Accidentally Dead, Again

by Dakota Cassidy

  When he had a moment alone, he’d call Stinky Malone, one of his most reliable, albeit crooked agency resources. Stinky knew how to keep shit on the down low.

  For years Stinky had hacked into government sites with classified information on suspicious events labeled paranormal by the government. Most only had inconclusive findings, but Stinky knew how to get to them. Maybe, now that he knew something was definitely going on at O-Tech, Stinky could help him out—fish around—something.

  Sam pulled his iPod from his jacket pocket and plugged it into the stereo in the car. Music always helped to calm his frayed thoughts when a case got too hectic.

  Tom Jones drifted through the speakers, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Phoebe’s lips turn upward, again leaving him ridiculously pleased. He’d downloaded them just before they’d left in a lame, schoolboy attempt to impress her with his listening skills.

  She burrowed into the passenger seat; the glow of the setting sun casting a peachy haze over her auburn hair and creamy skin. Jesus, she was sexy. “Are you wooing me, Mr. Vampire?”

  He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “You can’t woo a woman with Tom Jones. It’s inconceivable.”

  She tucked her stylish dark brown trench coat around her chin and smiled. “You can if it’s this woman.”

  He gazed out the window and made a left at the next street. “Let’s put the woo on hold for now because I think we’ve arrived.”

  The brownstone they drove past was well kept and swept clean of the early fall leaves. Trees surrounded it, now barren and bending in the wind. A set of wide steps lined with potted mums led up to a locked door with an intercom system. One they’d probably need to be buzzed into.

  Phoebe glanced at him, concern on her pretty face. “Why aren’t we stopping?”

  “Because, Detective Hutchinson, if Alice Goodwin and the woman I was bitten by are connected to us via O-Tech, who knows who could be hanging around, looking to keep us from finding out what’s going on. So we park a couple of streets away—you know, to keep our cover?”

  “Ohhhh,” she said, patting his arm with a smile and a nod. “Good point. You’re pretty good at this.”

  Sam fought a grunt. “I watch a lot of TV on my downtime.”

  “You mean when you’re not fending off hordes of women?”

  “That can become trying for a hot geek like me. We need our rest to fight the hordes another day.”

  Sam parked the car two streets over in a grocery store parking lot behind a Dumpster he could smell every piece of garbage in.

  Phoebe hopped out, gagging. She covered her mouth with her arm. “Okay, vampire smell-a-vision officially sucks. So what’s the plan?”

  The plan was to find a way to get into Alice’s brownstone without having to use the front door. He held out his hand, one she almost always willingly took. His fingers curled around hers, and he tugged her smaller frame to his. “I think we’re going to test the theory that we have the ability to jump—high.”

  Phoebe frowned, tightening the belt on her coat. “Can’t we just break in? We did that at your place just fine. Or why don’t you wall-walk?”

  “That was because we weren’t going to arouse suspicion at my place, and I don’t know the exact location of her apartment. I don’t want to walk into the middle of the wrong apartment. A brownstone, if it’s the typical type anyway, tends to have just a few apartments. So people know each other pretty well. We don’t want anyone to see us or be able to identify us.”

  Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “Okay. I propose that when this is all done, you know, if we live, we go out somewhere. Anywhere. Like a place that doesn’t have a TV, because you’re far too good at this breaking-and-entering, felonious-acts thing.”

  If she only knew … Sam smiled at her suggestion, then tugged her along behind him, their footsteps silent against the wet pavement. It took them all of ten seconds to walk a quarter of a mile through the back alleys leading to Alice’s—still a source of wonder for Sam.

  He approached the backside of the building, and for a moment, rethought his plan. He should have dropped Phoebe back off with Nina where she’d be safe rather than risk someone harming her. It had been hard enough to convince Nina he could handle the doctor’s office. If something happened to Phoebe, she’d chew him a new asshole. Even he, trained in the art of war, was just a little leery of the Nina-nator, as Marty called her.

  Phoebe looked up at the brownstone while she stood beside Sam. She gave him a nudge. “I say we go for the roof, break the exit door lock, and tap the stairwell.”

  Sam grinned down at her, unable to help some misplaced sense of pride at her willingness to bust into a brownstone not just in heels, but balls to the wall. “Wow, who’s the amateur detective now?”

  Her almond-shaped eyes twinkled. “Alas, I’m a single woman, living with a gay man. We do a lot of Psych. Mark won’t admit it, but I think he has a crush on Corbin Bernsen. Anyway, do you think we need a running start?”

  “I don’t know. When Nina showed us how, she was in the air without much effort at all.”

  Phoebe let go of his hand and crouched low on her haunches. “I feel very Bionic Woman right now,” she joked before she was up and gone—completely out of his line of vision.

  Sam mirrored her crouch, lunging upward with so much ease he almost wished the guys back at the agency could see him.

  He landed with light feet on the rooftop, caught a glimpse of Phoebe’s smug, pleased grin, one he was about to return but didn’t quite manage.

  Instead of smiling in return, he blacked out.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Phoebe tore her phone from her jacket pocket and hit the app on it for Twitter. Why wasn’t anyone answering their phone? For the love of 911. It wasn’t like they were in a vampire state of emergency or anything. Shouldn’t everyone have their phones manned and at the ready?

  She held her phone up and squelched a screech. No bars. Perfect. She used her thumb to frantically find the location of the icon to text—the one Mark had shown her like only a million times—and bit off another scream. If they got out of this in one piece, she was getting the phone for kindergartners, with big directions and easily understood icons.

  Sam’s limp, pale body made her force herself to focus. What had Nina gone on and on about this afternoon before they’d left to go to Dr. Hornstein’s office? Twitter and Facebook. Yes! A secondary way to get in touch with them, if she couldn’t reach them by phone or text.

  Nina had said, if all else failed, tweet or Facebook the OOPS account, and if she didn’t see it, some person-demon-otherworldly creature Phoebe had yet to investigate named Darnell would. Locating the big Twitter icon, she pressed it and prayed the instructions were simple.

  She held Sam’s head in her lap with one hand, lifting his eyelids to see if he responded. Thank God she’d been practicing her crappy texting skills. She forced herself to calm and began to type, ignoring the quiver of her fingers and how pale and unmoving Sam was.

  Clotheswhores @OOPS Help! Where r u? Answer phone. Man down! Make that 2!

  She bit the inside of her lip, running her hands over Sam’s forehead and brushing his hair out of his face. Her gaze strayed to another man, who lay on the far corner of the roof in a crumpled heap. When her phone vibrated, she almost cheered out loud.

  OOPS @Clotheswhores Barbie? Is that u?

  Clotheswhores @OOPS Yes! Gigantor backed out. I have a situation. Help!

  OOPS @Clotheswhores OMFG! Backed out of what? Did that motherfucker stand u up? Will club 2 death. Buy Louisville. Best wood for clubbing deaths.

  Phoebe frowned at her phone in confusion, then clamped her teeth together. Damn you, AutoCorrect! She retyped her text with shaky fingers, glancing worriedly at Sam.

  Clotheswhores @OOPS No. He’s black now!

  OOPS @Clotheswhores Jesus. He can change colors? Now he’s Chameleon Vampire?

  Clotheswhores @OOPS No. Sam is BLACKED out

  OOPS @Clothesw
hores WTF? What r you 2 shitheads doing? Didn’t I say come right home after doctor?

  Clotheswhores @OOPS STFU. I’m a bug girl. Can take care of myself.

  OOPS @Clotheswhores Which explains y you’re tweeting me for help, BUG girl.

  Clotheswhores @OOPS Stop bitching and get here!

  OOPS @Clotheswhores Where’s here, brain surgeon?

  Phoebe typed in the address and prayed Nina would hurry. No sooner had she tweeted Nina back than a tall, portly man appeared out of nowhere with a shimmer of light and, she’d swear, a faint tinkling of bells. Chains with gold medallions swung from his thick neck, and he wore a blue football jersey that hung low over baggy jeans tucked into high-top Nikes.

  His gravelly voice was cheerful in contrast to his enormous stature. “Don’t be afraid now, Miss Phoebe. I know all about whass happenin’. I’m Darnell—sho nuff nice to meet ya, shawty.” He held out a hand so large Phoebe was sure he’d crush hers. Yet, his grasp was gentle and warm to her cool fingers. “Nina sent me cuz I can get here quicker than her. She’ll be here any minute, I ’spect.”

  Phoebe wasn’t going to dwell on how he’d arrived out of thin air, nor would she dwell on the fact that, as she recalled, he was a demon. Which was bad, bad, bad, according to her Bible study teacher.

  Why fret over yet another paranormal experience? Werewolves were supposed to be vicious animals, if you allowed books and movies to dictate your beliefs. Yet, Marty, in all her fluffy hair and half-off designer clothes, was anything but vicious. And Wanda? She was like the Grace Kelly of halfsies. Regal, elegant, diplomatic. So that a demon that resembled The Notorious B.I.G. had appeared out of thin air came as almost no surprise.

  The enormous bear of a man stooped low, the heavy gold chains he wore around his neck swaying in the frigid air. His scruff of shortly cropped black hair clung to hers when he leaned in toward her. “C’mon, now,” he encouraged, kneeling beside she and Sam. “I’ll get him while you tell me what happened, a’ight?”

  Darnell had an instant charisma, an immediate reassuring quality to his tone and mannerisms that left Phoebe feeling safe. “We were trying to get information about the dead woman we found the other night at O-Tech. She lives in this building.”

  Darnell hoisted Sam’s big body over his shoulder like he was a rag doll and patted him on the back like one would an infant. “Sammy here got the name of the lady from your doc, right?”

  Phoebe nodded, her eyes skirting the man across the roof. The man who hadn’t moved an inch. “Sam said it probably wasn’t a good idea to go in through the front door in case we were seen. So we decided to test our vampire skills and jump up onto the roof, break into the exit door, and hit the stairwell to get to her apartment. Sam got to the roof just fine, but almost the second his feet hit the ground, he blacked out. Just crumpled.”

  “And the dude in the corner? What happened all up in here?” Darnell thumbed a finger in the man’s direction.

  She trembled, despite the fact that she couldn’t really feel the cold anymore. Her tremble was for the fear of the unknown. “He was already up here when I got here. He caught me by surprise and grabbed me from behind. So I took him out.” Like she was David Carradine reincarnated, in fact.

  And it had taken nothing more than a good upward swing of the heel of her hand. The moment the stranger’s hands were on her, she’d reacted in a blur of color and limbs. The powerful surge she’d experienced when Nina had cornered her at Sam’s had returned tenfold, and it was both frightening and exhilarating. Yet, she had no idea why he’d jacked her from behind or who he was.

  But she’d smelled him. Just like her big sister had taught her to.

  Darnell chuckled, flashing teeth so white they glowed in the dark. “Hoo-boy—you a fiery one like yo sista, huh? Nice job, Phoebe. Give ol’ Darnell a knuck.” He held out his fist full of gold rings, and Phoebe knocked it with hers. “You okay otherwise? You feel a’ight?”

  The landing of another pair of footsteps had them both turning to find Nina coming at them with a sour expression. She stomped up to Phoebe, looming over her in the way of the badass. “Didn’t I tell you two to fucking come right home if you got that file from the doctor, Buffy Junior? Goddamn it. I knew I should have gone with you two twits. I should have never fallen for the ‘leave it to me, I can be very charming when I need to be’ bullshit Sam fed me. And you, Powder Puff Barbie,” she said between clenched teeth, “quit following Sammy around with your cootchie-la-la and your lusty lady-lumps and listen for a change. If he wants to have his ass slaughtered, then that’s on him, but the hell you’ll end up whacked, too.”

  Before Phoebe had the chance to react to all that sisterly love, Darnell wedged himself between the two women while Sam’s body hung limply from his shoulder. He put his free hand on Nina’s arm and patted it. “Chill, honeycakes. Phoebe here, she took a dude out. Looks to me like she capped da dude purty good, yo. She got it covered.”

  It was as though Darnell was the Preparation H to Nina’s hemorrhoid. Upon his words, instantly, her angry features relaxed and she smiled.

  Smiled.

  Phoebe gave a surreptitious glance around the rooftop in search of one of the four horsemen. Surely one of them would ride up on his trusty steed and wipe them all out. The universe had to be at risk if Nina was smiling. Though, even in the midst of yet more chaos, Phoebe couldn’t help but think that her sister’s smile made her even more beautiful, if that was possible.

  She gave Darnell a slap on the back. “I told them not to do anything but get that file. So what are they doing here?” Nina asked him, sweet as the day was long.

  “They’s lookin’ for clues to that dead lady y’all found. This is where she lives. But we got more trouble than jus’ Sammy blacking out. Look over yonder.” He lifted a chubby finger over his shoulder.

  Nina followed Darnell’s eyes to see the heap of limbs across the rooftop. Her nostrils flared, but Phoebe’s hand was instantly in the air because she’d smelled it, too. “No, don’t say it. Vampire, right? Bad vampire.”

  Nina nodded her agreement, jamming her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “Jesus Christ, Darnell. It’s like vampocalypse these days. What the hell is going on? How many people has this asshole gotten his hands on?”

  A long, low moan made them all swing around. Phoebe was the first to react, her feet moving toward the stranger with that bizarre blur of speed she was still adjusting to. She knelt beside him, rolling him over and fighting back a scream of horror.

  God. No. Not again.

  Like the woman in her apartment, the man she’d taken out just moments before writhed in pain and began screaming his terror while his body shuddered in violent jolts. His face, one that didn’t look like it was more than fifty or so, was wreathed in a mixture of horror and pain.

  Nina was at her side in seconds, tearing off her hoodie and throwing it at Darnell. Her grunt in Phoebe’s ear was a muttered, “Here we go again.”

  Darnell set Sam down, putting Nina’s discarded hoodie under his head, then put a hand on Nina’s back, his expression under the surrounding streetlights painfully grim. “Lawd have mercy on us all.”

  Phoebe didn’t have time to ponder the irony of Darnell’s plea upstairs due to the fact that the man began the same agonizing struggle the woman who’d bitten Sam had. Twisting his body as his skin began to deteriorate, he moaned.

  Darnell was the first to react, dragging the man to his lap, pulling him close, and rocking him, digging the heels of his Nikes into the roof’s surface to keep the stranger near. But even Darnell, as large and imposing as he was, had trouble keeping the man, a quarter of the size of him, calm and still.

  Nina and Phoebe automatically both positioned themselves at either end of his body. Nina’s lips moved to his ear. “What happened to you? Who are you?” she whispered, though her words weren’t harsh, nor did they hold any sort of angry determination to garner information. Instead, like before with the woman in her apartment, she soothed,
cajoled.

  The man’s body stiffened, and Phoebe, with the lingering memory of the woman who’d bitten Sam still fresh, prepared for the end with frustrated defeat.

  Tears fell from Darnell’s eyes in fat, salty drops, splattering down his nylon jersey, something Phoebe couldn’t quite fathom. “Ol’ Darnell’s here for ya, man. You let go, brotha. Let go now. Go where it’s good,” he cooed as they held him.

  “Did this happen to you at a place called O-Tech?” Nina pressed one last futile time, her face full of both distress and sympathy.

  Yet, like before, he was too far gone to answer. And when his flesh began to melt away from his body, still, no one let go. When he screamed the scream of the terrified, each of them uttered nonsensical words to soothe him.

  As his screams silenced and he turned to ash, after the fluttering gray particles of his remains floated up and away, no one moved for a few moments.

  Darnell stared at his empty hands in grief-stricken silence.

  Nina, still on her knees, leaned forward on her elbows, letting her head sink to her clenched fists.

  Phoebe’s head dropped to her chest in defeat. She fell forward on the palms of her hands, letting her forehead rest on the bend in her arm.

  A hand, cool and familiar, pressed to her back, but she didn’t have the energy to be startled. “Phoebe? What happened?”

  And then she was lunging into Sam’s arms, desperately needing the sweet relief of tears, but only managing a dry, hacking wheeze.

  “No,” he said against the top of her head, his voice husky. “Not again.”

  Darnell was the first to rise, helping Nina to her feet, then wiping his cherubic cheeks with a handkerchief from his back pocket. “I ain’t nevah seen nothin’ like dat in all my years as a demon. Not even in hell itself. Don’t never want to again. I say we find the motha-effers and take ’em out but good.”