And of course, the man I adored was older than dirt—literally. My new normal was anything but.
Four—Missy was fine, or so she said. We’d laid a lot on her last night and she’d come through like a champion. I was a little worried about her and Heather’s relationship, now that Missy knew Heather had been alive for-freakin’-ever, but that was their issue to work out.
Five—Steve was doing okay. I kept expecting him to go into the light now that the path was clear, but he seemed in no hurry to move on. Secretly, it delighted me. My dead gay husband was my best friend. I knew he would eventually leave me for good, but having him here calmed me. Life was a whirlwind of change. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
“This looks like a fine spot,” Candy Vargo announced, glancing around. “Off the beaten track. No one will stumble upon us here.”
“What exactly are we going to do here?” I asked.
Candy grinned. It wasn’t a sweet grin, but then again, Candy wasn’t exactly sweet—more like batshit crazy. “You’ll see.”
“That’s enough, Candy,” Gideon said sharply. “Everyone spread out. Daisy, stay with me.”
An anxious feeling coursed through my body and made my stomach tighten. With each frigid breath, I was unsure if I wanted to laugh, cry, scream, or peel my skin off. I was worried about everyone—including me right now. My emotions ran amok. Lack of caffeine wasn’t helping. Running ten miles would be a good plan. Instead, I was standing in the middle of an empty field wondering if I was going to be alive an hour from now.
“I want you to hit me. Hard,” Gideon directed, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it to the ground.
Squinting at the man I loved, I laughed. The sound was tinny to my ear, but laughing was far better than dropping a string of profanities. I was Southern. Even after all that had gone down, I had a few manners left. “You’re kidding me.”
“He’s not,” Candy Vargo yelled from about twenty yards away, also taking off her winter coat and tossing it aside. Candy, the hot mess, was also known as Karma—the controller of fate. And my fate wasn’t looking too good at the moment. “After you nail Gideon, you’re gonna have a go at me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll take a pass,” I muttered, wondering if everyone had lost their minds. They were Immortal. I was not. I could see ghosts, dive into their minds and help them move on. Yes, I was coming into some bizarre and disturbing powers from the mind diving, but that didn’t mean I would survive an Immortal smackdown. Four Immortals to one human Death Counselor were not good odds, even though I knew no one present would off me on purpose.
Candy began doing jumping jacks and cackling like the insane nutjob that she was. Tim, my socially awkward, vibrator-rehoming buddy, was stretching and grinning. He was my local mailman and the Immortal Courier between the Darkness and the Light. He also believed that sex toys were immoral and refused to deliver them. We’d had a serious discussion about that one and he was trying to change his ways. And Charlie, the Immortal Enforcer who was married to one of my dearest human friends, June, cracked his knuckles and gave me the stink eye. Charlie was one of the sweetest people I knew—but not so much at the moment.
Before I’d even had my morning iced coffee with a healthy squirt of chocolate syrup, I’d been led to Gideon’s car and driven to the acres of gorgeous land he’d purchased for us to build a home on.
And now, apparently, I was supposed to punch all of my friends while avoiding death.
“Tell me this is a joke,” I pleaded with Gideon, who had not only removed his coat but his shirt as well.
He was half naked in thirty-degree weather. It was incredibly distracting. The man was otherworldly beautiful. The icy wind ruffled his blond hair, but the cold didn’t seem to affect his Adonis-like body… even though both the wind and his body were affecting me. Gideon was the Grim Reaper. I certainly know how to pick them.
“Not a joke, Daisy,” he said with a wink and a grin. His gray-blue eyes caught the morning sunlight and literally sparkled. “You need to be trained. While you can escape my embrace—which is impossible—I need to feel confident you can defend yourself if Clarissa comes for you.”
“I broke her nose,” I reminded him, trying in vain to keep my eyes on his face instead of his abs. “And clearly, it’s not impossible to escape your hold since I was able to do it.”
“Not what he means. Although, escaping death’s embrace is quite impressive,” Tim said, jogging over. “Just goes to show you everything is possible. I am becoming quite the social butterfly.”
“Yes, you are,” I said, biting on my bottom lip so I wouldn’t laugh.
I’d been including Tim and Candy Vargo when I got together with my girlfriends. Tim was frighteningly socially inept, but my friends were kind and welcoming. Candy was a disaster, but she was in desperate need of friends. Tim had connected with my buddy Jennifer, who knew more gross facts than he did. It was wildly unappetizing to spend too much time with the new dynamic duo of useless information. Add Candy to the equation and it was a regular gag fest.
Tim blushed and gave me a thumbs up. “Lean on the tree, Daisy.”
“Why?” I asked, wondering if I took off running if they could catch me. I was absurdly fast.
Running away would be ridiculous with all that was at stake, but getting my butt handed to me by the man I loved and my friends seemed extremely counterproductive.
“I’m going to stretch you,” he replied as if that was normal. “Not good to engage with those who can kill you ten times over if your muscles are tight.”
“Umm… that’s not exactly encouraging,” I grumbled, walking over to the tree and waiting to be stretched.
“Just joshing with you.” Tim squatted down and grabbed my left foot with both hands. “We have no intention of killing you. In fact, I’m not sure it could be accomplished even if we were of the mind to do so… which we’re not.”
“Good to know.” I shook my head and quickly took stock of my life before I lost it.
A few months ago, I was blissfully unaware of the Immortal world living among us. I was simply a forty-year-old widow heading for menopause and scraping by on a paralegal’s salary. Now, I had a houseful of deceased roommates who had grown on me to the point of ridiculousness. In my passed-on posse was my dead gay husband, Steve, and my beloved Gram. And now my mother. My father was an Archangel, and my boyfriend was the Grim Reaper. During some kind of farked-up Angel experiment using my father’s DNA, Heather had been created, making her my sister. That wasn’t all bad since I adored her, but it was certainly odd.
However, the rancid icing on the deadly cake was Clarissa. During my four decades on earth, I’d never hated anyone. There were those I didn’t care for, but hate wasn’t in my vocabulary… until now. Clarissa, the Angel of Mercy—an oxymoron if there ever was one—was the object of my red-hot rage and hatred. She’d caused Steve’s death to get back at me for being my father’s daughter. She’d implanted lies in Gram’s mind that could possibly destroy her afterlife. All of that was worthy of my hatred alone. But she’d killed my mother in cold blood—with her bare hands.