Dead Girl in Love (16 page)

Sick. Sick. Sick!

This four-letter word described Kyle’s demented habits, and also the way my stomach churned at the sight of bat blood dripping from his lips.

Before he could pull any more freaky things out of his bag of horrors, I spun around. Branches crackled under my feet as I bolted for the gate.

“Alyce!” I heard Kyle calling. “Wait! I didn’t … !”

The gate swung shut behind me with a loud, shrill clang as I raced down the steps. I fumbled for the car keys, collapsing into the driver’s seat when the door opened.

The car sparked with sweet life, and I was out of there, burning rubber and breaking all kinds of speeding laws to get far away.

By the time the landscape changed from rolling fields to mini-malls, my breath slowed to normal. Inside, though, my thoughts were chaotic. Kyle was seriously delusional if he expected animal bones and blood to impress a girl. And all that talk about covens and rituals?
Creepy!

Did he really believe drinking bat blood would give him powers?

I knew more about
real
powers than Kyle ever would.

This was all Dustin’s fault. He’d set me up with a wacko. At a red light, I switched on the speaker phone and called him. Before Dustin could ask, I told him what I’d gone through with creepy Kyle. When I got to the part about Kyle drinking bat blood and offering it to me, for the first time in the history of our friendship Dustin was speechless. No arguments. No sarcasm. When he finally spoke, he apologized and said he’d made a mistake.

Mr. Know-Everything Dustin admitting he was wrong? That was a first, and almost worth what I’d just gone through. Almost.

My anger had faded by the time we hung up, although disappointment lingered. Despite seeing into Alyce’s memories and visiting graveyards, I was no closer to finding the missing grave.

When I returned to the Perfetti house, the TV droned and Alyce’s mother was still asleep, her mouth half open as she curled against a couch pillow. She looked peaceful, and younger than usual without heavy lines crossing her forehead. Too bad I couldn’t just ask her what really happened.

While I heated a burrito in the microwave, I sorted through everything I’d found out and tried to calculate the time line. Alyce had been around four in our shared memory, so the baby must have died thirteen years ago—shortly before her parents had divorced. Her father never visited, which seemed harsh. But now I had an idea why he left. I couldn’t blame him for bailing on Psycho Mom, but I did blame him for leaving his daughter. Could there be more to it? I wondered, as I carried the heated burrito to the table. I glanced up at a wall shelf with family photos of Alyce, her mother, and older people I guessed were grandparents. No photos of Mr. Perfetti. Had he suspected, as I was beginning to, that Alyce’s mother was guilty of more than forgetting where the baby was buried?

I didn’t want to believe she was responsible for her own baby’s death … yet the suspicion was like a sliver stuck under my skin. If only there was a way to unlock more secrets in Alyce memories. Could Dark Lifer powers help me?

My thoughts jumped to Gabe, my pulse quickening and my skin feeling hotter than the spicy burrito burning my tongue. Why did thinking about him make me feel like this? I felt sorry for him, but couldn’t call him a friend (a friendly enemy?). What we’d experienced together (near fusing?) had been so amazing. Not romantic but spiritual. He’d given me the gift of my truest self, soaring with me on a euphoric wave like surfing across the universe. Our soul journey had changed me in a profound way, and despite all logic, I wanted to go there again. And even further.

So why not call him now?

Wiping sauce from my lip with a napkin, I carried my plate to the kitchen, my thoughts rushing with the water spilling into the sink. There were a lot of reasons to see Gabe again. I could connect with Alyce again to find out more about her visit to graveyards. I’d also ask why she’d taken the file from Green Briar, and if there were any clues to the missing grave’s location, and about her mother’s mental problems. But even more important, I could wash away worries by flying free of the physical plane with Gabe.

My phone was in the bedroom, a short walk down the hall that seemed miles long. I was anxious-scared-eager to see Gabe again.

Drying my hands on a towel, I wondered: could I really trust Gabe?

He had a century-long habit of lying to girls who freely offered their hearts to him. So why did he want to help me? Saying I was “different than other girls” was so cliché. Still, it sounded sincere coming from him. And I was different from his past girlfriends because I already had a boyfriend, so he couldn’t break a heart that didn’t belong to him. Also there was the whole Temp Lifer thing. I understood what it was like to lose your own identity while living in borrowed bodies.

Another reason for his interest in me could be my grandmother’s otherworldly status. As head honcho in the TL program, she had the power to save him. I couldn’t blame him for this; I even admired his resourcefulness. It seemed fair, anyway, for me to connect him with Grammy since he’d connected me with Alyce. It was the kind of strategy my book
Getting the Goal
advised for achieving success.

Only I doubted Grammy would help Gabe—not even for me. I’d been procrastinating all day about asking her. Grammy had a quick temper when she’d been alive and I was sure she still had it in her afterlife. She was not going to be happy to find out I’d been hanging out with a Dark Lifer—especially a wanted criminal.

Still, I had to call and confess everything.

Not going to be fun.

Gulp.

So after checking on Alyce’s mother, who was still snoring softly on the couch, I went down the hall to the bedroom where I’d left the cell phone. I took one step inside the room—and gasped. A shadowy shape crouched on Alyce’s bed! His curled tail wagged, his black eyes shone with affection, and a spinning Duty Director glowed like a holographic collar around his furry black neck.

“Cola!” I cried out, grinning.

My favorite dead dog was back.

When I was little, Cola followed me everywhere: outside to play, over to friends’ houses, inline skating, and even into the bathroom if I wasn’t quick enough to close the door. During meals he’d lurk under my chair, covertly gobbling down scraps of food. My mixed-everything beloved mutt was my first best friend. So I was beyond thrilled when we’d reunited a few weeks ago on the other side.

Even more astonishing then meeting my long-dead dog had been finding out that I could hear his thoughts in my head. We’d talked a lot when I was little but it was all one-sided: my jabbering away while he stared at me with adoring eyes and wagged his tail in what I imagined was a secret doggy language that only I could understand.

Now Cola was more than a loyal pet. He had an important job as a Comforter, where he could change into the shape of any animal to ease a dying person’s final moments. Once I’d watched him change into a Siamese cat, which had seemed like a miracle. The old man he’d “comforted” recognized him as a beloved pet, which made his passing from this world to the next peaceful. To me, it had all seemed amazing and miraculous. I couldn’t be prouder of Cola.

So my first reaction to finding him on Alyce’s bed was to wrap my arms around his fuzzy body in a big hug. He lapped my face and in my mind I heard him say how good it was to see me again.

“It’s great to see you, too,” I told him.

Then I noticed that his Duty Director (a computerized collar energized by a higher power) whirled with images in a speedy blur. It was like trying to look at a rainbow while riding in a Ferris wheel. And I wondered why he was here.

He stopped wagging his tail, and reached out a paw as if holding my hand. In my mind I heard him say,
Amber, I’ve come with an urgent message
.

“Is something wrong?” My heart skipped.

There is a problem
, he admitted.

“Is Grammy all right?”

She’s fine—but this problem affects her, too.

My gaze lifted to the dark ceiling with all the painted stars on infinite black, and I felt as if the darkness stretched down to swallow me whole. “It must be something huge for you to come all the way here from the other side.”

He lapped at me with his wet doggy tongue and I patted him on the spot between his ears where he loved to be scratched.
I came to warn you. I wanted you to hear this from a friend, not a random Temp Lifer. You’re vulnerable because of your recent contact with a Dark Lifer
.

Recent! Did that mean he knew about last night?

Don’t be afraid
, he assured me, clearly misreading my anxiety.
The DD Team is working on the situation so it should be resolved soon. You’ve done a remarkable job as a new Temp Lifer—following the GEM rules and reporting the Dark Lifer when you encountered him on his boat
.

Oh … the boat! Relief swept through me. Cola was talking about what happened when I’d been in a different body, on spring break in Venice Beach. He had no idea about my more recent Dark Lifer encounter—and I wasn’t about to tell him.

“What’s going on?” I asked my dog.

Nothing yet, but we’re on high alert
, Cola mind-spoke to me.
Although Dark Lifers can be dangerous, it’s rare for them to harm a human. Acts of violence drain their energy, making it easier for the DD Team to apprehend them
.

“So a Dark Lifer can’t really hurt me?”

They can if they touch you with focused energy. But there’s only been one occurrence ever, and that was partly the Temp Lifer’s fault for breaking rules.

I glanced over at Monkey Bag lying on the floor, imagining my GEM book inside and those nine rules—I’d broken at least three. “What happened to that Temp Lifer?”

Not important
. Cola’s dark eyes clouded over.
Still, don’t go anywhere alone and immediately report anyone you suspect could be a Dark Lifer
.

I didn’t
suspect
Gabe—I
knew
what he was. So, technically, I wasn’t lying to Cola when I nodded. Still, I couldn’t quite meet his gaze and glanced down at my hands.

“Anyway, I doubt I’ll meet another Dark Lifer,” I said evasively.

I’m more concerned with the one you already met. Gabriel Deverau isn’t an ordinary Dark Lifer. He’s the most wanted DDT criminal. He’s been a fugitive for generations, but he can’t hide forever
.

“It’s been almost a week since I saw him on the boat.”

Y
et his essence still remains on you
. Cola tensed like a hunting dog on alert, his fur bristling as he sniffed me.
This is very odd. The smell should have faded by now, but you still stink with foul darkness
.

I sniffed but didn’t smell anything except Cola’s doggy breath. Not pleasant, either. And he had the nerve to say I smelled bad?

“I can’t help how I smell,” I said defensively. “Besides, Gabe didn’t seem dangerous. I actually felt sorry for him. Maybe Dark Lifers aren’t all that bad.”

How can you say that after what you’ve been through? Or have you forgotten your first encounter with a Dark Lifer?

“No, I’ll never forget.” I frowned. “But I got away and nothing terrible happened.”