Page 5 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“He said his name was Death.”

“What? Like,theDeath?” Dusty blinks. “Like the Grim Reaper or whatever?”

“Trust me, there was nothing grim about him,” I reply. “He was gorgeous. Black hair, deep blue eyes, a suit tailored to the millimetre. He said he’d been watching me my whole life and that he’d picked me.”

“For what?” Dusty blinks.

“He said that Bruce’s body is going to be discovered and soon.”

“Bruce?” Dusty frowns. “Maybe it was just on your mind because we were talking about it recently.”

“That’s what I thought at first, but then the conversation just got stranger. He said it was inconvenient that Bruce’s body was going to be discovered, and that the timing was wrong or something. He wanted me to hide the bones so Bruce couldn’t resolve his unfinished business and move on.”

“Why?” Dusty’s frown deepens into a scowl.

“Something about him being needed to guard the portal.”

“You mean the magic door in the bookshop?” Dusty replies.

“That’s exactly what I said.” I snort. “I told him no, that it wasn’t fair to Bruce, he should be given the choice whether or not he wants to remain at the bookshop.”

“And what did he say to that?”

“That if Bruce abandons the doorway, it will be the end of the world.”

“That is a weird dream.” Dusty frowns and shakes her head. “But at least it was only a dream.”

“That’s what I thought, but in the dream, Death had a fob watch.”

“A fob watch?”

“You know, like an old-fashioned pocket watch,” I explain. “And when I woke up…”

“Yeah?” She watches me intently, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin in her hands as she bends her knees and swings her feet.

“I was holding that exact watch in my hand.” I blow out a breath. “I’ve been mulling it over in my head all week, trying to convince myself it was just a dream, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Where’s the watch now?”

“I have no idea,” I admit. “It’s disappeared. I’ve looked everywhere, but I swear I was holding it when I woke up.”

“Did you tell Danny about it?”

“You mean, tell my boyfriend, the guy who’s only just learned ghosts are real, that I had a cup of tea in London’s most snobbish restaurant with Death, who told me the world was going to end if I didn’t steal some bones from a forensic anthropology department and stop your dead boyfriend from solving his unsolved business and crossing into the light?” I break off and start coughing again.

“Ah.”

“Exactly,” I sigh. “Still trying to figure out how to start that conversation.”

“Well, look on the bright side. Bruce’s body hasn’t been found yet, so we’ve still got some time.”

Suddenly, I sneeze violently, forcing my glasses to shoot off my face and land with a plop in my now stone-cold cup of tea. I pluck them out of the mug and grimace, holding onto one of the arms as it drips. Jacob Marley shifts and cracks one eye open before stretching up and licking the tea from the lenses, leaving smear marks over the glass.

For fuck’s sake.

Giving up, I set the mug on the bedside table along with my glasses and slide further down into the bed, displacing Jacob Marley, who gives a loud mewl of indignation and shifts to the end of the bed, then settles with his back to me as he lifts his tail and moons me. I swear to god he does it on purpose.

“My head is killing me,” I mutter miserably. I turn on my side and try to ignore the heaviness in my chest as I grab another tissue and wipe my nose.