The Death & Loralei Collection

by Judith Post

  The Death & Loralei Collection

  Four novellas by Judith Post

  Copyright 2013 by Judith Post

  Destiny with Death

  (First Death & Loralei novella)

  A Lunch Hour Read

  by

  Judith Post

  Dedication

  I have many people who have supported me and believed in me as a writer. Too many to thank properly, but I’d like to acknowledge some here:

  To my husband, John, who loves me no matter what my moods, no matter if I have dirty hair and bad breath, who took “for better or worse” at its word—who’s my rock. He’s pretty fun to live with too.

  To my daughters Holly and Robyn, who always believed that someday, I’d make it and always encouraged me. No mother could have daughters who are more fun to hang out with. And to my “adopted” daughter Heidi who always makes me feel better than I am. And to Tyler and Nate—some teenagers are pretty cool.

  To my partners in crime—my writing group, The Summit City Scribes—for their honest critiques. They tell me what they like and what they don’t, and they don’t let me get away with lazy or sloppy writing. A special thanks to the brave friends who critique my entire manuscripts (and who are wonderful writers themselves): Ann Staadt, Mary Lou Rigdon, Paula Adams, and Connie Paxson. They don’t cut me any slack, and for that, I’m profoundly grateful. A special, special thanks to ANN WINTRODE, who has faithfully copy edited every manuscript I’ve ever written (even the beginning, bad ones that shall not see light). Any errors in my novels are due to the fact that I’m a hopeless tinkerer and rewrote scenes and sentences after she returned a clean copy to me—which means, it was my mistake, not hers. And to Karen Lenfestey, who was the first of us brave enough to give online books a shot—she’s made us all proud with her sells!

  Last, but not least, a huge thank you to my agent Lauren Abramo—whose patience, I hope, shall be rewarded. She is constantly cheerful, positive, and unfailingly nice. I always dreamed for an agent I could work with. I got better. I found an agent I like and admire. And to Abby Reilly (who made everything easy for me) and Michael Prete (who designed my book covers).

  Chapter 1

  Loralei could sense that Death was coming. The breeze stirred the leaves of the willow trees in her front yard. Ravens gathered in the walnut tree where the grass ended and the woods started. She went to the mirror and fluffed her long, wavy, black hair. She smudged her cheeks with blush and brushed a coat of mascara on her thick lashes. Then she painted her lips a soft, inviting pink.

  It had been over two weeks since she'd felt the cool touch of his fingers on her pale skin. She'd never known anyone who made her feel so alive. Since she'd taken Death as a lover, she appreciated each day and its blessings as never before. And he, in turn, could sympathize more with mankind's natural reluctance to leave this world to journey to the next. "I'm offering them a gift," he often told her, "a portal from the known to the unknown."

  Was the unknown the reason they feared him so much? Or was it regret at leaving things and people they'd grown to love? A mix, she'd guess. An owl hooted from the top of one of the tall pines that lined the narrow, twisting drive that led to her house. Remote and nearly inaccessible, she'd chosen this place for its privacy. A crow cawed and flapped overhead. He must be near.

  She'd expected him earlier, had called him to her, but he'd been busy. She was hoping to have some time together before the couple came to visit them, but Death's duties couldn't wait. There were things to oversee and supervise. Most people passed through the tunnel of Light from this place to the next with little or no problems, but occasionally, when a mass of people died at one time in shock and fear, Death gave them special attention to help them along their way. His compassion was one of the things that drew her to him.

  She smoothed the skirt of her summer dress and turned to the door. Death sparkled on the gravel drive as he materialized and strode onto the porch. His dark robes whispered over the wooden floor boards, and the rocking chairs swayed back and forth as his energy hit them. Skeletal fingers wrapped themselves around the door knob to pull the door wide. She smiled at him, standing there in his white, graveyard beauty—a gleaming, moving mass of bones draped in black. He hurried toward her, and as he crossed the threshold of this place—the place they shared together—his bones fleshed out, and his shroud changed to jeans and a t-shirt. He pulled her into his arms—a tall, muscled man of dark beauty. Their lips met, and energy zinged through her veins and made her heart beat faster. She pressed herself closer to him, reveling in his strength, his essence.

  He pulled back to look at her. "How soon will they be here?"

  "Too soon. There's no time." She gave a knowing smile. "Can you stay after they leave?"

  "Only for a short while. I have to get back. People are still trapped under rubble. Rescue crews are working twenty four hours a day, but there's going to be an aftershock tonight and more bodies."

  She touched his cheek gently, trying to comfort him. "Are you all right?"

  He nodded. "The deaths have been sudden and the souls are passing quickly. Only a few are too traumatized to go to the Light. I'm mostly staying to help loved ones, who find their husbands or children under toppled buildings." He looked grim. "You're one of the few mortals who so easily accepts death."

  But since she had the ability to see dead people, that was almost a foregone conclusion. She met them on streets and in grocery stores, in schools and on playgrounds. She'd lived with spirits from the time she was born. They held no fear for her. It wasn't until she'd seen Death come for her mother, whom she'd nursed through a prolonged illness, that she realized he wasn't simply a concept. He was an entity. When she'd smiled at him, grateful that he was there to end her mother's weary struggle, he'd been astonished. And after encouraging her mother to go to the Light, he'd stayed to visit with her. And that had led to more visits and more time together until…. this.

  Car tires crunched on the gravel drive, and they both turned to meet their guests. The car parked by the front porch, and the husband and wife joined hands before walking toward the house. Their shoulders told the tale of their sadness, stooped from carrying the weight of their grief with them from place to place.

  Death glanced at her. "Are you ready for this, Loralei? Death is one thing, but dying is another."

  How well she knew that. She assumed this couple's daughter had not died pleasantly. She hoped she at least died quickly. She gave a fake smile and went to greet the girl's parents at the door.

  "Welcome." She motioned them into the cottage's living room. The stone house permeated a feeling of warmth and strength. It would be here long after most mortals came and went. The oak floors were well-worn underfoot; the white trim glistened. She'd lit a small fire in the fireplace, even though it was a hot, summer day. There was something about meeting the dead that chilled a person and brought goosebumps.

  The wife looked at her husband, questioningly.

  "What do we do now?" he asked. A fair question. Her terms turned most people away. In exchange for helping them find a loved one, a bereaved had to promise Loralei a few years of his life. This couple chose to share the burden. Each would donate two and a half years.

  "First things, first," Loralei told them. "Let's see if I can be of any help to you before we go any further." She led them to the heavy, round oak table on the far side of the room. The cottage was small, and the first floor was open. The kitchen was separated from the living room only by a two-sided fireplace. Once seated at the table, a person could see the cherry cupboards that lined its walls and the six burner, wood burning stove that sat in the corner. The cottage had plumbing and electricity, but it was so
isolated that Loralei preferred to have back-up measures for heat and light.

  The couple didn't notice much of their surroundings. They glanced at Death and at the crystal ball waiting on the table. The wife swallowed nervously and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Loralei would never have been able to call a spirit back to this world without the help of the crystal ball, her lover, and her familiar. Even then, it took its toll. She could feel her hair grow brittle and her skin dry as she pulled the souls to a place and memory they didn't want to return to. As she sat, Ebony padded toward her and jumped onto her lap. He gazed at her with unblinking, yellow eyes, ready to begin.

  The husband licked his lips. "What should we expect?"

  "If she's dead, she won't want to come back," Loralei told them. "She's in a happy place now. She'll want to stay there."

  Tears glittered in the wife's eyes. "And if she's not there?"

  "Then I can't help you."

  "Will we cause her pain, bringing her back?" the husband asked. "Are we being selfish, making her return? Could you just find her and let us know she's gone?"

  "No, once souls get here, they're always glad they came. Their fears are behind them now, and they don't want to revisit them at first, but once they remember, they know it's just that—an old memory, and it will put their loved ones at ease. That makes them feel better too."

  The husband looked doubtful. "Maybe we should leave her alone."

  The wife's expression hardened. "I want to know. I have to know. I can't stand wondering if she's still alive, still hurting."

  Loralei nodded. "Then let's get started." She placed both hands on the crystal ball and closed her eyes. She let her mind drift far away from the room, then began to call, "Mandy? Mandy, are you there?"

  A radiant, young woman approached her. She was a lovely girl with thick, blond hair and wide, blue eyes.

  "Are you looking for me?"

  "I need your help." When the girl hesitated, as every spirit did, Loralei bound the girl to herself and returned to the cottage. It took all of her will power to drag Mandy with her. She felt Death put his hand over hers and knew that deep lines were grooving themselves at the corners of her eyes and in her forehead. Her hands would wrinkle and gray would streak her hair.

  The girl fought to stay, but Loralei focused on the crystal ball and forced her to stay with her. She'd thank her later, but not now; for when they passed through the stone walls and entered the room where her parents sat, Mandy's image began to alter. The glow dimmed, and the absolute perfection of endless time and health deteriorated until a young woman with a bashed in skull and the red marks of fingerprints circling her throat stood before them. Her body was bloodied and battered.

  Mandy looked down and gasped. "What have you done to me?"

  "Your parents need you. You can return Home as soon as we're finished here."

  "Are you suffering?" her mother cried.

  When Mandy looked up and saw her parents, her expression crumpled. "Mom? Dad?"

  "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, but I had to know." Sobs racked the poor woman and Mandy drifted closer to her.

  "Know what?"

  "That you're gone, that the suffering's over."

  The father's face was ashen. Loralei knew only too well that no one was ever prepared to see the inevitable proof of what had happened to their loved ones. But she also knew that without this, the questions would always linger. There'd be no peace.

  Mandy smiled at her stricken parents. "Be happy for me. I went Home."

  The father's voice was a hoarse rasp. "Do you know who did this to you? Where you are?"

  When Mandy frowned, Death said, "Try to remember. You can visualize your body. You can scan the entire area. Can you tell where he buried you?"

  The girl grew silent, concentrating. "I'm in a cemetery. There's a coffin beneath me and another girl beside me."

  "Can you tell us how to find you?"

  "There's an old church."

  "You can hover over your grave," Death said, "and go higher so that you can see the entire area."

  Mandy smiled. "It's a small town." She gave the name and directions from a nearby highway. Then she started to fade. "Can I go back now?"

  "Just one more question," Loralei said. "Do you know who killed you?"

  "I saw him. He was my height, about five-eight, with brown hair and gray eyes, but I'd never met him before. I don't know his name."

  "Do you have a description of his car?"

  "It was blue. That's all I know. He grabbed me on my way to my apartment after class. We struggled, and then he punched me. That's all I remember until we got to the cemetery. It was dark. That's where everything happened."

  Loralei wearily nodded. She didn't ask for any more details. She didn't want the parents to hear what happened before their daughter died.

  Mandy hesitated, turning to her parents. "Thanks for calling me. I want you to be happy. I am." And her image faded.

  The mother and father collapsed against each other. It almost always happened like that. There were tears, and then sighs, and then acceptance. Loralei waited for the process to complete itself. Then the two people looked at her warily.

  "What now?" the husband asked.

  "I touch you and take two and a half years from each of you." It was a sad bargain, but it was the only way that Loralei could restore herself and help the next people who came to her. "I explained…"

  "We know—that if we die in the next two years, our lives will be finished right here, right now. Or we can develop the disease that lies ahead of us sooner rather than later. A small price to pay for what you've given us."

  Loralei touched the husband's hand, and her skin returned to its youthful vitality. The man's hair turned gray at the temples, but other than that, there was nothing significant to notice. She touched the woman's wrist, and she was completely replenished. The wife rubbed the fingers on her left hand. Arthritis swelled her knuckles.

  "Is that all?" the wife asked. "You aged so much. Are five years enough?"

  Death wrapped an arm around Loralei's shoulders. "I take care of the rest."

  The woman stared, then stammered, "You're not what I expected. I thought…"

  "If you saw me outside these walls, this place, I'd be exactly what you imagined."

  The wife's eyes grew wider. "So, it's only in here…?"

  "With her," Death said, "on this property. Love works magic, even for me."

  The thought seemed to comfort them. The husband held out a hand to his wife and helped her to her feet. "Thank you for everything."

  "We'll call the police," the wife said, "tell them where to find our daughter's body."

  "That's all I can do," Loralei told them. "I wish I could give you the name of her killer, but if she doesn't know, neither do I."

  "Maybe her body will do the rest. DNA or tire prints. Something," the husband said.

  But Loralei doubted that. The girl had been missing for months now. Evidence was probably washed away.

  Death came to stand behind Loralei as she watched them go. When their car was out of sight, he lifted her into his arms and started up the stairs.

  "I thought you were in a hurry," she said.

  "The aftershock hasn't hit yet. You need some TLC." Ebony followed them up the stairs, but Death put out a foot and closed the bedroom door on the cat. "There are some things your familiar doesn't need to know." He laid her on the quilt on their antique, spindle bed.

  Loralei inhaled quickly as he slid the thin straps of her summer dress off her shoulders. Her pulse pounded as he undid the buttons on her bodice and his fingers skimmed the tops of her breasts. She pressed herself up on her elbows so that he could unclasp her bra and slip it off. Her skin burned as his eyes scanned her half naked body. With a quick yank, her dress and panties fell to the floor. His clothes followed. And then we was beside her.

  She started to turn to him, but his hand firmly held her in place. "I'm not finished yet." His lips roamed from
her ear lobe, down her neck, to the base of her throat. Heat fanned across her skin, and she reached for him again. But again, he pushed her hands away. He bent his head, and his tongue darted across her nipple, circled it, and teased it to life. His fingers stroked her as his lips moved to her abdomen, then lower to her inner thigh. Her breath came in short gasps. Her body went rigid with need.

  He made a circle, kissing and nibbling his way up the other side of her body. When his lips reached hers, his fingers slid between her legs and then into her. Her body arched, and she pulled him onto her. She raised her hips to him, and when he entered her, energy rippled through every cell of her being. She kept pace with him, and together, they became one want, one need, until that need was met.

  When he rolled off of her, she curled close to him. "Stay. Stay a while."

  He lifted her heavy, black hair to kiss the back of her neck. "I can't, but I'll be back soon. The sooner, the better."

  She started to rise to go with him to the door, but he said, "Stay here. Relax. You can wave to me from the window."

  She waited until she heard the front door close before she went to see him leave. He stood, a sturdy length of shining white bones, draped in black, as he waved to her and faded from view.

  Chapter 2

  The cottage felt empty after Death left. Loralei moved restlessly from one room to the next, straightening this and rearranging that. She didn't really feel complete when he was gone. It wasn't that she lacked self-confidence or purpose. She'd done quite well for herself as a painter and book cover artist before he moved in. Still did. Her easel, with a half-finished painting, sat by a window. But she couldn't concentrate right now. She missed him, his company and presence. When she made the full gambit of the house and returned to the living room, she noticed that her crystal ball was swirling with energy. She frowned at the white sparkles that buzzed within it. It was as if the ball was filled with tiny, darting explosions that bounced off its glass walls. Ebony jumped on the table and swatted a paw at the swirling frenzy inside it. Finally, Loralei placed both hands on the ball, stabilizing its location to help this unknown spirit find its way.