The Trouble With Twelfth Grave

by Darynda Jones

  Osh grinned up at me. “You gonna do the deed, sugar? You gonna hurt me?”

  “I might.”

  He winked, and a microsecond later I realized I was flirting with my future son-in-law. I’d seen what would become Beep’s army. Who would become Beep’s army. Most of it, anyway. And Osh was most definitely spoken for in the future.

  Angel sidled up to me. “I want to be tied up.”

  I turned to him and put my hand on his forever-boyish face. “I’m fairly certain the ropes would slide through you, lindo.”

  “We should check it out, just in case,” he said.

  But I barely heard him. The moment I laid my hand on his face, I felt a warmth at the back of my neck. A heat slide down my spine.

  I spun around, hoping, but saw nothing. When I turned back to Osh, however, he was looking in the same direction the heat had come from.

  “What?” I turned again. “What did you see?”

  All traces of humor were gone. Everyone in the room followed Osh’s line of sight to no avail. But Osh tilted his head, completely bound now, and leveled a serious stare on me.

  “Why am I tied up?”

  “Because we have to take certain precautions.”

  Kneeling next to him, I placed a hand on his bound arm, his muscles straining against the restraints. Garrett did a helluva job.

  “Osh, I need you calm when I tell you what’s happened.”

  He glanced behind me, then back again. “You think I don’t already know?”

  I looked again but saw nothing. “What? Did you see him?”

  He bowed his head. “How did it happen?”

  “Osh, what did you see?”

  When he refocused on me, his face had paled. “Him. For a split second. Angry. Wild. Volatile.” His expression turned incredulous. “You released him.”

  “What? No.” I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I stood and walked to the door of my office for some other place to look. Anywhere other than his accusing stare. “It was an accident.”

  When I turned back to him, his head was bowed again, his jaw tight behind his dark hair.

  “Osh, what are you thinking?”

  “Do you have any idea how powerful he is? What he could do with the slightest thought?”

  “What do you mean, I released him? Released him from where?”

  “He’s a god, sugar. He was always in there, lurking. Waiting for his chance to rise again.”

  “Osh, he’s been a god for … well forever. But he’s known he’s a god for weeks now. And I … I sent him into the god glass.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath of air, astonished.

  “Not for that reason. Not for … look, he was just supposed to go in and check the place out. There were innocent people trapped inside. I wanted to go, but he insisted I send him. I was supposed to wait sixty seconds and call him back out. I didn’t even wait that long. I called his name not fifteen seconds later, but nothing happened.”

  “Keep going.”

  “I tried everything. Nothing worked. Nothing…” I’d begun to panic. Osh’s reaction made me realize even more how bad things were. “And then about an hour later, the glass exploded, and he came out as well as all the innocent people who’d been trapped inside.”

  The astonishment on his face turned to something akin to terror. “He opened the gates of a hell dimension on this plane?”

  “I don’t know. I guess.”

  “When?”

  “Three days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys the minute it happened.”

  I scanned the room to assess reactions. So far, everyone seemed more confused than worried, though Cookie was leaning toward the latter. The only exception was Angel. My beautiful boy.

  “I should’ve told you. I was just so taken aback. I thought I could find him and fix it.”

  “What are we talking about?” Garrett asked him. “What needs to be done?”

  Uncle Bob spoke then, his patience quickly waning. “Pumpkin, you need to let the rest of us in on what’s at stake here.”

  I offered him my best apologetic expression, then returned to Osh. “He’s still Reyes.”

  “Untie me.”

  “No,” I said, jumping forward. I knelt before him again. “He’s still Reyes, Osh.”

  He nailed me with an expression I’d never seen from him. Pity. “He stopped being Reyes the moment he entered that hell dimension, love. Untie me.”

  “We need a plan.”

  “We need to get the fuck off this plane.”

  “Osh, not everyone here can do that.”

  One corner of his full mouth tilted up. “Not my problem.”

  His statement shocked me. I wouldn’t have been more stunned if he’d slapped me upside the head. “You’re going to leave us?”

  He held my gaze a long moment before having mercy on me. “No, sweetheart. I just wanted you to feel betrayed.”

  I eased back onto my heels. “Why?”

  “Because you need to get used to it. He’ll kill you, sugar, and everything you love, starting with the people in this room.”

  Cookie gasped.

  Gemma popped out of her chair.

  Garrett turned to look out the window.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said, standing my ground. “He’s still Reyes. Somewhere inside, he’s still Reyes.”

  The ropes that held Osh fell off him like paper ribbons. Garrett tensed, readying for a battle. A battle he would’ve ultimately lost, but he would’ve put up one hell of a fight.

  Osh clamped both hands onto my arms, then stood and pulled me up with him. We locked gazes, his teeth clenched like he wanted to shake some sense into me.

  “I’m not budging on this, Osh.”

  “You’re the god eater. You can take care of this right here and now.”

  I pushed away from him.

  Uncle Bob stepped between us, glared at Osh a second, then turned to me. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Some stupid prophecy.”

  “It’s not a prophecy,” Garrett said. “You’ve done it here, on this plane.”

  “Once, and I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

  When the men started to argue about the logistics of my devouring my own husband, which screamed cannibal in my humble opinion, my temper soared. Just a little. Just enough to cause a tiny quake to shake the room around us.

  All conversations ceased.

  “The answer is no. I would never resort to such a tactic with my husband, so the argument is moot. We need a plan. Not conjectures and innuendoes. A solid plan.”

  “We need two plans, actually,” Osh said.

  Garrett sank onto the love seat by the window. “What do you mean?”

  “The problem is twofold. Even if we could somehow capture a volatile deity—and then, what, stuff him in a bottle?—you have another issue that even an act of God couldn’t fix.”

  I frowned. What else could there be? “What are you talking about?”

  “The god glass. The hell dimension. You said the gates were opened.”

  “They were pretty much destroyed,” I said with a nod.

  “Then you have created a dimension within a dimension. An anomaly. A singularity.”

  “What? Like a black hole?”

  “In a sense. The new dimension will grow, slowly at first, then faster and faster as it feeds off this dimension. As it gains mass. Eventually, it’ll take over.”

  I walked to Garrett and sat beside him. “So, yeah, that’s bad.”

  “Sounds bad,” Angel said.

  Osh shook his head. “That’s not the bad part.”

  “It gets worse?” I asked.

  “To be blunt, the demons residing within said dimension will inherit the Earth.”

  “There are demons?” Cookie asked. “No one mentioned demons.”

  Uncle Bob raised his hands and patted the air to slow things down a bit. “Okay, okay, a singularity, but first things first. Let’s deal with Reyes, try to bri
ng him back or capture him or whatever we have to do. Then we can worry about the Earth-devouring hell dimension, which, believe you me, is not something I ever thought I’d hear myself say.”

  “I agree,” Garrett said. “We need to concentrate on Reyes.”

  “That’s easy enough. He’s jealous,” Osh said. “As most gods are. When you touched Angel’s face—which, who wouldn’t?—you got a reaction out of him.”

  “So, he’s watching?” Angel asked.

  “More like monitoring, and he’s probably focused purely on Charley.”

  “Why do you say that?” Gemma asked, chiming into the conversation at last.

  “Because she’s the only one in the entire universe who can eat him should she get hungry enough.”

  Gemma looked from me to Osh, then back again. “But won’t he know what we’re doing?”

  Osh shrugged. “That’s always a possibility, but we can’t let that stop us from trying.”

  “What do you suggest?” Garrett asked.

  “I suggest running, but since no one else is in—”

  “Drugs,” Garrett said.

  Osh nodded. “That might work. We can all do drugs. Then we won’t care when the world is either destroyed by a volatile god or overtaken by a demon-infested hell dimension.” He grinned at Garrett. “Good thinking.”

  “No, drugs. Charles was drugged just the other day. They worked on her despite her being a god.”

  I shook my head. “Too many complications, and we don’t even know if they’d work on him. Before, yes, but now that he’s full blown god? Who knows what effect they’d have?”

  “They worked on you,” he argued. When I continued to shake my head, he gave up. “Okay, fine. You’re a god. How would you track and capture yourself?”

  “I’d lure me in with coffee, then keep the cups coming. Trust me, I wouldn’t go anywhere. I doubt that would work on him, though. Not all gods enjoy java as much as I do.”

  Gemma, who wasn’t caught up on the latest Charley facts, began making her way to the front door. “Oh, my,” she said, glancing at her watch. “It’s getting late and I’m supposed to meet Wyatt for breakfast.” Wyatt was a cop and a former patient she’d broken all professional codes of conduct to date. I was so proud of her. “Great meeting, guys. Same time tomorrow?”

  “Gemma,” I began, but she was out the door before I could get another word in. The only thing we heard was her footsteps as she practically fell down the outside stairs.

  “Poor thing,” Uncle Bob said. He offered me condolences with an encouraging pat on the head. “She always had blinders on when it came to your abilities.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  “Not in the least. Remind me to check on her later.”

  “I think Swopes is onto something,” Osh said.

  I stood and began pacing the floor. “I’m telling you, it won’t work.”

  “Why not?” Swopes asked. “It worked on you when that evil cult drugged you and threw you into that trunk.”

  “Actually, they threw me into the trunk and then drugged me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “And there’s a fatal flaw in your plan, Swopes. Reyes isn’t exactly coming home for dinner. How am I supposed to drug him?”

  “We lure him,” Cookie said.

  The room turned its attention to my delectable neighbor.

  “Great idea, hon, but with what?”

  When her gaze landed on Garrett and she grinned possibly the most mischievous grin I’d ever seen her wear, I knew I wasn’t going to like this plan.

  5

  If I manage to survive the rest of the week,

  I would like my straightjacket hot pink and my helmet sparkly.

  —TRUE FACT

  We had a plan. So that happened. Didn’t matter that it would never work in a hundred thousand years, we had a plan. Mazel tov. I warmed up my coffee as the rest of the wild bunch planned my death. Reyes was going to kill me if he hadn’t decided to do that already.

  I leaned against the wall that separated my office from Cookie’s. It hadn’t been that long ago when Reyes appeared to me in this very room, pressed me into that very wall, ran his mouth along my neck and over my cheek.

  As I thought back to that day, he walked up to me, wearing a white button-down with the sleeves folded up to his elbows, exposing his sinuous forearms. I always loved that shirt. He knew it.

  His mouth tipped up at one corner into a sultry grin. The kind that made women drop their panties. The kind that turned my legs into a plate of spaghetti.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked as he strode forward. He looked like an animal, sleek and powerful and sensuous.

  “Battery acid,” I teased, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding a little faster.

  He didn’t stop his advance until we were almost touching, and then he braced a hand against the wall behind me near my head and the other on the opposite side at my waist. Locking me in. Begging me to make the first move.

  “I want my tongue in your mouth.” His voice caused a rush of heat that washed over my skin and settled in my abdomen.

  “Then, by all means, put it there.”

  His gaze dropped to the object currently under discussion. “You won’t bite?”

  “Only a little.”

  He dipped a finger in my cup, then ran the scalding liquid over my lips. I reached out with my tongue, to taste him, to draw him in so I could suckle him, but the moment I made contact, I jerked awake, spilling coffee down my sweater and jeans.

  “Damn it,” I said aloud as everyone turned to look.

  Then I realized it had happened again. But I was wide awake this time. What the holy fuck?

  “Did you see him?” I asked Osh, scanning the room for any sign of my husband. “Was he here?”

  Osh’s brows slid together in concern, but he shook his head. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” I headed toward the restroom to clean up. “Other than the fact that I’m losing my mind.”

  When I got back to the office, realizing I’d simply have to change, Uncle Bob was on the phone, his tone aggressive. Almost angry.

  “What happened?” I asked when he hung up.

  “We got another one,” he said, staring at me pointedly.

  “Another body?”

  He nodded.

  “Like the others?”

  He nodded again, kissed his wife, then headed out the door.

  “I’ll text when I know more, Cook,” I said as Garrett and I followed him. “Meet us there?” I said to Angel.

  He nodded, then disappeared.

  Osh followed us out the door after giving Cook a quick wave good-bye. “I want to know what just happened,” he said.

  “You and me both.”

  * * *

  Garrett, Osh, and I met Uncle Bob at a gas station near Fourth and Chavez. A woman had borrowed the key for the restroom and never returned it, so a female employee went to check on her and found her dead.

  I covered my mouth and nose as we walked up, the smell hitting me about two blocks back. Ubie, who was apparently immune to such horrors, said I was imagining it. I didn’t think so. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, worse than the odor of a dead body. Especially one that had been singed.

  I took a quick look at the victim and crime scene, then ducked out before I puked. The woman had been killed in exactly the same manner as the previous two.

  Her body was covered in superficial scratches and deeper gashes. Bruises covered her face and torso. Half her dress had been ripped off, but like the others, the attack had not been sexual in nature. At least not overtly. The attacker may have gotten off on it, but there’d been no sexual contact during the attack.

  The odd part, however, were the burns. Just like the first two, this woman, a Patricia Yeager, had random burn marks on her skin and clothes. Many at her feet and along her backside. Since she was lying on her back and didn’t appear to have been turned over, how did the burn marks get
there? If the attacker was busy, well, attacking, when did he have time to burn his victim?

  “Oh, it gets better,” Uncle Bob said. He led us to a tiny office in the back of the store. They had one security camera angled on the pumps, and it just happened to catch the doors to the bathroom.

  He scrolled through until we saw Ms. Yeager go inside. We watched as he fast-forwarded the recording to the point where the employee opened the door with a master key. The woman could be seen backing away from the restroom, her hands covering her mouth in horror. I was right there with her.

  “But here’s the kicker,” Ubie said. “No one else entered. No one else left.”

  “And when we watched the rest of the video,” an Officer Robb said, “no one entered or exited after the attack either.”

  “So,” Ubie said, looking at me, “how did the perp get inside, kill Ms. Yeager, then leave completely undetected by passersby and security cameras?”

  Ubie dismissed the young officer and closed the door. “This has to be something supernatural, right?”

  Osh and Garrett nodded. I continued to stare at the screen. I’d learned that I could see supernatural entities even on digital recordings, but nothing ever showed up.

  “Did you catch anything, Osh?” I asked the only other supernatural being there as Angel was off scouring the area for clues.

  Osh shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “This can’t be a demon. Not with the sun out, right?”

  “Well, the sun wasn’t getting into that bathroom. One could have found its way inside, I guess.”

  Garrett opened an app on his phone and read from it. “The first victim, Indigo Russell, was killed late afternoon two days ago.”

  “Right,” I said. “Before Captain Eckert gave the case to you, Uncle Bob.”

  A grave smile spread across his face. “Yeah, I get all the weird ones thanks to you.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Not at all. But you’re right, Garrett, the first one was killed while watering trees in her backyard. It had been late afternoon, but the sun had been out.”

  I turned to Osh. “Can a demon somehow slide along the shadows of, say, a fence or a house and kill from there?”