Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet by Darynda Jones
I took another sip, then asked, “Are you going to read them?”
“Nope.” She crossed her arms in satisfaction. “They are for you and for you alone.”
“Can I write one to Uncle Bob telling him what a geek he is?”
“Hey,” he said, straightening when the attention landed on him. “What’d I do?”
I fought back a giggle. I guess if nobody read them, it’d be okay. I’d had enough psychology to understand what she was doing, but if no one was going to see them, then she’d never know if I wrote them or not. This was clearly a win–win.
“And I’ll know if you’ve written them or not, so don’t make a promise you don’t intend to keep.”
Crap. “How will you know? I’m a really good liar.”
She laughed out loud at that. I bit back a retort. Mostly because Uncle Bob, Cookie, and Amber laughed, too. W T F?
After announcing my chagrin with an expertly placed death stare, I asked, “You’ll leave me alone if I do all this?”
“Are you asking if I’ll stop coming over and diving into your mountain of boxes?” When I shrugged an acknowledgment, she said, “No. We will get through that mountain.” She put an arm over my shoulders. “Together. All of us.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Every day, at least one of us will take a box down until you can watch us do it without wincing.”
I frowned. “I didn’t wince.”
“You winced,” Uncle Bob said.
“I didn’t … Whatever.”
I was in a nightmare that consisted of well-meaning friends and family members who deserved to be in a locked cell with an anaconda. Not for very long. Just long enough to give them a few nightmares every night for the next month or so.
The thought made me happy.
Another knock sounded at the door, this one harder, more demanding.
“Really, guys?” I said, pounding over. Who else could they get to tag-team me?
Without putting a lot of thought into it, I swung open the door with the dramatic flair of a silent screen actress.
What I saw on the other side—who I saw—stole my breath. Surprise rocketed through my nervous system as I watched Reyes standing there in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, casual as lemon pie, like he hadn’t just killed a man. Like he hadn’t just dragged me across a warehouse and thrown me onto a cement floor. Like he hadn’t just disappeared when I was trying to have a civilized conversation with him. Served me right.
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes sparkling in appreciation. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.
His gaze wandered over me, his interest not subtle in the least. “How’s the kid?”
He had just fought a demon for me. He had just saved my life, yet he stood there like he hadn’t a care in the world. I shook my head and said, “He’s okay. A little traumatized, but he’s in good hands. He’s Deaf.”
“I know.”
“How?” I asked, surprised.
“I watched you talk to him for a while.”
I pressed my lips together, then said, “Stalker.”
“Nut.”
I gasped. “Neanderthal.”
“Fruitcake.”
“Ape.”
“Psychopath.”
Why did his entire repertoire of insults question my mental stability? I scowled up at him and leaned in. “Demon.”
He wrapped a finger in the bottom of my shirt and pulled me closer. “Then that would make you a slayer, wouldn’t it?” he asked, his voice like deep, rich velvet.
I breathed in the heat that spiraled around him. He gave me every ounce of attention he had to offer, focused like a leopard focusing on his prey, just long enough to cause a warmth to crack open and spill into my chest. Over my stomach. Between my legs. Until, that is, he spotted Uncle Bob. His gaze glided past me to where Uncle Bob sat.
In a rush of panic, I realized I still had a house full of unwanted guests. And one of those unwanted guests was Uncle Bob, the man who put Reyes away for ten years for a murder he didn’t commit. But it wasn’t Ubie’s fault. All evidence pointed to Reyes. Earl Walker had made sure of it.
Maybe Reyes wouldn’t remember him.
I whirled around and gaped unappealingly. “Hey, guys. I want you to meet Reyes.”
Cookie dropped something, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Uncle Bob, hoping he wouldn’t give himself away. Not that I had a snowball’s chance that Reyes had actually forgotten the man responsible for his conviction, but even snowballs could dream.
Uncle Bob, clearly surprised to see him, fought his emotions a minute, trying to figure out what to do before he made a decision. With a nod of acknowledgment toward Reyes, he leaned over and shut Cookie’s jaw for her. She caught herself and smiled sheepishly. However, he wasn’t close enough to Gemma to close hers without great discomfort. Amber seemed a tad thunderstruck as well. She’d strolled around the wall of boxes and stared, her eyes wide with wonder.
I was glad to know it wasn’t just me. Reyes seemed to affect every female within a two-mile radius the same way.
But Uncle Bob was a different story. I felt a fire spark and flare inside Reyes. An emotion I could refer to only as hatred. Unfortunately, he had every right to feel animosity for a man who put him, an innocent man, in prison. And worse, Uncle Bob had recently told me he knew in his heart Reyes was innocent. But there was nothing he could do. Every ounce of evidence had pointed directly at Reyes. Surely Reyes couldn’t blame him completely.
Uncle Bob had been sitting on a stool. His expression was one of regret and resignation. He stood and walked forward, resembling John Wayne charging into battle, knowing he wouldn’t survive.
“Maybe we should take this outside,” he said as he strode forward.
If what Uncle Bob just did, knowing what he now knew about Reyes, was not heroic, I didn’t know what was.
Uncle Bob’s presence seemed to knock the self-assured wind out of Reyes. A thick cord of tension stretched between them while a battle raged within him. A battle between doing the right thing and doing what his upbringing—the one from the underworld—begged him to do. I felt it twist and claw at his emotions. He was practically drooling to get at Ubie. To rip him to shreds. Something that came as easily to him as breathing did to me. But he held still. Too still. Possibly afraid to move. Afraid of what he’d do.
After an epic battle, he tore his gaze off my uncle and dropped it back to mine. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, and I felt him withdraw inside himself, as though he could dismiss Uncle Bob and everything that happened just like that.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Uncle Bob said, and I locked my jaw to keep it from coming unhinged.
“I agree!” Amber shouted. When everyone turned and gawked at her, she ducked back behind the boxes and said, “Sorry. That just kind of slipped out.”
I looked back and Reyes was smiling at her. A sweet, understanding gesture that took my breath away. His anger ebbed instantly, the shock of it like a splash of cold water on a hot summer day.
Realizing how rude I’d been, I said, “Reyes, I don’t think you’ve been officially introduced to anyone.” I turned to the people who had ambushed me, trying not to hold it against them. “This is my sister, Gemma; my uncle Bob; and Cookie.”
“And me,” a tiny voice said from beyond.
“And somewhere behind that wall is Cookie’s daughter Amber,” I said with a chuckle.
He didn’t unfold his arms but offered them each a nod in turn.
Uncle Bob elbowed Gemma. She snapped to attention and cleared her throat. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
When Reyes’s gaze landed on her again, he frowned in thought. Then recognition flitted across his face.
She read him easily. “Yes,” she said, holding out her hand for a shake. “We’ve met, just not officially.” Gemma was with me the very first time I saw Reyes. When we were in high
After a tense moment where I wondered if he was going to reject her offer outright, he took her hand into his. I didn’t miss the soft gasp that rushed through her lips when he did so. Not that I could blame her.
Cookie had yet to fully recover. He tilted his head in greeting as though tipping an invisible hat.
The smile that stole across her face was the stuff of legend. Or, well, Rice Krispie treats: soft, sweet, and on the verge of melting into a lump of sticky goo. She offered him a breathy hi, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to chuckle. Not because I was worried about embarrassing her. Embarrassing her was one of my main goals in life. Right behind designing wedgie-free boxer shorts.
No, I’d been hit with another emotion. As afraid as I was to leave Uncle Bob and Reyes in such close proximity, I stepped over to the wall of boxes and looked behind them at Amber.
“Sweetheart?” I said, wondering what was going on.
The emotion pouring out of her was so strong, so palpable, I was having trouble concentrating on anything beyond it. Reyes had to feel it, too. I looked back. He was eyeing me with concern.
“Amber, are you okay?” I asked.
She was sitting at my desk with her face down, her long dark hair an impenetrable curtain of waves. “I’m okay,” she said, keeping her face hidden.
Cookie came over then and tried to peek over my shoulder. “What’s going on?” she asked me.
“I’m not sure.” Had we hurt Amber’s feelings before when we turned to look at her? I wasn’t really getting hurt, but whatever she was feeling was overpowering anything else. Twelve-year-old hormones were a tricky thing. She’d seemed fine thirty seconds earlier. Because I didn’t know what else to do, I asked, “Would you come meet Reyes?”
She looked up at me then, and I could see tears pooling in her blue eyes. She ducked back down, embarrassed, and let me lead her forward.
“This is the one they call Amber of the Kowalski clan,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “But she’s a heartbreaker, so guard yours well.” I winked at Reyes.
She strolled forward, her eyes locked on the ground, her shoulders concave, insecure.
He studied her, tilting his head for a better look. She was tall for a girl and really tall for a twelve-year-old girl, but her height gave her a grace that other girls her age lacked. Like a gazelle.
“Amber, can you say hi?” Cookie asked.
With her gaze still averted, she shook her head.
Cookie seemed mortified. She pushed a long lock of hair over Amber’s ear. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Reyes, shaking her own head in helplessness. “She’s usually so vocal.”
“You save her?” Amber finally said, talking to her feet. “You watch over her?”
Before any of us could question her, Reyes said, “Only on really special occasions.”
What were they talking about? Amber didn’t know about Reyes. How could she know he had saved my life? On several occasions, in fact.
She looked up at him then, her lashes holding a shimmering tear at bay. “I know what you do. I know what you are. They think I don’t, but I do. And I know you were here that night.”
“Amber,” Cookie said, a nervous smile twitching the corners of her mouth, “how could you know that?” Cookie suddenly grew afraid, and I knew where her thoughts were headed. What would Reyes do to her if he knew Amber was aware of his existence? “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“See? They don’t know, and they don’t trust you like I do.” She took a step forward. “You’ve watched over Charley her whole life. Kept her safe. And that night, if you hadn’t come—” Her breath hitched, and before any of us knew what she was doing, she ran forward.
Reyes stepped back as though uncertain as she flung herself at him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you.” She turned in to him. “Thank you so much. You saved our lives.”
After an awkward moment where Reyes resigned himself to being accosted by a twelve-year-old, he let his arms fall loosely around her. She squeezed tighter.
I stepped forward and rubbed her back, my heart swelling with adoration. I didn’t realize she knew Reyes had shown up the night Earl Walker attacked me. I didn’t realize she knew anything about what had happened.
She looked over at me, then whispered into his ear. “I know what she is, too, but I would never tell anyone.”
Reyes offered her the most charming grin I’d ever seen. A soft giggle of delight bubbled out of her before she backed out of his arms. She sidled close to me, her eyes taking on that dreamlike luster I knew so well.
“You coming in?” I asked.
He winked at Amber, then turned to me. “Not tonight. I have business.”
“Of course. But I really want to talk to you about—” I thought about how to say demon possessions without saying demon possessions. “—the occupancy issues we’ve been having.”
One corner of his mouth tilted into an almost grin. “About that, I really need you to stay in your apartment for the next few days.”
“Can’t, but thanks for asking.”
He glanced around, then said with a menacing tone, “Don’t make me insist.”
“Seriously?” Did he honestly think that would work?
He dragged in a deep gulp of air, then seemed to give up. After a moment of thought, he touched the bottom of my shirt again. “I’m glad you came to see me.”
I rubbed my fingertips along the back of his hand. “I’m glad you’re free.”
A breathy scoff escaped him like I’d said something funny.
“What?” I asked.
He stepped closer, even with Amber there, even with Uncle Bob behind me, rubbed a thumb over my bottom lip, and said, “There is a fine line between freedom and slavery.”
9
Two drinks away from girl-on-girl action.
—T-SHIRT
“You okay?” Uncle Bob had asked after I closed my front door. As always, the air crackled with electricity in Reyes’s wake. But I thought it was sweet that Ubie would be concerned about me. He was the one quaking in his discount loafers. He was beginning to understand what Reyes was capable of, and quaking in his loafers was a very appropriate response. Especially since he was the one who put him behind bars.
“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”
“Late,” he said. “I have a date.”
I tried not to look too surprised. “With a person?”
He frowned. “No, a soda machine. Of course a person.”
Amber giggled, recovering from Reyes’s presence faster than her mother or Gemma did. I gave them a few minutes to absorb everything while I teased Ubie, who only had to recover from his near near-death experience. I was so glad Reyes hadn’t ripped him to shreds. I liked him much better un-shredded. Unlike, say, my preference for lettuce or heavy metal guitar solos.
Getting the feeling I was going to have company for a while, I headed toward my shower. “Well, you better get home,” I said to Ubie. “You can only keep a date tied up in the basement for so long before they become resentful.”
Just as I entered the bathroom, I heard him say, “Talk to your dad.”
Not likely. The shower felt wonderful, even with a furry beast knocking me to and fro. I hadn’t seen this much action in one day for over two months. My body didn’t know what to do. How to act. It wanted my sofa—which might or might not go by the name of Sharon—and cheese puffs, but I realized I was going to have to wean off both. Slowly at first. Maybe I’d downgrade to a recliner and cheese crackers, ease off gradually, then try something healthy like cleaning house and eating an apple.
I shuddered at the thought. Cheese puffs were so comforting. And they were orange. No, I probably shouldn’t rush into anything. I came up with a plan B. Clean house while eating cheese puffs. Comforting and productive.
After Artemis dived into the earth below me, I
Cookie and Gemma were in the kitchen, trying out all my cool new gadgets. Hopefully, I’d get a meal out of their efforts. Amber gathered her books when I came out and she stepped over to me. “You’re really loud in the shower,” she said.
I could only imagine what Artemis knocking me into the wall repeatedly sounded like from out here. “Yeah, I tripped.”
“Seven times?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, Charley. I didn’t mean to do that. With Reyes. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Embarrass me?” I gathered her into my arms. “Amber, you could never embarrass me.”
“Never?” she asked.
“Never.”
“One time, I yelled across the store to Mom and asked her if she wanted the regular or the super-absorbent tampons. I added that, according to the box, the super-absorbent were for those heavy days. Then I asked her to rate her heaviness on a scale of one to ten.”
“Okay, you could.”
“Then while we were standing in line, I asked her why she was buying three boxes of Summer’s Eve in the middle of winter.”
I set her at arm’s length. “Wow.”
“I know, right? I had no idea a person could turn so red.”
“So, we’ve established that, yes, you could indeed embarrass me. But you didn’t. I’m sorry that you know so much of things no twelve-year-old girl should know about.
“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
I looked over to see what the chefs were doing. When I saw that they were busy, I leaned in to her. “What exactly do you know?”
She smiled. “I know you’re the grim reaper.”