The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  I watched the Principal's almond-shaped eyes narrow on Mom momentarily. “They are under the ʻthree strikes, you're outʼ policy like everyone.”

  “So what offense is this?”

  “This is their first offense on school grounds.”

  Mom humphed, crossing her arms. “What about the attack on Caleb?”

  Chen's face became apologetic. “We are aware that these boys have a record now with the police. But we can only manage what happens here.”

  “What about me? I want to tell you what they did,” I interjected.

  Principal Chen held up her hand, and when she lowered it she tapped a large paperweight that held papers anchored on her desk. Actually, they were my friendsʼ records.

  “And you will. Right now, as I understand the story, it appears as thought you were the instigator.”

  Mom leveled me with the Death Glare and my palms grew damp.

  I wiped them on my jeans. “It's not like it sounds, Mom.”

  “What was it like then?”

  “That turd Brody,” Mom scowled, I forged ahead, “he called Sophie and Jade, ʻbitchesʼ.”

  Mom's eyebrows dropped low. “Well, really?” She glanced at Chen. “How's your tolerance for sexual harassment, Ms. Chen?” Mom was on it, Chen was in trouble.

  Maybe Dad could show and they could tag team her. The thought made me smile, which was not the appropriate response.

  Chen looked at me sharply, her black hair swinging as her face whipped in my direction. “I hope you do not find our interchange amusing, Mr. Hart?”

  “No-no,” I stammered, and I could feel the need to Laugh at Inappropriate Times coming on. Mom saw this and became alarmed.

  Mom distracted her with, “That boy is dangerous. He was obviously trying to incite violence from the others by engaging the girls negatively.”

  My face was contorted, and I was doing the crooked mouth to keep from laughing.

  Chen frowned. “What's wrong with your mouth?”

  The dam burst and I started howling.

  Chen looked at me like I had lost my marbles, which made it worse.

  “Caleb!” Mom nearly yelled.

  “Sorry Mom,” I said, wiping the streaming tears. It was just too much. Here was Chen, with her panties in a colossal wad over me inciting a riot (right) when the older boys were obviously the problem. It was too perfect. Too perfectly stupid.

  “What is wrong with him? This is serious,” Chen sputtered.

  “I understand but this happens sometimes, when he's under duress.”

  That made me laugh harder.

  Suddenly, two noses were pressing on the glass outside the office; the Js.

  Chen sighed, giving up on me and motioned for them to come in.

  Jonesy took one look at me and said, “Cool it, ya fool.”

  I doubled over.

  John shook his head.

  Mom folded her arms over her chest. “If you can stop being ridiculous for two seconds, maybe you can get to your class? Do you think you can manage that?”

  I hiccuped to a stop. It was critical that I didn't look at Chen.

  The Js saw that I was having trouble and looked at Chen.

  A slow grin spread over Jonesy's face.

  Chen stood up, running her hands down her sensible pencil skirt. She looked like she was in mourning, all black. Black hair, black skirt, hose, shoes and silk tee. Weird. Kinda goth for an in charge chick like Chen. “Your parents are coming to pick you up. There will be a one day, out-of-school suspension for the both of you.”

  John paled.

  Jonesy leaned back in his seat, probably contemplating picking his nose about now.

  John's parents were going to take his entrails out, and hang him with them.

  Jonesy could probably manage Bill and Helen, they were immune to news of their son now.

  “Mr. Hart. Stay out of trouble. Brody Smucker and Diego Billings will have a three-day suspension. Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason will have a one-day.”

  Her eyes bored into the Js.

  John got red as a fire engine.

  Jonesy didn't even falter. “Those clowns should get more days.”

  Mom put her head in her hands.

  Chen said, “That may be, Mr. Jones. I am well aware of Mr. Mason and Mr. Hamilton's social interaction issues.”

  I laughed and she gave me The Look.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, making the crooked mouth again.

  “Caleb, get moving.” Mom pointed at the door.

  I stumbled out the door, barely containing myself. I looked at my watch. I had maybe ten minutes left of first hour, AFTD. Not looking forward to that. At. All.

  I was doing okay and then the Js jogged up behind me.

  “Nice in there, Hart. What, you couldn't put a cork in it for like, five minutes? It's amazing Chen didn't do a pecker pull,” Jonesy said.

  John and I flinched. Sounded painful.

  Jonesy ran a hand over the top of his nappy hair and it sprang back to life like an errant rug. “At least Smucker and Billings are outta here for three days. A little break from their suckiness,” he commented and John nodded.

  “Smucker?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that dillweed Brody.”

  “That's him and Christi's last name?”

  John and Jonesy were looking at me oddly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Like the jam?”

  John shrugged. “Yeah.”

  I howled again. Somehow, thinking of those sibs in terms of food was hilarious.

  The Js stared at me, clearly puzzled.

  Jonesy clapped me on the back. “Suck it up, hysteria king, or Smith is gonna stick you in some coffin.”

  Right. I took deep calming breaths. What a weird-ass day.

  I got into class and Ceci gave me a dirty look. Guess she was all put out that Carson the Creep wasn't gonna be at school tomorrow.

  Gramps would say, cry me a river. I was gonna get right on that.

  Tiff gave me the guy nod, lifting her chin up a fraction of an inch.

  I gave it back as Smith tracked my progress to my seat, and I flung myself into it, heaving my backpack on the back of the chair.

  “Mr. Hart. How did your chat go with Principal Chen?”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I'd like to make a case study on the group of killings that are presently going on in our area.”

  Tiff and I exchanged a loaded glance. We weren't allowed to talk about this.

  He saw our expressions. “The case study's based on whatever is public knowledge.” He put his hand out like, everything's cool here.

  I wasn't buying it. Hadn't Smith just tried to bulldoze the crime scene? What did he care, anyway? And how was he AFTD? He seemed so old to be a paranormal. Like, he was balding for cripe's sake. “I have a question,” I said.

  “Yes, Mr. Hart.”

  “I was wondering when your original inoculation was?”

  Tiff was nodding; see—good question.

  “I was in the first group.”

  “I thought that everyone was done in 2015,” I said, feeling pretty good about knowing more stuff cuz of my dad.

  He shook his head. “No, not all. There were some of us that were a ʻplaceboʼ group.”

  I knew what that was: people who were injected with the real juice, and others just got saline solution. He must've got a kick of the real thing.

  “There were a few in my group that manifested unique abilities.”

  Something stunk. “Who was in your group? Not mundanes, Mr. Smith,” I asked.

  There was a small silence. “Jeffrey Parker, for one.”

  Okay, now we were getting somewhere.

  “He's in some freaky government op thing, right?” Tiff said in typical eloquent style, snapping a bubble.

  Smith cringed, holding out his small trash separator. “There is evidence that points to Parker's affiliation with a government entity.”

  Evidence my ass.
Tiff rolled her eyes, throwing the wad of gum in the can.

  “So,” he clapped his hands together, and my earlier humor slipped away like autumn fog facing the cold, “about the victims. Let's talk about a zombie's state-of-mind and how it differs at the time of death—if say, someone is murdered—versus someone that dies peacefully.”

  Was death peaceful?

  I didn't think so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mom hovered anxiously around Helen, who was in a reclined position on the chaise lounge on Grampsʼ illegal grass.

  “Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?” Mom twisted her hands together.

  “No,” Helen groaned, her forearm making an indentation on her hair (I hadn't thought that was possible). “I feel ridiculous. I am forty-two years old; I've been pregnant before, this should be easy.”

  Mom said, “Well, I didn't think it was.”

  I vacated, before they discussed the Dreaded Childbirth Stories.

  My posse of dudes were all here, sucking down pops. Jonesy already had the next can of Coke on the picnic table in front of him. He and John clicked cans together. “Happy birthday, Terran.”

  John nodded. “You too.”

  They slugged their pops, and I slid in on top of the bench seat next to Jade. It was the last week of September and the sky had become that surreal deep blue color, the type that it had right before autumn came.

  We sat there quietly for a second and Jade said, “Fifteen is so lame.” Her voice was glum.

  I squeezed her against me. “Why?” I pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

  She gave a wan smile. “Because, if we were sixteen, we could drive, we'd be sophomores.”

  Jonesy interrupted, “Ah. I've gotta take that dumbass Driver's Ed in the summer because of my birthday.”

  “Me too,” John added.

  Bry said, “That's what you do if you got a fall birthday. Otherwise, it's the biggest teaser in the world turning sixteen but not done with the class part. That sucks.”

  We all nodded, Bry was the only one of the group that had wheels.

  Alex was wearing the longest board shorts in the world, like capris. Wardrobe-challenged much. “When do you turn?”

  “Seventeen?” Bry asked.

  “Yeah,” Alex said.

  “December.”

  “Why were you at school when the goon squad tried to be losers again?” I asked.

  “Ah, news flash, Caleb, they're not trying,” John said.

  True dat.

  “Droppinʼ Tiff off, that's what.”

  “Lucky,” John said.

  “Don't believe in luck,” Jonesy said.

  “I could have helped,” Alex said indignantly.

  “Right. But you wanted to keep things secret,” Jade said.

  We all looked at each other.

  “I think that's out now,” I said.

  Bry lifted his eyebrows.

  I expounded, “Alex threw a formula guy through the gym door.”

  Bry's head whipped to Alex.

  He ducked his head, pleased with himself.

  “Like, pushed him?” Bry asked.

  “No, it was a superman,” Jonesy said, throwing both arms straight out in front of him.

  “Cape time,” John agreed.

  “What happened that he had to go through the door? Just askinʼ.” Bry said.

  I told him the whole deal; them trying to force Griswold to let us go with them, how she'd managed their suit asses, how they were packinʼ heat—all of it.

  “This sounds a little like Graysheet action to me,” he said.

  We nodded. It had seemed that way to us too.

  “Can you believe Griswold?” Jonesy said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, I thought she really sucked,” Jade said.

  Sophie nodded.

  Tiff said, “Well, she really sucked for them!”

  We laughed then John said, “We'll have a sub until Griswold gets back.”

  “Maybe she won't come back. Ya know, like the government freaks will get her.”

  We chewed on that.

  Finally, I said, “No way, they wouldn't want her around for any long term stuff. She'd totally cramp their style. She's gotta be In Charge.”

  Gramps hollered for us to get over and suck up some food.

  Didn't have to ask us twice.

  The guys jogged over to the BBQ-er and Gramps hiked an eyebrow. “Why don't you swine let the girls go first?”

  Right.

  Tiff, Sophie and Jade looked at us and Jade said, “Let them go, we don't need to ʻfeedʼ that bad.” She smiled.

  I'd teach her another French lesson later.

  I grinned back and Jade looked like she was getting me.

  We piled back around the picnic table and the adults (except Jonesy's mom, who did look kinda green) ate at the “adult's table,” right on the deck.

  We put our heads together. “What are we doing for Jade's birthday?” I asked.

  She looked down at her plate for a second, and I lifted her chin with a finger. “What?” Her green eyes were filling with tears.

  “I think that my dad is going to try to come by, and make me do something with him.”

  “Ah, no. I mean, he can't, right?” I said, completely blown away with the thought of that turd being around Jade.

  She shook her head. “The restraining order has expired and we have to prove that one needs to be re—”

  “Implemented,” John said.

  She nodded. “Yeah. And it costs money.”

  Bry leaned back against the fence the table was shoved up against. It was an ugly metal cyclone thing (you got it, illegal). “I say if you're not there, he can't find ya.”

  “The hide-a-way is a good solution,” John offered.

  “Yeah, the only thing we have to worry about is Clyde showing up,” Jonesy said.

  I looked at him. “Why would he?”

  “It seems that whenever you get within two miles of Scenic, dead shit happens,” Bry said.

  Alex, Tiff and Sophie nodded.

  Huh. I thought about Jade celebrating her birthday in the dump. “Uh, I was thinking about a cleaner place.”

  We were all quiet.

  Jade gave a tiny shoulder lift. “It's okay, I just want it to be private, my friends around. Mia can come too.”

  Jonesy rolled his eyes. “She's gonna have to do a show and tell for me to have enthusiasm with her joining our coolness.”

  Sophie crossed her arms over her chest. “Not your coolness. She will be added to the girlsʼ coolness, Jonesy.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, and Tiff suddenly asked, “When's your birthday, Hart?”

  Jonesy smiled like the cat that ate the canary. Or two.

  Brother.

  “Halloween,” he said and made the sign of the vampire cross.

  Bry leaned forward. “No shit?”

  I nodded.

  “That's funny, Hart. I mean really. That's like the height of weirdness.”

  “Irony,” John added.

  “Pretty cool,” Tiff said. “I mean, it fits and all.”

  Jade smiled. “I think you're the one that will have to have a huge party, Caleb.”

  Whatever, it wasn't an important birthday or anything. It's just like Jade said, only fifteen.

  “So, when is yours?” Tiff asked Jade.

  “Next Saturday.” Jade said.

  “Almost October,” Alex said.

  “My mom will bake a cake. What's your favorite?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Banana.”

  Figures as a girl she'd have to have lame fruit as part of it.

  The guys made disdainful faces.

  “What?” Sophie swung her hair over her shoulder in an irritated flip. “Banana is perfectly respectable.”

  “Chocolate is the only way to go,” Jonesy said.

  “Pllleeeassse, that's so missionary position.”

  He turned to Sophie with a glint in his eye. “
And you'd know, huh?”

  Mom said, from about two football fields away, “Did I hear a sexual innuendo?”

  Oh. My. God.

  Jonesy laughed, pointing at Sophie. “She's acting inappropriately Ali. I am being defiled.” Jonesy covered his heart with his hands.

  Mom didn't buy it for a nanosecond.

  “It was just an expression,” Sophie said. Her face had become a dull brick color.

  “You kids watch what you're talking about over there,” Gramps said. “Or, I'll have to think of some creative tasks for you to accomplish.”

  I gave the group The Look. Gramps had talent, he could keep us working for hours.

  “Why's that so bad?” Tiff asked. She had obviously never been Tasked by Gramps before.

  “Ah, duh, Tiff. He'll have us picking each other's belly lint with tweezers for like, five and a half hours.”

  “I was thinking toe jam,” Alex said for a crystal clear visual.

  “Eewww!” Sophie yelled and Jade made the gag face.

  Tiff laughed. “You guys are so tame, you should be in my house.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Bry agreed.

  “I don't think I want to hear the Weller stories,” Jade said as politely as possible.

  “Probably not,” Bry agreed.

  We started to polish off the food, our plans for Jade's birthday weekend set, when Gramps gate swung open and the formula guys waltzed in. They were the same ones from school.

  On Grampsʼ property.

  Gramps slowly stood, taking in the measure of the pair and said to me, “Caleb, go in the house and get the puppy.”

  Oh shit.

  “Pop,” Mom began, and he looked at her hand on his sleeve and it fell away.

  Jonesy looked at me. “Don't tell me the puppy is some sissy thing.”

  “Not from Mac it's not,” John said and Bry nodded.

  It so wasn't. I jogged into the house with the suits marking my progress.

  I grabbed the KEL-TEC KSG bullpup shotgun that Gramps had trained me to use. He said it was the very best home self-defense weapon.

  I checked that the safety was on, and jogged back to where he stood, the nose of the shotgun pointing at the grass. My judo training swirled at the back of my head in vibrant anticipation.

  Gramps was big on preparation.

  Mom covered her mouth with a hand and Helen said, “I think I'm going to sit down.” She looked around. “And watch the drama from there.”

  Bill nodded, settling her in a chair and called Jonesy over with a hand.