocal cords. “No I don’t, and neither do
you.”

“
Have I ever asked you for
anything?”

Good lord.
“Yes, you ask for what I can’t give you all the
time.”

Silence. Jack turned his back on me.
Then his voice whispered plaintively through the room. “You can
give me this.”

All the air went out of me as his
words hit me like a punch in the gut. A shade’s facial expression
cannot change, but posture and whispered timbre reflect their
emotions. Jack is an abrasive, sarcastic, argumentative
know-it-all. I’d never heard him do sad before.