Better Off Dead: The Lily Harper Series, Book 1

by H. P. Mallory

  I suddenly wanted to cry.

  “You’re my angel?” I repeated again. This time, my tone was filled with anguished concern.

  “Yep, girl, believe it ’cause it’s the truth,” he said, winking at me. “Be happy you didn’t get stuck with one of them boring a-holes.” He shook his head and grinned wide. “Me? I’m a piss-your-pants good time.”

  “Weren’t you on probation?” It suddenly occurred to me that the reason I was in this whole mess in the first place was owing to this repugnant creature. “And, by the way, I have a bone to pick with you.”

  “She said bone!” he squawked, erupting into a new round of raucous laughter.

  “Stop it! This isn’t funny!” I screamed at him, feeling my anger suddenly surging out of control as my voice broke. “It’s because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

  “CTFD,” he said and held up his hands in a play of submission, but the smile never left his lips.

  “What?”

  “Calm the fuck down, baby,” he said and then smiled even more broadly. “I want you to know that I’m real sorry about the whole accident mess …” I shook my head, not about to believe him, but he interrupted me. "No, seriously, I really am.” He even dropped the smile before starting to eye me up and down appreciatively. “But, come on … really, I did you a favor. I mean, you’re way hotter now.”

  “I don’t care about that!” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration as tears burned my eyes. I clamped them shut tightly, knowing I had to regain control of myself. If I lost control now, there was no telling if I'd be able to pick up the pieces again.

  “Aw, come on, little goob, don’t start crying.”

  I opened my eyes to find him smiling up at me. For some reason, and I don’t know why or how, it was reassuring. I wiped my arm across my eyes and forced a smile of my own, reminding myself that everything happened for a reason. It was time to make lemonade out of lemons. “Little goob?”

  “Yeah, you know, like junior goober?” He smiled wider. “It’s okay, cream puff. We’re gonna work it all out together."

  I shook my head and didn’t know what else to say or think—Bill had a way of addling my brain with incoherent thoughts.

  “Don’t you worry your hot little ass cheeks about it, ’kay?”

  I felt my jaw drop as the tears started again. How could I have ended up in this predicament? I would soon be headed toward the equivalent of hell, where I’d have to defend myself against God only knew what, and my only asset was … Bill?

  Treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward, I said to myself, repeating Og Mandino’s words. I focused on Bill and wondered if I had the stamina to make Mr. Mandino proud.

  “And as to my probation, pah!” Bill continued, physically brushing away my concern with a chunky and indifferent hand. “You got nothin’ to worry about, girl. I’ve been on best behavior for the last six months and my probationary period is nearly over.”

  “So if you’re on probation, why were you assigned as my guide?”

  He leaned against the wall with a heartfelt sigh. “I don’t think Jason Skeletor-Horn could find anyone else on such short notice.”

  I sighed long, deep and hard before shaking my head against the insanity of everything I'd experienced in the last four hours; or at least, it felt like it couldn’t have been more than four hours. “I’m not sure how I feel about any of this,” I mumbled. And that was the naked truth. I was starting to think AfterLife Enterprises had placed me at the bottom of the totem pole.

  “Everything is gonna be fine, sugar nipples,” Bill said with another grin. Then he glanced at his watch and frowned. “I left the car running so we’d better get going. It’s a pretty long drive to Dickhead.”

  Care, kindness and understanding …

  He started for the door, shaking his head as a new round of mirth seized him. I followed, only because I wasn’t sure what else I should do. I wanted to call Jason and scream at him that this was not what I signed up for, but the phone was in Bill’s pocket and he was convinced I wouldn’t be able to get through to Jason anyway, so what was the point?

  I shut the door behind me without locking it, since there wasn’t anything inside to steal. Then I took the stairs two at a time, with Bill directly in front of me. At the bottom of the stairwell, halfway parked in the grass and half on the pavers of the driveway, was the Audi I’d chosen in Jason’s office.

  “How’d you get …?” I started.

  “Someone had to deliver it to you,” he answered with a shrug. “You wanna drive or what?”

  I couldn’t say I was in any shape to get behind the wheel. ’Course, there was that little part about Bill and his alcoholism. “Jason said you were an alcoholic.”

  “I haven’t had a drink in six months, or something like that. I’m on the clean and sober path.” He said it like he wasn't exactly thrilled about it. I frowned and he continued. “Hey, I drove it over here in the first place … give a brother a break, yo.”

  I didn’t have the energy or the wherewithal to argue; and there were those British roundabouts Jason warned me about. “Fine.”

  Like a scheming gnome, Bill smiled and rubbed his hands together before opening the car door. He climbed up the running board and heaved himself into the seat. I wasn’t much more graceful; after tripping over my foot, I stumbled into the passenger's seat.

  “So about this mission to the blacksmith’s, are we going to be gone long?” I asked after realizing I hadn’t packed an overnight bag and furthermore, had nothing to pack. “I don’t have any clothes if it’s going to be more than one day.”

  Bill nodded as he backed out of the driveway, looking over his right shoulder before offering me an apologetic smile and looking over his left. “Skeletor took care of all that. There’s a bag packed for you in the trunk, which makes me guess that this little trip might be longer than a day.”

  The bag in the back relieved me slightly, but it didn’t address the mysterious mission we were undertaking. “So what’s this about the blacksmith and my sword? Does Jason really expect me to battle demons?” I asked, my voice sinking at the last part.

  “Yep, that’s what lives in the Underground City, so unless you want to become the sexiest dinner one of them little shits has ever eaten, you gotta learn how to defend yourself.”

  “Are all angels like you?” I asked with a frown, wondering how my Sunday school teacher could have gotten angels so very wrong.

  “Hellz no!” he shot back. “I’m an O-riginal.”

  Shaking my head, I decided to leave that conversation alone. “Have you ever done this sort of thing before?” Noting his confused expression, I continued. “I mean, have you ever retrieved a soul?”

  He nodded, but it soon turned into head-shaking. “Well, not exactly, but I know lots of guides and I’ve had it explained to me pretty often, so I figured if they could do it, it couldn’t be that hard, ya know? Besides, I read most of the Cliff’s Notes of that Dante book, so it’s all good in ma hood.”

  “You read most of the Cliff’s Notes of the Inferno?” I sounded … shocked. The Cliff's Notes, for crying out loud?

  He frowned. “Okay, okay, I read like two chapters.”

  “You read two chapters?”

  “Sure did. Pretty good ones too. There were dudes chewing on the backs of the heads of some other dudes.” He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes. "I can't remember why, though. Maybe for giving it to the other dude’s wives.”

  Care, kindness and understanding …

  I took a deep breath and sighed, wondering what I’d done in a past life to merit this one. “So neither of us knows what we’re doing?” I asked in a shaky voice. If this wasn’t cause for a crisis, I didn’t know what was.

  Bill shook his head. “Girl, readin’ has never been my thing. An’ just look how far I’ve gotten without it! I�
�m a jen-you-wine, bone-if-eyed angel and it’s not like just anyone gets to wear that title.” Before I could respond, he scratched his wrist and I noticed a flashing green bracelet on his arm.

  “What’s that?”

  A blush passed over his pasty, dough-like skin and he suddenly seemed enthralled with the steering wheel. “Oh, that’s my monitor.”

  “Which means?”

  He shrugged. “If I do something I’m not supposed to ...”

  “Like?”

  “Like drink or get into a fight. The damn thing will go off and then I’ll have to sit through another five-hour lecture from Skeletor. Then again, I might even get demoted to a junior angel, which would be totally sucksational.”

  I had a mind to set it off so I could rid myself of my unwanted guide. “So going back to this retrieving thing, if you’ve never been a guide before, how in the heck do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

  He reached inside his pocket and pulled out another piece of paper that looked like it had barely survived World War II. “I got all the four-one-one right here, honey mounds.” He held the paper closer to his eyes, glancing every now and then at the road. Great, I’d already died in one car accident and now it looked like number two was just around the corner.

  “What’s that?” I demanded.

  “Notes.”

  I ripped the paper from between his nubby fingers. Glancing down at it, I read aloud:

  “Bring coins for Sharon, the chick who’s going to take us across the River Sticks.” I dropped the paper into my lap and faced Bill, a new sense of despondency erupting inside me. “You do realize the ferryman of the River Styx is exactly that, a man?” I started, remembering reading the Inferno from my English Lit class during my sophomore year at college. “And his name is Charon, not Sharon.”

  “Sharon, Charon, chick or fairy gay dude, whatevs. I'm not a homo-phobe but I do believe in gay buffering.”

  “What buffering?”

  “You know, like when I’m out with a dude friend and we go to the movies or something—it’s always good to leave an extra seat between us so we don’t look gay.”

  I shook my head and returned to his notes. “Make sure nothing touches you.” I glanced up at him for his confirmation.

  “I’m an angel, we aren’t supposed to get any of that Underground City shit on us.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Angels aren’t even supposed to go into the Underground because if anything there touches us …” But his words suddenly faded on his tongue.

  “Yes?”

  He shrugged and I realized he had no idea what he was talking about. “I don’t know what would happen, but it's not like it’d be good, you know? It’d probably be like that witch chick who melts.” He glanced over at me and smiled. “I’m meeelltinng!”

  I sighed, not even slightly entertained by his less than convincing rendition of the Wicked Witch of the West. “So if angels aren’t supposed to go to the Underground City, why are we?”

  “’Cause you were a dumbass and didn’t read the fine print before you decided to become a supermodel and I’m on probation. It means I've gotta do whatever Skeletor-Horn tells me to, which basically means we're both SOL.”

  I decided to ignore the part about me being a dumbass and the fine print Jason had neglected to include during my orientation. Instead, I turned to the view outside my window. It was a crisp, beautifully clear day with a cornflower-blue sky peppered by wistful clouds. The grass of what I assumed was the Meadows appeared a lush, verdant green. If not for my companion, I might have considered it a nice afternoon.

  “What is the Kingdom like?” I asked, hoping to find some level of polite conversation.

  “Supes,” he said, smiling.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, at an obvious loss.

  “Super, girl, super. Gotta keep up with ma lingo!” The car lurched forward as the light turned green and Bill gave me an apologetic smile. “Maybe when we’re done with this mission, I can help you furnish that place.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to be my roommate?” I asked, aghast at the very thought.

  “Hellz no! Talk about putting the kibosh on my sex life,” he spat out with a shrug. “Besides, I got fart-apnea.”

  “I have never met anyone like you,” I said simply, shaking my head as I felt the gravity of my words drop all the way down to my feet.

  “I told you, girl, I’m an O-riginal.”

  He turned on the radio, scanning through the stations with unconcealed amusement. At the sound of screeching and the heavy thunder of a bass guitar, he settled back into his seat.

  “What’s this?” I asked with audible annoyance.

  “Winger! Hello!”

  He dropped his hands from the wheel to play air guitar. I sighed, wondering how I was going to survive the next few hours or days with Bill for company.

  That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, I reminded myself, swallowing down the sentiment.

  I only hoped I could survive Bill the second time around.

  ***

  It turned out that the drive to Peterhead wasn’t such a long one at all—a mere two hours, although it felt more like six. Bill was, in a word … exhausting, but I preferred his company to being alone with my depressing thoughts about missing my mother and Miranda. Instead, I turned to the scenery outside my window which was slowly growing gray as dark storm clouds trespassed the skies, throwing a cloak of drab shadows over the green hills and the blue ocean beside us.

  “Looks like it's going to rain,” I said softly. “Is the weather always this finicky in Scotland?”

  Bill frowned at me. “Do I look like a friggin’ weatherman?”

  “Well I figured you were familiar with this place since you showed up on my doorstep?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I got the call from AE that I had to get my ass to Edinburgs and so I went. I've never been here before.” He glanced out his window and sighed. “Why the hell you didn't choose a phat beach house in the Bahamas with nothin' but half naked chicks to stare at beats the shiznit outta me.”

  I said nothing more as he pulled onto a small street called Gadie Braes that bordered the cliffs of Peterhead and continued heading north. As far as I could tell, the area seemed pretty suburban with long blocks of houses surrounding vast stretches of green parks.

  “Merge slightly right onto Ware Road,” the polite English voice of the Audi's navigation rang out. Bill grumbled something unintelligible, but obeyed the instructions.

  “Your destination is ahead on the right,” the woman continued as both Bill and I leaned forward, seeing nothing more than a shack looming before us.

  “What the …?” Bill started.

  “You have reached your destination,” the navigation finished before triumphantly turning itself off.

  “Um, is this right?” I asked, glancing between Bill and the one-room shack that looked more like an outhouse than the residence of a blacksmith.

  Bill shrugged and turned the car off, opening his door as a cold ocean wind whipped around him and chilled me. I shivered in my short-shorts and tube top, wishing the previous owner of my body resided in a cold climate at the time of her departure.

  I watched Bill as he hopped down from the driver's seat and took a few paces forward. He turned around in a three-sixty and eyed his new environment with confusion, scratching his head in apparent wonder.

  “It's gotta be right,” he said. He started forward as I unbuckled myself and jumped down, shivering in the cold, Scottish wind. Freezing in my shorts and tube top, I decided to make a quick detour to the trunk of the car to investigate the bag Jason had given Bill. I opened the trunk and sorted through the bag, tossing aside thong underwear, lacy bras and a nightie that looked more like a negligee. There were two skimpy day dresses, more obscene short-shorts and blouses that were so small, they looked like they'd fit a cat. My fingers caught onto a pair of black leather pants, and pulling them out, I felt my jaw drop. T
hen I realized they were the only pants in the bag and, as such, I'd have to wear them or freeze.

  “This is not funny, Jason Streethorn,” I muttered as I stepped into the pants and worked them up my stork legs. They were skintight and barely fit. I zipped them up and buttoned them before diving into the bag again, this time looking for something that resembled a sweater. A second later, I found a red, long-sleeved cotton shirt that was just as tight as the pants. But it was warmer than the singlet I was currently wearing, so I wasn't going to complain.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Bill railed out from beside the shack.

  I threw the top over my head, pulled it down and noticing a pair of ankle-high, black boots, grabbed them before slamming the trunk closed. I walked back toward Bill, watching his eyes widen as he took in the leather pants and boots. “You look like that chick from that movie,” then he pursed his lips together as he attempted to remember said movie. “You know the one,” he continued and cleared his throat before he started singing “‘we go together like ramming dingy dongs, bang bang bangy cha bangy cock!”

  “Grease,” I finished for him, shaking my head as my thoughts returned to my current wardrobe. “As soon as we’re done here, we need to go shopping.”

  Bill didn’t say anything, but started for the wooden door of the shack, so I followed him. The door was warped, discolored and generally had the look of something weathered and old, matching the rest of the lean-to. Bill shrugged and knocked on the door. No one answered, so he knocked again. When it seemed no one was home, I turned and started for the Audi again, eager to find the nearest department store. Then I heard the sound of the door opening. Turning back toward Bill, I watched him peer into the house before walking inside.

  “Looks like no one's home,” he called out.

  I hurried up the walkway behind him, reaching the front door of the shack. I continued forward, intending to talk him out of breaking and entering. But as soon as I stepped over the threshold, I was suddenly blinded by a huge flare of light.

  “... and when he had moved on, I entered along the deep and savage road.”