ALICIA DIDN’T TAKE ANY OF THE BOYS WITH HER. BOYD BITCHED, BUT most days he acted like the older brother she’d never had, so his objections had stopped bothering her a few decades ago.
The guards the Undertaker had shot were still lying on either side of the door, but a new pair stood on the next step down. She leveled a sawed-off shotgun at the first one. “Do we need to discuss my invitation?”
Charlie’s personal guard, Ward, opened the door. “Don’t you get tired of shooting people, Alicia?”
She tilted her head. “Not really. You?”
“Depends on the day, I suppose.” Ward motioned her inside. “He’s expecting you.”
“Figured he would be. Though I’d rather shoot my way in than pretend civility toward him.”
Ward, wisely, said nothing.
Alicia slung her shotgun over her shoulder and into the holster she’d rigged for it. After a wicked grin at Ward, she yelled, “I’m looking for the miserable bastard who thinks he runs this place.”
“Must you do that?”
“I could just start shooting things,” she suggested. “That always seems to get his attention. Actually ...” She reached back for the shotgun, but Charlie came to the top of the stairs and looked down at her.
“My dear, what a lovely surprise.”
She snorted and aimed her gun at him. “Why did you let the girl get shot?”
“I did not ‘let’ her get shot, Alicia.” He sighed. “Why would I allow her to be injured?”
“Why did you allow them to shoot at her in the first damn place?” She shifted the barrel a touch and fired.
Charlie didn’t flinch as splinters from the carved wooden handrail flew through the air beside him. “It was meant to be a deterrent; she was not to get injured, just encouraged to stay in protective care. I don’t need her running all over the place asking questions, having her head filled with the wrong things.”
“The truth, you mean?”
“Not all truths are equal, Alicia.” Charlie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Shall I tell her
Alicia lowered her gun. “No, but don’t think I’m waiting around.”
“I saw.” He scowled. “You couldn’t let them get oriented before you tried to get him under your thumb?”
“Why should I? You weren’t wasting any time, were you? The poor girl is barely here a minute, and you have yourself set up like some knight. Wine her and dine her—after a conveniently planned rescue scenario that chases her into your arms. You’re predictable.” Alicia shook her head.
“If I were predictable, my dear, you would’ve outmaneuvered me decades ago ... unless”—Charlie started down the stairs toward her—“perhaps you
The rest of his words were lost in the blast of her next shot. She didn’t hit him, of course, but she aimed close enough that splinters from the banister cut him.
He continued down the stairs as if the splinters didn’t hurt. He might not bleed, but he felt pain. They both knew that. They both also knew that he’d allow her to hurt him repeatedly if it would ease the anger that festered inside her.
She couldn’t look at the placid expression on his face any more than she could forgive him. Although they both knew she could reload with her eyes closed, she looked steadfastly at her shotgun as she broke open the barrel, removed the cases, and slid in two new shells. When she closed the breech and lifted her gaze, he was standing in front of her, waiting.
“Whatever’s happening over there isn’t business as normal,” she said. “You and I both know it. Dead walking is one thing, but killing the dead so as to make them walk is altogether different. You ought to step in this time.”
For a moment, Charlie stared at her, and Alicia saw the person she’d thought he was when she was still alive. Back then, he’d seemed almost human. Back then, he’d seemed like a powerful man who ruled an unruly empire.
He shook his head. “I won’t break the rules. I wouldn’t do it for you, and I won’t do it for them either.”
“You’re a fool.” She swung her shotgun up and shot the god-awful chandelier. Crystal shards rained down on him as she turned to leave.
Chapter 42
A SHORT WHILE LATER, AS BYRON DROVE TO MONTGOMERY AND SONS, Rebekkah felt the weight of the living world begin to settle back into her body. She could still feel a lingering connection to the dead, and it somehow made the air feel different; everything smelled richer.
When Byron stopped the hearse, Rebekkah went into the funeral parlor. Somewhere in her town, Daisha was waiting. She was starving. The whole time she’d been dead, no one had seen to her needs. She’d been alone. She’d been hidden from Maylene somehow.
“Your weekly update.” Elaine held out a thick manila envelope.
“My ... right. My update. I need the records of the deaths for the last six months.” Rebekkah forced her tongue and lips to make words.
Byron stepped in behind her, and Elaine called, “Mr. Montgomery? The mayor’s office called. There was another animal attack, a fatal one this time. He’d like to schedule an appointment with you.”
Byron stopped, and he and Rebekkah exchanged a look.
“Did you get ahold of Allan?” he asked.
“He’s on his way to the pickup now.” Elaine softened for a moment. “After I get Rebekkah updated, I thought I might run over to Cherry’s Pies and grab a few sandwiches.”
“And coffee?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in the prep room.” Byron nodded and walked away. A moment later, the door to the basement opened and closed.
Elaine took up her key ring, motioned at Rebekkah, and led her to another office. She opened the door and pointed at a tall gray cabinet. “Every week the backup copy is filed. There is a cross-reference that lists the family name of the deceased.”
As Rebekkah looked on silently, Elaine pulled out a file and opened it.
“Each decedent has a separate entry within their family. In it, you will find the date, cause, and any peculiar details.” As she spoke, she stabbed a finger at examples of the various details she recited. “Of course, the decedent’s surname is the primary file category, but subreferences are listed in the appropriate box on the fact sheet.” She snapped the file shut.
Rebekkah stared at her. “You are amazing.”
“The electronic version is easier,” Elaine added, “but the late Mrs. Barrow preferred her hard copies.”
“She liked things the way they were,” Rebekkah murmured.
Elaine’s stern expression softened. “She was a good woman. I hoped—no disrespect to Ann—that she and William would wed after Ann passed, but they scoffed at the suggestion. She loved him, though, and he loved her.”
“I know,” Rebekkah murmured.
“But they were stubborn.” Elaine shook her head, but her smile was a yearning one. “Love like that is a rarity, and to think they both found it twice.”
Rebekkah clutched the file in her hand. “I’m not sure that love means having to marry. She loved him, but that didn’t mean—”
“It’s not my place. If it were, I’d nag the younger Mr. Montgomery to marry you already. The two of you have been pretending not to be in love for years. Sheer foolishness, if you ask me, but”—Elaine gave Rebekkah a look that would make most people flinch—“no one’s asking me, are they?”
