Graveminder

“Ask what?”

“Yes, that will happen a lot here. There’s only one live man who comes here. You’re easy on the eyes, but even if you weren’t, you’re alive . It makes you tempting.” Alicia licked her lips. “Young. Living. New.”

“I’m not looking for—”

“Oh, I know, shug: your Graveminder’s all you can see, think of, dream of. It’s always like that, but sometimes that don’t work out, so”—she shrugged—“never hurts to throw the invite out there, does it?”

Byron wasn’t sure how to respond, so he did as Alicia had done earlier: he ignored the question. “The bullets?”

She laughed. “Work on the dead. Not permanent-like, but they can knock a body out for a good forty-eight hours. That’s more than enough time for you to get out of here. Aim for the head or heart for the longest incapacitation.”

“Where do I get more of those or the powder if I run out?” He was pretty sure he knew the answer even as he asked.

Alicia spread her hands wide. “Right here.”

“Seller’s market, I’m guessing?”

“You do catch on quick.” Alicia opened the duffel wide and started to settle the jars and vials back inside. “I’m here to help, Undertaker, but even a dead girl’s got to make a living.”

Byron slid the revolver to the side. “And where does Charlie fit into this?”

“The old bastard runs this world, but he isn’t big on global laws. I’m within rights to help you as much as I see fit ... or not. We all are.” Alicia opened the box and handed him a few bullets. “Extras.”

He put the bullets in his pocket. “And you’re not going to tell me why you’re helping unless I buy that answer.”

Alicia put her elbows on the counter behind her and leaned back. The gesture had the—not accidental, Byron was sure—effect of emphasizing her physical assets as well as her apparent flexibility. “Only one thing I’d give you for free, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t take it. Least not right now.”

“No,” he admitted. “You’re a beautiful woman, but ... no.”

At a sound in the street, Alicia looked toward the door. One of the cowboy-hat-wearing men ducked inside. “Time for him to move out, boss.”

Alicia straightened up. “Five minutes.”

“Two. Three tops.” The man stepped back outside.

Alicia shoved the knife and the box of bullets into the bag. “Everything else has a fee. Barter.” She held up a hand before he spoke. “Not sex. I’m not asking you to whore yourself. Bring me guns. Boots. Be creative. We’ll sort it out in the ledger.”

“And this?” He put his hand on the duffel.

“Credit.” Alicia zipped it up. “You good for it?”

“I am.” He slung it over his shoulder. “Now I need to know where Charlie is.”

“Boyd will take you most of the way to Charlie’s.” As she spoke, the man, presumably Boyd, came back to the doorway. Alicia looked at him. “See you next trip, Undertaker.”

Chapter 31

DAISHA SAW THE MAN COMING TOWARD HER. HE STUMBLED AS HE walked, not steady on his feet or maybe not sure of where to step. She felt bad for him. Since she’d come home to Claysville, sometimes the ground didn’t feel right under her feet either. She’d felt better since she’d gone to her home, but she still felt a disconnect with the world around her.

The man stopped just in front of her and sniffed.

“Hey.” She jumped backward, out of his reach.

With a sound that might’ve been a word, he reached out and grabbed the back of her neck. His other hand clutched her shoulder at the same time, and he pulled her against him. The hand holding her neck caught in her hair, and he forced her head to the side.

Daisha shoved against him, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was the first time since she woke up that anyone had been unmoved by her touch.

Then he buried his face against her throat and inhaled.

“What are you—” Her words ended in a yelp as he shifted his hold. He shoved his face up against her lips and sniffed again.

“Stop this,” she hissed.

The hand he’d had on the back of her head moved to her jaw, cupping her chin. His other hand shifted from her shoulder to her lower back, holding her securely against him. She could feel his arm like a vise around her side.

Then he squeezed and forced her mouth to stay open. He peered into her mouth and then sniffed.

Daisha couldn’t move away.

For the first time since she woke up dead, she wished she could control that dissipating thing that happened sometimes. Fear. Fear was what she thought caused it, and she was very afraid. Why am I not fading?

She needed to swallow, but couldn’t with her mouth held open like this.

He inhaled, drawing as much breath as he could from between her lips. He didn’t touch her mouth. He just breathed in.

And it hurt like he was pulling things out of her.

She remembered hurt , and in remembering hurt, she remembered what could stop it. She pulled her knee up as fast and as hard as she could.

He gargled and dropped her.

And as soon as he let go of her, she faded into nothingness and was gone.

Chapter 32

PARTWAY INTO THE MULTICOURSE MEAL, REBEKKAH’S FRUSTRATION HAD reached uncontainable levels. Charles had steadfastly refused to talk about anything of consequence; Byron had not yet arrived; and she herself sat at an elegant table, eating some of the most mouthwateringly good dishes she’d ever tasted.

Wasting time.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, but I don’t know who you are, what this place is. Byron could be in trouble for all I know, and we’re just sitting here.” She gestured around them, and then took a moment to try to quell her emotions. She folded her napkin, concentrating on the square of linen rather than the anger and fear roiling inside her. “You’re asking a lot of me ... and I’m not sure why I should trust you.”

Charles frowned. “My being shot multiple times ought to give you some reason to trust me. That’s not something I would do for just anyone, Rebekkah.”

Ward removed their dishes.

Charles reached out as if to touch her arm. “You are special to me. This world can be yours to rule alongside me if you so desire.”

“No.” Rebekkah pulled away. She shoved back her chair and stepped back from the table. “I’m not going to stay here.”

“Of course, but you are going to come here repeatedly.” Charles came to stand beside her. “I am not asking for your hand, Rebekkah, and I’m most assuredly not asking for your death. I would prefer you alive.”

She stepped away and turned to face the city that sprawled out around them. She could see the tops of buildings stretching as far as her vision allowed. And beyond. Architecture from various