Page 48 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“I can’t believe we’re being cock-blocked by Death,” I bemoan, my voice muffled.

“You mortals are very strange creatures,” Death observes.

“What can we do for you, Death?” Danny asks.

“We need to talk,” he says briskly, and with a snap of his fingers, the room around us disappears.

11

“Where are we?” Tristan glances around, eyeing our new surroundings.

No longer in my lap, he’s now settled on a wooden chair next to me. We’re seated at a scarred wooden table, a cool flagstone floor beneath our bare feet. The walls are painted a warm terracotta colour and soft strains of music float through the air.

I don’t need to turn to know I’ll find a young mariachi named Alejandro sat on a stool on the small wooden platform that acts as a stage, strumming his guitar as he begins to croon softly in Spanish.

“We’re in Mexico,” I reply.

“Mexico?” Tris blinks and stares hard at Death, who is sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“Tres, por favor,” he instructs the passing server, who nods in acknowledgment. “What?” Death turns his attention to Tristan. “You said you wanted to go to Mexico.”

“What I wanted was some alone time with my boyfriend,” he sulks, and I can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Tris is so adorable when he’s all pouty because he’s horny and frustrated. Not that I can’t relate; I happen to agree with him. We really need some one-on-one time. Christ, this must be what it’s like to have children. That is, if our children were demanding death deities and snarky drag queens.

“You know, there really is no pleasing you mortals,” Death says mildly.

The server reappears and slaps three shot glasses and a bottle of tequila down on the table before sauntering off.

“You said we needed to talk?” I interrupt before Tristan can start an argument with a being that has existed since the beginning of time yet doesn’t seem to have picked up the intricacies of social cues.

Death huffs and picks up the bottle, pouring the amber liquid into the glasses. “I want to know what you’re doing about Mr Reyes. Because from where I’m sitting, you don’t seem to be doing anything.” He pushes two glasses towards us.

“Then maybe you should sit somewhere else.” Tristan moves the glass away from me. “Danny can’t have that while he’s still on painkillers for his leg.” He scowls adorably. “I’m not sure what you want from us, Death. You dropped this in our laps, insisted it was life or death and the world was going to end, then just disappeared. If you’re not going to offer any constructive help, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to put up with our timetable.”

I reach out and place my hand over Tristan’s, giving it a little squeeze and watching him relax slightly. I know he’s getting frustrated, but snapping at Death probably isn’t going to help much.

“Death.” I turn my attention to the handsome and impeccably attired being. “I’m sorry, but these things take time.”

“Time is something you don’t have much of.” He picks up his glass and tosses the contents back without so much as a grimace.

“Again with the cryptic commentary,” Tristan grumbles under his breath.

“I told you before, Tristan. I can’t help you. I am bound by certain restrictions. Do you think if I could intervene directly that I wouldn’t have? Instead, I’m stuck having to let a mortal handle a task that is so far beyond your comprehension it would give me an ulcer if I actually had a stomach.”

“Rude,” Tristan mutters.

“Death,” I sigh, trying to play peacekeeper between the two of them. “We have to find a common ground here. You’re obviously stressed.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs. “A human weakness.”

Tristan’s eyes narrow. “Getting on my last nerve, Grim.”

“Alright. Stop it, both of you,” I snap, and they both turn to stare at me. I don’t miss the flash of heat in Tristan’s eyes and it’s not because he’s angry with me. I almost can’t help the tiny smile that tugs at my lips; he’s sexually frustrated and he finds it hot when I get all authoritative with him. “Taking swipes at each other is not going to help the situation. Death, I appreciate you are obviously bound by rules but maybe you should try looking at it from Tristan’s perspective. You haven’t volunteered any information beyond a demand that we don’t let Bruce leave the bookshop.”

He huffs quietly. “Fine. Ask me, but be warned I may not be able to answer.”

I glance across to Tristan who gives a little nod of assent, allowing me to take the lead.

“Okay.” I try to work out where the best place to start is. “Sam and I have the investigation into Bruce’s murder under control and I’m confident that we’ll find the answers. So, really, I suppose the information we need the most is, what is the connection between Bruce and the portal?”