Seventh Grave and No Body

  I kissed his cheek, whispered one teensy word in Latin, then stood back and let the others take turns wishing him a speedy recovery. His cheeks flushed instantly, his pallor returning to health as he gave me a sideways, suspicious glance. I didn’t think I healed him completely. Just enough to ease the pain and mend his innards. Just enough to make what I was about to ask him tolerable.

  We spoke a few minutes more before we were all ordered out. “I have one quick favor to ask,” I said before we got run out completely.

  “Anything, pumpkin,” he said, his gaze glassy with a morphine haze.

  Now was certainly not the best time, but I explained our situation to a room full of smiles, and thirty minutes later we were standing beside Uncle Bob’s bed in ICU again, this time with a more matrimonial purpose.

  Cook fetched Amber while Reyes and I ran to the apartment for the license and a couple of other trinkets. I’d insisted on being de-cuffed so I could clean up my face, brush the grass out of my hair, and throw on a white cocktail dress with silver slingbacks. Reyes donned a black dinner jacket and a gray tie. He’d shaved and tried to slick back his hair, but the dark locks fell over his forehead anyway. When he strolled into my apartment, he left me speechless – me! – and we almost didn’t make it back to the hospital.

  But Cookie and Amber insisted as Gemma fussed over my hair, pinning pieces here and there back with baby’s breath–covered bobby pins and trying to hide the onset of tears.

  “All my plans,” she said, devastated that I’d ruined her big wedding plans.

  Score!

  Nurses and a couple of doctors had gathered outside, most likely because of the bizarreness of the situation more than for the romance, as Judge “Iron Fist” Quimby married us. Uncle Bob gave me away from his hospital bed, insisting that under no circumstances could Reyes give me back, while Cookie and Gemma stood beside me.

  Reyes had to ask Garrett and Osh to stand with him, which was so ironic, it was unreal. He’d started out disliking both, and now they served as groomsmen to witness our journey into wedded bliss. I tried Dad one last time before the ceremony began, to no avail. I didn’t bother calling Denise. I could surprise her with an announcement of my nuptials next time we met, though hopefully that would be in hell.

  Despite the harried situation, despite the cramped room and sterile atmosphere, butterflies attacked the lining of my stomach, and my heart doubled in size as I looked at Reyes.

  I was marrying him.

  Him.

  The man of my dreams was about to be mine, forever and ever, amen.

  The words spoken by the judge slipped in and out of my consciousness, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute. I was about to be a married woman with a baby on the way. And I’d never been happier. Domestic bliss had never been part of my plan, but apparently someone had other ideas. If, that was, we survived the Twelve.

  “May I have the rings?” Judge Quimby asked, and Garrett presented rings we’d each secretly given him.

  Mine for Reyes was a simple band with both gold and silver woven together. In my mind it represented the two of us and how our lives had been woven together since birth. I went first, speaking the traditional vows that for the first time in my life really meant something. They were no longer just words, but a true testament to the commitment I was making to the man I loved.

  He stood straight and proud, but when I went to slip the ring on his finger, I felt the smallest tremble, as though he was just as stunned as I. And hopefully just as honored.

  Then it was his turn. He took the ring he’d been saving and slipped it partway on my finger, holding it there while he repeated his vows. I was so busy staring at him, waiting for those two words that would make him mine, that I didn’t notice the ring until he said, “I do,” and finished sliding it onto my finger. Then I gasped. I looked up at him, then back down at the gorgeous work of art that rested on my hand.

  “Reyes,” I whispered, “it’s gorgeous.”

  Two perfectly matched dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. “It matches your eyes.”

  The amber gem that sat in a flurry of gold waves looked like fire, and indeed, the gem was the color of my irises. “What is it?” I asked him.

  “It’s called an orange diamond.”

  I looked up. “Where did you get it?”

  He leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “From hell.”

  I stilled, completely taken aback.

  “It’s from where I was born, deep in the hottest part of what you call Hades. Not many people know this, but we have the best diamonds there. Lots of heat. Lots of pressure. Perfect conditions.”

  The judge spoke about commitment and not allowing men to put us under – under what, I had no idea – while we spoke softly. “Why would you do that? Why would you risk a trip back there, Reyes?”

  “I got in and out with no one the wiser. And the look on your face was worth it.”

  I wiped all expression from my face, then examined the ring again. I didn’t know what to say. Before I could say anything, Reyes pulled me into his arms and kissed me, his lips scalding against mine. A thrill ran from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. We were no longer affianced. We were the real deal, baby, in a state of wedded bliss. I was so putting this on Friendbook.

  Amber sighed aloud and the room erupted in laughter and applause. But only for a minute before the charge nurse shushed us with a stellar death glare. Then she smiled brightly and I wondered if she was normally on medication.

  “We bought a cake,” she said, bringing in an ice cream cake that was clearly meant for a child’s birthday party. It was beyond perfect.

  We stood around eating frozen cake and drinking ginger ale from cone-shaped cups as Uncle Bob told stories from my childhood, doing his darnedest to embarrass me. We didn’t have much time before we had to get home and pack. Apparently, Osh had a place set up, an abandoned convent in the Jemez Mountains that had been built on Native American sacred ground: double whammy.

  I gazed lovingly at my ring again. “A diamond from hell. Who would have guessed?”

  “I helped pick out the setting,” Gemma said, clearly missing what I’d said, as she spoke from a few feet away.

  “Me, too!” The corners of Amber’s smile almost reached her ears.

  “The gold is very special, too.” I looked back at Reyes.

  “And where is it from? The gates of heaven?”

  He grinned. “Yes, but I’m not allowed in. I had to have it sent over by courier.”

  I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. About any of it. But I didn’t care. I was married.

  No.

  I looked up at him. We were married. And knocked up. Did life get any better?

  I grabbed the gift bag – aka a Walmart shopping bag – I’d brought from home and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?” he asked, squinting in suspicion at me.

  “It’s your wedding present.” I grew excited as he opened the bag and took out the T-shirt I’d bought him.

  He read it aloud: “‘I don’t need Google. My wife knows everything.’”

  I giggled like a mental patient as Reyes bent to plant a kiss just below my ear.

  “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

  “And I can’t believe I don’t get to call you my affianced anymore. I really like that word.”

  He laughed softly, then scanned the room. But the longer we stood there, the more distant he became. He put the T-shirt back in the bag, pretending to be happy, and my heart lurched in alarm. Was he regretting marrying me already? It’d been only ten minutes. If so, we were in a lot of trouble.

  I took him aside as Ubie told the story of how I got the scar along my hairline – which was totally his fault for leaving a chain saw next to a stuffed raccoon in the first place. What child wouldn’t want a piece of that?

  “Okay, what gives? This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. You’re not letting the fact that you are being hel
d together by duct tape get you down, are you?”

  He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite solidify. “I have to tell you your name now.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I promised you. I just —” He shook his head. “I just don’t know what will happen once you know it.”

  “That’s right,” I said remembering. “You promised to tell me my celestial name on our wedding day.”

  “I did.”

  “Don’t do it,” Osh said, coming up beside us. He was glaring at Reyes. “We aren’t sure what will happen once she knows it. We don’t know what will happen to Beep.”

  Reyes glared back. “I promised, Daeva. I keep my word.”

  But his promise was causing him distress. As much as I wanted to know my celestial name, it could wait. There were much more important things at the moment. I took his hands into mine. “Tell me later,” I said. “We have the rest of our lives, Rey’aziel. It can wait.”

  Relief flooded him so completely, I almost laughed out loud. Sometimes he was like a kid. A tall, sexy, lethally dangerous kid who struck fear in the hearts of supernatural entities everywhere, but a kid nonetheless.

  That seemed to satisfy Osh. He went to talk to the judge as she ate ice cream cake. I grew worried for her soul. The kid was a silver-tongued devil, and everyone – everyone – wanted something bad enough to risk his or her soul. But he’d promised to be a good boy and sup only on the souls of bad guys. He’d darned sure better keep that promise or he was going back to hell sooner than he’d planned.

  The captain came in and reported that they had found a gold mine of evidence against Sylvia Starr at her house. A diary from the trial, pictures, notes she’d written to Reyes while he was in prison, along with a shrine. Reyes inspired shrines a lot. It was weird. And the evidence was enough to corroborate Uncle Bob’s story. As far as the captain was concerned, the case was closed, and I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

  A short while later, we said our good-byes. I kissed Uncle Bob all over his face until he blushed a brilliant red before we headed back to our respective homes. Osh was going to meet us at our place once he was packed. We had an hour. I was never the best packer. I inevitably forgot underwear or toothpaste or both. Thankfully, Reyes promised to help as soon as he was finished.

  He went to his apartment and I went to mine even though we had no wall between our bedrooms. I’d hurried into my bathroom to scoop my toiletries into my overnight bag, wondering if I would need my Clorox Magic ToiletWand, when Jessica popped in.

  She stood back, biting her lower lip as she waited for me to acknowledge her. After a solid two minutes of silence, she caved. “I just wanted you to know, I always felt guilty about everything that happened between us in high school.”

  “Yeah, I could tell,” I said, testing a particular shade of lipstick on my wrist. Was it wrong to wear bright red lipstick in a convent? I just didn’t know how to dress for this.

  “You have no idea how shallow and self-centered I can be.”

  “Yes, I do. Trust me.” Maybe I should stick to pinks.

  “But none of that matters anymore. I’m so glad I died,” she said, and I stopped. Turned toward her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I hadn’t died, I would never have even thought to go to you for help when my nephew was hit. I’m so grateful for what you did, Charley.”

  “I didn’t do anything, Jessica. You don’t owe me anything.”

  The fact that she was okay with giving up her life if it meant saving her nephew spoke volumes to me, almost enough to drown out the nasally whine in her voice as she turned to me and said, “I owe you everything, Charley. I will never forget this. To pay you back, I’m going to stay with Rocket, Strawberry, and Blue. I’m going to do the right thing and leave because I’m —” She lowered her head, then whispered, “I’m in love with your fiancé.”

  “Reyes?” I asked, stunned.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Growing possessive, I said, “As of tonight, he’s my husband.”

  Her head snapped up. “Already?” she asked, her face ashen and forlorn.

  “Just like that.”

  “Then I’ll leave.”

  I fought my innate desire to do a fist pump. “That’s probably best.”

  “Because, really, I’m completely, unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with him.”

  “Okay, Bella. You need to find your own man, now. Capisce?”

  “I did find my own man, remember? Freddy James? And someone took him from me.”

  Crap. The guy I’d lost my virginity to, and all to get back at a shallow, self-centered – she’d nailed the descriptors – freshman whom I’d called best friend for years before she did a 180 on me. Still…

  “And I’m glad I did,” I said, trying to sound sincere and not hurtful.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you suck because of it.”

  “No, Jessica, what I’m trying to say is that… Freddy wasn’t very nice. In the long run. I’m glad you were spared his issues.”

  “Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “Well, then, I’m sorry you had to find out the hard way.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  “So, he’s really married?” she asked, her voice turning whiny again. “Like forever?”

  “Go,” I ordered, pointing toward the door.

  She disappeared. Hopefully for a very long time.

  Before I made it back to my bedroom, a harried Rocket popped in. Apparently, my visiting hours had changed. I’d have to post a sign.

  “Rocket Man!” I said, surprised as I waited for him to adjust. He didn’t get out of the asylum much, and the last time I’d left him, I was being attacked by an angry hellhound.

  He blinked, orienting to his new surroundings before giving me his attention. His pudgy face and bald head glowed in the low light of my living room.

  When he finally focused on me, he crossed his arms over his chest. “No breaking rules, Miss Charlotte.”

  Here we go. “I know, hon.” I put a hand on his shoulder. He would never have come here if he weren’t distressed. “What rule did I break?”

  “All of them!” He threw his arms in the air, completely disappointed in me.

  Damn my disdain of rules.

  “I had to erase, Miss Charlotte. Three names.” He held up three pudgy fingers. “Three. One, two, three. Three.”

  I frowned in confusion. “You had to erase? You mean you had to take names off your wall?” Hope engulfed me. “Was one of them mine?”

  “No. You already died.”

  I did die. I did die! Wow. I knew I saw an angel. A real one with a quizzical brow. Odd, that.

  Reyes appeared beside me, framed by the door to my bedroom as Rocket scolded me. I looked at him, and Betty White overflowed with joy. I’d died, so I could cross that off my to-do list. Next up: honeymoon.

  “Not you,” Rocket continued. “The others.”

  “Okay, well, now that that’s cleared up.” I patted his shoulder to encourage him to leave.

  “The ones in the hospital. Heaven is so mad.”

  I stopped as a sickly kind of dread crept up my spine. “What do you mean, ‘heaven is mad’?”

  “It was their time. You can’t just do that. You can’t just save people for no reason. I had to erase!” he shouted, reiterating his original point, the one that seemed to be at the fore of his misgivings.

  My curiosity of how he would erase names he scored into a plaster wall notwithstanding, I steered the conversation back to heaven. “Rocket, heaven. What’s up in heaven?”

  “Chaos!” He flailed his arms again. “They are very upset that I had to eeeeeee-rase!”

  He was apparently not into erasing. “I’m sorry, Rocket,” I said, giving Reyes a worried glance.

  He lowered his head, and his mood hit me. It was somber once again.

  “And just so you know, great. I have to go erase another one. No more touching hospitals. That
’s cheating. Michael says so.”

  “Michael?”

  “The archangel.”

  “The archangel?” I asked, knowing who Michael was but a little surprised he’d been brought into the conversation.

  “He’s only the biggest archangel ever.”

  He’d been hanging around Strawberry way too long. Her attitude was rubbing off. “No, I know who Michael is, but —”

  “Miss Charlotte, I have to go erase.”

  Before I could stop him, he vanished, and I stood gaping at Reyes. “Did I really piss off an archangel?” When he didn’t answer, I strolled past him into my room. “That can’t be good. That cannot, in any way, shape, or form, be good.”

  I grabbed an armful of clothes out of my closet and turned, first spotting Reyes, his head inclined, his gaze averted, then spotting my dad.

  “Dad!” I yelled, tripping over an evening gown I doubted I would need in an abandoned convent, but one could never be too prepared.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. He was in front of my window, silhouetted by the streetlight outside, his hands in his pockets.

  Ecstatic, I dropped the clothes on my bed before a ripple of disbelief hit me. I straightened and paused, curling my fingers into the pile of clothes in front of me.

  “You should get that,” he said, and only then did I realize the phone in my pocket was ringing.

  Consumed with disbelief, I dug it out and slid the bar over.

  “Ms. Davidson?” It was Captain Eckert, his voice low and formal.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “We checked out that address your uncle gave us. The one with the storage unit you found in your father’s hotel room.”

  “Yes,” I said again, dread rising from the floor and drowning me.