by Judith Post
Shade's tone turned bitter. "Still, you're willing to stay here. For a man. Do you think he loves you back?"
"Love has nothing to do with it." She pulled her kids closer and turned her back on him.
Shade's expression looked thunderous.
"You have to remember," Loralei said, "mortals aren't always rational when they die suddenly."
He visibly tried to calm himself. "I have to give her that. We'll sit and wait."
The young boy squirmed away from Chantel and came to look at Shade. He seemed small for his age, but his mother was petite. He had black, curly hair and brown eyes, like she did. A dimple peeked in his right cheek. "What are you?" he asked. "You're not like us."
"I'm not a ghost," Shade told him. "I'm one of the Grim Reaper's assistants. I help people leave here and go Home."
"You mean, we're moving?"
Shade chuckled, and it relaxed the tension in the room. "It's like this, kid, you're movin' up in the world, to some place bigger and better."
The boy turned to Chantel. "Did you hear that, Mom? You always wanted a house. Maybe we'll get one now."
Chantel's lips pressed together in a tight line. She shook her head. "No, honey, I think I waited too long for that."
The boy whirled back to Shade. "Mister? Are there houses where we're moving?"
"Sure are. There are all types of things there."
The boy went to tug on his mom's knit shirt. "See, Mom? If Roy keeps a job, maybe we'll have three bedrooms."
Chantel took a long, ragged breath. She looked around at what had been their home. "We'll see, baby. Let's wait till we get there."
The boy raced back to Shade. "When can we leave?"
Shade hesitated, giving Chantel a long, considering look. "Your mama has to get everything finished up here first. That takes a minute sometimes. Then, I'll lead you Home myself."
Chantel tilted her head at him, surprised. The older girl stepped forward. She glanced at their surroundings, too. Eyes downcast, she asked, "Will we live in a nice neighborhood, with a nice school?"
"Do you like school?" Shade asked her.
The girl nodded. "I like learning, but the kids aren't nice at my school. I try to stay away from them."
"There are plenty of places to learn in your new home, but there's no actual school like you have here."
She looked relieved. "That's all right, as long as there are books."
"Books, we have. And no bullies. They're not allowed."
The girl's hand went to her throat, in surprise. Shade's gaze turned to the toddler—a chubby, little barrel of a girl with her thumb in her mouth. She watched him uncertainly. He put out his arms to her, and she tottered toward him.
Chantel gaped.
"What is it?" Shade took her in his arms and scooped her onto his lap.
Loralei watched, fascinated. Obviously, ghosts had enough substance to touch and hold each other. And Shade must not be as intimidating to kids as she'd expected.
Chantel hesitated, ready to dash forward and grab her child. "She never lets men hold her. They frighten her."
Shade grinned. "Kids love me. Always have."
"But you're so big. You'd think…." Chantel studied him more thoroughly.
"They're like dogs. They can tell a good person from a clunker right away."
"She never went to Roy."
"I rest my case."
Chantel crossed her arms. "Maybe they just like ghosts."
Shade threw back his head and laughed. "You've got quite the attitude, woman. Maybe your kids know a good guy when they see one, and you don't."
She shifted her stance, one hip forward. Looking around the blackened apartment, she asked, "So, what do ghosts do while they wait?""Twiddle their thumbs, I guess. I've never tried it. Have better things to do." He stood and handed her little girl to her. The toddler squirmed and reached for him. "Sorry, sweet thing. I have more people to care for, but I'll be back when I'm done."
Chantel's eyebrow rose as he started for the door. "Don't hurry yourself on account of us."
He quirked an eyebrow right back. "No worries about that. I can talk sense into most of the others."
Loralei followed him into the hallway. "What do you think's keeping her here? She knows Roy's not worth it."
"I don't know, and she's not gonna tell us. It'll be interesting if we can figure it out. Maybe worth staying for."
Loralei had to agree. Chantel struck her as a smart woman. There had to be more to the story than they knew.
* * *
Death, Shade, and Loralei spent the rest of the afternoon, talking to spirits who were confused and afraid. A lady in a wheelchair lived in apartment 4B. She squeaked with surprise when she could float above the ground. "I haven't been able to get around like this for years."
By the end of the day, between the three of them, everyone had gone Home except for Chantel and her children. Death studied Loralei's face. "You look hot and tired. We're done here for now. Go take a shower, get yourself a nice supper. Did you bring a book to read?"
He knew she loved to read. She considered it one of her luxuries. When she nodded, he said, "Go back to the hotel then. Be nice to yourself."
A shower sounded like heaven. The temperature outside scorched the sidewalks. It felt as though she could wring moisture out of the air. In here? It was stifling. And it stank. Loralei left Death and Shade, knowing they'd transport themselves somewhere else in the world before returning here. Neither of them needed to sleep or eat, but both enjoyed it when they could.
When Loralei stepped out of the building, she took a gulp of fresh air. Charred wood and bricks got old after a while. A small breeze evaporated some of the perspiration from her face. She tugged her damp T-shirt away from her skin and let the air dry her a bit. Air conditioners don't survive fires. Ghosts don't notice heat, but she thought she'd melt at one point.
Loralei wasn't quite ready to sit and relax. She decided to walk for a while to work off some of her nervous energy. She turned left at the corner and walked for several blocks before turning again. She'd make a giant square, so she wouldn't get lost. She was on the third side of her imaginary box when she noticed a white truck, similar to the one she'd seen earlier, slowly navigating an alley. It paused behind a small, antique shop that had outside, metal steps leading to apartments on the second floor. The truck's shape was so similar, she squinted at the logos on its sides and back. Nope, these advertised a hardware store. The truck headed away from her, so she couldn't see the driver, but she guessed he wasn't chunky with a round face.
Shrugging, she returned to her hotel. It was one of the smaller, older ones, its glory days clearly behind it, but it had a certain charm. Arched windows dotted its front façade, and gleaming, bright-red, double doors opened into a paneled lounge where worn leather sofas and chairs formed intimate, seating areas. When she stopped at the front desk to ask about a place to eat, the clerk recommended a bistro across the street and two blocks down.
"Is it fancy? Do I need to dress up?" Loralei motioned to her sooty jeans. Her hair, she knew, had wilted in the heat. Her make-up had dissolved.
He eyed her skeptically. "Most people wear casual dress."
She was hungry now. "Anything quick?"
"There's a sandwich place with take-out, four doors down."
Loralei had seen it. "Is it good?"
"I'm a regular."
She nodded. Worth a try. She set off in its direction. The smell of onions and peppers on a grill hit her before she opened the door. Once inside, she jockeyed for a place in line and her mouth watered when she saw plump, Italian sausages swimming in tomato sauce. She'd come to the right place.
It was all she could do not to eat the sandwich on her way back to the hotel. The aroma teased and tantalized. She'd ordered a side of chips and a slice of lemon meringue pie. She'd brought a bottle of wine and a corkscrew with her. She sat at the tiny table in her room and inhaled the food. After a shower, she slipped into pajamas an
d sipped her wine while she read.
She woke sometime in the early morning to the sound of sirens. Part of life in a city. She thought of their small, stone cottage, deep in the woods. Private and quiet. Her book had slid from her hand onto the floor. She placed it on the nightstand and turned out her light. She didn't set her alarm. Death would call her if he needed her.
* * *
She woke and dressed before 9:00. As before, she pulled her long, wavy hair into a high ponytail, trying to keep it contained. She applied a minimum of makeup and set off to meet Death and Shade, grabbing a bagel on her way.
When she slid under the yellow, police tape and entered the building, she met an agitated Shade. He paced back and forth in the building's lobby.
"We'd like you to stay here with Chantel and her kids," he said. "I'm going to meet Death a few blocks from here. There's been another fire."
A shiver slithered up Loralei's spine. "Another one? So soon?"
"We think our guy enjoyed this one too much. He hit the jackpot. Every single tenant was home. Both newspapers featured it as their headline. It must have given him a rush."
A knot quivered in her stomach. Was their arsonist out of control? How many fires would it take to satisfy his sick needs?
Shade jerked a thumb to the stairway. "Chantel's expecting you. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Loralei climbed the steps to 3D. Chantel's back was to her when she stepped past the battered-down door. The young mother was looking out across the city. When she heard Loralei, she turned.
"He did it again, didn't he? Killed more people? Just like he killed us."
Loralei nodded. "He tried, at least. I haven't heard from Death yet."
The little boy ran to her. "Make him stop."
Loralei couldn't hug him. Shade would have been able to, but her mortal arms went through him. "We're trying," she said. "But he's tricky."
Chantel's hip jutted. "Is this what Shade does, day in and day out? Go rescue ghosts who are too wimpy to leave here?"
"You're not wimpy, and you're here." Loralei thought of Chris and Tammy. There were lots of reasons some spirits stayed behind. "But Death and Shade both help spirits leave this plane and travel to the next one."
"No wonder the man's so grumpy."
"Shade's not grumpy." Loralei heard the quick anger in her own voice and tamped it down. "He takes his work seriously, and it annoys him when spirits won't let him help them."
Chantel grinned. "You like him."
"I'm Death's mistress. We share a cottage together, and we have two ghost children. Shade stops to visit us sometimes. Tammy and Chris love him. So do I."
Chantel stared. "You and Death? I mean—how? How do you get it on with a bunch of bones?"
Loralei wanted to kick herself. She rarely talked about Death to anyone. Why, oh why, had she started this? "On our property, in our home, he becomes flesh. So do Tammy and Chris. It's one of the perks of Scythe's job."
"You have a name for him?" Chantel chewed on her bottom lip. "And Shade? Does he become flesh too?"
Loralei cursed her slip of the tongue. "I really shouldn't be talking about this."
"He does, doesn't he? I hope that man has a woman. I wouldn't want his job. He deserves something good to come home to once in a while."
Loralei shook her head, caught off guard. "He gets lonely sometimes, I can tell."
Chantel hugged herself. "It's hard to find someone who'll love you, probably harder for someone who helps Death. At least, I have my kids."
"Soon, you'll have more. You'll be Home."
"I guess that should make me happy. Anything's got to be better than hanging around this place." Chantel's tone didn't sound happy. She looked Loralei up and down, then shook her head. "I don't know how someone smart and pretty, like you, ended up with Death, but he sure thinks the world of you. It shows."
"It's mutual," Loralei said.
Chantel raised her hand and looked at her ringless fingers. "Roy and I never really hooked up, made it legal. I always thought I'd find a good man someday. Didn't happen. They took one look at three kids and ran for the hills. Fine by me. No man's ever coming between me and my babies."
"Don't most men want kids?"
"Maybe their own, not someone else's." Chantel drifted to the window, looked outside. "I've had to fight for every good thing I ever got. It's made me mouthy, scrappy. Who needs that?"
"You don't have to fight anymore. All you need to do is go Home."
"But we like it here." The older girl stepped forward. "Could we visit you sometime? Does your cottage have books?"
"Do you have an X-Box?" the little boy asked. "Would your kids like us? Play with us?"
Loralei heard the pleading in their voices. She had to make them understand. "You can't come to stay with me. It's not that simple. But you can go Home. All of your needs will be met there."
The ten-year-old asked, "Can we get a dad there? Be a family?"
The young ghosts were getting to her. "Home is different than Earth, but you'll be happy."
The little boy blinked back tears. "Shade likes me. I want to stay with him."
"You have a dad." Chantel raked a hand through her hair.
The ten-year-old hugged herself. "Maybe if you were nice to Shade, Mom."
"That man has enough on his plate. Besides, I am nice."
"Nice to who?" The person in question drifted through the door.
Loralei tossed him a look of relief.
Chantel stabbed a warning finger at her kids. "Not a word. We have important things to discuss." She looked at Shade. "Were people in the building? Did anyone die?"
Shade nodded. "There were two apartments over the antique store. An eighty-year-old man lived in one of them. He didn't make it out. The smoke got him. A young guy lived in the other. He shimmied down a rainspout."
"An antique store?" A hollowness opened in Loralei's belly, a cold pit.
Shade glanced at her. "Yeah, why?"
She was telling them about seeing the trucks with different logos when Death entered the apartment.
Chantel's little boy immediately ran to him, and Death wrapped him a bony embrace. It surprised Loralei. She'd expected a tall skeleton in a black robe to frighten him, but the boy seemed to sense Death was there to help them. Once the boy settled, Death looked at Loralei. "I heard part of that, but not everything. Would you mind repeating it?"
She went through her story again. She ended with, "The white trucks were the same shape, but their logos were different."
"Easy enough to do," Shade said. "People can buy magnetic signs to stick on their vehicles. The arsonist could switch them."
Loralei rubbed her arms. She thought of the man with the round face and odd grin. "That means, I might have seen the killer. I could have warned someone."
"How would you know?" Death said. "Until his truck was in the same spot as the fire, why would you connect the two?"
Chantel turned to look out the broken window. "That means he's still around. He's in the area."
"Maybe, but there's no guarantee." Death grunted as the toddler ran into him to wrap her arms around his legs. He patted the girl's head. "Easy now."
She turned to tug on Shade. He bent and scooped her up.
The boy grabbed Death's black robe and tried to climb it. Death lifted him and held him close. They were going to talk more when footsteps sounded on the stairs.
"Hello?" a male voice called.
Chantel spun around. "It's Roy. He's come."
The little boy clung to Death's neck. The toddler gripped Shade's arm.
"Come on, kid, we gotta fade to the background." Shade and Death carried them to a far corner. Roy wouldn't be able to see them. Only Loralei could, and they were trying not to distract her. The older girl hurried after them, looking thinner and meeker than usual.
"Up here!" Loralei called. "In your old apartment."
Footsteps started up the stairs, taking them slowly, testing to see if they hel
d securely. No worries there. Death would never let Loralei come here if it wasn't safe.
Chantel squared her shoulders and thrust out her hip.
Loralei shook her head. "He can't see you, you know."
"This is my fierce stance. It makes me braver."
Loralei glanced at the kids, clinging to Shade and Death. "Do you need to be brave?"
"Roy never hit us, if that's what you're thinking. But he was like a cork in a champagne bottle. The pressure would build, then he'd fly off the handle. He'd be in your face, screaming."
Loralei didn't get it. She didn't see why Chantel would stick around to bother with this man.
More footsteps sounded, and soon Roy and a very young woman entered the apartment. His friend looked to be in her late teens. She wore short-shorts, a top that barely covered her boobs, and flip-flops. Pretty, she was not. Not anywhere close to as attractive as Chantel, but she was young, and she plastered herself to Roy's side.
Chantel's hands went to her hips. "Who's that?" She glared at her husband.
Roy and the girl couldn't hear her. They couldn't see her or the kids or Death or Shade. Roy held out a hand and gave his best smile. "I'm Roy, Chantel's husband."
Loralei looked at the girl.
"This is my cousin, Heather."
Chantel waved that away. "Yeah, right. Another loser. The man never learns."
Shade glowered. "What did you expect?"
Roy prattled on in a rehearsed speech. Loralei half-listened, more interested in the ghosts' bickering.
Chantel shrugged. "I owe him. He was my ticket out of town. I needed to get as far away from my stepdad as I could. Roy was too chicken to leave town on his own. We teamed up, watched each others' backs."
Shade stilled, surprised. His eyes widened in an a-ha moment. "So this isn't about misplaced love?"
"Hell, no." Chantel spoke to Loralei. "I don't have anyone else, alive, I care about. Tell Roy to lift the floorboard in the bedroom, the one that always squeaked."
Loralei repeated Chantel's instructions.
Roy beamed. He raced into what had been the master bedroom and pried at a loose board. "What am I supposed to find in here?" He was staring into the space with a frustrated look on his face.
