Chapter 11 #2
“You might as well tell them, Tristan,” Death says as he leans back comfortably in his chair. “You’re going to need their help.”
“There’s a portal in the back room of the bookshop,” Tristan explains. “It’s a… What did Bruce call it?” he asks Dusty.
“An in-between place,” she murmurs.
“That’s it.” He nods. “It’s an in-between place, a doorway between the world of the living and the world of the dead. It allows lost souls to cross over to the afterlife.”
I stare at him and my mind races. It’s filled with fragments of the dreams I’ve had and the strange visions, the first one when I touched the door handle to the shop and the second outside the restaurant in the pouring rain.
A portal to another place…an in-between place. Does this have something to do with why my mother gave me up?
“Okaay…” Danny winces as he shifts his broken leg uncomfortably. “He guards a doorway. Why does it need a guard?”
“To stop souls coming back through, I imagine,” Tristan answers, looking to Death for confirmation.
“Or something worse,” Death adds.
“What do you mean?” Danny tilts his head and studies Death carefully.
“There are things out there far more dangerous than me,” Death says quietly as the rain hammers against the window and another loud rumble of thunder crashes overhead.
“Such as?” Chan asks, glancing up when the lights flicker.
“Things that dwell in the darkness, things that should never see the light of day… Things that would use an unguarded doorway as a conduit into your world, and chaos will follow in their wake.”
His words chill me to the bone. Just what exactly is it that my mother and her family are bound up in?
“So, if I understand this correctly”—Danny shifts in his seat—“if Bruce’s bones are the ones we uncovered and his unfinished business is resolved, he’ll cross into the light or whatever it is spirits do?”
“Usually,” Tristan murmurs. He turns back to Death and adds, “But didn’t you say Bruce would have a choice? That he could stay?”
“In Bruce’s case, yes.” Death inclines his head. “He can choose to remain earthbound, but he will still be tied to the portal.”
Just who is this Bruce Reyes, I wonder. How is it that he’s haunting the bookshop? Did he die there or is he connected to my birth family somehow?
“And if he chooses to cross over?” Danny asks. “What happens to the doorway then?”
“You’d better pray that he doesn’t,” Death replies ominously.
“Why?” Dusty suddenly interrupts. “Why does it have to be Bruce? Surely someone else must’ve guarded the doorway before he died.”
“It’s complicated,” Death admits.
“So, un-complicate it.” Dusty stamps her foot and fists her hands on her hips. “Because from where I’m standing, all this is pretty fucking unfair to Bruce.”
Death stares at her coolly, making no attempt to explain further.
“Death.” Tristan rubs his temples, wincing as if in pain. “Dusty does have a point. Why does it have to be Bruce?”
He sighs. “We’ve been over this before.”
“Yeah, but at the time I thought it was some freaky dream.”
“All I can say is that the portal and its location are different from other doorways.”
“I don’t get it.” He shakes his head in frustration “What’s so special about an old run-down bookshop in Whitechapel?”
That’s exactly what I want to know.
“Bloodlines.” Death looks directly at me, and my stomach clenches so tight. Does he know who I am? Does he know about my connection to the bookshop and its owner?
“What? Bruce’s bloodline?” Tristan frowns.
The cat, who until now has been content to nap on Danny’s lap, cranks one sleepy eye open and catches sight of Death.
He stretches lazily and drops to the floor.
Waddling his chunky body towards Death, he sniffs at one trouser leg before giving a little wiggle in preparation and launching himself up into Death’s lap.
Death looks down in distaste at the cat purring in his lap. “Urgh, get it off me.” He wrinkles his nose.
“I would’ve thought you’d like cats.” Chan’s mouth curves in amusement. “Didn’t the ancient Egyptians believe they were the guardians of the dead?”
“That was many centuries ago, and this one is fat and lazy.” Death looks back down at Jacob Marley to address him directly. “You are a disgrace to your ancestors.”
Jacob Marley’s response is to purr loudly and reach up, placing his paws on Death’s chest and bumping his nose to Death’s chin before licking him.
The look on Death’s face is enough to have Tristan reaching out and lifting Jacob Marley from his lap.
The cat gives a loud mewl of indignation and turns around in Tristan’s lap, slapping him in the face with his tail, before he leaps over to Danny’s lap and settles down once again.
“Sorry about that,” Tristan mumbles. “Jacob Marley is…” He breaks off and shakes his head, changing the subject. “I don’t really know what you want me to do, Death. I mean, what’s all this about bloodlines? Am I supposed to research Bruce’s family tree? How’s that going to help?”
“Mortals.” Death rolls his eyes. “Always expecting to have the answers handed to them. I cannot tell you what you want to know, bound as I am by my own rules and restrictions. Rules which, yes, I may be bending to help you, but there are limits. You must figure the rest out for yourselves.”
“Figure what out?” Tristan’s voice rises in frustration.
“Discover the secret of the portal and you’ll discover why it has to be Bruce.”
“But–”
Before Tristan can protest further, Death disappears, leaving all of us staring at each other and wondering what the hell is going on.
“Well, that was weird,” Chan mutters.
“Tris.” Danny reaches for his hand.
“This isn’t fair,” Tristan blurts out.
“Tris, it’s going to be okay.” Danny squeezes his hand.
“How is this possibly going to be okay?” he yells in reply.
“Tris.”
“No,” he snaps. “This is such fucking bollocks. I didn’t sign up for any of this.
I didn’t ask to be able to see dead people, but I went with it because what choice did I have, really?
But this? This is completely different. This isn’t having some random spirit follow me home and helping them solve their unfinished business so they can move on.
I can’t do this. I don’t know anything about cold cases and magic doorways.
I already feel like crap and my head is pounding.
You’ve broken your leg, we haven’t even started packing up the flat yet or found somewhere new to live, and we’ve got to be out of here in a matter of weeks.
Now on top of all that, I’m supposed to figure out how and why Bruce is supposed to guard some dumb doorway. And my cat hates me.”
He finishes in spectacular fashion by bursting into tears.
“And I’m hungry,” he adds miserably.
I have to say, I feel for him. I’m on the periphery of this mess and yet somehow caught up in the middle of it, not that they know that. I understand the worry and frustration he must be feeling right now because I share it.
“Okay, that’s a lot to unpack.” Danny reaches out and rubs Tristans back. “Chan, can you grab Tristan a glass of water and some paracetamol? That should sort out the headache.”
Dusty scoots the box of tissues on the table closer to him, and it’s actually really sweet to see how all his friends hustle to take care of him. I feel a pang of sadness and wonder what that would be like.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, plucking a tissue from the box.
“Have you got a menu around here for the Chinese takeaway you mentioned earlier?” Sam smiles at him. “I’ll go and grab some dinner for everyone.”
Tristan sniffs loudly and blows his nose.
“In the drawer next to you.” Jacob Marley, clearly feeling somewhat guilty for the face slap earlier, has now shifted from Danny back into Tristan’s lap and is rubbing his head against Tristan’s chest as he purrs loudly.
With a sigh, Tristan lifts his hand to stroke the cat’s head.
“See?” Danny huffs a quiet laugh. “He doesn’t hate you. He just likes to be a dick. It’s his personality.”
“Okay, that’s three things ticked off your panic list.” Chan sets a glass of water in front of him and hands him a box of painkillers. “Headache, food, cat. What’s next?”
“Bruce’s cold case,” Danny interjects. “If those are Bruce’s bones, and it’s looking pretty certain they are, you don’t need to worry. I may be officially on leave while my leg and ribs heal, but you have me and Sam, and this is literally what we do. We’ll figure out what happened to Bruce.”
“Danny’s right.” Sam turns back to Tristan with the takeaway menu in one hand. “You don’t have to do this on your own. We’ll help.”
“So will I,” Chan adds as she looks over to Tristan expectantly. “And so will Prickles, won’t you?” She winks.
I’m feeling quite raw and a bit awkward and out of place, so I’m not expecting to be included in this…whatever this is, and it makes me a bit sharp and defensive. “Oh my god, will everyone please stop calling me Prickles.”
“We do it because we like you.” Chan blows me a kiss.
My heart jolts, and I frown. I don’t know what to do with all these overwhelming emotions that for once are bubbling ferociously inside me rather than coming from the people around me. “But you don’t know me.”
“Well, then, maybe you should let us get to know you,” she answers.
I stare at her, then at the others who are all watching me, and I feel incredibly self-conscious. “Fine,” I snap, and I do regret sounding a little ungracious, but I’m seriously confused about everything that’s happening. “I’ll help.”
“Thanks,” Tristan murmurs, looking a bit embarrassed. “Sorry about the whole meltdown.”
“That? Pfft,” Chan scoffs. “That barely counts as a pout. You should try working with a bunch of drag queens. The meltdowns at The Rainbow Room are epic.”
“She’s not wrong,” Dusty agrees. “Instead of employee of the month, we had a meltdown of the month. The winner got a crown and everything.”
“Okay.” Chan claps her hands in delight. “We’ve got our very own Scooby gang.”
Sam grins. “Maybe more like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
“Oh my god, it totally is.” She laughs loudly. “Okay, I think it’s time we divide and conquer.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“I know.” Chan winks. “I say the two dishy detectives find out what happened to poor Bruce. Tris, you and Dusty can go to the bookshop and talk to Bruce, see if he can help figure out what’s up with the magic doorway. And Prickles and I–”
“Harrison,” I correct, and roll my eyes.
“Will help pack up whatever you need and start looking for a new flat for you,” she continues as if I hadn’t spoken at all.
“And you thought I was bossy.” Dusty chuckles. “Trust me, when Mama Chan gets going, it’s easier to just do as she says. She’s usually right anyway.”
“Right,” Chan says as she grabs her bag. “I’m going to go and get changed. Sam, if you and Prickles want to sort out the food, we can then all sit down and hammer out the details of our first Buffy adventure.”
“You really don’t need to get changed on our behalf.
” Sam chuckles as his gaze once again skims over Chan’s outfit appreciatively, and I want to kick him or myself, I’m not sure which.
I just know Sam is not someone I want to be around a whole lot right now.
At least, not until I’ve regained my equilibrium and stopped having these ridiculous pangs of…
What? Want? Jealousy? Urgh, it was so much easier when my sex drive and sense of attraction were both firmly wedged in the off position.
“Sorry, gorgeous, but this is too difficult to sit down in.” Chan laughs as she wiggles her bum, making the feathers ripple.
“There, all sorted.” Danny grasps Tristan’s chin gently and plants a soft kiss on his lips.
And I have to look away, not wanting to think about how sad and empty my life has really been.