Graveyard Shift (24 page)

Chapter 31

“Call on God,

but row away from the rocks.”

-Indian Proverb

“What’s this called again?” Maalik asked as he twisted his fork around the noodles and sauce dripping from his plate.

“Chicken alfredo,” I mumbled through a mouthful of garlic bread. It probably wasn’t the best food choice if I planned on getting any action later, but it was good comfort food.

“Chicken alfredo,” he repeated. “It’s great.” He stuffed another forkful in his mouth, smearing sauce down his chin.

He had changed out of his work robe and into a pair of jeans and a green sweater I had bought him while sho
pping with Josie. Athena carried a few angelic items, but the specialty angel outlet, recently opened by a nephilim duo, had a lot more to offer. Sure, it was kind of pricey, but so was having alterations made to a garment so you didn’t get your wings pinned in the process of putting it on.

The sweater wasn’t quite as exciting or surprising as the hellhounds had been, but we needed something normal to ground our relationship, before it took off altogether. Yes, even Death needs a little peace and quiet.

“Are you sure you don’t want any wine?” I reached for the bottle of expensive red I had set out just for the occasion and refilled my glass. Comfort food needed comfort drink to go with it.

“I better not.” Maalik eyed the bottle with a regretful frown. “I’ll wait
until this weekend, when we’re on vacation. I’d just hate to show up with alcohol on my breath if Grim decides to call another emergency conference.”

“Yeah, that could suck.” I picked at a second piece of garlic bread and sighed.

Coreen stretched across the old couch, periodically kicking in her sleep with little whispery barks. The few days of working with me were enough to bring on nightmares for anyone. After being kicked in the gut one too many times, Saul nipped Coreen on the rear and decided the next best place to nap was under the new dining table, curled around my feet.

I donated the old table to the Kevin Fund. His apartment was starting to resemble a respectable bachelor pad. Of course, he had made more coin in his first week than most reapers made in their first three months. I had a fee
ling the I-hate-Kevin club was meeting more frequently than my club.

“Are you ready for some John Wayne?” Maalik asked, wiping his napkin over his face and hands.

“You have no idea,” I groaned and pushed my plate away.

“Maybe some good news is in order first.” He raised an eyebrow and brought his hands up to rest under his chin, giving me a sneaky smile.

“Good news?” The only thing good about all the news I had received in the past week was the extra coin that came along with it. I was still trying to decide if it had been worth putting my neck on the chopping block and praying that the blade would get stuck. So far, I had been lucky.

I ran my fingers along the glossy surface of my new, mahogany table. It was bigger and sturdier and required a
dvanced mathematics, Josie’s skills,
not mine
, to get it through the front door. Who knows, I might even learn to overlook the fact that it was purchased with Horus’s dirty coin.

Maalik cleared his throat. “After Grim’s first confe
rence, announcing Seth’s disappearance, Horus and Grace Adaline approached me, requesting my signature on a unit placement proposal for you.”

“What?” I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair. And just when I had some glimpse of peace in my f
uture. Khadija had warned me though. Was it entirely stupid to assume she might have been joking?

“I thought you might want to know what unit you’ll be working with next year.” Maalik reached across the table and pulled my hands into his with a tender smile.

“Unit?” I was going to kill Horus. Maybe Grace too. Units always meant more classes at the academy. Maalik would learn to hate school just as much as I did soon enough. Studying might have been a favorite pastime of Jenni’s, but for me, it was more like a very long bout of PMS. Things got thrown, people got screamed at, and I became about as pleasant as a migraine. Josie could vouch for that.

“Meg Engles is leaving the Posy Unit and going back to freelance work so she can free up her schedule enough to teach at the academy next semester. And Grace said you signed up for her wande
ring souls course.” Maalik frowned at me. “That’s the first prerequisite for the Posy Unit. I thought you’d be happy.”

“The class was Josie’s idea. I was planning on dro
pping it before it even started.” Wishful thinking.

“Why?” Maalik tilted his head. He liked to blame his ambitious work e
fforts on his desire to serve Allah, but really, who honestly throws their hands together in prayer and say, “This buck’s for you big guy”?

“Let’s just not talk about it tonight, please,” I said, squeezing his hands and giving him the begging expre
ssion Saul had successfully used on me to obtain a chicken breast while I prepared dinner.

“Okay.” Maalik nodded. “We’ll worry about it after vacation.” He grabbed up our plates and carried them off to the kitchen sink.

I tried to push the new bit of information out of my mind, which was about as easy as removing Gabriel from a bar. I should have guessed the Posy Unit. Where else would I come in contact with the most souls for Horus’s illegal job offer?

The Posy Unit took care of some pretty messed up shit in the human realm. You might think the afterlife is a screwy place, but just look at the realm of those who created it. Gen
ocide. Mass suicide. Who do you think has to round up all those traumatized souls before they figure out how to escape their bodies?

The Posy Unit got its name during the early years of the Black Plague, when people in Europe began carrying p
osies of herbs in their pockets, insisting it would save them from the Black Death. Maybe it didn’t save their lives, but it did save a soul or two from being over-looked and stuck on the CNH roster, a list of Currently Not Harvestable souls who can end up waiting as long as two and a half centuries before being found.

The smell of rotting herbs quickly granted the reapers working the plague a nickname as unoriginal as they come, the Posy Unit. Of course it couldn’t be anything cool or m
acho, like the Big D Swat Team or Death Merchants United. The Posy Unit didn’t even have a catchy slogan. It wasn’t fair.

The Recovery Unit: No Grave Too Deep. The Lost Souls Unit: The Haunting Stops Here. The Mother Goose Unit: Because Little Souls Count Too. And the Posy Unit: Bulk Souls at Discounted Prices. It sounded more like an ad Grim would run if he ever decided to open a Death-mart. Why couldn’t it be som
ething like: For all your Genocide and Cult Salvage Needs or For When the Bad Kool-Aid Strikes?

Maalik bent down at the entertainment center to rea
ssess my John Wayne collection, selecting The Alamo, his new favorite. I was surprised he hadn’t questioned why Horus was pushing higher placement on my behalf. Maybe he was assuming it was because I had delivered more souls to Duat recently. I wasn’t sure if I wanted his opinion on my new side job. I wasn’t sure if I wanted anyone’s opinion just yet. I was screwed no matter how you looked at it. It doesn’t really matter what altar you’re being sacrificed on, it’s gonna sting either way.

The opening credits of our movie had just begun when the doorbell rang. I turned around on the sofa and raised an eyebrow at the front door.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Maalik asked.

“No.” And my regular visitors usually let themselves in.

Coreen hopped off the couch and raced Saul to the door, pressing her muzzle along the door frame with a series of obnoxious sniffs. Saul’s tail thumped and he sat back on his haunches, waiting to greet our next guest.

I opened the door a crack and scanned the hall before looking down. Jai Ling, Meng Po’s child soul servant, kneeled before me as she set a small black box on the we
lcome mat. She looked up and sucked in a startled breath as Saul’s tongue lapped up her forehead. Hiking up her kimono, she gave me a choppy bow and scurried off towards the elevator.

I looked down at the box. The top had been sealed with a star and crescent moon, the symbol of Islam. So why was Jai Ling delivering it?

Harold, one of my nephilim neighbors, nearly tripped over the little Chinese girl as he stepped out of the elevator.

“Bless my feathers!” he huffed. Stepping around her like she was
a rabid squirrel and staring down the hall to give me a quizzical frown.

I snatched up the box and slammed my door.

“What’s that?” Maalik asked as I joined him on the sofa again.

“Who knows,” I sighed, snapping through the waxy seal as I yanked the lid off.

Inside, a copper coin glistened at me, resting on top of a blue, silk scarf and a piece of frilly stationary containing a message I couldn’t read.

“It’s Arabic,” Maalik announced with a proud smile. He held his hand out. “Want me to translate it for you.”

I hesitated, trying to decide if I wanted to go through the trouble of learning a new language, and regretfully handed the note to him. He glanced over the random zigs and zags and blushed.

“It’s from Khadija,” he whispered. “Dearest Lana, I hope this coin is reaching you in joyous times. Soon, my days will be filled with joy as well. Do not regret Grim’s decision to give me Lady Meng’s tea. I will willing
ly drink it. My successor has requested a visit from you. I know Grim would not approve, but a soul in his position deserves much more than this simple request. Stand to the west of Coreen’s memorial statue and use his second name. There you will find him. Keep faith, and never forget how truly special you are. Peace be with you, K.”

Maalik looked up at me and frowned. “I don’t know, Lana.”

I swiped the letter from him and stuffed it back in the box with the scarf and coin. “Maalik, I don’t want to think or talk about anything that’s happened in the last week. I just want to watch John Wayne kick some ass. Can we please?”

I set the box on the floor and kicked it under the couch with my heel, mentally fitting a Winston visit into my Friday schedule, somewhere between breakfast and going to Hell. I would have to fit in another trip to Flora’s Power Flowers too. Asking Grim to give back the stuffed tiger would look a little suspicious. I didn’t need him switching Winston’s access location before I even got a chance to see him.

“Sure.” Maalik gave me a strained smile and wrapped his arm around my shoulders before hitting the play button again.

Chapter 32

“They say that God is everywhere,

and yet we always think of Him as som
ewhat of a recluse.”

-Emily Dickinson

The park had an ethereal feel to it on Halloween morning. Zimble had def
initely perfected the art of fog. A soft swirl of clouds rode a breeze around the fountains and trees and settled in a haunting puddle under Saul and Coreen’s bronze statues. A pair of dusty crows stabbed at the ground with their beaks. The morning light stained everything a sallow gray, giving the world a dreamy haze.

I pulled the hood of my robe up and stepped out from behind the shade of a knotty oak. The fact that Khadija’s letter had encouraged me to visit Winston didn’t make the reality of it feel any less stupid. I surveyed the park one last time to be sure no one had followed me and ducked into the shadow of Coreen’s statue.

The note had said to use Winston’s second name. I was guessing that meant his last name, Gale. If it meant his middle name, a nickname, or a past life name, I was going to end up looking like an asylum escapee, arguing with Coreen’s memorial statue.

I pulled out my coin and crossed my fingers. “Gale.”

The same strange wind that had accompanied my visit to Khadija descended on the park, momentarily dispersing the haunting fog and kicking up the golden leaves littering the sidewalks.

The statue faded away, and a fami
liar cottage came into view. I half expected to find Khadija waiting for me. I didn’t want to believe she was gone. How could she have drunk Meng’s tea? I could understand why Grim would want her too, but why would she want to? There were so many questions I’d never have the chance to ask her now.

I stepped up to the cottage door and reached to knock, nearly falling off the stoop when the door sprang open, revealing a broad-shouldered Egyptian man.

“Uh?” I held the stuffed tiger up in front of me, wishing it were real and a bit larger. Maybe I should have brought Saul and Coreen.

The man gawked at me, looking about as startled as I felt. Then he glanced down at the tiger clutched in my hands. A grin seized his face as he let out a melodious laugh. “Lana, I’m so glad you made it.”

“Winston?” I took a step back and gave him a scrutinizing frown. “You’re.... taller?”

“And darker.” He stretched his arms out to admire them. “And stronger,” he said, flexing.

“But you still remember me?”

“The hood threw me off. Maybe you should come inside.” Winston opened the door and squinted over the front lawn like snipers were moving in on us. Once we were safely inside the main sanct
uary, his friendly smile returned, a shadow of his former self. Or future self, if you wanted to get technical.

“Is that for me?” He pointed at the stuffed tiger, still dangling in my grip, and laughed again.

“It was.” I blushed and tucked the animal under my arm.

“Well, can I have it?”

“Sure, I guess.” I frowned.

He took the tiger and gave it a loving squeeze. “I’ll make sure Grim doesn’t find it. He’d probably shit a pin
eapple if he knew you were here.”

“He’d do a little more than that, I’m afraid.” I sighed and shook my head. “How did you, I mean, you obv
iously drank Meng’s tea, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Winston grinned and pulled on the tiger’s tail, a habit that had survived the tea along with his memory, apparently.

“I thought the tea was supposed to peel back past lives and make you forget them.” I pushed back the hood of my robe and rubbed a hand over the back of my neck.

“It does, unless you’re initiated onto the throne of Eternity before drinking it.”

“Huh?”

Winston dropped the tiger on a shelf behind him and led me over to
a small table set with tea. The silk curtains that had been hanging from the ceiling were gone, leaving the mother of all chandeliers to fill the lonely space.

“When Khadija turned her power over to me, not even Meng’s tea was strong enough to shake my past lives.” Winston dropped down on the couch and lifted a teacup. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Thanks, but I don’t do tea.”

“It’s Pepsi.” He took a sip and laughed. “I haven’t exactly told Grim how much I remember and how much I don’t. Honestly, I don’t like the guy, but I told you I’d take the job.”

“Sorry, I would have explained everything better if we had had more time.” I sat down beside him and picked up a teacup to sniff its contents.

“I don’t mind the work so much.” Winston crossed an ankle over his knee and stretched his arms back along the top of the sofa cushions. He looked happily at home. “Grim could be a li
ttle nicer with his requests though. I mean, come on, I’m the man. Don’t I deserve a little respect? Maybe some groveling?”

“You’re letting this go to your head awfully fast, aren’t you?” I laughed and sipped at my dainty cup of soda.

“I know, I know,” Winston sighed. “But hey, I did take care of a demon you’re looking for. What was his name, Varren?”

“How do you know about him?” I asked, dum
bfounded.

“I know all sorts of things.” He wagged an eyebrow at me. “And I read the paper too.”
He tossed the
Daily Reaper Report
at me and shrugged. “I never imagined the afterlife would have its own newspaper.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” I glanced over the headlines and quickly dove into an article detailing the destruction of a secret island where
nearly eight thousand demons were drowned in holy water. The demons were listed alphabetically, in reverse. Varren was near the top of the list. At least I didn’t have to worry about scheduling him in on top of school and my new job.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you think?” Winston leaned over my shou
lder. “Of course, the credit must go to Holly Spirit. She donated the Holy Water. Did you know she has it on tap at the Holly House?”

“I knew it was in the fountain out front. Wait a mi
nute.” I turned to frown at him. “Does Grim know you go out gallivanting around Limbo City?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m being careful.”

“I sure hope so. If you go missing, do you know what could happen to Eternity?”

“Duh.” The kid Winston was still alive and well. But it was still a little unsettling talking to him in a different body.

“How often does Grim stop in to check on you?” I know, I sounded like a frantic parent, ready to alert the press about a negligent daycare.

“Enough,” Winston groaned. “So far, he’s come in around six in the morning, right before heading to the office, and then again around eight in the evening. He stays for ten minutes, barking orders the whole time. The jerk doesn’t even laugh at my jokes.”

“If I laugh at your jokes, will you promise to stay here while I’m gone this weekend?”

“And miss the parade?” He threw his legs up on the tea table, rattling the dishes with a disheartened grunt.

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir from Hell,” I bribed.

“Hell? That’s right. I almost forgot.” He grinned. “Get me one of those horned masks, so I can go out in di
sguise.”

“And you’ll stay put this weekend?” I folded my arms, wondering just how much personal information had been b
estowed upon him by his newly acquired powers.

“Yeah, I’ll stay put. I’m sure I can find a few scary movies to keep me occupied.” He stuck his hand in between the couch cushions and retrieved a remote control. “A sate
llite receiver was one of my first requests.” He grinned and flicked on a theatre-sized widescreen that filled the room with booming surround sound. “Tell me I don’t rule,” he smirked.

I sighed and gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving the cottage. Varren was off my list, but it didn’t seem to matter much now. Winston was going to be a han
dful. And I wasn’t even getting paid to watch his back. I was suddenly thankful reapers couldn’t have children. I just wasn’t cut out for this sort of worry.