“Yes. I’ve always been a dick.”
He’d arrived a half hour late. My stomach was in knots. I’d run ten miles on the treadmill at six in the morning to stop my mind from racing with horrifying possibilities. I hadn’t broken a sweat. I decided not to dissect the reason why. I figured if I had to run through the darkness, my Energizer Bunny ability might come in handy.
Heather had stopped by at eight with bagels, fruit and the book on Sumerian that Missy had ordered. I was grateful she was alone. There was no way I could have behaved normal in front of Missy. She knew me far too well for me to hide one of the biggest freak-outs I’d ever had.
“How’s that dick attitude working out for you?” I questioned.
Tim stared at my mailbox with horror. I knew he’d hone in on that.
“Working out just fine,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t taught me anything yet. “Awesome.”
I was going to do my part. He was going to have to do his.
After hours of internal mental debate with myself last night, I’d narrowed my choices down to Steve or Lindsay as my host for the mind dive into the darkness. As sweet as the Mayor of Squatter Town was, he cried an awful lot, and I was concerned it would be too much for him. Birdie was crossed off the list when I found her head in the refrigerator. She thought her joke was hilarious. I did not.
I was going to need therapy after Birdie finally moved on.
In the end, I’d chosen Lindsay, who was thrilled to help me. Heather’s information earlier was the deciding factor. She’d learned more about the tribunal after I’d left the meeting yesterday. Part of the process would be to prove Steve’s death was an accident. The only way to do that was to relive his death in his mind.
It was not good news. The thought of watching him die was so abhorrent to me, I almost got sick when she relayed the news. The tricky part was that a witness was needed. One way to accomplish that would be to bring someone into Steve’s mind with me. I had no clue if that was possible or who was insane enough to agree. The only person who I could imagine coming with me was Gram, and the Immortals might think she was too biased to be neutral. Not to mention, she wasn’t well. The aftermath of a mind dive could destroy her.
I would cross that bridge when I got to it. I had to live through today first.
The thought of something happening to Lindsay after what she’d been through was upsetting. There was a chance the host could be harmed. Steve wasn’t strong enough to withstand it. Lindsay knew the risks and had insisted she was the one to protect me.
Lindsay won. I threw up a quick prayer to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in to watch over her. I requested nothing for myself. Just in case He or She was listening, I didn’t want to overwhelm.
“Are you going to tell me how to get in and out of the darkness?” I asked, squinting at the strange little man in the cold morning sunshine.
“You walk,” he said, picking up the pieces of my smashed mailbox and examining them carefully.
I was ready to shake him until his brains fell out. Choosing Tim might have been a huge mistake.
Lindsay zipped around the yard and followed Tim’s every move. Several times he swatted her away, but the rest of the time he ignored her. His rudeness knew no bounds. However, Donna and Karen seemed to adore the man, and the feeling was mutual. Maybe my dogs knew more than I did. It was possible, but doubtful. Tim was an ass.
“Loooounlahy,” Lindsay said, pointing to Tim, who was still gently touching the pieces of my splintered mailbox.
“Of course he’s lonely,” I muttered. “He’s a dick.”
Lindsay floated over and we watched Tim meticulously stack the pieces of my mailbox into a neat pile.
“Naawwwooo fraaaaunds,” she whispered. “Saawd. Loooounlahy.”
“He’s a wanker,” I whispered back. “It’s not a mystery why he has no friends.”
“Yausssss,” she agreed. “Dausseeeeee fraaaaund Tiiauum.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. Becoming Tim’s friend wasn’t on my to-do list.
“Yausssss. Sssooooo saawd.”
With a sigh of resignation, I walked across the yard and began to help Tim pick up the shattered wood and metal of what used to hold my mail.
“Be gentle with the flag,” Tim instructed sternly.
“Will do,” I said without an ounce of sarcasm in my voice.
“If it can be saved, we will save it.”
Carefully picking up the bent red piece of metal, I handed it to him. “This might be a goner.”
Tim took the flag in his hand and stroked it lovingly. Under other circumstances, I would have laughed, but he was so serious and committed, I felt sorry for him. He tried twice to unbend the flag. Twice, he failed.
“Give that to me,” I said, reaching for the twisted metal. If I could knock down a tree, surely, I could straighten a piece of metal.
“Do not hurt it,” he warned, grudgingly handing it over.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” I replied as I carefully unbent the red flag. I was cautious since I was a little unclear of how much strength I had. “Success.”
I glanced up at Tim—and saw he was crying.
“Umm… are you okay?” I asked, concerned for his sanity.
“That was beautiful,” he said, reaching out for the fixed flag. “You’re ready.”
“For what?” I asked, confused.
“To join the postal department for Heaven and Hell,” he replied with the first real smile he’d ever given me.
“Is that the key?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t lost his debatably sane mind.
He nodded and tucked the flag into the pocket of his postal uniform coat. “It’s the key to the Universe,” he told me. “Well, the key to traveling the Universe. Are you willing to take the oath and abide by the rules?”
I had no clue what I was agreeing to, but my gut said to go for it. “I am.”
“Are you willing to wear the uniform with pride?”
Shit. “Is that a deal-breaker?” I asked with a wince.
Tim shrugged. “Your choice, but the uniform has pockets.”
“Pockets are important?”
“Very.”
“Are you screwing with me?” I asked.
“About the pockets? No.”
“About the uniform?” I asked with a small grin pulling at my lips.
Tim looked down at the ground and tried to hide his own grin. He failed. “Yes. I’m screwing with you about the uniform,” he admitted with an uncharacteristic chuckle. “But I would be proud if you wore one.”
Counting to ten inside my head so I didn’t scream the word no, I resigned myself to the awful fact that I was going to wear a heinous postal uniform to Hell to make my new friend—using the term very loosely—proud.
“I will wear the uniform,” I promised, and then wanted to take it back as a mortifying reality hit me hard.
Tim’s whoop of joy stopped me. He did a little jig and was joined by Donna, Karen and Lindsay. His smile was wide and his spirits were high. I refused to take that away from the lonely man… even if it meant that at my reunion with Gideon, I would be sporting a hideous postal uniform.
I suppose I could carry my crappy purse to finish off the look.
Or not.
My postal uniform was not good. Boxy and unflattering would be outstanding words to describe it. Tim was so excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell him how much I hated it. It was also two sizes too big. The pants were too long and the top could work as a muumuu. Whatever. It did have nice pockets.
“People think you x-ray their packages and steal the stuff you like,” I told Tim as I served him a sandwich and a soda. “That might be one of the reasons why everyone is a little… umm… wary of you.”
“Great sandwich,” Tim said. “I love turkey.”
“Are you ignoring what I just told you?” I asked, sitting down across from him at the kitchen table and taking a bite out of my sandwich.
“
Yes.”
I almost choked on my turkey due to the laugh that came up from my gut. “Oh my God,” I said, swallowing the bite so I didn’t need to have my new friend perform the Heimlich maneuver on me. That would be a little too personal at this point in the relationship. “You do steal mail.”
“I do not steal mail,” Tim snapped. “I rehome some of it.”
“Rehome?” I repeated.
“Yes. Some people do not deserve the glorious items within,” he told me with a huff.
“Dude, they ordered it and paid for it,” I pointed out, putting my sandwich down and gaping at him. Since I had no clue what he would say next, I couldn’t risk choking to death on my lunch. “Or it’s a gift from a friend or family member.”
“You think married women should have vibrators?” he asked indignantly.
“Yes!” I practically shouted. “You rehome vibrators?”
“A few,” he admitted, blushing. “I believe we live in an oversexed society, and I feel that the Universe would be a more productive place if the human population was focused on spiritual rather than carnal endeavors.”
“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. “You need to get laid.”
“Inappropriate,” Tim huffed.
“True,” I shot back. “Have you ever had a relationship?”
“Define,” he said.
“Umm… like a physical relationship with another person who you care about and who cares for you.”
“Define care,” he said, growing uncomfortable.
I rolled my eyes. “For the love of everything normal, you need to make some major life changes.”
Tim mulled over what I said as he continued to eat his sandwich. “Do you have chips?” he inquired.
“I do. Did you hear what I just said?” I asked as I stood up and grabbed a bag of chips from the cabinet.
I completely ignored the unappetizing fact that Birdie had put her leg and half of her ass next to the chips. The less attention I gave her for the atrocious behavior, the better. She would also have to wait for me to glue it back on. If she was intent on tearing off body parts to freak me out, she was going to have to get by without those body parts for a while. At the rate she was going, she was going to be scattered all over the house soon.
“Do you happen to have any books on this life-changing process?” Tim asked.
I had to think about that one. I did have a whole lot of self-help books, but most were on the grieving process. I’d amassed a large quantity after Steve died.
“How about we start slow?” I suggested. “You stop x-raying packages and stop rehoming people’s stuff.”
“How about I stop rehoming first,” Tim countered. “If I cold turkey everything it’s a recipe for failure.”
I nodded and tried not to laugh. “Reasonable.”
“Can we hang out?” he asked, concentrating on the chips as if his unending life depended on it. “I mean, occasionally. Not all the time.”
“Yes,” I said as his head jerked up in surprise. “However, you will not be a dick. I’ll call you out on that and train you until I feel you’re ready for a group situation.”
“Why would you do that for me?” he asked, confused.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “As unpleasant as you are, I kind of like you. I think there might be someone fun underneath the mail-stealing guy who is anti-vibrator.”
Tim threw his head back and laughed. The dogs barked and joined in while Lindsay zipped around the kitchen giggling. Several of the other squatters came in to see what was happening. Even Birdie… who was missing her head, a leg and part of her ass. However, she still had a hand and proudly flipped me off. The saving grace was that since I’d left her head in the fridge, she couldn’t call me a hooker with company present.
“Oh my,” Tim said, pointing at Birdie. “What happened there?”
“It’s a long story. We’ll save it for our first hang out evening,” I told him. “Right now, I need you to help me understand what I have to do to navigate the darkness.”
Tim sighed and looked very old for a moment—far older than the age he presented himself.
“You’ve chosen the one to host?” he asked, picking up his plate and taking it to the sink.
“I have. Lindsay,” I told him. “She’s willing and wants to do it.”
“She’s aware that you might be stuck in her mind for eternity and that she will never progress to an afterlife if something goes awry?” he asked, glancing over at Lindsay.
“Shit.” I closed my eyes and let my head fall to the table with a thud. “I didn’t know that was a possibility.”
“Probably won’t happen. It’s the worst-case scenario,” Tim assured me. “But both of you need to be aware of the ramifications if something goes wrong.”
“Yausssss,” Lindsay said, floating to the ground, standing next to me and putting her hand on my shoulder. “Yausssss.”
Tim tilted his head to the left and stared at me. “You are like no one else. Never have I seen a Death Counselor so in tune with the dead.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I said, worried about Lindsay. “Lindsay’s been hurt enough in life. Is there any other way to travel to the darkness? There has to be. How do you do it?”
Surely, he didn’t go through the minds of the dead to deliver mail to Hell.
Tim pressed his lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “I come from the darkness,” he said with no emotion. “All I have to do is wish myself there.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering if Tim was a Demon of sorts. “Then how are you allowed in Heaven to deliver mail?”
“I am from the light as well,” he replied.
“Want to explain?”
He sighed, and then placed his hands over his eyes. “When I open my eyes, stare straight into them.”
“Umm… okay, is this going to hurt?” I asked, wanting to be prepared.
“No.”
As he pulled his hands from his eyes, I gasped. The ghosts whipped around the kitchen and screeched with shock and delight.
The iris of Tim’s right eye sparkled a bright red, just like Gideon’s had. The left one was a brilliant gold, very similar to John Travolta’s eyes.
Tim blinked and it was gone.
“So, your mom was a Demon and your dad an Angel?” I asked, putting out the only logical explanation I could come up with.
“The other way around,” he said with a shrug. “That’s how I’m able to travel. You, on the other hand, would only be able to wish yourself to the light.”
“I’m sorry. What?” I asked, positive I’d heard him wrong.
Snapping his fingers, he produced a mirror. The magic stuff freaked me out a little, but I was more freaked out by what I thought he’d just said.
“Look at your eyes,” Tim instructed.
Picking up the mirror, I stared at my image. My eyes were indeed a golden color, but they were not like Tim’s or John Travolta’s.
“They’re not the same,” I said, handing him the mirror. “I’m not an Angel. I’m a ridiculously strong, forty-year-old human female widow with shitty purses who talks to the dead.”
Tim shrugged and put the mirror into one of his many pockets.
“What?” I demanded. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I only know what I see, Daisy,” he said.
“And what do you see?” I asked, feeling way off center.
“I see an Angel hybrid who doesn’t believe.”
“Tim,” I said, leveling him with a hard stare that he met without flinching. “I think you need to get out more. Maybe you’re correct in your assumption and maybe you’re not. It would certainly explain a few things. However, unless your conjecture about me will help me get in and out of the darkness without dying, I’d like to table the discussion for another time. You feel me?”
Tim grinned. “Karma was right. Ballsy.”
“Karma is disgusting,” I said, without thinking. “I mean…”
&n
bsp; “Disgusting,” Tim agreed. “I tried to hang out with her a few centuries back and it didn’t go well. Due to you extending your hand in friendship, I shall give humans a shot.”
I had nothing to add to that. The visual in my head of Tim and Candy hanging out had to be less offensive than the actual story. I’d leave that one alone forever.
“Tell me what I need to know,” I said.
“As you wish,” he replied. “Time doesn’t run the same on the other planes.”
“Faster? Slower? Explain what you mean, please.”
“Meaning, you may feel like you’ve been gone a few minutes, but a year will have passed on the human plane,” Tim explained.
“Can I control that?” I asked. I couldn’t leave Gram and Steve for a year… or my dogs.
“I can’t, so I doubt you can,” Tim said, and then paused. “However, you are unique, Daisy. I will be interested to hear your experience when you return.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “You believe I’ll return?”
“Well, I have great hope you will,” he amended. “It’s quite new having a friend and I’d like to explore it.”
“Right,” I muttered, sorry I’d asked. “So, I’ll go into Lindsay’s mind, and then walk toward the darkness?”
He nodded.
“And then what?”
“And then you’ll look for Gideon,” he replied, as if I should have already known that.
“Yep, I’m aware of why I’m going, but I want to know what I should expect.”
Tim rolled his eyes and grunted. “Okay. Fine. Don’t touch the walls. They have teeth. If there is a turn in the path, always go to the left. If you were going into the light, you would always take a right, but that’s irrelevant in this conversation.”
“Okay, then when I return, do I retrace my steps back the way I came and take rights instead of lefts?” I asked, wondering if I could bring a cheat sheet. However, since it wasn’t my physical body going on the trip, I was fairly sure props wouldn’t work.
“No. Always to the left in the darkness. Just like time runs differently there, directions do as well.”
“Shit,” I muttered and ran my hands through my hair. To the left, to the left. Thank God for Beyoncé.
Whose Midlife Crisis Is It Anyway? : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book Two Page 14
