Page 2 of Brush with Death (Not Quite Dead #3)

ROBBIE WAS WAITING by his car when Cyril arrived at the address Robbie had given him when he’d agreed to the job.

Robbie was on his phone, but he put it away as soon as he heard Cyril park.

Cyril was glad not to be working on his own anymore.

It was what he’d always done and what he’d thought he’d always do.

He’d never imagined he would find people who accepted what he could do enough to become his friend.

Robbie clapped his hands as soon as Cyril was with him.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

“You sound like you can’t wait to get out of here.”

“That’s because it’s true. The sooner I’m away from this dead person, the sooner I won’t feel like my skin is crawling.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I worked on my own for years, so it’s not a problem if you’d rather leave or stay outside.”

Even though Vale would be pissed.

He hadn’t come along today only because he’d known that Robbie would be there. After what had happened when Cyril had been kidnapped, Vale was overprotective. Cyril couldn’t say he felt sorry about that. He liked knowing that someone was worried about him, and he liked coming home to Vale and seeing the relief and the love on his boyfriend’s face.

Robbie straightened his back and squared his shoulders.

“No. I can do it.”

“I never said you couldn’t. The fact that you can do it doesn’t mean you should do it. A lot of people aren’t comfortable with that.”

“I may not be comfortable with dead people, but you hired me to do a job, and I’ll do it. Besides, it’s not like I have to touch the body. That’s your job.”

And Robbie’s job was to deal with the grieving family. It was a relief because Cyril had never been great at that. He’d done it because it had been inevitable, but he’d always felt awkward. He was better at dealing with dead people than people who were still breathing. He supposed it made sense since he was a necromancer.

Cyril let Robbie take the lead and knock on the door. The exterior of the house had a well-maintained garden that someone had obviously put a lot of care and effort into from the flowers and lush greenery. A white picket fence lined the front yard, and the pathway leading to the front door was flanked by flowering rose bushes that Cyril could smell as he walked past them. The front door was painted a deep shade of red and had a brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head that Robbie ignored in favor of the bell to the side.

It was instantly obvious that Robbie would be great at his job. The woman who opened the door was already crying, and he quickly brought her inside and fussed over her. It left Cyril with nothing to do but look around, which was always a bit awkward, but at least he didn’t have to say anything to make the woman feel better.

The living room Cyril peeked into was spacious and had large bay windows that allowed the sun to stream in. The sunlight was at odds with the heavy tension in the house and with the knowledge that there was a dead body somewhere.

“I know this is a hard time for you,”

Robbie murmured.

“But we’ll do everything we can to make it easy on you. I’m really sorry for the loss of your husband, Mrs. Maxwell.”

Mrs. Maxwell pressed a used tissue against her mouth.

“Thank you. He’s in the bedroom.”

Cyril didn’t usually ask what had happened if the authorities hadn’t been called. It was none of his business, so he kept his questions to himself unless he had a good reason to believe that something illegal had happened. He was sure that Robbie had looked into it, anyway.

They followed Mrs. Maxwell down the hallway and up the stairs. Cyril could hear voices, so he knew Mrs. Maxwell wasn’t alone. He wasn’t surprised to see three people waiting in the bedroom. The two women were pressed together, holding hands, while the man had his arms crossed over his chest and was scowling. Cyril decided to stay away from him. He looked angry, and Cyril never knew what to do with angry people.

The bedroom was decorated in soothing tones of blue and white, which again were at odds with the deceased man on the king-sized bed. He lay on a soft-looking comforter and white pillows. The large ornate mirror in the corner reflected the sad scene.

The man on the bed appeared to be in his late sixties, maybe early seventies. He was still young, but then, that was usually the people Cyril was called to be reanimated. When people died in their eighties or later, they knew it was coming and got ready for it.

The scowl on the face of the man standing by the bed got worse, and Cyril hoped he wouldn’t have any trouble. He might have Robbie with him, but Robbie wasn’t exactly a fighter, and neither was Cyril.

Maybe he should have brought Vale alone, after all.

“This is my husband,”

Mrs. Maxwell said.

“Bobby. And these are my children, Robert Junior, Lisa, and Amanda.”

Robert Junior was pissed. He glared at Cyril as if Cyril was here to offend him. Maybe he didn’t want his father to be reanimated. Sometimes, families were torn over whether or not to use a necromancer.

Cyril smiled at every one of them, including Robert Junior.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He wasn’t sure which one of the women was Amanda and which one was Lisa, but the one closest to the bed let out a sob and pressed a hand against her eyes. Cyril looked away to give her privacy.

“Just get to the point,”

Robert Junior snapped.

Robbie and Cyril exchanged a glance. Robbie looked annoyed, but he didn’t say anything. He pressed his lips together and nodded at Cyril. Robert Junior wasn’t the first angry family member Cyril had to deal with. He’d learned early on that it was best to ignore how rude they were. After all, they’d just lost someone they loved. People reacted differently to grief. Anger was probably how Robert Junior dealt with it.

Cyril quickly set up. There wasn’t much for him to do, but he had a ritual that helped him get into the right mind frame. He put down his bag and sat on the edge of the mattress next to Bobby. He heard Mrs. Maxwell suck in a breath, but he didn’t look back at her. His whole focus was on the deceased man.

Once he was ready, he delicately wrapped his fingers around Bobby’s wrist. He closed his eyes and pulled as soon as he felt Bobby’s soul. He came easily, as if he wanted to talk to his family. He probably did.

When Bobby opened his eyes, Mrs. Maxwell cried out. She stared at her husband with one hand raised as if she wasn’t sure whether or not she should touch him. Cyril kept in contact with the body. He could maintain the reanimation even when he wasn’t touching the bodies he was working on, but it was easier for him if he was.

“Bobby?”

Mrs. Maxwell asked in a trembling voice.

“Oh, Margaret,”

Bobby said.

He extended his free hand. His wife took it after hesitating only a moment.

Cyril understood. Mr. Maxwell was dead, yet here he was, talking and wanting to touch his wife. Some people were repulsed by the thought of touching a dead body, even if it was the body of a loved one. Mrs. Maxwell didn’t seem to be. She squeezed her husband’s hand and sobbed.

“Can we get to the point?”

Robert Junior asked.

“Where’s your will, Dad?”

Bobby reluctantly looked away from his wife.

“With my lawyer.”

Robert Junior was already shaking his head.

“That’s impossible. That will says that you left everything to Amanda and Lisa. I’m not even mentioned.”

“I know. I didn’t leave anything to you, Robert.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why wouldn’t you?”

Bobby glanced around the room. His gaze caught with Cyril’s, who smiled at him. Bobby looked down at where Cyril’s fingertips pressed into his skin. His expression was sad, and Cyril thought that he knew that whatever was going on, he’d have to deal with it in front of two strangers and was reluctant to do so.

“You know why,”

Bobby said softly as he turned back to his son.

Cyril knew what would happen before it did. When Robert Junior jerked forward, Cyril had to let go of Bobby to get out of the way. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Robert Junior pushed him hard enough that he fell sideways. His head hit the corner of the nightstand, and pain exploded in his temple.

Vale wasn’t going to be happy.

“I’M JUST SAYING THAT I’m not planning on retiring anytime soon,”

Russell said.

“So why would I need a plan?”

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Because you might end up having to retire even if you don’t want to. It’s the nature of the job.”

“But I’m good at it. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Vale and Russell had been going round and round, talking for what felt like hours. Russell kept gently making fun of Vale retiring and insisting that he never would, while Vale pointed out all the reasons that Russell definitely would need to step away. Even if nothing happened, he was getting older, and his reaction times were getting slower. Vale didn’t want to lose his best friend because he didn’t know his own limitations, but unfortunately for him, Russell was stubborn.

Vale was relieved when his phone vibrated on the kitchen table. He snatched it up, hoping it was Cyril who was calling to tell him that he was on his way home.

It wasn’t Cyril. It was Robbie, and Vale’s stomach dropped.

“What happened?”

he asked as he answered. He raised a finger to tell Russell to be quiet.

“We’re headed to the hospital.”

Vale was on his feet before he could even think of it.

“Which hospital? What happened? Is Cyril okay?”

“The paramedics said he would be, but he got pushed and hit his head. He insists that he’s fine, but the paramedics want to make sure that his head’s fine.”

“So he’s awake?”

“Awake and complaining that he doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Oh, he’s going.”

“That’s what I said. I insisted, and he eventually relented.”

“Good. I’m glad he had you.”

Vale couldn’t even think of what would’ve happened if Cyril had been alone.

He wanted more information about the situation. Robbie had said that Cyril had been pushed. By whom? Why? It was easy to imagine all sorts of disastrous scenarios, but Robbie had said that Cyril was awake and talking. Surely that meant that he was okay?

“Anyway, they’re taking him to Saint Andrew. I’ll see you there,”

Robbie said before hanging up.

Vale rushed for the front door. He shoved his feet into his shoes, but before he could snatch his car keys from the small table by the door, Russell did so.

When Vale glared at him, Russell shrugged.

“You’re in no state to drive.”

“You drive like a grandma.”

“And you drive like you have a death wish, especially when Cyril is involved. Let’s go.”

Vale knew that he wouldn’t win the fight. To be honest, he was pretty sure that Russell was right and that he was in no state to drive. He might be headed to the hospital, but he didn’t want to get in a car accident before getting there.

He bounced his knee the entire time it took them to drive there. He knew it was annoying Russell, but Russell didn’t say anything about it. He kept glancing in Vale’s direction, clearly on the edge of doing so, but the words never came out. Vale was glad. He didn’t want to fight with his best friend, especially when his boyfriend was in the hospital.

“He’ll be fine,”

Russell eventually said.

“You can’t know that.”

“Robbie said that he was awake and talking, and he’s feeling well enough not to want to go to the hospital.”

“Him not being unconscious doesn’t mean he’ll be fine. What if he broke his skull? What if his brain is bleeding?”

“Then I’m sure the doctors will catch it and fix it. You can’t think of the worst possibilities right now.”

“Why not?”

Russell sighed and shook his head.

“Because Cyril wouldn’t want you to.”

“Cyril is the one who got himself hurt, so he doesn’t have a say. I’ll think what I want.”

Russell sighed but knew better than to push. Besides, they were almost at the hospital. As soon as Russell slowed down in front of the building, Vale was out of the car. He ignored Russell calling for him and left his friend to find a parking spot. He didn’t care where Russell left it. He just cared about Cyril, who was somewhere in the hospital, probably in pain.

Vale prayed that Cyril would be fine. If he wasn’t, Vale would find out what had happened and would make sure that whoever had pushed his boyfriend paid for it. Hell, he’d make sure of that even if Cyril was fine.

Maybe Cyril didn’t need an assistant. Maybe he needed a bodyguard. Vale had hinted at it several times, but Cyril had always brushed him off. Vale was done allowing his boyfriend to do that. Cyril needed a keeper, and Vale was it.