Unrequited Death (Death #6)

Unrequited Death (Death #6) Page 2

"What's Jonesy talking about?" he asked, his hands on slack encased hips. His parents had made him wear the Man Outfit. John jerked the tie down a little so it was less like a noose.

"I'm pitting out in this bullshit," John muttered.

"Dirty mouth, Terran," Tiff said in a sultry purr from behind us and the poor bastard went from ivory snow to red as a tomato as fast as you could say....

Girl.

Tiff was one of those rare individuals whose very existence gave me a perpetual case of the crooked mouth. Like now.

"Tiff..." John began as she moved around to the front of our position and both our jaws dropped.

Tiff looked like a girl.

It was literally the first time we had ever seen her in a dress and she immediately tensed, feeling self-conscious.

John cleared his throat, the blush flaring ruthlessly back to life. He opened his mouth and then shut it.

"What?" she asked in a defensive bark.

John looked at her, taking in the soft, honey colored hair that had missed mousy brown by a millimeter. Her hazel eyes were rimmed with a swipe or two of light mascara but her face was so small that those luminous eyes with flecks of green took up half of that precious real estate.

And she had a body.

Who could have known? Hoodie as Uniform had obscured all.

She had been a skinny girl who had grown into a curvy woman. Not as curvy as Jade but in the same league.

Tiff huffed, pegging a small hand on her hip. Hands I'd seen jab throats. I was mesmerized, it was hard to imagine her doing the things she'd done when she was wearing skyscraper heels and a deep green blouse that hugged her torso tightly, a lacy black cami peeking out from actual, bona fide cleavage.

I swear I heard Terran swallow. Must've hurt. Poor dude.

"You look nice, Tiff," John said. Color rose to her cheekbones and she was silent, fiddling with the hem of her short black skirt.

The awkwardness was suffocating us and dragging Tiff along for the ride when Sophie walked up.

Thank everything that was holy.

"Hi guys," she said, her eyes shifting from my face to Terran's then to Tiff's.

"What'd I miss? You guys look totally stiff." Then she lowered her voice, "Jonesy added some cool stuff to the punch so go have some of that and start looking like the stick is out of your asses." Then she straightened, looking at Tiff who glared back at her.

"How do you boys like Tiff's transformation-to-girl, huh?" she asked smugly.

Holy crap, Tiff must've been desperate to let the animal print queen get a hold of her.

Sophie looked at my face. "Come on, Caleb. A little credit! I mean, we're warming her up nice and slow before zoo time."

Tiff had a physical reaction, blanching at the mere thought of wearing anything with a print, I could tell.

Terran smoothly said, his eyes steady on hers, "I think this might be more Tiff's style."

Tiff looked up at Terran and smiled at him with a shy regard that was a first.

Well, it was the first time Terran noticed. The gang had been noticing for months.

It was one of those moments when you know something with such assurance that it sings a tune in your bones.

Sophie gave me a sly smile and I gave an almost imperceptible nod in return.

John and Tiff didn't pay attention because they were too busy looking at each other.

Perfect.

CHAPTER 2

then

autumn of senior year

Clyde was waiting for me when I dropped Jade off at the dorm-like foster set up. It beat the Frazier household (which had really been a ruse anyway). Jade hadn't had any belongings to move except the dreamcatcher.

We placed it last, above her new bed, my superstitious mind conjuring images that maybe it had survived everything to be an omen of good fortune. The creepiness of our past covered in the freedom of our future.

It was as if her existence that year had been wiped from everyone's consciousness. Erased. Jade came of age on a day like any other when she turned eighteen in our senior year, getting the deed to her Aunt's house and moving into the new foster dorm the same day.

We celebrated.

Oh did we.

For two weeks after Brett's funeral Jade had stayed at my house. After her birthday, my parents helped with getting her settled in her new place. We still found time to be together and christen her new start.

However, there had been the matter of Clyde.

I dropped Jade off at her new digs, the house was a huge old-fashioned four square from the turn of the last century. Its bold lines framed her. I watched her through the rain sheeting against the car window. When she went through the door it appeared to swallow her.

I left her in that cavernous mouth, driving away uneasily to seek out Clyde.

I knew he'd be with Bobbi and I headed there.

But I pulsed Jade. It made me feel better. My finger was itching to pulse. I had to know that she wasn't being digested by her new environment.

Color me jumpy.

I was. And I wasn't apologizing for it either. It'd been a helluva year and there were new challenges to face. I'd rather face them with Clyde than without.

Right now Clyde was a shell of his former self. Gale had a new scar above her heart; a bullet meant for Clyde had pierced her instead. If not for his life force, she'd be on my team.

Team Dead.

None of us wanted that.

I let the car idle in front of Roberta Gale's house and sighed. I pulsed the Camaro off and jerked open the door. My foot hit the street, rain pounding the asphalt so hard it slopped back up and soaked my shoes. I turned the collar of my jacket up, a khaki thing that looked more brown than green. The water resistant fiber mesh made the water run off my back without soaking through the material. I gave a glance in each direction, sweeping my eyes up the street and hopped over the small river running along the curb.

I caught sight of someone standing off in the distance with an umbrella.

Candy ass, I thought. Who uses umbrellas? It gave me pause and I looked back. The lone figure was gone.

Effing weird... I gave a mental shrug and jogged up the steps to the door.

Clyde opened it before I could knock. It wasn't that much of a shock. I could feel him five miles out. He knew I was coming.

His skin had plumped out a little but those eyes... they were dry orbs in shriveled pockets of flesh, his skin hanging off his body like an ill-fitting suit. Like the guy from the classic film, Men in Black, in his Edgar suit.

That Life-Transference wasn't for nothing. It literally sucked the life out of ya.

He stepped backward, sweeping his palm inward to indicate I should proceed him. I stepped off the deep stoop of their porch and came into the house. It was small by my standards. Our house was over two thousand square feet, and for the three of us it was almost too big. This was one of those Craftsman bungalows, low eaves with high ceilings, and real wood beams bisecting one another in an elaborate tic-tac-toe design on the ceiling. There was a roaring fire in the background and I looked at Clyde.

He gave a small smile, his lips pulling away from a mouth that had been one of my best. The mouths were always the hardest.

The mystery of life. Or death. I got the crooked mouth thinking about it.

It figured that the first place I sucked energy from would be there.

"Hey man," I said, clapping him on the back.

"Caleb," Clyde responded, shuffling over to push another log into the fire.

"How come you're not reeking?"

"Roberta has managed that much," Clyde said, without turning and I watched him expertly tending the fire. The deep forest green tiles on the surround were slightly reflective. The flames made shadows dance against the surface.

"I can keep him where he's at but not much more," Gale clarified, coming into the room with a mug of hot cocoa. She had a very snarky mug which read Death Happens.

She gave it to me handle-first and my eyebrows rose.

"Nice," I said, lifting the mug in a salute.

She smirked, the corners of her mouth lifting, then she looked at Clyde and her smile faded.

"So?" she asked, letting herself fall on the couch as she stared pensively at Clyde's back. He loaded more sticks of firewood inside the gut of the wood stove insert, the fragrance of the Western Red Cedar permeating the small sitting room.

The clock ticked as I stared at the floating marshmallows. And here I thought it was something Mom did to keep me young. My eyes met Gale's and she said a little helplessly, "You can't have hot cocoa without the marshmallows."

So true, I thought, the corners of my mouth turning up.

Clyde straightened, turning to face us, the orange of the flames giving a halo effect as he stood there patiently. His pants were held up by old-fashioned suspenders. The rolled up shirt sleeves uncovered paper thin gray flesh; his decomposition had been arrested by Gale.

"I've talked to my AFTD teacher and, although no one has ever tried anything like this,... and it might backfire..."

"Do it," Gale said, her gaze shifting to Clyde.

I sighed. "I might screw things up, Gale."

Clyde spoke, "I cannot go back. There is another life waiting for me. If I cannot have the one that lays before me like a gift, I will go back to rest."

"Clyde no!" Gale cried, popping to her feet and Clyde turned to her.

"Roberta, hear me." He stopped her forward progression easily, lightly gripping her shoulders. "It is not that I do not love you." His eyes searched hers. I sat there feeling like hell, knowing that somehow, regardless of the circumstances, I was responsible for this. Then those hazel eyes flicked to mine. There was no condemnation there, only trust. I flinched at what he gave me. I wasn't sure if it was a gift that I could accept.

But I would try.

For Clyde.

For them.

I stood and said to Gale, "I'm ready. But if it goes the opposite way," I shrugged my unease in front of them then continued, "I may not be able to stop it... fix it."

They nodded and I tried another time, giving them the Supreme Loophole. "Smith said it should work, that I need to use the same power that I used to Transfer, putting it back into you. If it doesn't work, there's no way to anticipate what might happen."

Bobbi looked confused and I gave her a level look. I was ready to play in the sandbox but I needed to know they would be on board if shit got weird.

And since that was usually the way it went, I was counting on it.

Clyde nodded his head and looked at Bobbi. "We spoke of this possibility, Roberta. We knew that it was an experiment. You know that we cannot go on like this, dear heart," he looked into her eyes, "this is existing, not life. Not life as it was meant to be lived."

"I know," she said, covering his much bigger hand with her own.

"Nice job on the smell, by the way," I complimented her.

She smiled. "I keep forgetting you're not even eighteen yet."

What did that have to do with anything?

Gale's smile became a grin. "It's just that... here we are, ready to try and put my corpse-lover back together and you're complimenting me on keeping his rot at bay."

Well... yeah.

"Come on," she said, giving up on me as a lost cause. "Let's go."

I followed her into another room, smaller but without a fire. I was pleased about that, 'cuz the place had to have been one hundred five degrees. I did a stealthy forehead wipe but Gale caught it.

"Too hot?"

I nodded but shrugged out of my jacket and threw it on a chair. Clyde raised a brow.

Cripes, he was as bad as Mom. I grabbed it and put it on a hook by the door, the mirror that was built into the old bench seat gazing back at me with dark spots, silvered in places and glanced back.

"I bet this place feels like home, Clyde," I said, walking into the small room, a couch stood on either end, separated by a low oak coffee table.

He nodded. "It is an older home but not near as aged to me as it might appear to you."

"It was my great-grandma's," Bobbi said. "When she passed the family was going to get rid of it but I thought it had a certain charm."

I looked at Clyde. He looked right in a house built in 1905. He just did. I told him so.

He grinned and that black mouth waved like a flag of rot at me. I guess I hadn't done so great on the mouth after all.

Time to get started.

"Okay, so come lie down."

Clyde shambled over to the couch, his usual grace nothing but an echo of what it'd been.

"Do I need to...?" Bobbi asked.

"No," Clyde and I said in unison and I laughed.

"You're not a part of the process."

I hesitated.

"What is it, Caleb?" Clyde asked. It sounded like he had gravel in his mouth.

I wiped suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. "There's one thing. My AFTD teacher thought that using Transfer in reverse might... call stuff."