The Trouble With Twelfth Grave

  “Your apologies? What did you do now?”

  “Disobeyed a direct order.”

  “Will she arrest you?”

  “There is a strong likelihood, yes. Let her know I need Joplin to get the part about Elena killing her brother. The rest she can keep under wraps. Oh, and don’t be surprised if she raids the place and confiscates the recording.”

  “I never am.”

  “How much do you think a cab back to Albuquerque would cost?”

  “It would be cheaper just to buy a new car. Something cool. Like a Porsche.”

  Now, there was an idea.

  * * *

  An hour later, thanks to LoJack, Cookie found Misery. In Mexico. Most likely with the keys in the ignition, inviting grand theft auto.

  I Ubered it to Juarez, which is apparently much easier than Ubering it out of Juarez. It took me a while to explain to the driver, who’d picked me up in the middle of nowhere wearing a little black dress, ankle-high boots, and a lot of dirt why I needed to hide in his trunk, but my passport and other paraphernalia were in my purse in the very Jeep I was headed toward.

  At least it was if they didn’t take it, but since the whole point was to prove I’d gone to Mexico and gotten myself dragged off and killed, never to be seen again, it would’ve been stupid for them not to leave it.

  I promised him a huge tip, as in four figures, if he’d let me rest in his trunk. He was worried we’d get caught, but I assured him we wouldn’t. If they did happen to open the trunk, which was unlikely, I’d just shift onto the celestial plane. I’d vanish.

  He totally didn’t believe me, though. Not the part where it was unlikely they would open the trunk but the part where I could shift onto the celestial plane and become Invisigirl. Strange how nobody believed that shit.

  My other choice was, of course, to shift and go across incorporeally, but I still didn’t trust the whole teleportation thing. I once had a nightmare where I’d shifted and tried to go on vacation in Ireland, only to materialize in the center of the sun. Probably because I had a nuclear-powered furnace asleep beside me.

  On the plus side, I’d get a great tan.

  We found Misery sitting alone on a dusty street with more than one hungry pair of eyes watching her. Just in case someone on Elena’s payroll was still there, I paid a ten-year-old girl to steal it for me.

  She picked me up a few blocks away, and I paid her and the driver, then headed back across the border, thankful I kept a hidden stash underneath Idris, my driver’s seat. A hidden stash that contained my passport, five thousand in cash, and a travel-sized box of Cheez-Its.

  Once I crossed the border, I called Cookie.

  “So?” she asked.

  “I got her back. It was a teary reunion. I told her never to do that to me again. Then I did that thing where I slapped her, then pulled her into my arms and cried. I think the Uber driver is scared of me.”

  “Charley, you are going to be the death of me.”

  “Sadly, you could be right. How are things on the home front? Any more attacks?”

  “Not that we know of. Robert is going to call if he hears anything. Garrett’s at Pari’s, and Osh is at the hospital watching over Nicolette.”

  “Perfect. Oh,” I said, remembering my mission. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She had no idea what I meant, but she soon would.

  “Wait for it…”

  “I’m breathless with anticipation.”

  “Pico and De Gallo.”

  I waited, so proud of my creative mind, it was unreal.

  “Okay, I like it, but which is which?”

  “Cook,” I said, disappointed, “do you even know your breasts?”

  “’Parently not as well as you do.”

  “Pico is your left and De Gallo is your right. Wait, hold on.” I lowered my phone and tested the names out on Danger and Will. “Yes, that’s it. Left and right.”

  She thought about it another moment, then said, “Okay, we have an accord.”

  “Yes!” Victory was mine at last. I did a fist pump, then choked on the dust I’d stirred up.

  The trip back to Albuquerque was a quiet one, save the ninety-pound Rottweiler panting in my ear. She pawed at something crawling in my hair. It took every ounce of strength I had not to freak.

  “It’s a ladybug,” Reyes said from the backseat, his eyes boring into mine via the rearview.

  “Is that your new game? Show up uninvited just to fuck with me?”

  “I’m trying to determine what Rey’aziel found so fascinating.”

  “Ah. Well, good luck with that. I’ve often wondered the same thing.”

  “There,” he said, his brows furrowing. “That.”

  “That?”

  “You’re … humble.”

  I scoffed. “Hardly. Have you seen my ass?” I did have a nice ass, so the question bore repeating.

  “Then, what is it?”

  “Uh, reality? So, that’s what’s fascinating about me? My attitude? My humility? I knew the shock therapy I underwent in college would pay off.”

  “Pull over.”

  “Nope. Got a psychotic priest to find since you spent time with him in the god glass but never bothered to learn his name, so I can’t summon him.” I hadn’t taken the time to change out of the dress yet. I tugged at the straps, vowing to pay Cookie back.

  “Would you like me to rid you of it?”

  “The priest?”

  “The dress.”

  Damn him. “Damn you.”

  He laughed softly, his dark eyes glistening, his sensual mouth tilting slightly. It was Reyes. He was Reyes. If he were an angry god, why would he be there, dare I say flirting with me?

  “Let me know when we get there.”

  “What?” I looked in the rearview, and he’d eased down in the seat, laid his head back, and closed his eyes.

  He was snoozing?

  I shook my head, unable to figure out what he was doing there. What his end game was.

  “To find it,” he said, his voice silky smooth and oceans deep. “Will you trust me when I do?”

  I stared out the windshield at the long highway ahead of me. “As much as you trust me, I guess.”

  Rey’azikeen slept. He actually slept. I hadn’t slept in four days, but he sat in my backseat and slept the entire way home. So beautiful it hurt to look at him.

  But he was a god. Why was he sleepy?

  As bad as I hated to do it, I stopped by the apartment for a shower and a change of clothes. I left Reyes in the backseat, hurried up to my apartment, tore through my closet, and hopped in a still-cold shower.

  I needed to get to Rocket before any more time passed. I needed that name so I could summon the priest before he attacked anyone else.

  Ignoring the dark whooshes I saw once again in my apartment—I could deal with them later—I threw on a clean a pair of jeans, sweatshirt, and boots. It had been dark for about an hour, but it was still early enough to head to Chuck E. Cheese.

  I was just about to check in with Cookie across the hall when I heard her voice. Her loud voice. And she wasn’t normally that loud. When I stepped into our living room, I realized she was in my apartment.

  “Why, no, Agent Carson, Charley isn’t here right now.” She stood at my door and waved a hand at her back, signaling for me to get back.

  “Her Jeep is outside.”

  “Right, it’s not running right now.”

  “It’s hot.”

  “It gets that way. Something about a thermometer malfunction?”

  Kit sighed. “Fine. I’ll go away, but if you would tell her I need to see her sooner rather than later, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Will do. Good to see you again. Hope the recording was all you hoped it would be.”

  “Oh, it was. And then some.”

  “Wonderful. Bye now.” Cookie closed the door and sank against it.

  I hurried to the door for a look through the peephole. They’d gone. I sank agains
t the door with her. “Thanks for that, hon. I can’t be arrested right now. I found Rocket. I think.”

  She straightened. “Where is he? Is he okay? What about that sweet baby girl?”

  “From what Strawberry said, they’re all having a ball at Chuck E. Cheese.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Which one?”

  I blinked at her. “What do you mean, which one? There’s more than one?”

  “There are two on either side of the city.”

  “Damn it. She didn’t say. Which one should I try?”

  Cookie thought a moment. “Okay, the one on Wyoming is a lot closer. Try that one first.”

  “Gotcha. Do you think they’re gone yet?”

  “I have a feeling someone is going to be sticking around to see if you go back to Misery.”

  I deflated.

  “You could stay here for a while. Get some rest. You were shot at today. I think you deserve a good night’s sleep.”

  The word sleep gave me a deep longing in the pit of my stomach. And Rey’azikeen had been playing a bit nicer, just showing up and not digging into my brain. I wondered …

  “No. No, I have to do this before anyone else gets hurt, Cook. There’ll be plenty of time for sleep after.”

  “Well, I tried.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “They may be watching Misery. Take mine.” She ran across the hall and got her keys.

  “Where’s Amber?” I called out to her.

  “Working on a school project before winter break. She should be back soon.” She handed me her keys and a bottle of water before running to my living room and bringing back the third book, Stardust. “You know, in case you have to go on a stakeout or get stuck in traffic. You need to read this book.”

  “Okay. Hopefully I’ll be back soon, hydrated, well read, and with good news.”

  “Don’t get shot at again.”

  “’Kay.”

  I threw a scarf over my head and took the back exit. After narrowly missing a light post, I stole around the building to Cookie’s aging Taurus, wondering if Reyes was still sleeping in Misery. His behavior made no sense, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. As soon as I found the priest, there’d be plenty of time to capture Rey’azikeen and try to beat some sense into him.

  I started to turn the key when I noticed two men in an unmarked government car at the exit to the parking lot. I ducked down, then craned my neck to check out the second exit and my only escape. Another unmarked car with two men drinking coffee. Four G-men on little ol’ me. What the bloody hell? Kit must’ve been more than a little peeved I’d disobeyed her direct order. She was so touchy about those things.

  I sank into the seat, frustrated. I could go in the opposite direction and slink down the alley, but I’d need a distraction. And I didn’t dare pull Osh off Nicolette duty or Garrett off Pari. They needed to be there in case the priest showed up.

  Cookie was my only hope.

  In her defense, she could be quite the distraction when she put her mind to it. I turned the brightness on my phone down so as not to draw attention to the fact that someone was hiding in Cook’s car, then I dialed her number.

  “Did you get busted already?” she asked.

  “Ye of little faith. I’m incognito in your car. They have both exits staked out, but if I had a distraction, I could sneak down the alley and avoid them altogether. At least, that’s the plan.”

  “You’re so bad at plans.”

  “Cook.”

  “Okay, okay, give me twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes? What are you going to do?”

  “Just leave it up to me.”

  Dread crept up my spine as she hung up. Oh, well. If I got nothing else out of it but sheer entertainment, it would be worth it.

  Since I had twenty minutes to spare, give or take, I turned up the light on my phone and brought out the third book written by the prodigy from Jakarta, Pandu Yoso. The book titled Stardust that was supposedly about Beep.

  It picked up where the second book left off, with the dark son, a.k.a., the Dark Star, a.k.a., Reyes, watching over the First Star while she fulfilled her duties in Jehovahn’s kingdom. She had given up her kingdom to watch over His, all so Jehovahn would spare the Dark Star the torment of the lightless realm Jehovahn had tricked him into creating. The one encased in Star Glass.

  The book basically described parts of her life, calling her the First Star and recounting events in her life as a physical being that had shaped her, including an indifferent stepmother, a betrayal by her best friend, and an uncle who loved her unconditionally.

  It went through her first meetings with Dark Star, when she was still afraid of him to when she found his true self at last. His physical manifestation, dark and beautiful and untamed. They fell in love and collided, creating Stardust. Creating Beep.

  And when she was born, the galaxies glistened in her eyes, for she was the daughter of the two most powerful stars in all the kingdoms in all the world, and she was destined to do great things. She was destined to save Jehovahn’s kingdom.

  I had to admit, the kid nailed it. According to other prophecies, Beep was destined to defeat Lucifer, which would explain his desire to destroy her and our desire to keep her safe.

  A knock sounded at the window. I jumped, then looked over at a homeless woman named Cookie Kowalski Davidson and tried not to giggle. She stood enshrouded in rags that I was pretty sure were actually rags. She even had a shopping cart.

  I rolled down the window. “Where the hell did you get that cart?”

  “I borrowed it from Saratoga Sally.”

  “You know Saratoga Sally?” I asked, impressed. The woman didn’t talk much.

  “Not really.”

  “She just let you borrow her shopping cart? That’s like her castle.”

  “Actually, I should have said I rented it from Saratoga Sally. She’s a shrewd business woman, let me tell you.”

  “How much.”

  “Twenty. And I have to have it back to her in ten or she starts charging interest.”

  “I knew I liked her.”

  “Even after she threw peanut butter in your hair?”

  “She said it was a great conditioner. She was only looking out for me.”

  Cookie nodded then winked at me. “Get ready.”

  I gave her a thumbs up and watched as she strolled to do her stuff, not sure what to expect. If she could just distract one of the cars, I could turn the opposite direction of the other so the building would be between us.

  But what would she do? Would she bang on their car and demand they move? Would she pound on the glass and insist on money for Buffalo wings? Would she fall to the ground and feign injury, forcing them to leave their car to see to her, giving me a window of opportunity to hightail it outta there?

  What she decided on had me both perplexed and in agony. She pushed her cart to the other side of the car, the side opposite me, and took out her phone. She pushed a few buttons as the G-men looked on, then she put it on top of the pile in the cart, turned to the lamppost and proceeded to use it as a stripper pole to preform a striptease.

  When she flashed them a quick glimpse of a bra-clad Pico, I doubled over so fast I slammed my forehead into the steering wheel. It didn’t matter. I was dying.

  I clung to the steering wheel but could barely watch her through the tears. She was going to kill me for not leaving immediately, but how could I? I would never forgive myself for missing the show.

  She ripped a ragged scarf off her shoulders and spun it in a circle, then lifted the hem of her housecoat to reveal a shapely ankle and calf seconds before she wrapped it around the pole and blew the boys a kiss.

  The men were transfixed. As was I.

  I scrambled to find the video setting on my phone through the blur of my tear-filled vision when another knock sounded on the window. I sobered and rolled it down.

  Uncle Bob stood beside the car, his expression grave and slightly horrified. “What the f
uck is my wife doing?”

  Before I could explain, Cookie jutted out a hip and slapped a hand onto it. I doubled over again and fell across the console in helplessness. “You have to record her,” I said between gasps and laughter.

  I crawled back up again just as she did a sexy spin, taking the opportunity to glare at me from over her shoulder. That was when she saw her husband. She stilled and I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I wasn’t going to.

  Without explanation, I turned over the car engine and sped down the alley to Silver, leaving a confused and slightly disturbed uncle Bob in my wake.

  * * *

  I hauled ass to the Chuck E. Cheese on Wyoming, giggling like a maniac, and scoured every nook and cranny of the establishment. No departed, save one. Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking for a middle-aged woman in a tube top and biker chaps. So, I got back into Cookie’s bat mobile and headed to the west side.

  To my great joy, most of the rush-hour traffic had dissipated, so the drive only took about twenty minutes. I threw Peanut—I’d named her on the way over—into park and rushed inside. It didn’t take me long to spot them. Just like Strawberry said, Rocket stood hovering over the Whac-A-Mole. At the moment, however, no one was playing the game. With a heavy sigh, he turned and sat on the edge, his posture downtrodden, the poor thing sad and despondent.

  The moment he saw me, however, he brightened. “Miss Charlotte!” He ran toward me, and there was nothing to be done about it. He threw his arms around me and lifted me off the ground.

  Thankfully, only a couple of children saw me floating in midair. And if they told their parents, they’d never believe them, poor things.

  As I was being hefted off the ground, I looked over and saw the girls. Blue and Strawberry, bless their hearts, were riding a carousel in the back corner, laughing and having the best time. Had I known all it would take was a carousel for Blue to come out of her shell, I would’ve bought one eons ago.

  “Miss Charlotte,” Rocket said, putting me back on solid ground at last. “Did you come to play Whac-A-Mole?”

  I laughed softly. “No, sweetheart. I need a name.”

  “But it’s really fun.”

  “I need a priest’s name. He just entered this plane.”

  He frowned and lowered his head. “That’s breaking rules, Miss Charlotte. No breaking rules.”