Page 3 of Hot Ghoul Summer (Pine Ridge Universe)

I mean, honestly, I didn’t know how it would go, but I now realize if there is anything I could have done better in my entire several-century existence, it’s meeting Molly.

See, in my head, I figured I’d meet Molly at the door and—and she’d somehow know I was her soulmate. Like when I saw her picture and my heart woke up for the first time in hundreds of years. I know she’s not the Molly from my time, but I know enough to know that a girl with the same beauty, the same smile, and the same name is some sort of sign.

I’m Death. I know signs.

Right now, as I hold a sobbing, struggling girl over the sink, I give up reflecting on how utterly and fantastically badly this introduction is going and just turn on the water.

“Hold still.”

“Never! You might kill me in the end, but you're going to have to work for it!” she grinds out, teeth gritting in effort, her legs still alternating between kicking and deadweighting.

I sigh and force her head down, cupping one hand under the water so I can rinse the pepper spray residue off of her face, being extra gentle around her eyes.

The struggling and spluttering stops.

This would be a good time to start my abject apologizing.

“Look, Molly. We got off on the wrongest foot possible,” I murmur. People don’t like when you yell. My voice is normally soft and soothing. “I’m sorry I scared you. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Never, ever hurt you. Although—you may not like me at the moment once I explain a few things.” Like that I’m not letting her leave.

“Let go of me, then.”

“Gladly—but I need you not to run. I need you to listen.”

“For a guy who doesn’t intend to hurt me, you sure sound like a creepy kidnapper. Just saying.”

“Ah. Well. Kidnapping is such a strong word. I prefer the term enforced vacationing .”

I said I was soothing. I didn’t say I was all that funny.

My joke falls flat.

“What?” Molly screeches and turns, face puffy and blotchy (and still beautiful to me).

“Would you like tea? Tea is so calming. It’s worked for my people for centuries.”

“Your people? Kidnappers? Criminals?”

I blink. “No. Brits.” My head rocks back and forth, considering. “All right, I suppose technically I’ve done time. I was a criminal.” Debtor’s prison. And killing people, sort of. I think I’ll leave that bit out for now.

“I don’t want tea. That’s how you drug people.”

“I don’t drug people! Look, I’ll have a cup. You have one if you want.” I flick on the lights and switch on the electric kettle. My hand is never more than eight inches from Molly’s wrist. If she tries to bolt—

Shit.

I reach out and snag her arm as she makes a sudden dash for the window. “Would you stop that? I cannot let you leave.”

“Why?” Molly hisses.

Her nails bite into the back of my hand. I let myself stay solid this time. I think going noncorporeal earlier frightened her.

“If you stop fighting for thirty seconds, I’ll tell you! Bloody hell, I don’t know why I was so worried. Nicky Cross wouldn’t have stood a chance against you.”

“Huh? Who?”

I pull two mugs out of the cupboard. One says “Life’s a beach and then you die”. The other says “My other car is a hearse.” (Reaper humor. I don’t think Molly likes it. Her eyes widen at the sight of the cups, going back and forth between my face and the mugs.)

“I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Then at least you’ll be consistent,” she spits, arm going limp in my grasp.

“Last night, your stepfather was getting the shit beat out of him on the pier.”

“Pier?” Molly’s head turns sharply. “He told me he was in a car accident.”

“ No , not a car accident, I’m afraid. You see, he owed someone money. Nicky Cross was the name of the other fellow. Nicky Cross was about to kill your stepdad—”

“Ex-stepdad.” Molly’s face is going paler by the minute. Maybe she’s going to faint.

I pull a chair over to the counter and sit her in it.

“You going to tie me to this?” she asks, chin lifted in defiance.

“Not if you promise to sit still. I was going to get some biscuits out of the tin, too, but not the way you’re carrying on.” I shake my head in despair.

“Forget the food. What about Gary and this Nicky guy?”

“Gary offered you to Nicky Cross as a trade. Your life for his.”

I’m glad Molly’s in a chair. Her skin is dead white, then flaming red. She blinks several times, sick horror on her features. “No. He what? ”

“Your life for his. Nicky Cross accepted.”

“And you’re Nicky Cross?” she yelps.

“For God’s sake, no!” I haven’t even introduced myself. This will go down in history as the worst first impression ever. “Sorry. Hi. I’m Toby.” I hold out my hand.

Of course, Molly doesn’t take it. “You work for him?”

“I most certainly do not .” I frown. “Look, Nicky Cross died during the exchange on the pier.” I probably should leave my role in that moment out for now . “But he’d already agreed to accept you for his personal use and for the use of his gang. And then he said they’d have to kill you so you could never speak about... About that. Your stepfather left Nicky’s body on the pier, and I realized that as he still hasn’t paid off his debts, Nicky’s second-in-command would no doubt come after him. Your stepfather—”

“ Ex -stepfather!”

“ Gary isn’t likely to suddenly find himself flush with cash. I’ve been working with all sorts of people for a long, long time, and I know something about the bad ones, Molly. Once they figure out a trick that works and saves their own skins? They use it until they can’t use it anymore. You’ll be Gary’s bargaining chip until he’s dead—or until you are.” I kneel in front of her, still keeping my voice soft and my body out of her space, “A beautiful woman like you is worth a lot to horrible people. They buy and sell humans like trinkets. They use people like toys.” This part is where I become the bad guy. “As a witness to the incident on the peer, I spoke to Gary. I told him that I...” I swallow. “I told him he ought to join Nicky Cross—and instead, guess what he said?”

Molly’s face is stricken. Her hair falls forward, messy waves hiding her fear. “Did he... He gave me to you?”

“Said he could have you here by midnight. And look, here you are.”

There’s silence. The kettle whistles and then shuts off, powering down automatically.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Does your ex-stepfather have a reputation for being an upright and honest bloke?”

Molly says nothing.

I repeat, “He said he’d deliver you to this address by midnight—and here you are.”

“Here I am. What happens to me now?”

I swallow and risk getting up to plop two teabags in the cups and pour the water. I even get out the red and white biscuit tin, knowing it’ll be filled with my favorite Garibaldis and Viennese Whirls. Molly doesn’t move.

If I tell her that I’m keeping her here until I can pop Gary’s soul off into the ether, she’ll freak out. If I tell her I’m a Reaper AKA Death AKA a ghoul, an immortal, the Pale Rider, Joe Black, and a hundred other nicknames—she’ll freak out and think I’m barmy.

“Not going to tell me? Want to ‘surprise’ me with it?” Her voice is still harsh and unflinching, like she knows she’s in danger, and she’s more pissed than afraid.

I love that about her.

Just like the Molly I once knew, the one who spit in the sheriff’s eye when he tied my wrists together and threw me in the back of the wagon.

She’s not that girl.

Still my girl—if she’ll have me.

“I want you to stay here for now. That’s all. It’s a nice, big house. We can go to the beach—long as you stay close to me. Dunno who let Nicky Cross and his thugs roam around here. Part of me thinks he was here just to collect his money, but until we know more, you are in danger. I don’t know if Gary has associates around here who might know what he’s mixed up in.”

Molly nods. “Gary grew up near Scranton. He used to talk about coming to Lake Erie every summer. I don’t know if he knows people around here, but he knows the area. When he told me to meet him here at his beach house—well, that part didn’t make sense. I couldn’t believe he had money enough to buy a beach umbrella, let alone a beach house , but I didn’t find it hard to believe he was in this area.”

“Ah.” I put two steaming cups on the table and the tin between them. “You choose the mug you want. That way you know it’s safe.”

She pulls a cup over but just wraps her hands around it, then pulls it to her chest. “Trying not to go into shock. I’m a nurse.”

“He mentioned.”

“Why did you get involved in this if you’re a good guy?” Her tone makes it clear that the jury is still out on my character.

“Hm. Well... I’m here on vacation. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place at the right time, depending on your perspective. I saw your picture. Heard what Cross and his boys would do if given the chance. I couldn’t let them get the chance. That’s all.”

I make it sound simple, but Molly is smart. She’s going to figure it out soon. I spent the day doing paperwork, filing an Extraordinary Circumstances for Non-Union Reaping report and an Emergency Endangered Innocent Action (Retroactive) form. I still haven’t thoroughly researched Gary Garmin’s scroll to see where he’s supposed to be or when he’s supposed to die. My direct supervisor (who is also my Shop Steward) sent me a message and said we’ll talk after vacation. I’m guessing that means I’m only in minor trouble.

Which means Nicky Cross was one very, very bad man, likely one who was meddling in the timelines of other people’s lives.

Like Molly’s. He would have cut it short.

My blade suddenly flashes into my hand as rage fills me—and Molly screams.

Bollocks. I forgot that I made this house and its contents visible to her. Most mortals can’t see 34 Silverlake Way. Mortals usually only see my blade if I let them.

I vanish the knife, but I’m not fool enough to lie and act like it was never there. “Sorry! Sorry... Just thinking about Nicky Cross and your father trading you around like a bargaining chip makes me furious.”

“One, ex- stepfather . Two, didn’t you do that same thing? Three, why was there a knife in your hand? I saw a knife in your hand! You are a bad guy! A killer!”

Molly springs up, knocking over the chair and throwing scalding tea at my head as she races for the nearest exit—a window.

“No, no!” I materialize in front of her before she can hurtle through the glass.

There’s no explaining this away. I can tell by the way Molly backs away from me that she knows something is wrong. Supernaturally wrong. She holds herself away from me, hands balling in the center of her chest, breathing high and rapid.

“How did you just do that? Why are you—why are you so pale? And the knife? And earlier, you could touch me, but I couldn’t t-touch you.” Her lower lip is trembling as she tries to talk without stammering. “Are you some kind of... No. No, you’re not a ghost, I can touch you. You got the tea and the cookies. You picked them up. With your hands. You’re solid.” Her hands pat down her sides and up to her cheeks. “I just ran into you...”

“Erm. Molly, maybe you should sit down.”

“I should sit down.” She throws me a poisonous look. “I don’t want to sit down, but I’m a nurse. I know if I’m going to faint, I ought to sit down. Shit, I’m going to die, and my degree is going to be wasted. I hope you know that! I hope you know that you’re going to have a lot of deaths on your hands, buddy. I could have saved hundreds of lives. Maybe thousands!”

“Ah, sweetheart.” I sigh and lean on the counter, shaking my head. Smooth is something I’ve never been. Might as well come clean with as much dignity as I can manage. “I’ve already got thousands of deaths on my hands—but yours will not be one of them. I’m a Reaper, Molly.”

“Is that a... is that a gang?”

“No, no. The Reapers are nothing like a gang, although we do have a union.” I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up and tug it twice. Instantly, it grows and flows, turning into a long black robe with a deep hood that covers most of my face. I flex my hand, and my switchblade appears in it, and with a little squeeze, it turns into a long staff with a shining silver sickle on the end. This is the uniform for official business, union meetings, etc. It’s not my style, but it’s recognizable. “Do I look familiar?”

Molly doesn’t answer in words. Her face settles into a look of calm that I wasn’t expecting. She rises and walks toward me, then past me, to grab her purse from where it had fallen next to the sink during our first scuffle (although I’m losing count of them, honestly). “I’m going to call 9-1-1. I’ve obviously had a stroke. Or a head trauma. Am I bleeding? Could it be an allergic reaction to the pepper spray?”

I reach over and clasp her hands with mine, reverting to my human-looking form. “Hey. Beautiful? You’re not having a stroke. You’re just a little shocked. I’m going to put your phone back in your handbag, hmm?”

Molly looks at me. Pokes my hand. Grabs my wrist and presses her soft fingertips on the underside of it. “You don’t have a pulse.”

“Nope.”

“You’re the Grim Reaper?”

“No, I’m a Reaper. I’m not grim, and I’m far from the only one.”

Molly laughs. It’s a low, mirthless sound that worries me.

“Don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay.” Oh, God. I’m going to have to call in a specialist. Someone who can erase memories. She’s gone mad.

“It’s not going to be okay. If you thought you picked some easy little college girl to kidnap, you’re wrong, buddy.” Molly rises, glaring. “I’m a nurse. As far as ordinary humans go, I’m one of the best defenses against Things. Like . You .” She stabs a finger into my chest on each word.

With that, she whips away, her hair smacking me in the face. “I’m going to go look upstairs. For all I know, you have Gary up there, and he’s actually dying from his injuries. Or maybe you have this Nicky Cross guy.”

“What? Wait, what?” It’s my turn to run, following her as she marches through the shared vacation home, stomping up the stairs in the dark, as fearless as anything. I’d be proud and even more smitten if I wasn’t so bewildered. “Molly, no! I don’t have people languishing in rooms, waiting to finish them off.”

She ignores me. “Gary! Mr. Cross?”

“Molly, I swear—”

“Did you already kill Mr. Cross?” she stops at the landing, glaring down at me.

“Well... Yes. But only to stop him from killing your stepfather.”

“ Ex -ste—”

“I know, I know!”

“You’re a murderer. You’re Death . You are the enemy of every doctor and nurse on the planet.” She gives me a look of utter disgust. “I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. Never will.”

With that, she storms into the first room on the second floor and slams the door shut. I hear it lock.

She knows I could pop in there anyway, but she still shuts me out. It’s an act of defiance. Hatred. Disgust.

I groan and put my head in my hands. “This isn’t going well.”