“You watch that mouth,” Gram warned Candy. “I expect ladylike manners out of you.”
“That would constitute a miracle,” Tim pointed out, coming back from tossing the toothpicks.
“Miracles happen and karma can be a real bitch,” Gram said with a cackle as she floated back up the stairs. “Daisy girl, do you need me? The squatters and Steve are watchin’ The Price Is Right. I’d kind of like to kick everyone’s behind in the Big Showcase.”
“Go kick away, Gram,” I told her, glad that she was leaving of her own accord. The conversation coming wasn’t one I wanted her to be present for.
“Move it, Candy,” Heather said, grabbing her purse. “We have work to do.”
As they made their exit, my father turned off the vacuum and looked around. “Does anyone mind if I expedite the process?”
“Be my guest,” Charlie said. “We need to talk.”
Before I could ask what expedite the process meant, my father clapped his hands and everything in the house went back to what it was before Clarissa had destroyed it. Donna and Karen barked and ran zoomies around the room and Birdie weakly flipped everyone off.
“That was nifty,” I said, looking around.
“You could probably do it too,” he told me.
I said nothing. If I could, I didn’t want to know. So much was changing so fast, I didn’t want to lose myself. Cleaning like a regular person was calming and normal. I needed some normal.
Tim put the broom back in the closet and sat down next to Birdie. “Did the Angel of Circe leave any other clues?”
“Mercy,” Charlie corrected Tim.
“Play on words,” Tim said, raising a brow. “Circe was a sorceress who detained Odysseus on her island and turned his men to swine. Thought it was a fitting replacement… and it rhymed.”
“I like it,” I told him. “And no, I don’t think so. Clarissa talked a lot, but some of it was bullshit.”
“Never assume anything is bullshit or useless,” Charlie advised. “Immortals speak in cryptic clues naturally. Can’t help it. Living forever does things to a person. Games become reality without conscious effort.”
“That kind of sucks,” I said before I could stop myself.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Charlie agreed with a smile.
“Speaking of outliving society in general,” Tim said. “Did you get results on Daisy’s bloodwork?”
Charlie nodded. “I did.”
“And?” I questioned as my stomach turned summersaults. I had no clue what he was going to say or what I wanted him to say. Being Immortal didn’t sound great. However, leaving Gideon at some point sounded awful.
The fact that I was having this internal debate was insane.
“Inconclusive,” Charlie announced. “The DNA is not exactly human, but lacks many of the elements of Immortals. I’ll have to draw again and do more testing, Daisy. Sorry about that.”
I had no clue if I was disappointed or relieved. I’d deal with that when I had to. “It’s fine,” I assured him. “I’ve got great veins.”
“That you do,” Charlie agreed with a chuckle. “Let’s go back over the exchange with Clarissa. Shall we?”
“Hoooooooookaaah,” Birdie whispered, reaching out for me.
Moving quickly across the room, I sat down next to her and put my hand on her for comfort. “Yep, I know you’re a hooker,” I said soothingly.
I was tempted to hug her and hold her close, but I couldn’t risk going inside her mind. Besides, I wasn’t sure I was ready to experience the final BJ just prior to her death. Birdie’s hooker history was going to be something else.
Oh my God.
My body went cold and hot at the same time. I stared at Birdie. She flipped me off. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
A whore helped the whore get away.
“I know,” I choked out, gaping at Birdie. “I think I know where Alana’s soul is.”
“You do?” my father asked.
I shook my head. “No. I mean, I don’t know where it is, but I’m pretty sure I know who does.”
Birdie wheezed. I knew it was a laugh, but it sounded bad. “Yausssss, hoooooooookaaah dieeah foooor yooouah.”
I leaned in close and kissed her partially missing cheek. “Can I hug you, Birdie?”
“Yausssss,” she replied, raising her middle finger at me.
“No,” Gideon said. “It’s far too dangerous.”
Glancing up at Gideon, I smiled. “While I love and appreciate your concern, it’s more dangerous for all of us if I don’t.”
“Please give me a better explanation than that,” Gideon said, wanting to trust me, but terrified to do so.
“I have to trust you just as much as you have to trust me,” I told him. “I’m not reliving Birdie’s death. She died of a heart attack after… well, that part isn’t relevant. However, I believe she knows how to find my mother’s soul.”
“Why do you believe this?” Charlie inquired.
“The bullshit,” I told him. “There was a clue in the bullshit.”
Gideon raised a brow. “You’re sounding cryptically like an Immortal,” he pointed out.
I laughed. He was correct. “You win,” I said. “Clarissa called my mother a whore, which earned her a severely broken nose. However, she also said a whore helped the whore get away.”
“I’m following none of this,” John Travolta said. “If this is dangerous for you, I’m with Gideon.”
My father’s concern delighted me, but I wasn’t caving when I knew I was right. “Birdie was a lady of the evening in life. The clues have been in front of me for a while, but I needed Clarissa’s to piece it all together. Birdie is the whore who helped the whore get away.”
“Yausssss, hoooooooookaaah.”
“Birdie, when you told me someone died for me, you meant my mother, yes?”
“Yausssss.”
“Are you the one who helped Alana get away?”
“Yausssss.”
“Need more proof?” I asked the men.
“No,” Gideon said with great reluctance. “No more proof needed.”
I nodded and smiled at him. “I love you, Grim Reaper.”
“I love you, Death Counselor.”
Looking to my father, he nodded as well.
“Would you touch me while I go into Birdie?” I asked him. “I want to make sure I don’t miss anything important.”
He sat down next to me and put his hand on my back. “It would be my great honor to assist you.”
“Thank you… Dad.” The word felt odd rolling off my tongue, but it also felt incredibly right.
The Archangel’s answering smile was blinding.
My decision was correct.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The cold. The cold went all the way to my bones and tore through my body like sharp, frozen daggers made of ice. Trying to catch my breath, I gasped for air but stayed calm.
My head pounded violently and every single cell in my body screamed for oxygen. I knew it was momentary, but it still sucked.
My mind went numb and my limbs felt like jelly.
Closing my eyes, I welcomed the icy chill that permeated my skin and seeped into my blood. It was proof that I was exactly where I wanted to be. I would never enjoy the sensation, but I’d become accustomed to it.
“Birdie?” I called out.
“Hooker?” she replied with a cackle.
“Nope, you’re the dang hooker,” I said, opening my eyes. “Oh my God. You’re so pretty.”
Birdie stood about five foot five and had black curly ringlets and beautiful dark skin. She was curvy in all the right places and had a killer smile that lit her lovely face… and fantastic boobs.
“Damn straight I am, sweetie,” she replied. “I was very successful in my line of work. The knockers are the real deal. Wanna touch them?”
“No,” I said, with a laugh. “However, they’re terrific knockers.”
“Thank you, Daisy,�
� she said, adjusting her ample bosom with pride.
“Welcome, Birdie,” I said, reaching out to hug her. “You’ve been a pain in my ass.”
“It’s my specialty,” she informed me with a delightfully naughty grin. “Well, that and blow jobs.”
“TMI,” I told her, hugging her tight. “You really like being called Birdie?”
“Way better than Ethel,” she said, cupping my cheek in her hand.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“I figure you have a lot of questions, child,” she said.
Birdie and I stood opposite each other in a cavernous room of emptiness. There was no floor. No walls to speak of—more of a vast landscape of nothing. We floated in a silvery mist.
“Why did you call me a hooker all the time?” I asked.
Birdie shrugged and smiled. “Two-fold, darlin’. I was trying to let you know what I did and it just tickled me to see the shock on your face every time I called you a hooker. And by the way, I wasn’t a hooker. I was a highly paid escort.”
“Was that… umm…” I wasn’t sure how to ask.
“It was my choice,” Birdie said, raising a perfectly plucked brow. “I called the shots and enjoyed the hell out of my profession. Died right after delivering the best BJ of my life. Went out at the top of my game.”
Birdie left me speechless as one of my dead squatters and speechless right now. I wasn’t about to judge the nutty woman who I’d grown to adore. She was who she was and clearly had no issue with it.
Neither did I.
“One more piece of advice before we get to the important stuff,” she said, leaning in close.
I was slightly terrified. I should have been.
“The best BJ technique I can pass on is to not ignore the balls. You grab that hot man of yours and suck on those balls like they were lollipops. It’ll blow his head right off—pun intended,” she said with a cackle as she bent over and slapped her leg.
“I’m sorry. What?” I wheezed out, blushing furiously knowing that, yet again, Gideon, Tim, Charlie and my dad were listening in on another discussion about Gideon’s junk.
“Honey, just take my advice and don’t be afraid of the balls.”
“I’m not afraid of the balls,” I said. “I think the balls are nice… and bally.”
Birdie looked at me like I was a bit crazy, which was the pot definitely calling the kettle black. However, I’d taken note of her advice.
“Alrighty,” she said. “Wanna tell you a few things, and then I need you to watch something that’s gonna be real painful for you, darlin’.”
“Okay,” I said, taking her outstretched hand and holding it tight. I felt a little light-headed and took a deep breath to calm myself. I needed to be focused and sharp. Too much was at stake.
“I knew your mama, honey, but not till I was dead,” Birdie told me. “Your mama was my Death Counselor.”
I was quiet and waited for more.
“I just loved your mama,” she said, reaching out and touching my nose. “You look just like her. You were an adorable child, and you turned into a beautiful and loving woman. Alana would be so proud.”
My eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you.”
“Welcome, Daisy,” she said. “So, your mama solved my issue right off. Honestly, I can’t even remember what it was.” She laughed and shook her head. “I was having such a fine time spending my days with your mama, I stuck around for a while. Didn’t know why… until I did.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not quite following.
“I was there when your mama died,” she said softly. “Sad, sad day. I knew at that moment why I hadn’t moved on yet. Your mama helped me, and it was my turn to help her.”
“I need more details,” I told her, dreading hearing them, but knowing I had to. My words came tumbling out so fast I wasn’t even sure they made sense. “Was she murdered? Was it Clarissa? Did my mother trade her life for mine? Do you know where she is?”
“All in good time, sugar,” Birdie said sadly. “Close your eyes, little girl, and I will show you.”
“I’m scared,” I said.
“I know,” she answered. “Work through that. Your mama needs you now. A little fear is good. Keeps you on your toes.”
“Birdie?”
“Yes?”
“Will you please flip me off one last time?”
Birdie’s laugh echoed through the nothingness. The sound of it warmed my heart.
“With pleasure,” she said as she lifted her middle finger with gusto. “Close your eyes now, child. It’s time.”
Taking another deep breath, I did as I was told.
Pictures raced across my vision so quickly, I couldn’t make them out. As always, it was like an old, static-filled black-and-white TV screen was inside my head. Catching glimpses of my father’s home, I gasped.
I inhaled and exhaled slowly… and I watched.
I saw all the gold—gold fountain, gold and white floor tiles. The paintings—frescos on the ceilings. Angels. Violent Angels. Pale pink clouds. The house had seemed cold when I’d visited my father. When I observed it now, it felt warm and full of love.
A little girl raced across the room, screaming with laughter. She was being chased by her mother and father, who laughed with the child as she stopped in front of the fountain and began telling them a story about a princess who rode a pink donkey with ten legs. The father took the mother’s hand and gently pulled her to the floor so they could be a proper audience for their silly little girl.
I knew the little girl. She was me.
The screen went to static again, and I yearned to see more. Pictures flitted by of Alana and Michael waltzing and me singing at the top of my lungs for them. Images of riding on my father’s shoulders as my mother grinned and painted her toenails. Quick snapshots of being put to bed by two people who adored me.
My eyes welled with tears behind my closed lids. My heart was completely filled and devastatingly empty at the same time.
The pictures faded and morphed into my mother with the ghosts. She was compassionate and kind to the dead. They adored her.
“Alana,” Birdie warned. “You need to stay away from that woman. She’s bad news.”
Birdie zipped around my mother like a little tornado as my mother slid into a car and put a key in the ignition.
“Ethel, I know,” my mother whispered, glancing around warily. “She’s got my Daisy. She said she would make a deal.”
“Bullshit,” Birdie hissed as she flew through the roof of the car and sat in the passenger seat. “Where’s Michael?”
“Away,” my mother said through clenched teeth. “He can’t know about this. She said he’d be cast out of Heaven.”
“And you believe her?” Birdie demanded.
“No,” Alana said. “She’s a despicable liar, but she has Daisy, and I’m getting her back no matter what I have to do. Clarissa made it very clear if Michael showed up, she would slit Daisy’s throat.”
“I don’t like this one damn bit,” Birdie hissed.
My mother rested her head on the steering wheel and choked back a sob. “Neither do I.”
My stomach crashed to my toes and I wanted to scream for my mother not to go. I wanted to beg her to call Michael. I wanted to save her.
I couldn’t. She was about to save me.
The images came faster now and the sound was warped.
My mother arrived on a bridge. I sat on the ground crying. The Angel of Mercy stood above me with an ugly sneer on her face. The moon hung low in the sky and sent an eerie glow over the dark water below.
The argument was garbled between the women and making out the words was difficult, but not impossible. However, the action was tragically clear.
“Send her home,” I heard Alana scream.
“She has no home,” Clarissa hissed. “She should have never been born. Michael is mine and you tempted him away. He loves me. He always has.”
Alana simply nodded to appease the
insane Angel.
Clarissa bent down, grabbed me by my dark curls and yanked my head back. I screamed and cried harder.
“Send her to my mother. Please,” Alana begged. “She is an innocent in this. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“The child’s the product of a whore,” Clarissa snarled. “Say it. Say it and I will send her to your mother instead of choking her to death while you watch her die. However, there’s another price to be paid.”
“My daughter is the product of a whore,” my mother whispered with tears streaming down her face. “Send Daisy to my mother.”
“And what can you give me in return?” the deranged Angel demanded.
“What do you want?”
“You. I want you dead. It’s the child of the whore or the whore herself. Your choice.”
Alana answered without a second of hesitation. “Send my baby to my mother. That’s my choice.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes wild with insanity.
“I’m sure,” my mother said, blowing me a kiss. “I love you, Daisy, and I love your daddy with all my heart. I always will. Do not forget.”
Clarissa waved her hand and laughed manically. In a golden flash of light, I was gone.
My mother and Clarissa remained.
The next few minutes were some of the worst of my life. Clarissa’s wings burst from her back and swept my mother into the air. She made no sound at all as Clarissa beat her almost to the point of death and then hurled her broken body over the side of the bridge.
My scream of agony was involuntary. Birdie squeezed my hands gently. I had to remind myself this had happened a long time ago. It wasn’t happening now.
I knew my father had erased my memories, but he was never aware of this one. That I knew for sure. I also knew it was never fully erased. Gram’s story now made sense, how I cried for days when she tried to speak of my mother. So many sad and tragic puzzle pieces were clicking together.
“Birdie, I still don’t know where she is,” I whispered with my eyes still closed.
“I’ll show you, darlin’,” she promised. “Stay with me.”
Birdie hid below the bridge. My mother’s body hit the water with a sickening crash. Her soul, a beautiful golden orb, left her body.
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis: Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 21
