The Death & Loralei Collection Page 3

  She shivered again, this time from the steel in his voice.

  Chapter 4

  Loralei was painting and Death was sprawled in his easy chair, reading the evening news, when tires crunched in the drive. A state police cruiser made its way to the cottage and parked beneath the tall oak. A man close to six feet tall, with blond hair and green eyes, strode to the front door. Ebony hissed and arched his back.

  "He's a friend," Loralei told the cat.

  Ebony turned his head, unimpressed, and stalked to the cat door in the kitchen, letting himself out. He obviously had no desire to meet this strange person.

  Three raps came in quick succession, and Loralie went to greet her guest. He gave her an official looking smile. "Hello, I'm Officer Lane Stuart. I'd like to ask you some questions regarding the deaths of Mandy Quick and Samantha Smith." His eyes looked her up and down as he spoke. They lingered on her breasts and legs. Men! But what was this one looking for? Clues? What did he hope to see when he met her? What did he hope to learn?

  No one ever believed her clients when they were told about her talents. And they were usually surprised when they met her. Most expected to meet a wrinkled, old hag with brittle, gray hair who cackled when she led them into a rundown house to stare into the crystal ball. Either that, or they expected a woman with a scarf wrapped around her head who wore giant, hoop earrings. She didn't fit their stereotypes, and it usually threw them. The deputy sheriff scrutinized her carefully.

  "Come in," she told him. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm Loralei Black. What can I do for you?" She led him into the living room with its well worn furniture and braided rug. Death looked up and gave him a quick nod. When Death was with her, she was never nervous. But by the man's quick reaction, she could tell that Officer Stuart was less comfortable than he was before.

  She tossed a second glance in Death's direction. Did he look intimidating? Yes, it was entirely possible. With his height and strength, his brooding dark looks, and serious nature, he didn't look accessible. "Have a seat." Loralei led the officer to the kitchen table and took a chair across from his. "What would you like to ask me?" The man was simply doing his job. She tried to put him at ease.

  "And your friend is?" Officer Lane Stuart raised a pen above his notepad.

  How did you name Death? She thought a second. "Mr. Scythe Black."

  "Your husband? You're Loralei Black, right?"

  "Yes, my soulmate."

  He wrote down the information. "And Mandy Quick's parents came to you to find their daughter?" he asked.

  "Yes, that's right."

  "And you found the girl's body….how?"

  "I use a crystal ball." He wouldn't believe her, but that hardly mattered.

  "So you're a psychic."

  "Of a sort."

  His eyes, his demeanor said that he thought she was full of rubbish. She'd seen that look before and it didn't bother her. But he made an effort. "We have another child missing from this area. Could you help us with that?"

  So this was a test. He'd already made up his mind that she was a fake, and he wanted her to fail so that he could prove it. "How long has she been missing?" Loralei asked. "And how big is the area?"

  "He disappeared three weeks ago. He lived in town, not that you probably knew him. No one seems to know that you exist."

  "I like my privacy." She gave him a level look. "I need a name, an age, any information that you can give me."

  He looked smug. He thought she was digging for hidden clues, but anything he could tell her might help when she found the spirit and tried to calm it. "He's a four year old boy, Devon Shire. He walked down the road with his dog two weeks ago and never came back."

  "And the dog?"

  "Missing in action too."

  "My clients always pay me in years," she said. That should give him a pause or two, wipe the smugness off his face.

  The officer looked alarmed. "Excuse me?"

  "If it's difficult finding the spirit and it doesn't want to come back, it's a horrible strain. I age quickly. My customers pay anywhere from one to five years of their lives."

  "I don’t think…."

  She cut him off. "It's been soon enough that it shouldn't be too bad. This isn't personal for you, so this one time, I'll try to help you for free. Don't expect it again, though."

  He stared at her. His green eyes were bright and beautiful. He was a handsome man. If she weren't devoted to Death, she'd find him attractive. "Duly noted," he said. "So what now?"

  "I need my cat and my crystal ball."

  "Why a cat?"

  "He keeps watch over me while my spirit's away. If anyone tries anything, he nudges me back to this room."

  He looked even more skeptical. "Okay, so what can you tell me?"

  "First things first." She called Ebony back to the house. He entered the room grudgingly, glaring at the uniformed man. Once he curled at her feet, she placed both hands on the crystal ball, detached herself from her surroundings, and focused her attention on the image of a small boy, worried and alone. She'd barely said the name, "Devon Shire," when the child burst into the room. He was soaking wet and white as a sheet. The left side of his head was smeared with blood.

  Officer Stuart jumped to his feet. "What the hell?"

  "Quiet," Death whispered. "You'll scare him."

  The sheriff sank back to his chair and pressed his lips firmly together. He gripped its seat with white knuckles, anchoring himself there.

  "Why didn't you go to the Light?" Loralei asked the boy. "Why are you still here?"

  "My dog, he chased a rabbit and didn't pay attention where he was going. He fell over the cliff's edge by the water. I tried to reach him, but couldn't. When I scooted out farther, the dirt gave." The boy's words came so fast, he had to pause for breath. "Skipper's hurt, but I can't get to him. Every time I try to lift him, my arms go right through him."

  "You realize you're dead, don't you?"

  "When I fell, my head hit a rock. That's all I remember, but I can't get to my dog."

  Loralei nodded. It all happened so fast, Devon hadn't had time to process it yet. "Tell us where he is, and where you are, and we'll find both of you."

  The boy gave step by step directions to where he and his dog could be found. "Look for the beech tree," he said. "It's the only tree with white bark on the bank."

  "When we rescue your dog and take him for help, you'll be free to go to the Light," Loralei told him. "Promise me you will?"

  "Yes, ma'am, but my mom's going to be mad at me, isn't she? She told me to stay away from the river, and I never went there before, but I had to help Skipper."

  "She won't be mad. She'll understand," Loralei said. "But she's going to be sad for a while."

  Tears trickled down the boy's cheeks. "I can't go home, can I?"

  "Not here, but the Light will take you to your new Home. You can wait for your mom and dad there. Time doesn't mean anything once you leave here. They'll be with you before you know it."

  "Honest?"

  "I promise. Now watch until they find you and Skipper, and then go get ready for your parents when it's their time to cross."

  When he faded from view, Lane Stuart jumped to his feet. He took deep breaths and paced the room. "How did you do that?"

  "You asked me to find Devon, and I found him. The rest is up to you."

  "If his body's where he said it is, I'll be back to search this place. I'll tear it apart if I have to, and I'll expect..."

  "To thank her," Death finished for him. "She just did you a big favor. Look." He pointed. There was a thick streak of white in Loralei's pitch black hair. "I'll have to help her remove that."

  Lane frowned at him. "How do you do that?"

  Death smiled. "It's easy, the best job I ever signed on for."

  The officer jammed his fists into his pockets. "I'm tired of you two talking in riddles. I'm going to look you up in the computers," he warned, throwing his arm up to jab a finger at Death. "And I'd like to know how you—"
He gave a quick nod to Loralei—"find all of these bodies…unless you help put them there."

  Death lost patience and pushed himself to his feet. "Come with me. It's time you and I go for a little walk."

  Officer Stuart took a step backward. His hand went to his gun and rested there. "Back-up can be here in a few minutes. If you threaten me…"

  "If I threaten you, your friends can't help you. Are you coming or not?" He strode out of the room and down the driveway. He was going to leave the property and show Officer Stuart who he really was.

  Loralei watched them from her front window. Death was going to scare the poor man half to death, but he'd asked for it. He was a bit of a dunce and antagonistic on top of it. She sighed. He was young. He'd learn. This time, he was going to learn the hard way. And then she might be able to help him solve Mandy and Samantha's murders.

  Chapter 5

  When Death returned alone, she said, "Where's the deputy sheriff?"

  "He'll come for his car soon, but I don't think he'll knock on the door. Once he gets his wits about him, he'll go to investigate the boy's death."

  She slipped her feet into her sandals. "I'll go with him. The boy's upset. Someone should be there who can help him cross."

  "That's my job." He turned to leave again. "The cloud's are gathering in the west. There's going to be a storm, and it will be suppertime soon. Stay here and keep dry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "You're not going just to torment Lane Stuart more, are you?"

  "The only ones who'll see me this time will be the boy and his dog. Animals have a sixth sense about me."

  She walked out to the porch with him and watched him fade from view. A breeze had sprung up that tossed the cosmos and zinnias this way and that. A chipmunk ran from under the coral bell leaves in her flower bed. He darted across the lawn to the climbing roses on the side of the house. He'd be safe under their prickly branches. The wind caught her skirt and swirled it around her legs.

  She leaned against one of the white, porch pillars and watched the clouds bump against one another, gathering in strength. A rumble came from a distance. Then fat rain drops splatted on the sidewalk. Loralei inhaled the cool, fresh air. She hoped the rescue mission would go quickly, or everyone would be soaked. When the wind caught the rain and blew it sideways, so that the porch roof no longer protected her, she turned and went inside.

  The house was gloomy. She went to the kitchen and turned on the lights. When Death returned to the property and changed into his human form, he'd get drenched. She gathered onions, celery, and green peppers; carrots and potatoes, and began chopping them. He'd find a pot of Manhattan clam chowder waiting for him when he stepped through the door. She hummed as she tasted and stirred. Ebony wound around her legs, begging, and she gave him a big spoon of clams before she added them to the pot. She turned the burner to low and reached for a loaf of bread. She was slicing it when three claps of thunder shook the house, followed by bright stabs of lightning, and the electricity went out.

  She blinked in the dim light and reached for a kerosene lantern. She had its glass up and was holding a candle to its wick when the back door blew open and the wind extinguished the flame. Turning to shut the door, she almost tripped on Ebony. The cat's back was arched and he hissed a warning. Loralei bent to calm him just as a thick slab of wood slammed down onto the butcher block. The wood was meant for her head. A man, mostly hidden beneath an army green poncho, dripped water on her oak floor. Before he could raise another chunk of log from her woodpile, she turned and ran. Footsteps pounded behind her. Then a cat yowled, and a body crashed to the floor. She turned to see that Ebony had tripped her attacker. The cat quickly sidestepped his victim and raced to her. Together, they hurried out the front door. Rain pelted them as they charged across the front lawn to the woods.

  "Death! I need you!" Loralei sent the message as her feet pumped toward the driveway. She and Ebony were flying along it when headlights pinned them in place. Deputy sheriff Lane Stuart screeched to a stop and stepped from the car, gun drawn. Death slammed out of the passenger side. He was beside her in two, long strides, pulling her into his arms.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Fine, Ebony warned me."

  "Where is he?"

  "He was in the kitchen, but he must have heard your car. I don't know where he is now."

  Thunder rumbled and rolled. They had to yell over the noise. The rain was freezing cold. It plastered her dress to her body. Her hair was dripping wet. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  "You stay with her," Death told Lane. "I'll find Mark."

  "No." The deputy held his ground. "We'll do this my way. You stay, and I'll apprehend the suspect."

  Death would have argued with him, but Lane stalked away. He took the same route the chipmunk had used, hugging close to the rose bushes on the side of the house and staying close to the stone walls in the front. The door was still partially open, blowing in the wind, and he gingerly stepped over the threshold, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom.

  As he stepped forward, a shadow moved, and a heavy piece of wood hit the back of his skull. The deputy dropped to the floor, and the shadow raised the wood to hit him again.

  "Get in the cruiser," Death said, "and lock all the doors. I have to help him."

  Loralei scrambled inside the car and did as she was told. She and Ebony watched as Death stalked toward the house to help the deputy. Loralei held her breath as he stepped over the threshold, half expecting another log to slam into his head. Not that it would hurt him, but surely, it would do something. Make him fall or stumble? Maybe not.

  Death bent and hovered over Lane longer than Loralei expected. She was beginning to worry when the deputy's spirit appeared beside her in the car.

  "It hurts so much. Please tell him to take me, to let me go," Lane begged. His voice was steeped in pain. His breaths were ragged and shallow.

  "But you must be dead. You're here. I see dead people, not half dead ones."

  "I was hovering over my body, ready to leave, when Death revived me. I saw the tunnel. I want to go."

  "I'm sorry." Loralei's stomach wrenched with the suffering that laced his speech. Blood gushed from the back of his head, and a jagged bone poked from his arm where it dangled uselessly. "If Death won't take you, you're going to survive this. You're going to live and be fine once you heal."

  "It hurts!" He held a hand to his mouth, ready to gag from his pain. "I want him to make it stop."

  "I'll tell him." Loralei sent a quick message to her lover. "Put him out of his misery. Grant him unconsciousness."

  Death nodded and passed a hand over Lane. The deputy's image faded and his spirit returned to his beaten body. Death effortlessly lifted him and returned to the squad car. He laid Lane's limp form on the backseat of the car. Then he dug in the man's pockets and placed Lane's keys in the ignition. He used the radio to call for help. "You have an officer down," he told the dispatcher. "He's been attacked by a burglar at…" and he gave them directions to the cottage. "Lock up," he told Loralei. "I'm going after Mark. If anything goes wrong, start the car and drive away."

  She nodded, confused. What could go wrong? But then she realized that Death could find a dying person anywhere. He was drawn to them unerringly. But a living person was another thing. There was no inner magnet that called him to them. If Mark had a gun, if he came to the car and aimed at the window, she'd have to leave. Or better yet, call her lover. He'd be there in a flash.

  She sat in the car, staring under trees and into shadows every time lightning flashed. Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes felt like hours, but Death didn't come. She was both relieved and annoyed when an ambulance pulled into the drive behind Lane's car. Men hurried to them, carrying a stretcher, and Loralei stepped out into the rain to greet them. They were strapping Lane to the bed when Death returned to be with her. When she looked at him, a clear question in her eyes, he shook his head.

  "I found tir
e tracks down the road. The car's gone. I think he ran."

  Loralei didn't blame him. His plan hadn't gone well. He had to know more people would be coming soon. He'd run and fight another day.

  More deputies came. They asked questions and watched over their friend as the ambulance took him away. Some stayed to ask more questions and techs came to look for evidence. When Loralei finally got to return to the house, she almost laughed with relief when she smelled the rich aroma of clam chowder coming from the kitchen. Good thing she'd put it on simmer. While the experts finished up, she went upstairs and took a hot shower, then changed into dry clothes. When she came down, everyone was gone. Only Death waited for her in the kitchen. He'd changed out of his wet clothes too, but chose to wear pajama bottoms as he set the table. Naked from the waist up, he was as an appetizing sight, but neither of them were in the mood for any more excitement. They sat across the table from each other and ate steaming bowls of soup, dipping buttered bread into its rich broth. They sipped red wine and enjoyed the quiet comfort of their everyday routine.

  "Devon Shire?" she asked. "And Skipper? I never got to ask what happened."

  "The dog didn't make it. He was gone by the time we found him, but in a way, that was good. He was waiting for Devon, and they left together."

  She nodded. A happy ending. How could Devon's parents love their son's pet when it had cost him his life?

  At bedtime, she spooned her body against Death's, and they fell asleep to the sound of raindrops bouncing on the roof. The thunder and lightning had rumbled their way into the distance, and a gentle rain washed away the night's memories.

  Chapter 6

  Loralei drove to visit Lane Stuart in the hospital. Death chose to stay home. If he walked the building's corridors, the dying might see him. He didn't want to scare them or raise their hopes of a quick release.

  She'd baked cookies for the deputy and handed them to him hesitantly. "These are a peace offering. Are you angry with me?" she asked.

  He grimaced. "Thank God, you didn't listen to me last night. I'd have crossed over for a broken bone. I'm ashamed of the way I acted."