Chapter 10 #3
Oh god, my mind has gone blank. Stupid nonexistent social skills.
I’m trying to think of a reason to be here that’s not because your dead drag queen bestie told me to or because I want to ask you about my mother that I’ve never actually met.
“I wanted to apologise for the other night, for my strange behaviour. I–” My gaze falls on Danny’s leg, and I remember I’m not supposed to know about that either. “What happened?”
“Car accident,” Danny replies easily as Chan sets a mug of coffee on the table in front of him. “The storm brought a tree down on the car I was travelling in.”
I go quiet, not sure what to say.
“What’s wrong?” Tristan asks. I open my mouth to say what, I have no idea, but rather fortuitously, the doorbell rings and draws his attention.
“Bloody hell. Really?” Chan rolls her eyes as she sets a cup of tea in front of Tristan. “I’ll get it.”
She disappears and reappears moments later, this time with Sam trailing after her. My mouth falls open, and when I see him checking out Chan’s legs, my jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised I don’t hear my teeth cracking.
Not so fortuitous then.
Sam whistles low. “If this is the greeting I get, I should stop by more often.”
Danny chuckles. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Sam?”
“Maddie told me you lost an argument with a tree.” He grins and pulls a Sharpie from his pocket. “Figured I’d see for myself and return the favour, given the heartfelt sentiments you left scrawled all over my cast when I was in hospital.”
“I was trying to cheer you up,” Danny says in his defence.
“And like I said, I’m here to return that favour.” Sam grins even wider and wiggles the pen in his fingers.
“So childish,” I mutter under my breath.
Sam turns his attention to me. “Harrison. What a pleasant surprise.” He lifts one brow pointedly. “I believe you were supposed to call one of us after dinner the other night so we knew you were all right.”
“I…was busy,” I mumble, looking away, unable to meet his eyes when I think about how I’d used the thought of him to get myself off. Dammit, I can feel my cheeks burning again.
“Wow, that’s an interesting shade of lobster,” Chan murmurs around a sip of her coffee. She watches me and Sam over the rim of her mug like we’re the most fascinating thing she’s seen all day.
I glare at her for the lobster comment. At least Dusty named me after desserts.
“I stopped by to check on you,” Sam says, and I really can’t meet his gaze.
“I-I had to work,” I mutter.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m here,” a loud, familiar voice rings out. “What did I miss?”
“Oh good, Dusty’s here too.” Tristan rolls his eyes, but I can hear the affection in his voice.
“Sorry I’m late.” Dusty straightens the short, skin-tight Union Jack dress she’s wearing, which has replaced the pink latex she wore earlier, and I find myself wondering how often she changes her outfits. I suppose when you’re dead, the options are limitless. “Bruce was feeling frisky.”
Sam snorts loudly.
“I knew it!” Tristan bursts out triumphantly, and points at Sam. “You can see her!”
“See who?” Danny replies.
“Dusty,” Tristan answers, staring at Sam, who just looks amused.
“Sam can see ghosts?” Danny exclaims in surprise.
“I’m so sorry, Sam.” Tristans winces. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you can see them, and I’m guessing that now Danny knows you can too, so I might as well lay my cards on the table.” Sam shrugs. “Yes, I see the dead.”
“How?” Tristan asks.
“Near death experience.” His tone is casual. “You?”
“Choked to death on an ice cube,” Tristan admits. “Don’t ask.”
Fortunately, I don’t have to appear surprised at this information given that nobody is currently looking at me. Or so I thought.
“You seem awfully calm about all this,” Chan says suspiciously, and I realise she’s staring at me.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I can see them too.”
“Did you have a near death experience too?” Danny’s question is laced with confusion.
“No…” I frown. “I’m a witch.”
“A…witch?” Danny repeats slowly. “I think I need something stronger than coffee.”
“Not with the pain relief you’re on, you don’t,” Tristan says firmly.
“A witch,” Sam muses, his eyes lighting with interest as that intense dark gaze once again drifts to me. “So that’s it. I knew there was something about you, but I couldn’t quite place it.”
My back stiffens. “I suppose you’re going to tell me magic isn’t real?”
“Not at all,” Sam says quietly as he studies my face. “I’ve seen too many things in the last couple of years not to believe there’s something out there bigger than all of us. Just because we don’t understand something doesn’t make it any less real.”
“This is so unfair,” Chan interrupts, and her tone is the vocal equivalent of a foot stamp. “Am I the only one here who can’t see Dusty?”
“I can’t.” Danny raises his hand.
“Finally, someone on my team.” She high-fives his raised palm.
“Well,” Danny adds as a caveat, “not without being on some heavy-duty drugs anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Chan says curiously.
“While I was in the hospital and they had me on morphine, I caught a glimpse of Dusty. Although to be fair, I thought she was an hallucination at the time.”
“Drugs, you say?” Chan muses.
“No,” Tristan says flatly.
“I wasn’t going to.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t take anything stronger than paracetamol.”
“It’s true.” Dusty nods. “Chan hates taking any kind of medication.”
“But maybe alcohol would work the same way,” Chan says thoughtfully as she taps a long, painted fingernail on the side of her mug.
“Don’t you dare,” Dusty replies.
“Dusty says don’t you dare,” Tristan repeats for Chan’s benefit.
“It was just a thought.” Chan pouts. “I want to see Dusty too.”
“And you thought being on sick leave was going to be boring,” Tristan mutters to Danny.
Dusty frowns. “I’m not quite sure what I’ve walked into the middle of here.”
“You and me both. How’s the boyfriend anyway?” Tristan replies.
“Bruce is not my boyfriend,” she says innocently as she picks at one perfectly manicured nail.
“You spend all of your time either with him or talking about him, and you’ve met his parents,” Tristan states.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, smarty pants.” She smirks. “I haven’t met his parents. They’re still alive, actually.”
“But you’ve met the rest of his family,” he counters.
“That’s not the point.”
“He’s totally your boyfriend.” Tristan sips his tea. “Quit being such a baby.”
“Dusty’s always had commitment issues,” Chan interjects, clearly having got the gist of the conversation.
“I don’t have commitment issues per se.” Dusty huffs. “Bruce and I just haven’t exactly defined the nature of our…dalliance.”
“Dalliance? My goodness, milady, how scandalous,” I say without thinking, and inwardly wince.
I’m feeling a little out of my depth here amongst these people who are obviously very comfortable with each other.
The problem is when I’m stuck in an awkward social situation, it tends to make my tongue a bit sharp and my attitude very stiff.
“Shut up, Prickles.” Dusty glares at me before turning back to Tristan. “I’m just saying we haven’t exactly had the chance to talk.”
“Must be really hard to talk with someone’s penis in your mouth twenty-four seven,” I mutter, a little louder than I intended and I want to face-palm.
Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut? Dusty shoots daggers at me with her eyes and oh, right, yeah, I’m not supposed to know about her and her not boyfriend, Bruce, with his meaty thighs and tiny shorts.
Why am I even here? It’s not like I can ask Tristan any questions about the bookshop in front of everyone.
“Alright, alright. That’s enough, you two,” Tristan interjects. “Dusty, to be fair, you do seem to have his penis in your mouth more often than not. I know this because you tell me constantly. As for you, Harrison, you’re coming across rather judgey.”
“It’s his default setting.” Dusty stares at me, her arms crossed over her chest. “Maybe if he removed that stick from his arse, he’d–”
Tristan sighs. “Do not finish that sentence, Dusty. No one has a stick in their arse.”
“I feel like I’ve missed the whole point of this conversation.” Chan sips her coffee.
“You and me both.” Danny lifts his mug and clinks it against hers in a toast. “Here’s to being in the don’t-have-a-clue club.”
“We should make badges,” Chan muses. “Maybe membership cards.”
Danny grins at her.
My attention is suddenly drawn to a rather chunky cat swaggering into the kitchen like he owns the place. The only thing marring the cat’s haughty expression is the thick layer of what looks like melting chocolate ice cream that encircles his face.
He mewls demurely and heads to Danny, who picks him up and snuggles him into his lap, then snags a dishcloth off the counter closest to him. The cat purrs contentedly as he allows Danny to clean his face.
“Okay, if I might summarise,” Tristan says, pointing to Chan.
“You’re here because Dusty left you a message to stop by and check on us.
” Then he turns to Dusty. “By the way, Chan says don’t use her favourite lipstick next time.
” He glances at Sam. “You stopped by to draw phallic symbols and write dirty limericks on Danny’s cast.” Then he turns back to me.
“And you, Harrison…did you stop by to say hello or was there something specific?”
“Um, well, I…” I try to think of something. “Just stopped by, I guess.”
“Fine. It’s late and I’m hungry. I really want some chicken noodle soup from The Golden Dragon around the corner,” Tristan says. “If you guys are staying, take a seat and we’ll order some food.”
Sam shrugs. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I don’t think–” I begin, but Sam cuts me off and winks at me! I swallow tightly and glare at him, annoyed that my stupid heart rate has picked up.
“Come on, Prickles. We didn’t get to feed you the other night, so this can be our do-over.”
I continue to glare. “I don’t need a do-over, and don’t call me Prickles.”
Sam’s voice lowers a fraction. “Don’t get me wrong. I like you all prickly.”
Heat flushes my body. “Y-you’re ridiculous,” I stammer.
“Ooooh, entertainment while we eat.” Chan smirks. “This is going to be fun to watch.”
Suddenly, there’s a loud crash of thunder outside and the power cuts out, plunging us into darkness.
“Nobody move,” Chan says. “Tris, honey, do you have any candles?”
“No,” Tristan says somewhat wistfully. “Apparently, I can’t be trusted with them.”
“It’s true,” Danny says in amusement. “Last time we nearly lost the curtains.”
Chan laughs from somewhere in the darkness. “A flashlight then?” she amends.
“There should be one in the cupboard under the sink,” Danny says.
I can hear her fumbling in the blackness and suddenly a beam of light clicks on.
It swoops over the kitchen as Chan tries to get her bearings, first over Danny and then Tristan, but as she moves the light over the chair between him and me, the beam highlights a face that was not there before the lights went out.
Chan lets out a scream that could shatter glass, and I’m certain she’s got a career in B horror movies if she ever gets tired of being a drag queen. Seriously, what is it with Tristan and drag queens?
Suddenly, the electricity clicks back on and the whole kitchen is once again flooded with light.
Everybody stares in varying stages of shock at the stranger sitting quietly in the chair next to mine.
They don’t seem to know who he is, but I do.
I’m not sure how, but the awareness is just there inside me, and I know it with absolute certainty.
This creature sitting calmly and watching all of us is not human.
He is Death.