Grave Intentions (8 page)
Authors: Lori Sjoberg
“We can stop this,” Adam murmured. He licked his lips as he reached for the door handle. “If we get out of the car right now, we—”
“No, we can’t,” David interrupted. In case his apprentice got any bright ideas, he hit the auto locks. “These two have an appointment with Fate.”
“Can’t they reschedule? It doesn’t have to end like this.”
“Yes, it does.” David gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “Remember the rules, Newbie. Always collect your appointed souls. Do not alert humans to our presence. Do not question Fate. And for the love of God, do
not
alter destiny. Follow the rules and you’ll save yourself a shitload of trouble.”
not
alter destiny. Follow the rules and you’ll save yourself a shitload of trouble.”
Outside, the couple fought bitterly, their voices rising with each exchange of insults and accusations. Angry words turned to shouts, and shouts turned to shoves. The brunette told Donald she didn’t love him and wanted a divorce. Donald called her a whore and a gold digger. She slapped him hard across the face. Caught in a current of fury and despair, Donald’s arms shot out, his hands wrapping around his wife’s throat. She let out a startled cry, her fingers clawing at Donald in a desperate attempt to break his hold.
David shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the memory of his encounter with Samuel still fresh in his mind. He pressed a hand against his throat, remembering what it felt like to have the air stripped from his own lungs. The shock. The pain. The anger that came with being helpless at the hands of another. For the first time in over a decade, he felt a sharp stab of compassion toward one of his clients. As soon as he recognized the sensation, he tamped it down mercilessly.
Meanwhile, back at the house, the brunette lay lifeless on the front porch, her husband crouched beside her. As the adrenaline rush subsided, shock set in when Donald realized what he had done. With a look of panic, he gave her a hard shake and then checked her wrist for a pulse. Finding none, he bent over his dead wife and pressed a tender kiss against her lips. Then he stood and walked inside the house, sobbing, leaving the door open behind him.
“Wait for it,” David murmured, the buzz of new death pulsing through his veins like a hot bolt of lightning.
Inside the house, a single gunshot rang out, and then all was quiet again in the cozy little neighborhood where nothing bad ever happened. At least that’s what they’d probably say on the evening news.
David hit the button to unlock the doors. He kept his face purposefully blank, determined to show no trace of sympathy for two lives lost, two lives wasted. “Come on. Let’s roll.”
“I was right.”
“You guessed right.”
“No. I knew. I told you Dolores was going to die.” Pearl braced her hands on her hips and tipped up her chin. “Admit it.”
Sarah pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. She’d made the trek to Auburn Green Retirement Community as soon as her shift ended. Once there, she’d found Grandma Pearl holding court in the main social room, reading palms and boasting of her accurate prediction of Dolores’s untimely demise. “You live in a retirement community. People die here all the time. It was a fairly safe bet.”
“But I knew the exact person and the exact date.”
“It was probably a case of self-fulfilling prophecy,” Sarah reasoned. “The poor woman was so frightened after hearing your prediction, she gave herself a heart attack.”
“Say what you want. I was right.” Pearl eyed her granddaughter contemplatively. “I had another vision of you last night.”
Oh, goody. Just what she needed, more mumbo-jumbo from the Great Beyond. “Really?” she said, preparing herself for the king-sized load of malarkey coming her way. “And what did you see this time?”
Pearl’s eyes narrowed as she regarded her granddaughter. “I saw you with a man. The one I told you about the last time you came by.” Her features softened, her lips curving into a quirky smile. “You were smiling, like you used to when you were a little girl.”
Sarah’s heart twisted into a knot. “I never stopped smiling, Grandma.”
“No, but you lost something when your mother passed away.” Pearl settled into the rocking chair by the window, her frail body engulfed by the large wooden frame. “You were never quite the same.”
Losing your mother at the age of seven tended to take the spring out of a young girl’s step. Not to mention the hushed whispers between older relatives who didn’t realize the youngest Griffith was listening from the security of her closet fort. She’d been horrified to learn about her mother’s psychosis, and the fact that mental illness ran deep in her family. The knowledge had haunted her ever since.
“But in my vision, you looked so happy,” Pearl continued, her voice becoming more animated as she spoke. She pushed back against the floor and the chair began to lightly rock. “And I was able to see the man more clearly this time.”
“You did?” Sarah said, taking the path of least resistance. Besides, she wanted to see how far Pearl was willing to take her latest delusion. “What did he look like?”
“Well, he was a handsome young man,” Pearl began, her eyes turning distant as if she were recreating the image in her mind. “Rugged, with blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Blue eyes, you say?”
Pearl’s thin brows knitted. “No, not quite blue. Actually, they were closer to a pale gray. Most striking.”
That got Sarah’s attention. “And what was this man doing?”
“He was holding you in his arms, looking so happy his heart might burst. Your grandfather used to hold me the same way.” Pearl smiled, and the creases at the corners of her eyes fanned out and deepened. “His name started with a D. Danny, Don, Darren . . .”
“David?” Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.
“That’s it!” Pearl’s face brightened. “David. He’s going to make you a very happy woman.”
And at that moment Sarah realized she’d fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book. As a child, she’d seen Pearl use cold readings during her sessions, had watched her use a variety of vague, generalized statements and questions to draw information from her clients to use in her predictions.
For a fleeting moment, she’d bought into the facade, hook, line, and sinker. Even worse, she’d wanted to believe it, had secretly yearned for the knowledge that there was someone out there destined to be hers.
Pathetic.
If she didn’t watch herself, she’d end up nuttier than a jar of Planters, just like the rest of her family.
David swung into the parking lot of Shackles Bar & Grill a few minutes before five, just in time for happy hour. Only a few cars filled the lot, but he knew that would quickly change as people got out of work and sought solace in the form of cheap beer and stale nachos. Without a doubt, he could relate. God knows he was looking forward to a few rounds of liquid relaxation after a grueling afternoon of doom and gloom.
Adam hadn’t spoken for over an hour, ever since he collected the soul of the woman strangled by her husband. He sat motionless in the passenger seat, his eyes staring straight ahead and a sour expression plastered across his face.
“We’re here,” David said as he cut the engine. He nodded toward the building. “Come on. I’ll buy the first round.”
Adam’s gaze flicked over to the bar, then back to David, and then back to the bar. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it with a shake of his head. Without a word, he stepped out of the car and walked toward the building with the grace of a catatonic zombie.
Once inside, they wove a path through the tables, settling on the one in the back corner near the bathrooms. Adam took the chair by the wall while David signaled the waitress for a pitcher and two mugs.
“Congratulations, Newbie,” David said as he sank into the chair opposite Adam. Since the kid was in such a shitty mood he decided not to make a big deal about Adam taking the chair against the wall, his preferred choice in seating. “You bagged your first Hell-bound soul today.”
The news snapped Adam from his funk. He blinked twice, gave his head a quick shake, and shot David a look of utter confusion. “I did?”
“Yep. Think back to what they taught you in Sunday school. Adultery is a mortal sin.”
“She’s damned because she was getting a little action on the side?” Adam frowned. “That doesn’t sound fair.”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just clean up the mess.”
The waitress sauntered over and placed a pitcher of Bud and two frosty mugs on the table. She had a swing in her hips and several buttons opened at the top of her shirt. The latter was probably intentional, since she made a point of bending low while she poured the first round. “Anything else I can get for you boys tonight?”
“No, we’re good for now,” David replied with a cordial smile and a silent message to go about her business.
Once the waitress moved safely out of earshot, Adam asked, “So when do I get something easy, like a little old lady who dies in her sleep?”
“Not our department,” David said, his tone even. He’d been wondering how long it would take the kid to ask. He stretched his legs out under the table, making himself comfortable in preparation for the upcoming onslaught of questions. In the past, he used to lay all the information out ahead of time, before the first soul was bagged and tagged. Now he preferred to let the trainees ask at their own pace, as each question formed in their minds. It seemed to stick better that way. “Deaths generated by natural causes pass through on their own. They don’t require our help.”
“Oh. Damn.” Adam’s expression darkened with disappointment. “I was hoping to catch a break for a change.”
“Don’t we all?”
Adam picked up his beer and took a healthy swig. He set the mug down, his mouth fixed in a grim line. “Great. And here I thought you might offer some comforting words of inspiration.”
“You want inspiration, go to St. Mary’s,” David said, patience wearing thin. It had been a long, shitty day and he wasn’t in the mood to coddle a rookie with an attitude problem. “I’m here to tell you the truth and get you trained.”
“Gee thanks, I feel better already.” Adam picked up his glass and chugged the rest of his beer. He set the glass down with a hard thud and picked up the pitcher for a refill. “Got any more pearls of wisdom you care to share with me, boss?”
“Yes,” David said, his voice clipped with tightly leashed annoyance. He leaned forward and locked eyes with Adam. “Be thankful someone, somewhere, judged your soul redeemable, or your sorry ass would have shot straight to Hell when you died.”
That shut him up for a minute. Adam slumped back in his chair, his brows furrowed in silent contemplation. He looked up, and then his focus quickly shifted to something directly behind David.
“What is it?” David asked, a split second before a strong hand clamped down on his right shoulder, pinning him to his chair.
A deep voice, thick with contempt, growled, “You got a lot of nerve, showing your face in here tonight.”
chapter 6
“Evening, Dmitri.” David twisted his neck just enough to catch a glimpse of the big Russian in his periphery. Yep, he looked as mad as he sounded.
He’d known Dmitri longer than any other reaper—a few years shy of fifty. Back in the day, Dmitri worked the opposite side of the fence, stealing secrets and dealing death for the KGB. Cold, calculated, and efficient, he’d been among the best of his kind, committing unspeakable acts for the glory of the motherland. It had taken him a long time to adjust to his new environment, and even longer to learn how to play nice with his American counterparts.
“Cut the crap,” Dmitri snapped, his Russian accent becoming more pronounced with anger. His jaw muscles clenched as his grip on David’s shoulder tightened. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t knock your teeth out.”
David had known the other reapers were going to be pissed when they got their assignments for the upcoming week. He’d cut their schedules to the bare bones, giving the jobs to Adam in order to train him as quickly as possible. And while no reaper relished their duties, they all held a basic understanding of the job at hand. Each reap brought them one step further from Hell’s abyss. Lighten the load, and you were effectively delaying their chance for salvation.
Still, it was a poor excuse for shitty behavior.
David jerked his shoulder free and shot up from the chair. “Back the fuck off,” he snarled, letting his temper take the reins. He didn’t enjoy pulling rank, but there were times when a power trip became a necessary evil. “You do not want to travel down this road with me, comrade.”
In truth, he knew Dmitri was more than capable of making good on his threats. Dmitri was taller, stronger, and outweighed David by a good thirty pounds. His former masters had trained him to kill, to torture, to accomplish his missions through any means necessary, and from all accounts he’d been pretty damn good at it. But that didn’t mean David had any intention of backing down, especially in front of his apprentice. He’d rather eat his teeth than his ego.
The two glared at each other for a full minute before Dmitri finally blinked. “What the fuck is up with the schedule?” he demanded, his lips drawn back in a derisive sneer.
From the corner of his eye, David spotted Ruby standing by the jukebox, watching the action with discernible interest. He did a quick scan of the bar, found Martin at the pool table with Rusty. Cal sat at the bar, flirting with a cute little blonde. Every reaper in the Orlando area, all present and accounted for, quite a rarity given their various schedules. And even though they all pretended to be otherwise occupied, their eyes continued to cut back in his direction.
Obviously, Dmitri wasn’t the only one with a bug up his ass about next week’s assignments. He’d probably been elected by the group to express their collective displeasure.
David pulled a five from his wallet and tossed it on the table. “Newbie, why don’t you go help Ruby pick out some music while Dmitri and I discuss a few things?” When Adam shot him a guarded look, he gave a curt nod of assurance. “Just make sure there’s some Stones in the mix.”
Adam snatched the five from the table and stalked off toward the jukebox. He made a point of banging shoulders with Dmitri as he passed.
“Your boy’s got more guts than brains,” Dmitri said as he watched Adam leave. The corner of his mouth tipped up a fraction before his stare cut back to David. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“And you still need to take it down a notch.” David sat back down and picked up his beer. He took a long pull from the glass before motioning toward Adam’s empty chair. “Park it,” he said with an air of authority he reserved for those special occasions when he had to crack the whip.
After a moment’s hesitation, Dmitri settled into the unoccupied seat. He still looked plenty pissed, but at least the vein on his forehead didn’t look like it was about to burst. Still scowling, he leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the edge of the table. He opened his mouth to speak, but then must have thought better of it.
“Sorry about the schedule,” David said once he was satisfied with Dmitri’s attitude adjustment. “I’m just following orders. Big Daddy wants the kid fast-tracked.”
Dmitri arched an inquisitive brow. “Why?”
“How the fuck should I know? My crystal ball isn’t working today.” Not wanting to share his earlier conversation with Samuel, David chose to go on the offensive. He pinned Dmitri with a level glare. “It’s not my place to ask. Not yours, either.”
Dmitri nodded, ceding the point. He picked up the pitcher and filled Adam’s empty mug. “How fast?”
“Two months.”
Dmitri let out a low whistle. “Sucks to be him.”
The last song from the jukebox faded out and the light samba rhythm from “Sympathy for the Devil” took its place. How appropriate.
“Tell me about it.” David raised his glass to salute Adam’s taste in Stones music. “He took his first southbound soul this afternoon.”
The news sparked a rare display of compassion from the big Russian. “I still remember my first one.” His features darkened as he pushed back in his chair, the front legs tipping off the floor. “How’d he handle it?”
“About as well as can be expected.” The waitress stopped by to see if they wanted another pitcher, and David sent her away with a wave of his hand. He topped off his mug and took a long drink. “He’ll adjust, just like everyone else.”
“True, but you might break him in the process.”
Now it was David’s turn to scowl. He’d considered the possibility but discounted the probability. After all, it wasn’t like the kid had much choice but to adapt. “He used to be a cop. He can handle it.”
“I used to kill people for a living, and I’m still not used to it,” Dmitri countered, his dark brows drawn low over troubled eyes. “Watching people die is a shitty way to make a living. And don’t feed me that line of bullshit about it not bothering you. I know better.”
“We all find ways to manage,” David said, his tone mild but his mood growing darker by the second. He didn’t need any reminders about the pros and cons of harvesting souls. The road to redemption was more like an obstacle course, littered with potholes and land mines at every turn.
Bearing witness to Death’s morbid dance was not a task for the faint of heart. Over the years, he’d witnessed every type of brutality imaginable, powerless to intervene no matter how badly he wanted to. You name it, he’d seen it: murder, torture, suicide, car crashes, and a host of atrocities he’d either blocked out or forgotten. And once the soul was harvested, he got the pleasure of experiencing it all over again through the eyes of the recently departed, the despair and desolation surging through his body like a runaway train.
Not every reaper made it to the finish line. Some lost their grip on sanity, while others simply gave up and accepted damnation. The rest found some way of dealing with the stress and strain of the job, be it drugs, sex, violence, or something else outside the boundaries of traditional coping mechanisms.
“Well, I better go.” Dmitri pushed up from his chair. He sucked down the last of his beer and set the empty glass on the table. “I have an eight fifteen down on Division. I’ll explain the situation to the others before I leave.”
David gave him a slight nod. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Wouldn’t want Ruby coming over here and planting one of her heels in my back.”
The remark earned a rare smirk from Dmitri. It was the closest he ever came to an actual smile. He glanced back at the bar, where Ruby had an arm draped around Adam. “Good luck training your puppy. You’re going to need it.”
Five days and nineteen reaps later, Boot Camp for Reapers was exceeding David’s expectations. With the increased repetition, Adam’s skills had improved dramatically. Now the kid could zero in on a pending death like a wolf scenting prey. At this rate, he’d advance to the next level of training in less than a week.
But the price of progress never came cheap. Gaunt and pale, the kid had the haunted look of a soldier who’d seen too much, too soon. He’d stopped shaving and rarely slept. And while Adam never uttered a word of complaint, the deepening shadows around his eyes spoke volumes.
David wasn’t exactly feeling like a million bucks, either. Experiencing so much death in such a condensed time frame took a toll on a man’s psyche. Especially the last one. He shuddered at the memory. Kids were always the hardest to stomach and damn near impossible to forget.
“You did good today, Newbie,” David said, sparing his apprentice a quick glance before he entered the apartment and tossed his keys on the counter.
“Thanks.” There was a hollow sound to Adam’s voice that hadn’t been there a few days before. He crossed the living room, plopped down on the couch, and kicked off his shoes. Buford jumped onto the cushion beside him, his stubby tail wagging with so much enthusiasm his whole body wriggled. For the first time in hours, Adam’s expression warmed to a smile as he scratched the dog behind the ears.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let the kid keep the stupid mutt, David thought. So what if the mangy fleabag chewed up his favorite pair of Nikes and ate the toilet paper off the roll? As long as the dog helped the kid steer clear of the funny farm, he’d deal.
One thing was for certain, though. Adam needed a little downtime before he got too crispy around the edges. Good thing tonight’s schedule was a clean slate. It wouldn’t hurt to drag the kid out to the bar and let him pound down a few drinks. Maybe score a little action. Whatever it took to smooth the sting off a long, stressful week.
David was reaching inside the fridge for a bottle of Sam Adams when his cell phone vibrated. Recognizing the number, he let it ring two more times while he twisted off the cap and took a long drag of liquid sunshine.
“What is it, Ruby?” David asked when he answered the phone, not bothering to hide the weariness in his words.
“Hello to you, too, Soldier Boy,” Ruby purred. “Sounds like somebody had a hard day.”
No shit.
“More like a hard week.” Beer in hand, he crossed the room and opened the sliding glass door, settling into the chair closest to the railing. “What do you want?”
“More like a hard week.” Beer in hand, he crossed the room and opened the sliding glass door, settling into the chair closest to the railing. “What do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something?”
David let the silence stretch out a few beats. How many years had they played this game? Thirty? Thirty-five? It used to be fun, but now it just annoyed him. Then again, almost everything irritated him nowadays. “You never call unless you want something, so you might as well spit it out.”
“You were always one to cut to the chase,” Ruby said on the heels of a husky laugh. “It would do you good to loosen up a little. You’re a lot more fun that way.”
“I’ll take it into consideration.”
“You do that,” Ruby said, her Southern accent stretching out every word. “Listen, me and the boys were wondering if Adam could come out and play tonight. I’d ask you to come along, but we both already know what your answer’s going to be.”
True, but at least he earned high marks for consistency. He’d never been much of a social butterfly, preferring a little quiet time to decompress after a long day.
“You’re working the poor boy to death,” Ruby continued. “He’s not a machine like you. You’ve got to give him a little breather before he burns out.”
He wasn’t about to argue the point. Still, he didn’t want Ruby turning the kid inside out with her own special brand of stress management.
David leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the railing. The air had begun to cool with the setting sun, bringing down the humidity and making the temperatures bearable for the first time in over a week. A familiar red Mazda swung into one of the empty parking spots and his interest perked when he recognized the person behind the wheel.
The driver’s door opened and Sarah stepped out, her arms loaded with books and bags. She closed the door with a swing of her hips and headed toward the building.
“Okay, you win,” David told Ruby as he walked back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind him. The woman had a point. Adam could use a night off. Plus, it would give him the chance to go next door and thank Sarah for her help last week when he got himself blown up. The kid had been nagging him about it for days. “Let me go ask Adam.”
He found Adam still sacked out on the couch, his bare feet resting on the coffee table. The TV remote was in one hand, and he scratched the dog’s belly with the other.
“Hey Newbie, do you—”
“Yes,” Adam said before David finished his sentence.
Sneaky little bastard had it all planned out ahead of time, David thought with a strange sense of approval. He ought to be pissed, but he had to give his crew credit for getting their ducks in a row. “Well then, I guess it’s settled.”
Ruby’s voice teemed with satisfaction. “Wonderful. We’ll pick him up in twenty minutes.”
“Just make sure you bring him back in one piece.”
He could almost hear the smile in her voice. “As you wish.”
David knocked on Sarah’s door about an hour later, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. No answer. His gaze darted down to the lot, saw the little red Mazda still parked by the mailboxes.
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