“Do you?” Harold pressed.
“Harold, you know I do. Make your point.” It was one of the reasons I'd agreed to this in the first place and I resented the reminder. How could I not?
“All of those people robbed of the chance to even say goodbye. Have a few last words with their loved ones,” Harold continued.
“If you don't get to your point soon, I'm leaving. And not in a calm fashion, either.”
The last thing I wanted was to hear him talk about something I'd experienced first hand. Even when I did let myself think about it, I didn't know what to do. I knew I had a limited amount of time and yet I'd kept forcing it from my mind, not wanting to deal with what happened.
“You know you have to actively participate for thirty days.”
“Calling it active participation doesn’t change that fact that you want me to be an assassin for hire for thirty days.” I stood, unable to stay calmly in my seat and slammed my fist against his desk.
“It’s either active for thirty days or a thousand years. Don’t be stupid about this,” Fate said from behind me. “Even if Harold wanted to, you’ve got to be active for him to have the ability.”
I slumped back into my chair and just shook my head. They had me. They knew it and so did I.
“To help the situation become more palatable to you, we might be able to help you get the person who orchestrated your train crash.”
“Now you're going to help? Didn't you tell me it was my problem?”
“We've reconsidered.”
I stared at Harold and then looked back at Fate. There was something more going on but I certainly had no clue what.
“Do you agree?”
“I'm thinking.” What were they getting out of this? And I didn't believe for a second that they weren't getting something. But did it matter? I didn't know how to find him. At least I could walk away from this situation with a certain amount of peace this way. As long as I was still walking away that was.
“And this doesn't extend my current contract?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
Fate pushed off his favorite place on the wall and walked out the door saying he'd be waiting out there.
“Why's he waiting?”
“He's going home with you.”
“What?”
***
“Don't get too comfortable.” I threw my keys on the counter, and if he thought he was getting a key to this place, he was highly delusional.
Neither of us had spoken since we left the office.
“Don't worry, I've already got a key,” he said as he walked into my kitchen and opened my fridge.
Thanks a whole bunch, Harold.
“Why are you doing this? And don't give me some bull about having to listen to Harold.” He was hogging up all the space in my tiny kitchen. What if I wanted to get in there? I'd have to squeeze in past him? If they hadn't dangled such a tempting carrot, this would be intolerable.
“I have my reasons.” He took a glass from my cabinet and poured the last bit of my iced tea into it.
“Which are?”
“Which are none of your business.”
“I still don't understand why you have to sleep here.”
I saw him roll his eyes and I gripped the counter to keep myself from trying to physically drag him out. He finished my iced tea. You don't take the last of someone's iced tea!
“Because, I need to try and sync into your past fate. We're more in tune to pick up things when we're sleeping. The closer proximity to you when I'm asleep, the more I'll hopefully pick up.”
“Shouldn't you just be able to do that?”
“No, it doesn't work that way.” He looked at me and paused. “And to complicate matters, it's your past, so it's even harder.”
“So now what? We're stuck together until you start picking up on the murderer’s trail?”
“Pretty much. If it's going to work, I'll get something in the next few days.”
He took a couple of sips, made a face and tossed the remaining contents of tea in the sink. “What brand was that?”
That was it, I was on Fate overload.
I walked in my room, grabbed a pillow and a blanket and threw them on the couch before I shut my bedroom door a little more firmly than necessary.
Chapter Eight
It took a while to sleep after the beehive experience, but when I did, it was surprisingly deep. No more flashes of any type. When I woke up, I was still in shock. I was officially a murderer.
Fate was gone in the morning, so at least we didn't have to car pool. I drove to the office in my little Honda with the images of the bee stung body lying there and his screams fresh in my mind.
I parked my car outside work and went in, trying to pretend it was just another day. The usual crew were all there; Luck and Murphy looked to be gossiping off in the corner, Kitty was sharing her coffee over at her desk and I still hadn't met or seen any of the Jinxes.
I walked over and grabbed a discarded newspaper and settled at the table near the windows. It was partially obscured by the alcove it sat in. I liked it better over here. I was still technically at work but now it was a mutual choice to be separated. They didn't want to socialize with me and I decided to return the favor.
Just as I sat down, three boys on skateboards shot through the office. They looked to be around ten or eleven. What were kids doing here?
They zoomed in between the desks, knocking over files as they went and I heard someone scream “Jinxes!” and it all made sense.
All three sets of eyes scanned the room and froze on me. They kicked their skateboards into full gear in my direction. I was just about to jump out of my chair, when they skidded to a stop, inches from knocking me over.
All three were blond with blue eyes. They looked like angelic brothers but it was clear they were anything but.
“Hi,” the kid closest to me said. “I'm Bobby, that's Billy and Buddy.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of the two standing slightly behind him.
“Nice to meet you.” I hoped.
“So, you're the new Karma?” Either Billy or Buddy said, I wasn't sure which. The three of them were forming a half circle around me, their eyes roving up and down me in the most uncomfortable manner.
“Yes. My names Camilla.”
“So, Karma, you're single, right?” Billy/Buddy said.
“Having died recently, I haven't had a chance to date, as of yet.”
“Move out of the way, Bobby. She's not interested in you, are you, darling?” The one on the left said, shouldering his way to the front.
The other one stepped forward now as well. “Don't let the bod throw you baby cakes. I'm an old soul and I'm all man in the sack.” His eyebrows rose while he smiled.
I was trying so hard to keep a neutral face it was impossible to speak without giving up the ruse.
“Hey, don't laugh at us,” Bobby said when I couldn't control myself anymore. “We might look young but we've got some mad skills.”
“I'm sure you do.”
The three of them were foul, crude and all-round distasteful. I kind of liked them. They reminded me of most of my clients. It felt a bit like home.
In unison, all three heads perked up as if they were listening to something I couldn't hear.
“Billy?”
“Got it, Bobby.” Billy was now staring down at his watch.
“What's going on?” I asked and got a finger signaling to give them a minute.
And then suddenly, Bobby dropped his arm and Billy and Buddy cursed.
“What happened?” I asked again.
“Some chick was just talking about how her trip couldn't be postponed again. She knocked on wood before the minute was up,” Billy explained.
“That knock on wood thing really works?”
“Yeah. You get a minute to use it. Cuts off the signal to us,” Bobby said.
“People use it less and less, lately.” Buddy's eyes had an evil glint as he smiled mi
schievously.
Across the room, Murphy went on an epic sneezing rant, which I wouldn't have thought twice about except for the Jinxes’ reaction.
“Cover your mouth, you degenerate!” Buddy screamed.
“What do you think tissues are for, old man!” Billy chimed in.
Bobby looked at his two cohorts and me, and then uttered, “Who does something like that? What an animal.”
The other two grunted and huffed, agreeing with him, then turned their attention back to me again.
“You know, no one talks to you ‘cause you're a transfer. Fate keeps telling everyone you'll either leave soon or die, so it's not worth getting chummy, but we don't care what the rest of these dweebs do. We're trendsetters, not followers.”
I heard the office door shut and turned to see Fate walking in behind the caterer.
“Yeah, gotta go.” And just like that, the Jinxes took off to the other side of the office.
After laying out the food, the caterer made one last trip in, carrying a cake in the shape of a cat paw, which she put off to the side.
I got up and grabbed a tuna sub and a can of Diet Coke. I made a quick glance at the cake that read “Happy 1,000 Anniversary Kitty” before returning to my seat.
A thousand years? Hell no! Literally, I'd tell them to send me to hell before I sat here for a thousand years.
I looked around the place, pretending to read the newspaper, as I sat and ate alone. The air conditioning kicked on, sending a draft my way, letting me know Crow must have taken off his shoes again. He liked to go barefoot about the office and the odor from his shoes alone could bring a grown man to his knees.
I couldn't eat for the smell. I put my tuna sandwich down, scraping my arm on the edge of the broken table in the process.
One of Kitty's black cats jumped up on the table, looked at me, then the tuna.
“Knock yourself out.” I pushed the sub toward the cat, which meowed in reply and then dug in.
I sat back and thought about how I would not be able to exist like this for the next 1,000 years. I missed my life, my friends, having family. If I'd had a bad day at work before, I could call someone and talk it out afterward, instead of having to drown myself in Battlestar Gallactica reruns alone.
I worked in a dump full of weirdoes with no social graces, who treated me like I was the outcast. Thirty days of this was my max.
I tucked myself a little further back as I heard them laughing at some joke. Even Fate was laughing. I think it might have been him who made the joke. It was probably a hateful joke too, most likely at my expense.
I cringed. This place was turning me into one of those bitter people. The “secret haters” I used to call them. Didn't matter what happened in their lives, they were miserable. Now I felt like one of them.
Crow was lighting some candles on the cake as Kitty went over. The worst was I didn't know what to do as they gathered around the cake waiting for her to blow out the candles. I felt rude sitting here but they weren't looking to socialize.
The mutilated Happy Anniversary song over and the candles out, Murphy took a knife and started to cut the cake and dole it out to the group. I was looking down at my paper when I saw Murphy heading over with a piece of cake for me. It was such a simple gesture and yet it felt like the world to me.
I looked up and smiled at him as he covered the distance. And then there was Fate, stopping him with a hand on his arm.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Murphy looked at me, and then Fate, before he spoke in a hushed tone. “I feel bad.”
Fate's head was shaking and I couldn't understand what he said next but it didn't matter. They could keep their cake.
Fate's back still toward me, I got up and walked over to them.
“It's for her own good,” Fate said.
I should've kept walking but I didn't.
“What's for my own good?”
“That you realize you don't belong.” He didn't flinch as he spoke but stared at me and I matched it with my own venomous gaze.
“Whatever. Keep your cake.”
Murphy opened his mouth but shut it quickly when Fate gave him a small shove.
It was noon, five hours before quitting time, but I didn't care. I grabbed the keys to my Honda off the empty desk and headed out.
I tried to keep my gaze averted as I made my way to the door but it didn't help.
“Fate, I think you made her cry,” I heard Murphy say.
“Let her go,” he replied.
Chapter Nine
I'd stopped on my way out of the lobby and searched the board. There had to be another option for getting out of this mess besides Harold. That's how I ended up here. The plaque on the door read “Grief Counseling.” Who else could it be?
I grabbed the doorknob and then paused. If this was the reaper – the real deal as in death in a dingy robe with a sickle – did I really want to meet him...or her...it?
Why not? He couldn't look too much worse than Crow did. I had nothing but time on my hands and all I did was sit around that office all day. I'd just say hello and introduce myself as someone new in the building. When you thought about it, I was really just being neighborly.
And while we were getting acquainted, if by some chance the subject came up about me looking for an early exit from this particular situation, what harm was done? If he could hurry me along out of my contract a little quicker, I certainly wouldn't snub my nose at the offer.
I turned the doorknob and pushed in to the reception area. No one was there, but at least it didn't look dark and scary the way I'd feared. I guess I was being judgmental, assuming it would be all spiders and cobwebs. It looked similar to our own waiting area. Just like our place, there was a door on the far wall that led to the back.
“Hello?”
I was just about to knock on the interior door when it opened.
The room was black, without a glimmer of light escaping.
“Come in,” a deep male voice said from somewhere within all that darkness.
Sometimes judgment calls are more accurate than you hoped.
I came here uninvited. I couldn't go running now. I wanted out, after all. What if this was my way back into the system? I refused to be a sissy.
I took a step in and the lights shot on all of a sudden. A slender man who appeared to be in his sixties with thinning white hair sat behind an antique wood desk. The walls were lined on either side with leather bound books.
Yep, I'm judgmental.
“Sorry about that. I had a headache and the lights were bothering my eyes.” The deep voice that had bid me entry now sounded quite high and nasally.
“Did you take anything?” Did ibuprofen work on the reaper? This man couldn't possibly be death, sitting here all calm and nonthreatening in his three piece suit.
“Yes, but over the counters never work well for me.”
Did Death just tell me Advil didn't help his head? This had to be an assistant.
“Have a seat. I'd heard we had someone new in the building.”
Death seemed so friendly. Weird that he'd have the best manners of any of them so far.
“It's nice to meet you. I'm Cam...Karma.”
He held out his hand, and right before I grasped it, he introduced himself, “I'm Death. So nice to meet you.”
I paused my hand in mid reach but then I faltered. I wanted to go back into the system and he could probably help me do that. But not before I handled matters here. If there was a chance at getting my murderer, I couldn't walk away.
“It's okay.” He smiled and looked down at my hand.
“I'm sorry.” I grasped his and shook. Treating Death like he had the cooties didn't seem to be a smart idea.
My hand clasped his and a frigid cold shot up to my elbow, and might have spread further if he hadn't let go.
He looked down at my hand and his. “Wow. Sorry about that! You've still got some human on you. Wasn't expecting it.”
“So, you cou
ld have, you know, killed me?”
“No. I only deal in live humans. I just meant touching me might feel uncomfortable. It's a little like chewing on tin foil. Feels unpleasant but isn't really a problem.” He sat back down and motioned for me to make myself comfortable.
I sank into the seat, trying to hide the disappointment. It was nice thinking I had a back up plan just in case the thirty-day trial period turned into thirty years.
“I take it that's not what you were hoping for?”
“To be honest, no. I was hoping that you might be the escape clause I was looking for.”
“I'm sorry. I wish I could help. You do seem to have a brilliant soul. It would've been a pleasure to help you along. I do so like the bright ones.”
“Thanks.”
“So, how do you feel about being here for a little while longer?”
I relaxed back and sighed. There was something strangely comforting about the Reaper. I guess that was the dichotomy of death. Sometimes it was frightening but every now and then in the right moment in life, it was warm and welcoming.
“I made a bad choice and now I'll have to live with it.” How many times had I told my clients that same thing? More than half of them would then reply that they hadn't been thinking clearly. Drugs, emotional duress, the list went on and on. I'd righteously told them that they'd better start making the right choice or they'd end up in jail.
Now look at me. I was using the same tired excuse about not thinking clearly. I was as full of bullshit as they had been. I'd thought I could cheat death. There are a lot of things in life you might be able to cheat and get away with. Death isn't on the list.
“But how do you feel? It's a huge change for you.”
“I don't know. A bit frustrated I guess...”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and nodded. Why am I telling the Reaper about my emotional state?
“Do you actually do counseling?” It was a crazy thought but he did sound like one.
“Yes. I just got my online degree.”
Karma (Karma Series) Page 7
