Prayer for the Dead (Revenants in Purgatory) Page 4

  “It was nice seeing you again. See ya around.”

  Did I really just tell him I thought he was ‘meh” and left it at that? He called me beautiful and I said he was just meh! What the hell’s wrong with me?

  I dropped my book into my lap. Was I really going to blow this twice in less than twenty-four hours? Desperate to remedy the situation, I tried to come up with some way to keep him talking so he wouldn’t leave.

  “Aren’t you going to have any coffee? They have really good coffee here,” I sputtered.

  “Nah, I think I’m just gonna take off.”

  I tried to come up with anything else. I managed a quick, “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Nothing really, head home, I guess.”

  “Oh, well, I was going to head back to my apartment and watch a movie. You want to come over?” I had no idea what I was even saying. I was just blurting out anything that came to mind.

  A little angel appeared on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, What movie? We didn’t have plans to watch any movie.

  A devil appeared on the other, hissing, Don’t let him leave! Lie, you dumb bitch, lie!

  My brain meanwhile asked, What the hell am I doing? I don’t know this guy from Adam, yet I just invited him back to my apartment, my empty apartment.

  The angel screamed, Empty apartment! Stranger Danger!

  The devil positively roared with laughter, Get him naked then you go to town on that body and make me proud!

  A psychiatrist would have had a field day in my head.

  Chapter 5

  Back at my apartment, I gave Drake a quick ‘five-cent tour’, after which he settled in the living room while I made popcorn in the kitchen. I stared at the microwave as the popcorn spun on the turntable. This evening was either going to turn out to be one of the smartest things I had ever done, or the dumbest. At that point, I figured it was a fifty-fifty toss-up.

  Drake stood in front of one of my many bookshelves with his head tilted, reading the titles. I set the popcorn down on the coffee table. Thankfully, Tore rented a few movies the weekend before and had yet to return them. Normally I would curse him for racking up late fees, but tonight, I was incredibly grateful for his total disregard for any kind of responsibility.

  I picked one at random and held it up. “Have you seen this yet?”

  “Yeah, but I could watch it again,” Drake replied, taking a seat on the sofa.

  After popping the movie in the player, I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide where to sit. Since he was on the couch, I wasn’t sure if I should sit next to him or take the vacant reclining chair. He made the decision for me when he patted the cushion next to him. I stepped over the coffee table, thinking about his actions. He hadn’t patted the cushion in a ‘come here baby’ sort of way, it was more the ‘have a seat, buddy’ way. As I over-analyzed his patting technique, I also calculated how far away from him I should sit. I didn’t want to sit too close to imply imminent monkey business, but I also didn’t want to sit too far away, leading him to believe I was uninterested. I opted for, what I hoped, was a happy medium; close enough to show interest, keeping monkey business on the table, but not as a certainty.

  Seriously, I could use the number for that psychiatrist now.

  The movie turned out to be background noise, more than anything else. We started chatting during the previews and just kept on doing so right through the beginning of the film. Our conversation was comfortable and easy, as it had been the night before, but I couldn’t believe this beautiful man was sitting in my living room. It was making me very nervous, so I just kept firing away at the questions.

  “How long have you lived in the city?” I asked, popping a few pieces of popcorn in my mouth.

  “A few years.”

  “Really? I thought I knew all the Reapers in our division. How come I’ve never seen you around the office before?”

  “Well, I wasn’t entirely lying when I said I was an independent contractor. I’m not really attached to any one division.” He shrugged.

  “Really, how’s that work? I thought Revenants and Reapers were always linked to a division.”

  “It’s a long story.” Apparently, not one he was willing to share because he left it at that and changed the subject. “So, how long have you worked for the company?”

  “Ever since I died, ten years ago.” I shrugged, but didn’t like the direction this conversation could take. It was bound to swing around to sharing stories about our deaths. Even though I felt comfortable with him, I was as eager to share that story as much as I was to have it ensorcelled out of me. So I threw the focus back on him before he had the chance to keep it on me. “How long have you been a Reaper?”

  “Seventy-three years.”

  I did the math in my head and estimated he died in nineteen-forty, during World War II. Could that be right? Maybe he had been a soldier. I looked him up and down. Yeah, he’d look good in a uniform. He’d look good in anything or nothing, for that matter.

  “Did you die in England?”

  “In London, yes.” He smiled sadly before turning back to the movie. In my haste to get the focus off myself, it never occurred to me he might have a past he’d rather not discuss either.

  I chewed my bottom lip as the silence continued on. I could tell the conversation had trudged up some painful memories. I felt like such a jerk and reached out to touch his arm. When his eyes finally met mine again, there were a couple of emotions swirling around in them that I knew all too well: grief and guilt. I had a close, personal relationship with those two and it occurred to me that he and I might just be kindred spirits, in misery.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” My hand still rested on his arm, trying to reassure him that the topic was closed. He rested his other hand on top of mine.

  “No need to apologize. I didn’t mean to turn into a Debbie Downer. I just try not to think about that period of time very often. It just drudges up painful memories of...”

  My phone could not have picked a worse time to ring. It was Tore, but I clicked the call over, sending him straight to voicemail. He hated when I did that, so I knew I’d hear about it later, but he could suck it. I tossed the phone back onto the coffee table and looked back at Drake. I could see in his eyes, whatever he had been about to tell me was no longer there. The moment had passed.

  I tossed some more popcorn in my mouth and quickly changed the subject to something lighter, less personal, “So, do you mind if I ask you some general kind of Reaper questions?” He shrugged, giving the okay, so I fired away, “Are you part Demon?”

  He let out a hardy laugh. “No, not that I’m aware of. Is that what you think? That we’re demons?”

  Grinning, I shrugged. “I don’t but some do, I guess. I’ve also heard Reapers are thieves who steal souls.”

  He didn’t seem offended. “I’d never steal someone’s soul. A pretty girl’s heart maybe, but never a soul.”

  I tipped my head and laughed, choosing to ignore the cheese ball line. “So, I’m guessing if you’re not a demon, you can enter churches and I can’t repel you with holy water or crucifixes?

  Drake rolled with laughter. “Where are you getting this information from?”

  “Office gossip. C’mon, answer the question. Inquiring minds want to know.”

  He continued to laugh, but complied with my request. “First off, whoever told you this rubbish is mixing up vampires and Reapers. Secondly, yes, I can enter a church and no, you can’t repel me with a crucifix or holy water. Besides, even if you could, I’d prefer that you didn’t want to repel me.”

  I had to roll my eyes at him that time. “Are all of your lines this bad, or is that a Reaper thing?”

  “Definitely not a Reaper thing, that’s all me.” His laughter began anew and I enjoyed hearing it. He had a great laugh and the mere sound of it made me smile. “C’mon, my lines can’t be that bad. You invited me over so they must be working, right?”

  They really weren’t a
ll that bad. The Star Wars line he used in the bar was actually pretty damn cute, but I wasn’t about to tell him that and encourage his behavior.

  When I didn’t respond, he quickly reached out to pat my hand again. ”Hey, I’m just giving you a hard time.”

  There it was again... that amazing little tingle running all the way through my body any time he touched me. Luckily, my phone went off again, saving me from jumping across the couch, having my way with him, and quite possibly embarrassing myself in the process.

  I swiped the phone up to check the text message and, as I suspected, it was from Tore. It read:

  Won’t be home tonight. Too drunk. Crashing at a friend’s house. See you in the morning. You suck ass for sending me to voicemail!

  I frowned and replied back. Drake watched as I tossed the phone on the coffee table again.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Hmm... yeah. Just my brother, he’s not coming home tonight.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized what Tore not coming home could mean. I pulled my legs up, tucking them beneath me. I couldn’t make eye contact with Drake, but it appeared he might have been thinking the same. He turned back to watch the movie, neither of us saying another word.

  Just like that, there was an awkward sex-elephant in the room we were trying to ignore. I tried to act casual, like nothing happened, reaching for a handful of popcorn. Perhaps on the same train of thought as I, Drake did the same. Our hands touched. I pulled back, apologized, and laughed nervously. He retracted his hand, empty. Our eyes met before I panicked and jumped up.

  “Wanna beer?”

  “Sure.”

  Halfway to the kitchen, I realized adding alcohol to the situation might not be the best idea, but it was too late. Now, I just had to hope there were at least two beers in the refrigerator. I popped open the door to find a six-pack of bottles. I pulled two out and set them on the counter as I began rummaging through the drawers for the bottle opener.

  I popped the top off the second bottle as Drake came into the kitchen. He had taken off the flannel shirt he wore and his white t-shirt hugged him perfectly. I barely contained the drool threatening to pour from my mouth when I saw his toned arms. I handed over the beer, and prayed he wouldn’t notice I was trembling. Our hands touched as he grabbed it. It was the barest of contact, yet just enough to make me crazy. I was the first to let go, trying to ignore the tingles coursing through my body.

  He took a few steps closer, leaving only a few inches between us. Reaching behind me, he set his beer down on the counter. My hand clenched the edge of the counter as if it were my lifeline. I released only when he took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. And there we stood, gazing at our entwined hands, for what seemed like forever.

  Before I knew it, we attacked each other franticly. We kissed as if we had been holding back for far too long. I hopped up on the counter, to compensate for the height difference, and his hands shot up, lacing behind my neck and through my hair. That amazing electricity I felt the night before when he tried to ensorcell me returned with intensity. In that moment, I couldn’t have cared less if he was breaking his promise so long as he didn’t stop doing whatever the hell that was. I sighed at the feeling and leaned back into it. His lips trailed paths of heat up and down my neck before his mouth crashed down on mine again.

  He had ahold of my face, to insure that my lips wouldn’t stray far from his. But he needn’t worry; I had no intention of allowing them to commit such an atrocity. Never in all my life, have I been kissed the way that man kissed me. It was intense and making me greedy for more. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, pulling him in closer. In one impressively fluid motion, he wrapped his arms around my back, yanking me off the counter.

  Our kiss became more impassioned and I tightened my grip on him, one arm clutching his neck while my other hand ran up through his soft, golden-brown hair. His lips broke away from mine for the briefest of moments, his eyes asking only one question. I knew, without a doubt, the answer. I breathed the single word against his lips. His mouth reclaimed mine, as he carried me to the bedroom and closed the door.

  ...

  I was slow to wake the following morning. The room felt rather drafty until I remembered that I was naked, with only a sheet covering me from the waist down. I yanked it up to my chin and slowly rolled over, smiling as I looked up. My smile faded upon discovering I was alone. Pushing myself out of bed and wrapping the sheet tightly around my body, I went to check the rest of the apartment. I shuffled slowly down the hall, while trying to keep the sheet covering my lady bits. Leaning my head into the bathroom, I found it empty, as was the living room. I rounded the corner into the kitchen, only to find a very hung-over Tore, hunkered over a cup of coffee, resting his head in his hands.

  “Oh hey, is there anyone else here?” He squinted his eyes and held a finger up to his lips to shush me. “Sorry, sorry,” I apologized in a whisper.

  “No, there’s no one else here.”

  I went back to my room. Changing into some clothes out of the hamper, I glanced around the room for a note or something to explain why Drake was gone but found nothing. Confused, I flopped back down on the bed. My phone started to ring. I looked all over my room before remembering I had left it on the coffee table. I tore out into the living room yelling, “Don’t hang up, don’t hang up! Hello!”

  “Hey doll face!” Portia’s chipper voice wasn’t exactly welcome.

  “Oh, hey.” My voice sagged. I had been hopeful it would be Drake calling even though I was fairly sure that I never gave him my number.

  “Well, don’t sound so disappointed to hear from me.”

  “No, it’s not that. I just woke up is all.”

  “Okay, well, I have a tidbit of information you might be interested to know.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked, only half interested.

  “I went out with Zane again last night and put some feelers out for you about his friend. I know you told me not to, but I did it anyway. I’m glad I did because you’ll never believe what I found out.”

  “Hmmm?” I asked, staring at my cuticles and then chewing on my nails.

  “He has a girlfriend!”

  I felt as though I’d been punched in the gut. I grabbed my stomach, clenching my fist around my t-shirt as I dropped down on the sofa. “He what?” I barely squeaked out.

  “...has a girlfriend. Can you believe that shit?” She continued with the conversation as if my heart hadn’t just shattered into a million tiny pieces. “I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t sleep with him.”

  “Yeah, good thing,” I agreed meekly, trying to hold my voice steady.

  “The guy is clearly a total douchebag.”

  She had no idea.

  “Yeah. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll talk to you later, all right?” I hung up the phone before she even had a chance to say goodbye. Setting the phone next to me, I glared at it. The hurt and anger were building with nowhere to go, when something caught my eye. Smashed down in the cushions was Drake’s crumpled up flannel. My gaze was fixed on it when Tore walked in the room.

  “Hey.” He said, but I didn’t answer, but continued to attempt boring a hole through the shirt. “Are you all right?”

  I drew my focus up to Tore’s face, fighting to hold back the tears threatening to pour over my lashes. “Am I all right? No, Tore. I’m not all right!”

  He recoiled at my anger. “What’s wrong?”

  I picked up the offending item, clenching it tightly in my fist. “I fucking hate it when you’re right!”

  Chapter 6

  The next week dragged by and, just to add insult to injury, Dean’s wife never came through with those prayers so he went into the Silence. My mood became fouler with each passing day. Little pieces of my heart continued to break every time I thought about Drake and the night we spent together, which only made me feel more pathetic. I came clean to Portia about what had happened and she agreed, should we
see Drake again—he needed to suffer.

  By the time the weekend rolled around, Portia, hoping to change my abhorrent attitude, thought it best to take me to the same club again. I’d be completely lying to say the thought of seeing Drake didn’t cross my mind. As sickened and angry as I was, I wanted to see him again. I tried convincing myself it was only to tell him what a scumbag he was, but that was crap. Despite the fact he already had a girlfriend, I wanted to see him again because... I just wanted to see him again. I felt like a horrible person, a romantic and a complete loser rolled into one messy package.

  I was pouting at the bar and downing my fifth drink when Portia nudged me. “Zane is here.”

  I felt a little light of hope flicker in my chest. Zane noticed Portia and made his way across the club to us, but he was alone. He gave Portia a little hug and greeted me kindly. When I saw he was flying solo, I turned back to the bar, motioning for the bartender to bring me another round. I knew I was handling the situation badly, but my heart was broken and pickling its corpse seemed a plan as good as any.

  “Drake’s not with you tonight?” Portia asked, attempting to be casual and failing miserably.

  “No, he... ah... had business out of town.”

  “I’m sure he did,” I replied sourly, sticking a lime wedge in my mouth. The thought had crossed my mind Zane hadn’t been clued into what had happened but, after that weak excuse, I knew he was just covering for the asshole. Bros before hoes, I laughed to myself.

  I sucked the life from the lime before tossing it on the counter, slamming my drink, and announcing I was leaving. Not waiting for a response, I marched straight for the exit. The place was packed, but I shoved my way through like a banshee driving a bulldozer.

  Portia found me outside the club, failing to hail a cab. Every time one zoomed by, I’d yell a myriad of profanities at the driver. I was drunker then I had originally thought, but that was all the more reason to go home.

  “Hey, wait up. I’m going to head out too,” she called.