Styx & Stoned (The Grim Reality Series Book 2)

by Brux, Boone

  Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

  Damn it, I’d been determined to get my life on track. It looked like the first day of my new life might be my last.

  We entered the bathroom. The smell of industrial cleaner filled my nose and the flickering fluorescent lights intensified my headache. He kicked the door closed, sealing us inside the white tiled tomb.

  “My name is Nate.”

  I craned my neck to see if he was talking to me. “All right.” Nice to meet you seemed a little inappropriate for the situation. “Listen Nate, you need to tell me what the hell is going on because I am seriously about to lose it.”

  “Let me get rid of him first and then we’ll talk.” His voice softened, the creepy killer tone lessening.

  “Get rid of him?” I scrunched my face and laced my words with my infamous sarcasm. “Where do you think he’s going? We’re in a frickin’ bathroom of a mini-mart.”

  Me and my big mouth.

  “Pick!” Nate waited a few seconds before shouting the word again. “Pick!”

  “Pick?” What was I supposed to pick? The ghost or me? Life or death? My fingers ached from his crushing grip. I wiggled, trying to get away, but he continued to hold me in place. “I pick life. I want to live. Don’t kill me.”

  “Me too,” Leroy’s ghost said.

  “It’s too late for you, Badder.”

  I didn’t know who Badder was, but when Leroy began to fight me again, my keen sense of deduction kicked in, telling me it was him. Several times he tried to jerk away, but kept rebounding like a rubber band. His arms passed through mine, cutting my bones with a searing cold. My head pounded, feeling like it was about to shatter. Any minute I was going to embark on a psychotic episode of epic proportion.

  A bright, blue light suddenly appeared at the end of the bathroom near the toilet. All of us stopped struggling and stared as the sink disappeared behind the elongating glow. The light widened into a rectangle and the intensity dimmed. Breath caught in my throat when an actual door appeared and then slid open. Leroy Badder’s mouth dropped open and his shoulders slumped. At least I wasn’t the only one stunned by the sight. Nate, however, appeared perfectly calm, like an elevator arriving in the Holiday bathroom was a normal occurrence.

  My attention drifted back to the far end of the bathroom and the man standing on the other side of the door. At least I thought it was a man. Something about him didn’t look completely human. Maybe it was his coal black eyes or perhaps the tiny bumps protruding from the front of his skull that reminded me of horns. Despite what was certainly an unfortunate birth defect, the man’s head was a perfect oval. A solid sheet of sable brown hair slicked along the top and sides like glossy frosting, and the creases in his black suit were so sharp they could cut. Mafia attorney popped into my mind.

  Beyond him the room glowed red. Not like those red light bulbs hookers use to advertise their services, but more like a roaring fire burned nearby. My first impression? Modern Gates of Hell. But that would be ridiculous, right? I mean, I was standing in a mini-mart bathroom.

  “I’ve got him, Pick.”

  Nate’s words snapped me out of my trance. “That’s Pick?”

  “Yes.” His gaze slid to mine and he lowered his voice. “Don’t let him touch you.”

  Like that even had to be said. “Yeah, no problem there.”

  I must have been in shock, because I should have been freaking out. It wasn’t every day you saw an elevator to Hell in a convenience store bathroom. My life was hockey games and laundry, not…well, not whatever this was.

  “Nate.” Pick’s voice carved through the tension like a hissing blade. “Punctual as usual.” His gaze tracked to me and his thin lips pulled into a white, feral smile. “And who do we have here?”

  This Pick character gave off a seriously eerie vibe.

  “A new recruit,” Nate said.

  I had no idea if they were talking about me and it didn’t matter. At this point I was doing good not to pee myself.

  The attorney guy pulled a clipboard from a file pocket mounted near the entrance and scanned an attached paper. “Leroy Badder?”

  “Yes.” Nate didn’t move or release his hold on my hands. “He just robbed the convenience store—or tried to.”

  Pick ticked a mark on the clipboard and placed it back into the pocket. “You’ve been quite the troublemaker, Mr. Badder.”

  “Yeah, well, let me go and I’ll show you just how bad I can be.” Leroy tugged against my hold, pulling me toward the elevator.

  Panic shot through me. Nate had specifically said to not let Pick touch me and I had every intention of complying. Once again, I dug the thick heels of my boots against the slick tile floor and lunged backward.

  Nate’s grip tightened and he leaned in, pressing his mouth against my ear. “When I tell you to release him, let go.”

  “Gladly.” Though I didn’t know if my fingers would open after being crushed for so long.

  Leroy shook his arms, which caused me to chomp down on my tongue. I bit back a string of name calling, most of which were less than flattering references to his mother.

  “Now?” I shuffled my feet, trying to avoid Badder’s stomping boots. Then the ghost braced his foot against my thigh and hauled backward. “Now?” I shouted.

  “Now!” Nate’s grip slid from my hands to my waist, holding me steady.

  With the help of Leroy’s thrashing, my fingers uncurled and released the ghost. Leroy hurled toward the open door, as if being sucked in by a giant vacuum, and tumbled into the elevator. He lay for a few seconds, looking around. When his gaze tracked downward, his eyes widened and his mouth rounded in a silent scream. Before he uttered a sound, Leroy dropped out of sight. The scene reminded me of the coyote on one of those Road Runner cartoons. Seconds later, the scream he hadn’t voiced wafted up and out of the elevator to Hell.

  Pick stood in the doorway, plucking invisible lint from his suit until Leroy’s voice faded. I stumbled backward and out of Nate’s hold, hitting the door. My fingers fumbled for the handle, but Nate flicked the deadbolt to lock.

  “Let me out.” My hands shook so badly I couldn’t maneuver the latch back. I had no idea who or what Pick was, or where Leroy Badder had disappeared to. What I did know was that I wanted to be as far away from these guys as possible. I pointed. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Calm down.” Nate grabbed my shoulders and spun me to face him. “You don’t have to but we need to talk before the police get here.”

  I stared at him, not sure I trusted anything he said. My fingers curled around the handle of the door. No way was I dropping my defenses so this guy could toss me through the fiery Gates of Hell. Nate released me but kept his hands raised, gesturing for me to stay put. I didn’t move—was unable to move.

  He faced the elevator. “Our transaction is complete.”

  Pick tipped his head in acknowledgment and straightened. “Until next time.”

  With that, the door slid shut and compressed into a thin line of light, shrinking until it vanished completely. Nate walked to the other end of the bathroom. “It’s over.”

  I didn’t release my death-grip. “What was that? Who are you? Where did Leroy go?” My questions flowed like verbal diarrhea. “Am I dead?”

  “You aren’t dead, but Leroy is. That doorway was a portal, and Pick is what’s called a porter. He escorts souls to their appointed destination.”

  “Appointed destination? You mean Hell?”

  Nate shrugged. “Not necessarily, but in most cases, yes.”

  “What do you mean, in most cases?”

  He stared at me, his blue eyes never wavering from my face, but didn’t answer.

  “What are you?”

  Nate took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m a grim reaper. It’s my job to get souls to the porters.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or run screaming from the restroom. There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to drown the images of the things I witnessed. Not
enough soap to scrub away the feel of Leroy sticking to me. And there was no denying I might have completely lost my mind.

  Nate cleared his throat. “And you’re a grim reaper too.”

  Okay, I’d definitely lost my mind.

  About the Author

  Boone Brux is a bestselling author in both fantasy and series romance genres. She began writing in an attempt to ward off the slow decomposition of her mental state while caring for her twin toddlers. It soon became clear that storytelling was her true calling. Her books range from medieval fantasy, filled with demons and hot heroes, to humorous paranormal, and spicy contemporary romances.

  Though she loves writing romance, Boone much prefers crafting stories where she gets to kill somebody or blow something up.

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