Better Off Dead: The Lily Harper Series, Book 1

  In an instant, Tallis was beside me, wielding his sword against Kipur’s neck, severing the clown’s head in the same way as Ragur’s. Kipur’s body collapsed into a solid heap. There was so much black blood, it looked as if we were standing in the midst of an oil spill. I felt myself panting as my sword dropped onto the ground. Whatever magic possessed it for that instant was now gone. I picked my sword up and held it close to me, realizing it had just saved my life.

  No, Tallis saved your life.

  I looked up into Tallis’s eyes, only to find they were already leveled on me.

  “Collect th’ heads,” he called from the corner of his mouth, his eyes still firmly planted on mine. Whether he addressed Bill or Sherita, I had no clue. He continued to hold my gaze, but said nothing.

  “I think I just shat myself, yoze!” Bill called out from behind me.

  ***

  We left the Underground City without further ado. The watchers continued walking this way and that, some studying us while others showed less interest. It was pretty safe to say that the “master” would soon find out he was down two employees.

  Once we passed the double gates to the city and were deeply ensconced in the skeleton-tree forest, I figured it was safe to talk. “What’s going to happen with Ragur and Kipur?” I asked Tallis, who walked in front of Bill and me, with Sherita at his side.

  “Ah doona ken.” He didn’t slow his pace, but answered over his shoulder.

  “Well, isn’t this ‘master’ you were talking about going to find out that Ragur and Kipur are dead?” I persisted.

  “Aye.”

  Sherita glanced back at me. “The master of the Underground City’s name is Alaire. He will take it up with AfterLife Enterprises, so don’t be surprised if they contact you. They’ll want to write everything up, get your side of the story … you know how it goes.”

  “Like filing an accident report?” I asked.

  Bill chuckled. “Yeah, something like: Hiya, Skeletor, so on our trip to the Underground City, which coincidentally, is a great vacation spot—I’d like to raise my kids there—Conan accidentally dismembered two ugly-as-fuck clowns. But, wait, it gets better! Then he decided to keep their heads for souvenirs.”

  Sherita laughed at the same time that she nodded with a sigh. “Yep, something like that.”

  “Will you get into trouble, Tallis?” I asked, suddenly concerned that maybe AfterLife Enterprises wouldn’t take kindly to the situation.

  Tallis shook his head. “Ah doona care.”

  Silence descended again as we made our way through the burnt-out forest. I walked directly behind Tallis, still trying to ignore the demon skull smiling down at me. Instead, I rested my gaze on Sherita’s tall, willow-like form. I didn’t really know what to make of her. It was obvious that Tallis and she had some sort of relationship. I didn’t know that I would have called it a friendship, but as we continued to work our way through the forest, they seemed rather chummy.

  After walking another three hours or so, my legs, calves and butt well beyond sore, we made camp in a large clearing. Tallis busily removed his backpack and shield. He’d put the heads of Ragur and Kipur inside the pack and now pulled them out, carefully placing one on the west side of our clearing, and one on the east. Then he set the grinning demon skull at the southernmost point.

  “Is this your idea of decorating, Conan?” Bill asked, while eyeing the heads with obvious unease. “’Cause if it is, it’s pretty much totally messed up. I mean, none of us wants to stare at either of those clown’s mugs, especially that one.” Frowning, he pointed at Ragur’s head, the tongue of which still hung limply from its mouth.

  Leveling a raised brow at Bill, Tallis shook his head. “Prootection,” he answered simply.

  “What is it with you?” Bill continued, throwing his hands into the air as if in exasperation. “Does it cost you money every time you say a word or something?”

  Sherita laughed and faced Bill from where she collected kindling. “The bladesmith is a man of very few words.”

  “You’re tellin’ me, shit,” Bill muttered. “’Course, whenever he says anything more than ‘aye’ or ‘nae,’ I can’t flippin’ understand him anyway, so maybe it’s a good thing.”

  “There is that,” Sherita agreed with an armful of kindling that she set beside me. Tallis pulled out my fireboard from his pack and handed it to me. I hadn’t even realized he’d kept it, but was grateful since we wouldn’t have to make another one. I tried to ignore the black stains on one side of the board, which had to be from one or both of the bloody heads.

  “Okay, so what’s a hot babe like you doin’ with Mr. I Have A Shitty Personality, anyway?” Bill demanded as he approached Sherita and watched her collect branches.

  “If you’re going to pick up on me, the least you can do is help,” she said, motioning to the mound of branches she’d collected while hiding a little smirk.

  “Oh, sorry,” Bill said, almost sputtering. He bent down to retrieve a nearby stick that looked as if it had rolled away from her pile. He replaced it on the top of the pile before taking a seat, and making cow eyes at Sherita as she continued her task. “So tell me about you and Conan,” he continued.

  “Thanks for the generous contribution,” she said, frowning at the small branch he’d placed on top of her pile.

  “Don’t mention it,” Bill said, apparently unaware of her sarcasm.

  When Sherita glanced at me, I just shrugged. Then she looked over at Tallis, who pretended like he wasn’t paying any attention to our conversation. Who knew? Maybe he wasn’t.

  “Black and I go way back,” she started. She dropped the last branch on top of another pile beside me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “That’s enough.”

  She nodded, wiping the dirt and dust off her hands and onto her jeans before facing Bill again. “I met ‘Conan’ when I started working as a Retriever, years ago.”

  “How long have you been a Retriever?” I asked, taking a break from my fire-making duties.

  She shrugged. “I think it’s probably going on twelve years now.”

  “How did you become one?” I continued, so relieved to finally have found someone who might shed some light on my new career path.

  “I was killed in combat,” she started.

  “Combat?” Bill repeated, sidling closer to her as she frowned at him. He was so ridiculously obvious! Yep, he and I would definitely have a conversation once we were safely back in Edinburgh. Bill needed schooling on how to treat a woman.

  “I was a Marine,” she continued. “I was deployed to Afghanistan and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when our tank blew.” She sighed as she remembered the particulars. “So, I died; and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in an office, facing Jason Streethorn.” She glanced at me and shrugged. “That was my introduction to AfterLife Enterprises.”

  “So you met Jason too?” I asked, surprised.

  “We all get ta meet the arch douche,” Bill interrupted, no doubt trying to impress Sherita with his lingo, as he called it.

  “All Retrievers do,” she answered me. “He’s the only one who decides whether or not to give us the option of becoming Retrievers.”

  I thought about asking her if she chose a new body and all that stuff, but then decided maybe I shouldn’t. It could have been that she was touchy about that sort of thing. For myself, I still hadn’t really accepted the body I’d chosen. Even though I was becoming more comfortable with the new me as the days went by, ‘I’ still felt foreign. It was an incredible relief, though, to discover that Sherita, too, had undergone something very similar to what happened to me, and that I wasn’t alone. I could only wonder at what she used to look like.

  “So why did Jason offer you the chance to become a Retriever?” Sherita asked me. It was plainly clear she saw a huge disconnect somewhere because I obviously couldn’t fight.

  “Because I wasn’t supposed to die when I did,” I said, careful not to glance at Bill. I fi
gured I should let bygones be bygones and forgive him for the past. There was really no use harping on it. Plus, I had to admit it seemed like Bill was really trying to do a better job of guarding me now.

  Forgiveness is the virtue of the brave, I repeated Gandhi’s words to myself, pleased that I could find virtue and bravery in myself.

  “So to Jason, offering you the chance to become a Retriever was just a consolation prize?” Sherita asked, her eyebrows raised.

  “I guess so,” I answered with a shrug.

  “Hmm, doesn’t sound like much of a prize to me,” Sherita continued, shaking her head. “Sometimes I think I should have just let things happen the way they did.” I figured that meant she should have been allowed to die. I didn’t really know what to say to that so I didn’t say anything at all.

  ***

  After another two hours, Sherita and Tallis managed to kill something in the forest. Not only did I not know the species of said kill, I also didn’t want to find out. We barbequed it over the open flame of the fire I’d built. After everyone ate their fill, Tallis announced we should get some sleep. He took it upon himself to assume the role of first watch.

  We all huddled around the fire for a few minutes until Bill’s loud snoring sounded through the night sky. I sighed and rolled from my right side to my left, still uncomfortable. I couldn’t fall asleep even though I was well beyond exhausted. I looked at Sherita, to find her in a fetal position, facing the fire with her hands neatly folded beneath her cheek. She appeared to be happily in repose. I rolled onto my back and sighed again.

  “Lass, ye air makin’ me ooneasy,” Tallis said in a soft voice.

  I sat up and huffed out in frustration. “I just can’t sleep.”

  He nodded as if he weren’t surprised. “Sae talk ta meh.”

  I was taken aback and raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “Um, what do you want to talk about?”

  Tallis smiled at me; why? I wasn’t sure. “Kipur gae ye ah scaur?”

  I nodded, not wanting to remember exactly how close I came to having my windpipe ripped out. “Yeah, you could say that.” I took a deep breath when something crossed my mind. “My sword,” I started.

  “Aye?”

  “It moved on its own like you … like you were controlling it.”

  He nodded smugly. “Aye, Ah was.”

  “Because it had your blood on it?”

  He laughed. “Ye ur quick, lass, Ah’ll gie ye that.”

  “Tallis, thank you,” I said immediately. I knew full well that my gratitude was meaningless to him, but I had to let him understand how appreciative I was all the same. “Without you, I would have died.”

  The smile dropped off his lips, but he held my gaze. “Yoo’re welcoome, Besom.”

  “I will pay you the money I owe you as soon as I get back to my apartment in Edinburgh,” I continued. I certainly didn’t want him to think I’d skip out on my promises. “I still need to figure out the particulars with my bank account.”

  “Ah am nae in ah roosh, lass,” he said. “Take yer time.”

  “One other thing,” I started, watching his lips curl up with a slight smile. Suddenly, it struck me that in the past few days, he’d smiled way more than he had in the first few days of our acquaintance. Could it be that Bill and I were growing on him?

  “Aye?”

  “Um, could you maybe give me the final tally of what I owe you?” I asked with a laugh. “I sort of lost track.”

  He nodded, chuckling. “Aye, if ye gie meh yer address, Ah’ll send ye an invoice.”

  I studied him for a second or two before I realized he was joking. “Good one.”

  “… silent is the wind, as it is now.”

  — Dante’s Inferno

  SIXTEEN

  Two Weeks Later

  “What about these, Lil?” Bill asked. He pulled out two pillows from a cardboard box, one of many boxes that had just been delivered. Both the pillows were covered with plastic wrap. I’d ordered the pillows as well as the contents of my entire house from a nearby furniture store and today happened to be the delivery day.

  “Um, both of those go on the couch,” I said, admiring the floral pattern on the brown pillows.

  “’Kay,” Bill said, throwing them onto the sofa. Opening the next box, he fished inside, extracting four sepia-toned prints of flowers, framed in off-white frames. “What about this super girlie ass shit?”

  I laughed, pointing to the bathroom just off the master bedroom, my bedroom. “Those go over the tub, but we’ll have to hang them later. You can just lean them against the wall for now.” I watched him nod and disappear into the bathroom, re-emerging empty-handed.

  “They kinda go with the brown wall we painted,” he commented. “Excuse me, the brown wall I painted.”

  “You mean the brown wall you painted and the same brown wall I repainted?”

  Bill grinned from ear to ear, looking like a little kid. “Yep, that one!”

  We’d spent the entire last week painting the inside of the apartment, no easy feat considering it was a sprawling two-bedroom, two-bathroom, plus an office. And when I say sprawling, I mean sprawling! The living room alone was bigger than my entire apartment back in Colorado Springs. And the U-shaped kitchen was large enough to encompass an extra wide island. Bill and I painted most of the rooms in earth tones, although Bill did insist we paint the guest bedroom bright red. He had a vested interest in it.

  “Where the hell is all the shit I ordered?” Bill asked impatiently, throwing his arms up into the air in disappointment. He’d just unpacked another box that contained two wheat-colored chairs I’d selected for the area at the foot of my bed, just in front of the windows that overlooked the meadows below.

  “Just keep unpacking,” I answered, glancing around at the myriad boxes now littering the entire living room and kitchen. “Your stuff is in there somewhere.”

  Yes, Bill was moving in. Even though we only broached the subject a few weeks ago, during our first meeting, and both of us abhorred the idea at the time, now the comfort of having a roommate was growing on me. After returning from the Underground City, Bill and I had to stay in a hotel while awaiting the delivery of our new furniture. During our entire stay at the hotel, I was tormented by nightmares. At the time, I realized the last thing I wanted, much less needed, was to live alone. I asked Bill what he thought about becoming roomies … at least temporarily, and his immediate consent gave me a sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t the only one suffering night terrors.

  So, here we were, organizing our new home and both genuinely grateful for the other’s company.

  “Dude, the neighbor’s dog left another yard bomb on our side,” Bill complained as he peered through the living room window at our plot of garden in the backyard.

  “Bill, we have more important things to worry about,” I reprimanded him. “Like unpacking all of this stuff. Can you empty that box right there?” I asked, pointing to a large one beside him.

  He sighed, using a box cutter to open it and exhaled much more dramatically when the open box revealed a wooden entertainment center I’d ordered for my bedroom. “Seriously, Lil, I think they forgot all my shit!”

  I sighed and nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe they sold it to the next customer who walked in, just to tick you off.”

  Bill narrowed his eyes and began chewing on his lower lip. “You think?” he asked me seriously.

  I broke into a laugh and shook my head, busying myself with putting the sheets I’d just unpacked on the table beside me, where I was piling the rest of the bedroom stuff so I could make one trip of it.

  Shifting another big box next to him, Bill glanced down at his bicep and smiled at it, flexing a few times before turning to show me. “Check this out, Angel Billy’s got some mean ol’ biceps goin’.”

  “Nice, Bill,” I answered absentmindedly. Truth be told, I couldn’t see even the hint of a bicep muscle in his fleshy arm.

  “’Course, maybe it’s not from lifting a
ll this shit,” he continued, more to himself than me, as he frowned at his arm. “Could just be masturbatone.”

  “God, Bill!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands on my hips as I gave him an irritated expression. “Why do you have to be so gross!”

  “Okay, okay … Sheesh.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Excuse the hell outta me for bein’ born.” Then he rubbed his stomach as it noisily growled. “I gotta eat somethin’. How ’bout I go and pick us up some takeout?”

  I nodded, considering it would get him out of my hair for a little while so I could actually concentrate on unloading all the boxes. “Sounds good.”

  “’Kay, butter nipples,” Bill said as he started for the door. Upon exiting, he reached over to turn on the radio-CD player that we’d set up over an hour ago. “I’ll bee bock,” he finished in a terrible rendition of Arnold Schwarzenegger, before opening and closing the door behind him.

  “I Love It” by Icona Pop filled my living room and I found myself immediately swaying to the beat as I pulled a full-length mirror out of its cardboard box, accidentally spilling Styrofoam peanuts all over the floor. I leaned the mirror against the wall and caught my reflection.

  I couldn’t help my smile as I beheld the beautiful image staring back at me. Dressed in hip-hugger jeans and a white singlet, my body was everything I ever wished my old one could have been. And even though my dark red hair was pulled up into an untidy ponytail, my face was in a word—lovely.

  “I’m beautiful,” I whispered to my reflection as I ran my hands down my cheeks, staring at the girl looking back at me. Two words I’d never dared say before, and two words which felt amazing to say.

  I don’t care! I love it! Hearing the words spilling out of the radio, I was suddenly overcome with absolute happiness. There was just so much to be grateful for—surviving the Underground City, moving into this beautiful apartment, Bill … yes, I had to admit I was thankful for my basically incompetent guardian angel. Bill just had a way about him that allowed me to forget all my worries and concerns whenever I was around him.