Page 5 of Brush with Death (Not Quite Dead #3)

CYRIL STARED AT THE ceiling. There was nothing else for him to do.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t true. He could watch TV, even though there was nothing he wanted to watch. He could read. His headache wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t focus on a book. He could go bother Vale. His boyfriend wouldn’t say anything if he did.

But Cyril wanted to do none of those things. He wanted to go to work, but he was trapped on his couch.

It had been two very long days. Cyril had never gone so long without working. Even when he wasn’t reanimating people, he was answering emails and phone calls and scheduling appointments. All of that was in Robbie’s hands now, and while initially, that had been a relief, Cyril wished he could go back to doing everything himself. It would give him something to do.

The only reason he hadn’t tried sneaking out or grabbing his phone to peek at the schedule Robbie was working on was that he was scared. What if hitting his head had taken away his ability to reanimate people? What if trying to power through the pain had made things worse? What if Cyril’s choices meant that he would never reanimate anyone ever again?

He didn’t care about the money beyond earning what he needed to survive. No, he cared more about helping people.

He knew that most people thought he was weird and were wary of him because of how comfortable he was with death, but that had never mattered to him. What did matter was that he wanted to help families talk to their loved ones one last time. He wanted to help people make their peace with losing someone they loved.

All of that was out of his reach right now, and it might be permanent. What would Cyril do if that was the case? He’d have to find another job, but he didn’t know how to do anything else. He’d never had to learn.

His phone was on silent because loud noises made his head hurt, but it was on the coffee table, so Cyril heard it vibrate. He picked it up, hoping for a distraction, and smiled when he saw that his mother was calling.

“Mom,”

he answered.

There was a pause.

“I can hear from your voice that you’re not doing well. Does your head still hurt?”

“It does,”

Cyril confirmed. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been before, but he could still feel it.

“But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Of course it’s not. You can’t worry about other people when you should focus on yourself, though, Cyril.”

“I’m worried about myself, too. I don’t want to not be a necromancer.”

“I really don’t think that’s what’s happening here.”

“Then what’s happening? I can’t reanimate people anymore.”

Oscar was lucky that Cyril had managed to make his reanimation permanent. If he hadn’t, his pet would be a small pile of bones in a corner of the room right now. Instead, Oscar was stretched out in a patch of sunlight, snoozing. His tentacles twitched every so often, making Cyril wonder if he was dreaming. There was so much he didn’t know about Oscar, how he’d made him, and how he was alive.

“You should take this as a small vacation,”

Cyril’s mother said.

“Most of your life, you’ve been focused on your gift and on helping people. Maybe this is a sign that your body needs you to focus on something else for a bit. Maybe you and Vale could go on vacation. I don’t think you’ve ever been on one without me.”

Cyril hadn’t. There was always someone dying and someone who needed Cyril to reanimate them.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I already texted Vale with suggestions on where to take you, so think about it.”

Cyril groaned. His mom had done that on purpose because she knew Cyril wouldn’t bring it up to Vale. She’d wanted to make sure that Vale would take Cyril out of town for a bit, so she’d gone around Cyril.

Cyril’s mother laughed, and even though he was still in pain, he relaxed. Vale, Robbie, and everyone else who worried about him did so because they cared. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to allow them to take care of him for a bit. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave town, but he could at least think about it.

It was never easy for Cyril to relax, but he managed as he listened to his mother talk about her friends and the plans they had together. By the time they hung up, Vale was bringing him lunch. Cyril tried to get up from the couch, but Vale shook his head.

“I bought a tray so you wouldn’t have to get up from the couch to eat.”

“We don’t need a tray. I can go to the kitchen and eat there.”

“Just because you can do that doesn’t mean you should. Stay where you are.”

Cyril crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips together. He was trying very hard not to smile.

“What will you do if I don’t? Tattle on me to my mom? I know she’s texting you.”

“She’s worried about you. We all are.”

“I know, and I’m grateful for the fact that you care about me enough to worry, but I’m fine.”

Vale arched a brow. Okay, maybe Cyril wasn’t quite fine. He was in pain and worried about his gift, but eating on the couch rather than in the kitchen wouldn’t change anything about that. Still, he went along with it because it would make Vale feel better.

He was almost done eating when his phone vibrated again. He expected it to be his mother sending him suggestions on places to visit—until recently, she was the only one who ever called him for non-professional reasons—so he was surprised to see it wasn’t her name on the screen.

“Who’s Katie?”

Vale asked.

“A friend.”

Well, she was more like an acquaintance, but Cyril had precious little friends. He liked to think that Katie was one of them, even though they didn’t talk often.

Vale nodded as if satisfied that it wasn’t work. He allowed Cyril to pick up his phone and answer without saying anything about him pushing himself too hard.

“Hey, Katie,”

Cyril said. The sobbing that greeted him made him sit up straighter. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good.

“Cyril?”

Katie asked.

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?”

“It’s Sam. He’s dead.”

VALE HAD NO IDEA WHO was on the other side of the phone. Cyril had been smiling when he answered, so Vale didn’t think it was someone looking to hire him, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t good news. Cyril had precious little friends, and Vale hoped that they were all okay.

Unfortunately, he didn’t think so.

Cyril was silent as he listened to the person on the other side of the phone. He looked shocked and pale, and Vale was starting to worry. He didn’t want to interrupt, but he needed to know what was happening so he could help.

He understood why Cyril was reacting like that when his boyfriend got his voice back.

“What do you mean, Sam’s dead?”

Cyril asked.

“What happened?”

Vale wanted to be there for Cyril, but he felt that this was none of his business. If Cyril wanted him to know who was calling him and who’d died, he’d tell him. Vale was curious, but he wasn’t about to ask questions. He didn’t think he would have to. Cyril would probably tell him everything once he hung up. He’d want Vale’s support.

“I can’t—I don’t understand, Katie,”

Cyril said. He sat up and put his phone on the coffee table. He pressed a finger on the screen, and a woman’s voice filled the room.

“I don’t know what happened,”

she was saying as she cried.

“The police were here. They told me he drowned. They said it was an accident, but you know Sam. He would never go close enough to a body of water that he’d drown.”

“Yeah, I know,”

Cyril reassured her.

“Where did it happen?”

“At the lake.”

Vale wasn’t sure which lake Katie was talking about, but Cyril seemed to know.

“Why do the police think it was an accident?”

Cyril asked.

“They didn’t give me details. They said that he was alone and that they were sorry for my loss. He wouldn’t have done that—what they implied, Cyril. Please. I need your help.”

Vale tensed. So that was why Katie had called. She hadn’t just wanted to tell Cyril that one of his friends had died. She wanted his help.

It made sense. She’d just lost someone who was clearly important to her, and she didn’t believe the police that it had been an accident. Maybe she was right, but the only way to know for sure would be to talk to Sam.

And the only person who could do that was Cyril.

Except that he couldn’t do it right now. He was still dealing with his head injury, and Vale knew that he was afraid of what had happened at the funeral home. He hadn’t been able to pull that woman’s soul back into her body, and he was terrified that he’d never be able to use his ability again in the future. Vale didn’t believe that would be the case, but he understood why Cyril was freaking out, and pushing himself before he was fully healed wouldn’t help. In fact, it would probably make things worse, which was the last thing Cyril needed.

On the other hand, he knew Cyril. If there was any chance that he could help anyone, he’d do it, especially when his friends were involved. He’d do so even to his own detriment, no matter what Vale had to say about it. That meant that Vale would have to keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t be able to convince Cyril to sit this one out, but he’d make sure Cyril didn’t do anything stupid, like hurting himself worse than he already had.

He could protect Cyril from the world, but he couldn’t protect Cyril from himself. He wouldn’t want to force Cyril to do or not do anything, anyway. He could ask Cyril to be careful and to think of himself first, but it wouldn’t work. The way Cyril cared so much about everyone and was always willing to help were two of the reasons Vale loved him as much as he did.

He just hoped that it wouldn’t be one of the reasons he’d lose Cyril—or that Cyril would lose himself.