Chapter 9 #2
“Tightwad, Missouri,” I shouted, making everyone jump.
I was trying desperately to move the topic away from Shitty Ritchie.
It was hard keeping the mortal and Immortal worlds separate.
That was one of the things I was worried about if Jennifer and Dip continued to date.
We were certainly making a hot mess of it.
Dip arched a brow at me, then shook his head. I worried his cop-senses were tingling, and that he could tell we were all hiding something big from him. I was relieved when he looked at his watch and said, “Well, I’m gonna have to get goin’. Jennifer, you need a ride home?”
“I’m staying over tonight,” she said, hugging him tight. “Have to babysit Alana Catherine bright and early tomorrow morning. But I’ll take a rain check.”
“It’s a date,” he said, kissing her nose before nodding to the group. “Thanks for the hospitality. Enjoyed it.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, both sad and relieved to see him go. “Come by again soon.”
“Will do.”
Jennifer walked him out to his cruiser. He saluted the Demons on the front porch as he passed. They saluted back in confusion.
The game was getting trickier and the balance was hard to keep.
However, Jennifer’s mental health was as important as everything else going on.
Her time as a human was over now. She was Immortal.
She was the future Higher Power. Life as she knew it was about to change drastically.
If she needed and wanted to hang on to love, we would help her do it.
Because that’s what friends are for.
The rest of the crew joined us after Dip left.
Jennifer was unusually quiet. Tim sat by her side and held her hand.
I knew she had heavy thoughts on her mind, but I wouldn’t push.
If she wanted to talk, she would. Hell, my friend had to be overwhelmed.
Even though she’d known about the Immortal world for a while and had accepted it with no questions asked, she hadn’t been an Immortal.
Now that she was, she was realizing it came with a whole host of unimaginable baggage.
We would be there for her every step of the way.
“What the hell is on those crackers?” Heather whispered to me with an expression of horror marring her pretty face. “It looks like the contents of one of Alana Catherine’s diapers I changed last week.”
I choked on my soda. She wasn’t wrong. “I have no clue, but there’s not enough money in the world to make me eat one.”
“Word,” she said with a grin.
Candy Vargo, on the other hand, had no issue with the gelatinous goop on the crackers and polished off half the platter. Everyone else went for the cookies.
The game resumed with the additions of: Slaughter Beach, Delaware, Knockemstiff, Ohio, Boring Oregon, and Peculiar, Missouri. A few of the Demon guards played too. It was clear that they found us strange, but had decided if they couldn’t beat us, they would join us.
Shitty Ritchie kept looking around and smiling.
Three times I caught the little turd pinching himself.
That made me happy, and I would take happy anywhere I could get it at the moment.
He couldn’t believe his good fortune. After living on the run and in caves for millions of years, the tiny menace finally had friends and a home.
I was positive he would always drive me nuts, but Shitty Ritchie was growing on me in a mostly non-lethal way.
Alana Catherine was in deep conversation with Gideon.
With each word she spoke, a look of awe and joy crept into her father’s expression.
His daughter owned him. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She was our miracle. Yes, we’d missed the early years, but it didn’t matter.
We had her. And no matter how much she protested, there was no way that she loved us more than we loved her. It wasn’t possible.
“Well, I have never,” Gram said, laughing and slapping her transparent thighs as June relayed the story about the escort service Dip had shared. “I always knew Ethel Smith-Waterswund had a few screws loose! Her brain rattles around in her head like a dang BB in an empty boxcar.”
Candy Vargo sat with Gram and Mr. Jackson as she munched on the crap on a cracker.
If Candy had her way, she’d spend all her time with Gram.
She loved her something fierce, and Gram loved Candy right back.
“Which one is Ethel Smith-Waterswund? Is that the old gal with tight pants and the hemorrhoids?”
“Bingo,” Gram told her. ‘It ain’t no wonder she’s got a hiney problem. Her pants are so tight that if she passes gas, it’ll blow her boots off!”
Candy guffawed. Mr. Jackson did as well. And that’s when I noticed it. He was fading. Superglue wasn’t going to fix it.
My stomach dropped, and the need to go for a run was intense.
Running was the only time I felt totally free of all the chaos in my life.
I was tired—tired of fighting for my life and the lives of everyone I loved.
Tired of being in charge of things I couldn’t control.
Sometimes, I wished for a life that didn’t smell like exhaustion.
That wasn’t in the cards, and self-pity would get me killed. Dying wasn’t on the agenda.
Standing up, I crossed the room and sat down with Candy, Gram and Mr. Jackson. He gave me a sweet smile as I lightly touched his decaying arm. Some would’ve screamed in fright if they spotted the macabre-looking old man. To me, he was lovely, inside and out.
The dead who stayed on this plane had unfinished business.
I’d helped many go into the Light as the Death Counselor.
It was my honor and pleasure. It was also heartbreaking.
I wasn’t able to separate my work from my life.
I’d realized fast that growing close to the dead who I aided would make life harder, but I didn’t care.
It was the right thing to do, plus I was a softie.
As I stared into Mr. Jackson’s eyes, I felt my own fill up with tears.
Losing him to the Light would devastate Gram.
She’d waited until death to find the man of her dreams. The noise in the room faded into the background as Mr. Jackson and I exchanged silent communication.
Although, I was fairly sure I heard Candy Vargo warn Shitty Ritchie that if he kept leading his life from his crotch, he was gonna get real fuckin’ itchy.
“Daaaaisssyah,” Mr. Jackson said as he gracefully floated off the couch and up to the chandelier. “Neeeeeedha.”
“What do you need?” I asked, softly. “How can I help you?”
Gram had stopped talking and joined Mr. Jackson. The look on her face was one of fear and concern. My usually silly and happy Gram was worried.
All conversation in the room ceased. I wasn’t the only one who had noticed Mr. Jackson’s decline.
I was staring at the ghostly couple, but I heard a few sniffles behind me.
It was Candy Vargo. She liked to play it off that she wasn’t an emotional gal—that she was a carefree badass.
That was bullshit. She had more compassion than almost anyone I knew.
Her love for Gram was immense. Gram’s pain was her pain… as well as mine.
“Tell me, Mr. Jackson,” I pressed. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”
He and Gram exchanged a bittersweet look. It made my stomach cramp. Were we about to witness their goodbyes? Was Gram going to have to let go of the truest love she’d ever found?
“Huuuugah,” Mr. Jackson said. “Huuuugah meeeee, Daaaaisssyah.”
I nodded jerkily and glanced over at my daughter.
“State the time you will be gone,” she advised. “You can spend as much time in the Darkness with Mr. Jackson as you need. But if you clarify the time you’ll be gone from this plane, it will hold.”
I wanted to believe her. It would be a grave mistake to be out for days.
We had an enemy like no other we’d battled, gunning for us.
If the mind-dive knocked me out, Gideon would protect me.
That was a given. But I wanted his attention focused where it was needed the most—on Alana Catherine, Shitty Ritchie, and Jennifer.
They were the most important people in the world right now, and their survival was paramount. Period.
But the expression on Mr. Jackson’s face tore at my heart. His arms extended, he waited patiently.
“Are you sure?” I asked my child. “Like really sure?”
She approached and took my hand in hers. “I’m positive. Don’t ask me how I know. I simply do. Speak the time aloud that you’ll be gone from the Earthly plane. That’s exactly the amount of time you will be gone. You have my word.”
I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “How’d you get so smart?”
She grinned. “I have exceptional parents.”
“I’ll have to meet these exceptional people sometime,” I told her with an answering grin.
“You really should,” she shot back with a smirk. “I think you’d love them.”
And on that promising note, I extended my arms to the love of Gram’s life. It was time to get to know Mr. Jackson a little better. In the past, all of the ghosts had gone into the Light after I dove into their minds. I feared that was what was about to go down with Mr. Jackson.
“I’ll be gone for five minutes,” I stated firmly, a little bit louder than intended.
Maybe Mr. Jackson wouldn’t leave. Maybe he would stay. There was a first time for everything.
I was going back to the tried-and-true motto. Anything was possible. I just had to believe.
I chose to believe that Mr. Jackson could stay forever.
I really hoped my belief was enough.