by Clare Kauter
“Right, I get it,” said Death. “Just asking for a friend.”
“No!” I was growing impatient. OK, I was growing more impatient. “There was a soul I tried to summon earlier tonight, but it flickered and faded out before we could ask it any questions.”
Death frowned. “The goblin?”
I nodded eagerly. He knew something!
“Why were you trying to contact him?”
“He was murdered,” I said.
“Yes,” Death replied. “I knew that much already.”
Right. Of course. He was Death, after all. It’s not like someone could just hide a murder from him.
“I found the body, then Henry came along and called Daisy and Hecate, and now The Department wants them to investigate.”
“So why are you here and not them?”
“Satan wants me to look into it. She’s not happy about it from a PR perspective.”
Death nodded. “And?”
“And I felt bad for being the reason all of their jobs are on the line. Well, actually, Henry getting fired was your fault.”
Death held his hands in the air, palms up. “Hey, I didn’t kiss him.”
“You dobbed us in, though. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”
“You really think I could forget about it with the way you’ve been sulking around?”
“How dare –”
“But back to the goblin,” he said, cutting me off. “You’re helping find the murderer because you feel guilty?”
“Well, that was the original reason.”
“Go on.”
“I thought we’d just speak to the soul and then we’d figure it out straight away and I could just get my licence and go, but –”
“Right, so that’s the real reason you’re doing it.”
“No!” Not exactly. Well, OK, maybe.
“Sure,” he said. “But then you tried to call him and his soul had been tampered with, and now you want to know what happened.”
I nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Well, I’d quite like to find that out myself,” he said.
My stomach twisted. That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean?”
“The soul was already gone when I got to the body, and I was there very soon after it was dumped.”
“How do you know it was dumped?”
Death raised his eyebrows at me. “You really think someone would have performed the ritual in an open alleyway like that?”
He did have a point.
“But how could the soul have been gone?” I asked. “Don’t you have to release souls? Or is it something to do with being in Hell?”
“Death in Hell works the same way as anywhere else,” said Death. “The soul should still have been there, and the fact that it wasn’t is worrying. The thing is, it’s not the first soul to go missing recently. A couple of our permanent residents have disappeared too.”
“Oh, you mean the missing demons?”
Death sat back in the chair, tilting his head to the side. “No, I mean damned souls. Have demons been going missing?”
I nodded. “I thought Satan would have told you.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Although I haven’t mentioned the missing souls to her, so I guess fair’s fair.”
“Why haven’t you told her?”
“I can’t see her reacting particularly well to the news.”
He had a point there. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her. “Is there any connection between the souls that are going missing?”
Death shook his head. “Nope. As far as I can tell it’s completely random. I just assumed a rogue demon was eating them. I’ve been keeping an eye out but nothing unusual has caught my attention.”
“Yeah, I guess a demon makes sense.” I paused, thinking. “Would a demon be responsible for killing other demons?”
Death shrugged. “It’s possible, but I don’t know. I get the feeling that there’s something more to it.”
“Do you think the ritual murder is a clue to what’s going on with the souls?”
He nodded. “Yep. I’ve been trying to figure it out all night.”
“In between episodes of Dance Moms?”
“It’s mind-numbing TV. Pretty much just meditation.”
I snorted. “Right, sure. So Gnawlack’s ritual murder is somehow linked to disappearing souls and demons.”
“Right.”
“And possibly to the Doomstone’s companion objects as well.”
Death raised his eyebrows. “My my, someone’s been doing her research.” He frowned. “Or been listening to a certain poltergeist.”
“Is he wrong?”
Death was silent for a moment before eventually saying, “No, he’s not wrong.”
“Do you know the ritual?”
Death shook his head. “I’ve seen others similar to it, but I’m not familiar with that particular brand, no.”
“Do you have any idea who’s responsible? Or what the ritual might be for?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” With a sigh, he stood and walked to the kitchen. “Tea?” he called behind him.
The inside of Death’s temple was bigger than the outside. He’d tried to explain it to me once, but my concept of magical physics was pretty much non-existent. Basically it had something to do with the door being in that park in Hell, but the house existing somewhere else. If you want to know the maths equations behind it you’re going to have to ask Death yourself, sorry. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him one day.
“No tea for me, thanks. I’d prefer something else.”
“Sure. What would you like?”
“An answer.” He didn’t reply, so I stood and followed him to the kitchen. When I reached the doorway, I asked, “What was your end game, dobbing me in to The Department?”
Death rolled his eyes. “You always make everything about yourself, don’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was kind of right, but in my experience things usually did tend to be about me, whether I liked it or not.
“What makes you think I was dobbing you in?”
I frowned. Did that mean… “Henry? What, were you trying to get him fired?”
“He seems harmless enough, but he’d spent too much time with you.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t trust him.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I think he knows more about you than he’s letting on.” He took a spoon from the drawer and measured tealeaves into an ornate teapot shaped like a dragon.
“He wouldn’t be the only person to fit that description,” I said. Pretty much everyone I knew these days seemed to be lying to me. “Besides, since he got fired he’s spent all his time drinking himself into oblivion. Although I have to admit, recently he might have become something of a threat.”
“How so?”
I sighed. “The clouding spells are wearing off,” I said. “He’s starting to remember things, like me killing those grabbers, and the vampire at the North Pole who said she could walk around during the day since drinking my blood. If he suspected anything before, I’m sure his dual memories aren’t helping.”
“When did he tell you this?”
“Earlier tonight. I told him he was probably just having a breakdown.”
“Wow, that’s a bit harsh.”
“What choice did I have?”
“Well, if you trust him so much you could have told him the truth.”
I rolled my eyes. “OK, so I don’t trust him completely, but I still trust him a hell of a lot more than my new supervisor.”
“Yes, Satan told me that the new guy’s a bit of a charmer.”
“He’s a leech.”
“Leeches aren’t that bad.”
“My apologies to leeches, then,” I said. “My point is, dobbing Henry in didn’t make sense. I finished the quest. I was going to get my licence and he would have been out of my life, posing no thr
eat whatsoever. You dobbing me in just prolonged the amount of time The Department would have control over me and you know it.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Death. “The Department doesn’t have any control over you while you’re here in Hell. It’s not like you’re in Australia anymore. Your supervisor might be here to watch, but he can’t stop you from doing any magic. Not that I think he’d be able to stop you if he tried.”
“That doesn’t explain why you dobbed me in. I don’t believe you about trying to get Henry fired. Did you want me to not get my licence?” Suddenly another thought occurred to me. I groaned, suddenly realising what Death had to gain by keeping me at The Department’s beck and call. “Or are you trying to keep me on The Department’s quest list so that you can use me to help you out whenever you need?”
The Department acted all high and mighty, but when it came to Death, they’d pretty much do whatever he wanted. Not the kind of guy you want to defy, I guess. He’d already used me to kill Santa. Why hadn’t this occurred to me before?
“You really think I’d do that?” he asked, pouring hot water from the kettle into his teapot and putting the lid back on it.
“Of course you would!” Another piece fell into place. “And Satan is in on it because she wants me here working on her PR team for free!”
Death shook his head. “You’re paranoid.”
“I’m right! Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I didn’t realise this before. You and the devil are even worse than everyone thinks you are!”
“The Department can only control you as long as you let it,” said Death.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“So what do you suggest? That I move back here permanently where I don’t require a licence? Or that I just go back to my house and do what I like, hoping I won’t be arrested?”
Death took a teacup from the cupboard. “I don’t think they’d have much luck arresting you even if they tried.”
“I can’t just kill everyone who gets in my way!”
Death had taken the lid off the teapot and was peering inside to see if the brew was strong enough yet. “You can do other things with your magic, you know. It doesn’t just kill people.”
“What do you mean – talk to the dead? All I can do is speak to ghosts or create them.”
He replaced the lid and turned, leaning back on the counter. “Really? You think that with magic as powerful as yours, that’s the full breadth of your repertoire? I know you’re young, but even so, sometimes you’re incredibly stupid.”
“I have dark magic. All I can do is death-related stuff.”
“Nessa, I am the Grim Reaper and even I can do more than just death-related stuff.”
I frowned at him. “You’re ancient and all-powerful. Of course you can do other stuff.”
“You can sense energy. You can enter the ether.”
“And how are they meant to help me fight off the police who come to lock me up for unlawful use of magic?”
He sighed, turning back to his teapot. As he poured a cup, he said, “If you can’t figure that out for yourself, then you really don’t deserve to know.”
Chapter Eleven
By the time I’d finished talking to Death it was morning, or the closest thing to it in Hell. It was the time when I’d ordinarily start work at the council chambers. No sleep for me today. I’d organised last night to meet the others at the office, and if I showed up late it would only make them suspicious. (Not to mention it would make Satan angry if she thought I was slacking off on the case.)
When I walked inside, however, everyone else (except Satan herself) was already there waiting for me. There were several desks in the room, but today there were no other people from the marketing team in. It was the weekend, after all, and although our boss was Satan she wasn’t evil enough to make her employees work weekends. Except for me, of course.
“Where have you been?” Dick demanded.
“I got up early to get a start on the case,” I said. It was only sort of a lie. I had been working on the case, after all – I just hadn’t gone to bed in the meantime.
“To skulk around Hell unsupervised, more like,” Dick muttered.
“Did you find anything useful?” Henry asked.
I hesitated. How much could I afford to tell them?
“I spoke to Death,” I said. “He didn’t know who did it either.”
“You’re still on speaking terms with him?” Henry asked, looking a little annoyed with me.
“No,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve seen him since Christmas. I just thought it was probably a good idea to check with him seeing as we want to get this wrapped up as fast as possible.”
Henry nodded slowly. “I suppose.”
“Did he tell you anything else?” Daisy asked.
“Nothing that seems all that relevant.” Except for the souls-going-missing thing. If he hadn’t told Satan about that little problem, though, I figured I probably shouldn’t spread the word about it.
Daisy nodded and Hecate said, “We have the preliminary reports from the crime scene if you’d like to take a look.”
Dick scoffed. “What exactly do you think she is going to be able to tell you from the forensics report? She’s an uneducated medium whose highest qualification is illegally performing séances in her falling down shack. She’s hardly qualified for this sort of work.”
As much as I hated to admit it, Dick was right. What was I going to be able to tell the others? Unless I suddenly spotted something in the report that hinted at what type of ritual might have been performed with the body, I didn’t think I was going to be that much help. I took the file from her anyway and began reading, not wanting Dick to know that for once, I agreed with him.
Sitting at my desk, I began to flip through the folder. Nothing jumped out. I noticed a weird smell in the air and turned to find Dick standing right behind me, breathing over my shoulder.
“Argh!” I cried. “Why are you standing so close to me, you weirdo?”
“I don’t trust you,” he hissed.
“Yeah, I think we already established that.”
“You were meeting up with your accomplice, weren’t you? You were talking to Ed.”
My heart rate sped up at his accusation, but I tried to brush him off. “How many times do I –”
“You’d be better off handing the Doomstone over to me rather than waiting for whoever killed Gnawlack to find out that you have it,” he said.
Wait – he knew why Gnawlack had been killed? How?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“They have Gnawlack’s companion item now. They’ll be able to trace the stone to you, and when they find you I have no doubt you’ll become the next sacrifice.”
I frowned in mock confusion. “Companion item?” I repeated. “Are you feeling OK, Dick?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you know more than you’re letting on.”
I wasn’t the only one, apparently. Dick knew that Gnawlack had been killed for one of the companion items, which was odd seeing as none of the rest of the group seemed to. At least not that they were letting on. Where was Dick getting his information? It couldn’t be from The Department or the others would know, and he couldn’t have overheard my conversation with Ed last night or he would have burst in and arrested me at the time.
“So you know what the murderer’s looking for?” I asked.
Dick balked, suddenly seeming to realise that he’d given too much away. “No, I just mean –”
“If you know why Gnawlack was killed, why haven’t you told the others?” I asked. “Have you got something to hide?”
“You’re the one consorting with a criminal.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “But you’re certainly obstructing a police investigation by withholding information. Dear, dear – that’s not going to look good when your bosses find out, is it?�
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He scoffed, trying to play it off as nothing, but I could see the fear in his eyes. “I merely assumed that was what happened. Just guesswork, that’s all.”
The door to the office swung open, cutting off our conversation. Satan strode in, followed by a film crew. She was in the middle of filming her new reality TV show, Hell on Heels, and was often followed around by a director, a camerawoman and a sound technician. She glared at us all as she entered, making it very clear that we weren’t to mention the events of the night before.
“And these are some of my diligent workers, coming in to get a bit of overtime work in on the weekend. They love it so much here I just can’t keep them away!” Satan glanced around the room and then gestured towards Dick and me. “This is our intern, supervised by an official from the Australian Department of Magic and Death. This is her way of getting certified for a magical licence, rather than going on a more traditional quest.”
“Cut!” said the director. “I think that’s all we need for this shot.”
The woman operating the camera pressed a button and then removed the huge piece of equipment from her shoulder, setting it gingerly on a nearby table.
“This is brilliant,” said the director, her eyes shining bright as she looked at me. “We’ll definitely need to get an interview with her. That’s golden.”
I forced a smile. “Sure,” I said. “Is it OK if we wait until another day, though? I haven’t had much sleep and I’m a bit out of it today.”
“That’s because you’re such a workaholic,” said Satan. “I keep telling her to rest more, but she loves coming in here so much.”
It took all the energy I had to stop my fake smile from turning into a scowl. “So, have you guys been enjoying your time in Hell?” I asked the film crew. They all nodded enthusiastically. “Great! Maybe I can use you guys for a blurb or blog post on our website.”
“Absolutely,” said the director. “When are you free? We can interview each other at the same time.”
I’d be free when that murderer was caught, but I could hardly say that. “Uh… I might have to check my schedule and get back to you,” I said.
“She can’t help you,” said Dick.
“Excuse me?” I said, turning to him. “Since when do you answer for me?”
