Page 5 of Hot Ghoul Summer (Pine Ridge Universe)

Y ou might have noticed that I’m at least “six feet under” where Molly is concerned. She hates my guts, doesn’t trust me, and I don’t exactly blame her.

“Sera,” I call the name into the still air in the kitchen, and my phone rings five seconds later.

Accept Video Call From Sera?

I tap the green icon, and Sera’s face fills the screen. “You’re off the clock. What’s up?”

“I had to fill out an Extraordinary Circumstances for Non-Union Reaping report and an Emergency Endangered Innocent Action (Retroactive), and I’m only three days into my—no, four. Four days into my vacation.”

“Holy crap, dude. Why?”

“Piece of utter rubbish father was going to give his stepdaughter to a gang so they didn’t shoot him. They made it very clear they would ‘go through her’ and then kill her, too.”

“Mother of Mercy!” Sera looks like she just swallowed an entire bag of formaldehyde. “I would have done the same.”

I feel a little better. “Um. I sort of... told the stepfather to give her to me instead.”

“What??” Sera’s clarion cry could bring down several battalions of warrior angels.

“Shhh. I know his type! I know thugs like Nicky Cross. Now that he’s dead, his second-in-command will take over and find Gary Garmin, and he’ll throw Molly at them again!”

“Slow down! Who’s Cross, who’s Garmin? Molly’s the kid?”

“She’s no child, she’s twenty-three, Cross is the one I reaped in the ECNUR incident, and Garmin is the low-life dad who admitted that he was lusting after Molly even when she was a teenager.”

“Ewwww.”

“So, I’ve got to keep her safe until Garmin has been handled.” I tug my hood twice and smile at Sera in my formal wear. “Care to babysit while I run an errand?”

“What? No! Toby, that breaks all the rules.” Sera changes into her “war paint,” her beautiful fair-skinned face with raven locks turning into a beautiful skull with floral patterns running through the bones. “You’re going to get your scythe pulled—maybe for good.”

“I don’t care. I need to save her,” I insist stubbornly.

“What’s gotten into you!? You’re the quietest guy in our branch, and suddenly you want to be Rambo, flying in, scythe a-blazing?”

I grimace and flex my hand. “Garmin!” I hiss. Gary’s scroll pops into my palm, charred and smelling of sulfur. “Well, that’s a dead giveaway.” I cough as pungent yellow smoke rises from the glowing sheet. I unfurl it, and my eyes dart to the bottom. “Sixteen years from now. Drunk driving accident—three cars involved. Kills himself and one other, turns two people—one adult, one child—into permanent paraplegics.” My eyes are burning. I know that right now I look more like the scary Halloween version of myself than is comforting. If Molly comes down right now, she’ll faint in terror—and I’ll be another six feet deeper.

“Toby, listen. You know we can’t fix things just because we want to. That’s not a right we have. If we do that sort of thing, the world will devolve into chaos.”

“Martina Bianchi.” I toss Gary’s scroll down, and it poofs away in a cloud of acrid smoke. Molly’s takes its place, soft and white, glowing and smelling like clouds and roses.

My insides freeze as I pull the scroll open and read the shimmering gold letters along the bottom.

“What?” Sera whispers.

“Three weeks from now.”

Sera’s voice is tight. “She’s not your client. She’s not in your region, I can see the badge number on the scroll. She goes to a member of Local 88. Put it back, Toby.”

I ignore her. “Three weeks from now. Strangled.” I don’t read the rest, but there’s more. I see several names. More than one person will have her blood on their hands. I can’t allow that. In seconds, I can feel blue flame haloing my head, my face transforming into something cold and bony, my ribcage crackling with fire.

Now I look like the Reaper everyone fears, a shadowy thing of bones and retribution. No one would confuse me for a Halloween decoration now.

“She’s going to be murdered. Brutally. Horribly. And this only tells me that it happens, not how she’ll feel during it. If she’ll suffer. If she’ll be afraid. If she’ll wish she’d have listened to me in her last moments.”

“Shit.” Sera winces and looks away.

“I won’t let that happen. I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her to trust me—and I’m going to take Gary Garmin’s soul—even if I have to trade what’s left of mine to do it.”

“Toby, there has to be a way to tell her what happens. That’s a much smaller infraction. You might get a suspension without being removed from duty. Think of the people you have left to help. Think of Musketeer.” Sera bends and scoops up my dog, a three-headed Cerberus-Corgi cross. (People in Pine Ridge call it a Cerbi.)

“Using a man’s dog against him...” I frown.

“Just think about what I’m saying. There has to be another way besides taking a soul that’s not yours to reap.”

I do think about it. I think about Musketeer. (Named after the book. Get it?) I should have brought him with me, but he caught seventeen seagulls last year, and if you’ve ever had to catch seagull ghosts, you’d know that it’s easier to hire a pet-sitter. (Even undead, they still poop and peck. They also steal your lunch.)

I love him, but he’ll still love me whether I lose my job or not. In fact, I’d rather my dog know I did the right thing for a woman in danger than the right thing for my career or reputation.

“Toby?” Sera prods.

“Are you going to stop me?”

She hesitates. “Why did you really call me?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Oh no.”

“And you love me.”

“Ugh.”

“And you know that I wouldn’t do this if I could think of any other way. Even if Molly believed me and locked herself in her house with a team of bodyguards for the next three weeks, what happens in six months? A year? Her stepfather can keep using her as bait or barter until he dies.”

“You need to talk to Garmin. Reach out to one of the guys upstairs. Have them send an archangel-gram or something to scare him straight. You know the ink on those scrolls is erasable. He could change.”

“Come to the house. Please. Just stand in front of it for ten minutes. I want to see where Garmin is.”

“If I come over now, I’m bringing your puppy. He keeps sleeping in coffins and about gave my dad a heart attack.”

“Bring the dog, but just come, please? Pleeeease?”

“You owe me,” Sera sighs and ends the call.

In a few minutes, I see a soft blue orb floating outside with a smaller, fluffier, three-head ball bouncing beside her. That’s all I need.

“Be back in a few minutes! Don’t worry, the house is safe, Moll!” I shout and vanish.

IT’S A TRAP. THEY MAKE you think they’ve left, and then you run, then they catch you. It’s a game of cat and mouse. Only sick bastards play it.

Still...

I race to the window to see if a car leaves. Nope.

A woman in a long blue dress is walking around the house. A neighbor! I pound on the window and then almost pee my pants when the lady turns.

She has a skull face—but not like a yucky skull. It’s like one of those Dia De Los Muertos skulls, only different. This looks alive and too ornate to be painted on, like it moves with her surprised facial expression that quickly softens into a smile.

I think this must be what lady reapers look like.

“Can I help you?”

I shriek and have a sudden bladder failure—minor, but still gross. “Who are you?” I whimper.

“I’m Sera. Toby’s just running an errand, and he’ll be right back,” she smiles and speaks in a sweet, reassuring voice.

“Can you let me out of here?”

“Um. I can, but I don’t think I should . Toby’s really worried about you.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be. Should he?”

The lady has human eyes, deep blue-black eyes that haunt your soul with a single glance. Those eyes dart guiltily away.

My stomach pinches me. “Hey, do you know something about this? Is he telling the truth? Someone’s hunting me?”

“Someone could be. He’s checking.”

“He’s kidnapping.”

“I know, I told him to stop this, but he won’t. I’ve known him for years, and my dad has known him for even longer. Toby’s a good guy, a straight shooter, as my dad likes to say. He’s risking his own soul to save yours, okay?”

“He is?” Don’t buy it. She could be lying, too.

“Yap!”

“God!” I jump back as two paws and three little pink tongues slam into the window.

“Musketeer! Down, boys! Aramis, Athos, Porthos! Sit!” Sera tries to get the wriggling thing under control, but instead, the monster tumbles into my room, through the glass.

I leap onto the bed, babble-shrieking and cursing as the furry demon romps around my room, three heads barking—and adorable stubby butt wriggling hard.

It’s a corgi. A mutant corgi.

“Toby’s going to be furious. Musketeer caught a bunch of seagulls last year, and since he’s a Reaper’s pet and he’s half-hellhound, the seagulls didn’t die. They turned into ghosts, and oh, man. I’ve never had to catch a ghost seagull before, but Toby says it’s hard work.” Sera poofs into my room like the walls are made of mist and pulls a leash out of her pocket. “Good boys. Come here.” She clucks her tongue.

My mind was temporarily distracted by the horrific creature before me—but now the horrific creature kinda looks... cute. I stare for way too long, and then I look back at Sera.

Sera’s face isn’t a bunch of bones anymore. It’s... gorgeous. She’s gorgeous, with long, dark hair and a pale, smooth face with full lips and perfect eyebrows. Cherubic. Angelic.

“Are you an angel?” I feel stupid for asking, but it’s better than just staring the whole night.

“I’m a morrigan.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“Well, technically, the first morrigan was a Celtic goddess of battle, life, and death, but I’m just a mortal descendant. I’m basically a retriever of souls lost in battle.”

“So, like... soldiers?”

Sera shakes her head. “There are so many battles. Cancer. Depression. War. Drugs. I retrieve them all.”

“Oh, sheesh. I’m a nurse. I get that. I’m—I guess we’re kind of the frontline folks, and you have to clean up if we lose.”

Sera shrugs. “Toby’s a Reaper. He’s not restricted to those who lose a battle, but he’s doing the same noble work I am. No soul deserves to be lost, left wandering alone.”

Her voice is so sincere that it’s tempting to nod along.

In fact...

Maybe nodding along is the best move. Playing along. How many times have I had to humor patients who have come in high, with dementia, or delusional?

“Wow. You’re right. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Sera sighs in relief. “It’s fine! Let me tell you, this isn’t normal Reaper behavior. I’ve never seen Toby act like this. You must mean a lot to him.”

“Right. So, where is he?”

Sera twists her fingers. Mutant-pup licks the bottom of my shoe.

“He’s uh—checking on something.”

“Oh. Cool. And you’re here because...?”

Sera frowns. “I think I’m not supposed to say too much. Just that you might still be in danger.”

I’m here with a murderer, a ghost-lady, and a hellhound mutt? Sounds like danger to me.

“I have to go back out and patrol. Can I leave the dog with you, or do you want me to take him?”

Hostage swap? Sign me up. “Sure, I’ll take him. He doesn’t like, breathe fire or open gateways to the underworld, does he?”

“No... But don’t let him go near any birds or mice. Or crabs. Or anything small and living, okay?” Sera smoothly glides back outside my window with a wave, muttering something that sounds like “Ghost squirrels all over the yard. Oh, God, the moths and lightning bugs last night... Needs a muzzle—three, actually.”

And then she’s gone.

“Wanna come exploring with me, doggie?” I whisper, holding the leash.

Three heads cock to the right in perfect unison.

Okay. It’s actually adorable.

“Come on. We’re going to go see if we can get out of here. It’s not your fault that your owner is a psycho.”