CHAPTER NINE
Considering that most of the people in the room were millions of years old, this could take a while. However, after a brief discussion, we decided that Tim would be the moderator. We’d all answer the same questions in our ‘get to know you’ game.
“Alrightyroo!” Tim said, looking around at the assembled group with excitement. “This will be fun.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed, but I was game to go.
“First off, we’ll start with how old we are,” he announced.
Shitty Ritchie raised his hand. “What if we’re not sure?”
Tim paused in thought. “Fine point, well made, little friend. Age is but a number and not important. Let’s go with favorite color.”
“Daisy’s golden eyes,” Gideon chimed in. “And Alana Catherine’s.”
I grinned at him. I’d thought he’d say black. “Mine’s blue gray like Gideon’s eyes.”
He fluttered his lashes in an exaggerated way and laughed. “I’m flattered, Counselor. ”
“As am I, Reaper,” I shot back.
“Get a room,” Candy Vargo groused with a chuckle. “Anyhoo, my favorite color is Orange.”
Not a surprise. Her magic was usually a sparkling orange color. The rest of the favorites hit all the primary colors except for Shitty Ritchie who cheated and said rainbows. Alana Catherine, who could clearly comprehend what was being said even though she couldn’t participate, gifted Shitty Ritchie and the rest of us with her magic. She began to glow in every color of the rainbow. Our new little friend—and I used the word cautiously—was flabbergasted. He pointed at her with his mouth open and proceeded to copy my daughter. The tiny dude’s magic was the same colors.
Candy Vargo, Charlie, Tim and Heather gasped. June and Jennifer clapped. I exchanged a concerned look with Gideon. From what Charlie had shared about Shitty Ritchie, it seemed as if his many gifts, aside from violence and cannibalism, mirrored the gifts of Heather, Missy and possibly me. Alana Catherine had exhibited some of the same characteristics. Oh my hell, was she like Shitty Ritchie? Would she grow up with a penchant for eating people? The thought was stomach-churning. I pushed it away. Gideon and I would not let that happen. She wasn’t going to live in a cave for millions of years. She was being raised by people who loved her and knew right from wrong.
Speaking of being raised… “Shitty Ritchie do you have parents?”
He shook his head. “No. I was created.”
“Same,” Candy Vargo stated.
“Me too,” Tim shared.
“I was created as well,” Charlie said .
“I was created along with my sister, the former Goddess of the Darkness,” Gideon added.
“I was born from an experiment,” Heather volunteered.
It was a fact I was already aware of. Our father had been forced to donate sperm for a sadistic Angelic experiment. That was how I was related to Heather, Rafe, Gabe, Abby and Prue. We hadn’t grown up together, but we’d grown to be tight as siblings could be. Even with the bizarre beginnings, I was thankful every day that they were in my life.
“I had both a mom and a dad, God rest their souls,” June explained as Charlie kissed the top of her head. He was very protective of his wife. Her sadness was his as well as her happiness. It was lovely to see.
“I was raised by a single mother,” Jennifer said, jumping into the conversation.
“Did you know your father?” June asked, surprised.
June, Heather, Jennifer and I had been friends for years. I was surprised by the new details, as well.
“Nope,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Momma would never tell me no matter how much I begged. I wanted to be like all the other kids in school who had mommas and daddies. Only thing she’d say was that men were crap, and we didn’t need them. When I was naughty, that old bat would remind me how much I’d cost her—her pocketbook and her waistline. Even on her deathbed, she swore up and down she’d never met the guy. My momma was a lyin’ piece of work.” Jennifer laughed, but it was forced and held no humor.
“I’m so sorry,” June said, moving to Jennifer and hugging her. “That’s not right.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” Jennifer assured June with a wistful smile. “Momma was okay as far as mommas go for the most part. Fed me and kept a roof over my head, but I sure do wish I’d had a chance to know my pappy. Even if he was crap, it might have been nice for closure.”
Jennifer’s multiple ex-husbands had all been substantially older than her. It made sense. My dear friend had daddy issues. Her new beau was Sherriff Dip Doody. The man was her age and pure gold. Dip treated her like the queen she was. She refused to get married because she loved him so much.
“Have you considered doing a DNA test on one of those websites that can tell you who you’re related to?” June asked.
Jennifer looked intrigued. “I haven’t thought about that, but it’s not a bad plan. I’ve read all those crazy reunion stories on the internet.” She laughed. “Maybe my pappy is somebody famous like Elvis or Clark Gable! Wouldn’t that be a kick?”
“Sure would,” Gram said with a giggle. “Or maybe it was Bob Barker! That would be a hoot.”
“I’d just like to say, father or no father, that you turned out wonderfully, best friend,” Tim gushed, joining the group hug. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful and one of the best people I know!”
“Back at ya,” Jennifer told Tim. “I might not have much of a biological family to speak of, but my chosen family kicks bahookey.” She glanced around. “I just wish y’all sparkled like Edward in Twilight.”
I laughed. The mold had been broken when Jennifer was born. I was a lucky person that I’d been chosen by her. We all were.
Candy Vargo covertly swiped a tear from her eye. The woman wanted everyone to believe that she was a cold, hard badass, but the truth was that she was as sentimental as all get out. Her taking in a gaggle of foster kids was only part of the proof that the woman had love to give and love to spare. “Enough about that sparkly shart,” she grunted as she waved her hands in the air and chanted a few words I didn’t understand.
I wasn’t sure what she’d done until Jennifer whooped and hollered with joy. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
I glanced around and realized every single person in the room was sparkling… just like Edward in Twilight. Even Gram, Mr. Jackson and Jimmy George Carrots were glistening. It was strangely beautiful and very fitting. Jennifer had lost the pained wistful expression and was back to her fabulous self. Candy Vargo for the win.
“Oh my God,” I said with a laugh, looking at my glittery hands and arms. “How long will this last?”
“An hour or two,” Candy said with a pleased grin.
Shitty Ritchie decided it was time to make his move. “Speaking of sperm donation.”
“Umm… we weren’t speaking of sperm donation. Definitely not speaking about sperm donation,” I said, squinting warily at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied then kept going. He skipped across the room to, twinkling like a shooting star on a collision course with death. “Dearest Immortal lesbian!” The tiny idiot bowed to her. “I have an exciting offer to make!”
She was appalled. She knew where this was going. All of us did. But there was no stopping Shitty Ritchie when he was on a roll.
“I would like to offer you a rare and splendid gift,” he told her with a few jazz squares thrown in to show he meant business. “While I don’t want to usurp Tim’s offer of his turkey baster filled with little swimmers, I would like to offer my jizz to you and Missy for perhaps a second child. It’s my fondest dream, along with sticking it to the Higher Power, to have a little Ritchie or Ritchina running around. I’m excellent father material and find both you and Missy very attractive. If you’d like to do it the old-fashioned way, I would not be opposed. Granted, I have never put my peepee into the love cavity before, but how hard can it be?”
I wanted to shout PUN, but I sucked that shit back fast.
Heather was speechless. I was, too. No one in the room could speak. The use of the word jizz in a sentence along with the words, turkey baster, little swimmers, peepee and love cavity was one that would live rent free in my head for a long time.
Heather closed her eyes for a long moment. It was clear she was searching for something to say that wouldn’t send Shitty Ritchie into a tornado fit.
“Well,” she said, gulping loudly. “While the rare and splendid offer is… umm… shockingly unexpected and makes me want to… umm… spew all kinds of words… I have to be upfront and say that the natural way is not an option.”
Shitty Ritchie smacked his tiny forehead. “Right! My apologies. I’d quite forgotten you and Missy are fabulous Immortal lesbians. No offense meant. The peepee shall not go near the love cavity. I will borrow a turkey baster from Tim.”
Heather pressed her temples and gave the insane dude what she probably hoped was a smile. It wasn’t. It was a pained grimace. Shitty Ritchie, not one to understand social cues or much of anything else about polite society, didn’t notice.
“That is… well, I’m not sure what that is,” Heather admitted. “But right now, Missy and I aren’t ready to have children. However, I’ll keep the offer in mind if the day ever comes… which it probably won’t. Ever. Never. Ever.”
“Should we alert Missy about the future plans?” Shitty Ritchie asked .
The man truly had selective hearing. I was pretty sure he was too old to change that.
“No,” Heather told him flatly. “I’ll handle it.”
“Excellent!” he replied and then jazz squared across the room back to his spot on the floor. “Next question?”
Tim seemed at a loss. That was no mystery since we were all still digesting what had just gone down. We needed to get back on a track that had nothing to do with sperm.
Charlie jumped in. He was still a little off kilter from Shitty Ritchie’s peepee monologue, but pulled himself together. With a pointed glance at me and then Gideon, he led us onto a new path. “I’d suggest we discuss Alana Catherine’s gifts that have emerged thus far.”
Charlie obviously had the same thoughts about the similarities between our baby and Shitty Ritchie. Crap.
“Alana Catherine is half Angel and half Demon as Daisy and I are her parents,” Gideon said, holding the gal in question close. She reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair while popping her thumb into her mouth. Her eyes grew heavy as Gideon continued to speak. “She’s the future Death Counselor, and it looks likely that she’s a Soul Keeper as well.”
As if on cue, four ghostly skunks wandered into the room and crawled into the dog bed with Donna and Karen. The visual was odd, but at the same time, it was adorable and right.
“Here’s another thing,” Gram shared. “She was able to conjure up the Immortal Book of Law when we was on the Higher Power’s plane. Knew it backwards and forwards. Makes me think she might just be the future Arbitrator between the Darkness and the Light.”
Shitty Ritchie listened intently.
“If she’s lucky,” Gideon said, glancing down at the gorgeous little girl nestled in his arms. “She won’t be saddled with becoming the future Grim Reaper. I do not wish that on anyone.”
I was startled. That thought had never occurred to me. “I wish to hear what Shitty Ritchie has to say about this,” I said.
Tim quickly jotted down that I’d used up another wish. Shitty Ritchie looked annoyed. I knew he would love to tell me he had no idea what I was talking about, but it was becoming evident that he wanted friends more than he wanted to hide his thoughts and opinions.
“She is like me. Too many gifts that should only belong to one,” he stated tonelessly. “I am very sorry for that. I’m sorry for her.”
“Why? Why are you sorry?” I demanded, feeling unsettled and on the verge of a panic attack. I knew we were getting close to something. I was just terrified that when we got there, I wasn’t going to be able to handle it.
Shitty Ritchie sighed. “Pose it as a wish.”
“I wish to know why you are sorry for Alana Catherine.”
“The Higher Power doesn’t like it when an Immortal is imbued with multiple gifts.”
I had the system down now. “I wish to know why that’s a problem for the Higher Power?”
The little man shrugged. “I suppose It is threatened that there might be those who exist who are more powerful.”
“I wish to know if you believe that’s why the Higher Power has hunted you and wanted Alana Catherine to stay on Its plane,” I said.
“I do,” he replied. “Shitty Ritchie has spent millions of years outsmarting the vile being. I fear that your child will have to do the same.”
That didn’t sound good. At all. Shitty Ritchie had lied earlier. He knew exactly why the Higher Power had it out for him. Berating him for being dishonest wasn’t going to help. I’d just make sure I left no stone unturned when questioning the little man going forward. I knew that million-year-old habits were hard to break and the turd was trying to protect himself, but the time for the truth was now. Gideon’s eyes had turned from gray-blue to blood red. He was as furious at Shitty Ritchie and at our baby’s potential future as I was.
The time to set the ground rules was now.
“Dude,” I said to Shitty Ritchie in a brook no bullshit tone. “From here on out, you will tell the truth and nothing but. If you don’t, your burgeoning friendships are dead in the water. Period. Give me your word. And so help me, if you lie, you’ll wish the Higher Power had gotten ahold of you.”
Shitty Ritchie got down on his knobby little knees and prostrated himself before me. The tiny man trembled and whimpered. “You have my word,” he swore. “For the first time in my life, I fit in somewhere. In the billions of years I’ve been alive, I have never had this feeling. It’s glorious. In honor of friendship, you have my word.”
I glanced over at Candy Vargo. She gave me a curt nod and a toothpick. She could smell liars. Her nod gave me the courage to believe Shitty Ritchie. It really did take a freaking village. No man or woman was an island. Shitty Ritchie had been an island his entire existence. I knew it was still risky to believe him completely, but the words had been spoken and, with the backup of Candy’s approval, I chose to believe them.
I had a sinking feeling that everything was connected. Shitty Ritchie, the tiny and hopefully former liar, being here was kismet. Jimmy George Carrots going on and on about how the number three was important. I still wasn’t sure why, but we needed to dig deeper on that matter. What made no sense was the unknown Immortals going after June… or maybe Jennifer. It was possible that wasn’t connected, but ignoring it could be a deadly mistake.
“The unknown Immortals,” I said to Shitty Ritchie. “You recognized the description. I wish to know what you know about them.”
He got to his feet and did a full five minutes of jazz squares before he spoke. The smile on his face was wide and bizarre. Maybe he felt freer knowing that the lies were over, or maybe he was just insane. “They are the minions of the Higher Power. Your comrade Zander was correct. They are neither Angel nor Demon. They are not regular Immortals like myself either.”
“What the heck is left?” Candy Vargo asked, chomping on her toothpick in confusion.
Shitty Ritchie clamed up again. That wasn’t working for me.
“I wish to know the origin of the minions,” I told him.
I watched him war with himself, then finally give in.
“You’re using up many of your wishes, Angel of Mercy,” he pointed out. “That’s a very spermy thing to do.”
“That’s not a word and doesn’t make any sense.” I rolled my eyes then did a jazz square to challenge the dude with the crappy attitude. It was possible by changing up the game I’d get what I wanted, or I’d just look like an ass. It was fifty-fifty odds.
He took it as a dare. Bingo. The gauntlet had been thrown down. There was no going back now. I refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room. If I did, I would laugh and that would undermine my focus. I’d been in many deadly battles with Immortals. Never had I participated in a dance battle until today. I seriously hoped this would be a one and done. I’d much rather lop the head off my enemy than chassé for my life. But when in Rome, or rather my badly furnished living room…
Shitty Ritchie countered with a jazz square and a hitch kick. I knew I could win this battle. The knowledge that it would be bloodless was a bonus. Gram had made me take dance lessons as a kid—ballet, jazz and tap. I hated it back then, but was grateful for it now. I returned his volley with a grapevine and a fan kick. I was sure I pulled my hamstring, but didn’t let the fact that there was a zingy, white-hot fire shooting down the back of my upper thigh slow me down. Weakness would not be tolerated in a dance-off for intel.
“You go, gurl,” Jennifer yelled, toasting my stupidity with a bottle of red.
“Watch this,” Shitty Ritchie snarled.
He attempted to one-up me with an arabesque into a barrel turn. It was sloppy but impressive. Didn’t matter. I had an ace up my sleeve.
“Is that all you got, dingleberry?” I asked.
“You can do better than Shitty Ritchie?” he demanded.
“You bet your flaming bahookey I can. Back up,” I warned the crowd.
I started with a single time step. I did it on the left side and the right. I was sure I heard Gideon chuckle. I ignored it. He would pay later. Shitty Ritchie couldn’t believe his eyes. I wasn’t done. I advanced to a double time step—left and right. The little turd’s mouth fell open in envious shock. However, I still had more. The pièce de resistance? The triple time step. I might have missed a few sounds, but the overall execution was outstanding.
“Top that, shart stain,” I yelled.
Shitty Ritchie bowed his head in submission. “You win,” he admitted morosely. “Your time step was sublime.” He eyed me for about a minute too long. I was worried he was about to offer me his sperm. “Would you be willing to teach me the time step?”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. Shitty Ritchie was crazily unpredictable—with a stress on the crazy part.
“What will I get in return?” I shot back. Nothing in the Immortal world was free.
He tucked his sweatshirt into his sweatpants, licked his hand and slicked his hair back. Of course, it sprang right back up immediately. Little dude was every kind of weird. “I will increase the number of wishes to seven thousand and seventy-seven in exchange for you teaching Shitty Ritchie the time step—all three, single, double, and triple.”
“Dang good deal if you ask me, nard hole,” Candy Vargo let me know.
I agreed. “Deal,” I told Shitty Ritchie. “So, grant my wish. I wish to know the origin of the minions,” I repeated.
“Wish granted,” he replied. “As I said, they are not Angels or Demons. Nor are they regular Immortals. They are the risen dead that the Higher Power steals from graves. It molds them and creates them into killing machines that do Its bidding. Since their souls have already left their bodies, their flesh is easily manipulated.”
“Whoa Nelly,” I said. “You’re telling me that the Higher Power is creating an army of zombies to hunt people?”
Candy Vargo dropped an f-bomb. Gideon growled. Charlie was furious, and his power started leaking out. June had to quietly remind her husband to tamp it back. Breathing was necessary. Heather’s tattoos began to dance up her arms, creating a macabre picture. Tim frantically took notes.
“Rephrase,” the little jerk snapped .
“Oh my God,” I muttered. The wish thing was getting old fast. “How about we dump the wish crap and I’ll add on a cramp roll, a Buffalo and a Maxie Ford to the dance lesson?”
Shitty Ritchie took the bribe under consideration. But of course, he had extra terms.
“Include a shuffle ball change and an Irish and you have yourself a deal.”
“Done,” I said. “So, is It or isn’t It creating a zombie army?”
“It is,” he replied.
Heather was on her feet in an instant. She grabbed the Book of Immortal Law and rifled through the thousands of pages.
Shitty Ritchie watched Heather. He shook his head as she frantically searched the book. “Page five hundred and two,” he said.
She looked up at him confused. “What?”
He rolled his eyes. “Turn to page five hundred and two. You will find what you’re looking for.”
Heather followed the instructions. Her eyes quickly scanned the page. The Arbitrator between the Darkness and the Light paused and looked up at Shitty Ritchie. Her smile was wide. “Outstanding.”
Shitty Ritchie preened. “Is it outstanding enough for you to give birth to little Ritchie or Ritchina? I’m quite sure I could have a turkey baster of my jizz ready in a few weeks.”
“Dude,” Heather ground out, holding onto her composure by a thread. “Learn this now. Your jizz is not a bargaining chip. Blackmailing me into having your kid is crappy and won’t make you any friends. If you bring it up again, it will never happen.”
Shitty Ritchie, oblivious to the fact that Heather was about to electrocute him, gave her a delighted thumbs up. “So, what you’re saying is that if I don’t bring it up, it will happen?”
“Oh. My. God,” Heather muttered as her chin dropped to her chest. “You’re a relentless little jackass.”
“Thank you!” he replied.
“Wasn’t a compliment,” she shot back. “Table the jizz discussion. We’ll revisit in a century.”
“Will do,” Shitty Ritchie squealed with delight.
He was for sure missing some brain cells. My guess was that he had two and they weren’t connected.
“The real question here is why in the hell it would take Shitty Ritchie weeks to fill up a turkey baster with jizz,” Candy Vargo announced much to the horror of everyone.
“Moving on,” I said in my outdoor voice. If I heard the word jizz one more time, someone was going to lose an appendage. “Heather, what’s on page five hundred and two?”
My sister gave me a grateful smile. “The punishment for reanimating the dead is death,” she explained. “So far, the Higher Power has perpetrated several crimes that end in death—pulling souls out of the Light and creating zombies. My educated guess is that it’s the tip of the iceberg of crimes the Higher Power has committed. It wrote the laws. It set the punishments. The question is, what are we going to do about It?”
“My old theory is trash now,” I said, running my hands through my hair in frustration. “Convicting the Higher Power in a court of Immortal law then reducing the sentence in return for finding out why It wanted Alana Catherine is moot. We know why It wants my baby.”
“Ending the Higher Power is the way to go,” Shitty Ritchie said with venom dripping off of every word. “Destroy It. ”
“Impossible,” Charlie snapped. “The balance would be destroyed and the end will come.”
Shitty Ritchie wasn’t having it. “Is that such a bad thing?” he demanded. “Shitty Ritchie is tired. Tired of running. Tired of living in a cave. Tired of existing. Tired of looking over my shoulder every minute of every day.”
He wasn’t the only one who’d had it. It took everything I had not to rip his tiny head off of his shoulders and yeet it into space. Yes, I was a compassionate person. And no, I wasn’t feeling it right now. I leveled the tiny asshole with a stare that made him blanch and back away quickly. My entire body glowed. My hands sparked, and I felt my eyes turn a blinding gold. “You are a selfish piece of shit. If you’re that tired, then end yourself,” I ground out. “You have no right to make that call for the entire world. It’s not just you who would be obliterated if the end came. It’s every Immortal, every human being, every animal… all of nature. What in the hell gives you the right to make that decision? Tell me,” I shouted. “Who are you to end every living thing?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly as tears filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Sorry wasn’t going to cut it this time. I turned my back on Shitty Ritchie. Looking at him would simply infuriate me more. Killing him wasn’t the answer. It might feel good for a moment, but in the long game, it would make me sick. I ended people in defense, not because of selfish stupidity.
I needed to believe the solution to the problem was within our reach. We just needed to find it. Everything is possible… I just had to believe.
“Threeeeeeeee,” Jimmy George Carrots whispered in my ear.
The ghost was fading fast. I glanced around to see if the golden light had arrived to take him away. I heaved a sigh of relief that there was no sign of it. However, his washed-out appearance and quick decline was disturbing. I had nothing to go on but my gut. I just wasn’t sure what my gut was trying to say.
Charlie stood up and paced the room. I knew his mind was working a mile a minute. His eyes were icy blue and his skin glowed. Thankfully, he was maintaining control on his power. Suffocating all of us would be a bad plan. Gideon held Alana Catherine even closer. His eyes sparked red and he was barely able to contain his fury. Candy Vargo had ten toothpicks in her mouth and she stood as still as a statue. The expression on her face was murderous. Heather kept reading more in the Immortal Book of Law. Her enchanted tattoos moved at warp speed. It made me dizzy to look at her. As usual, Tim took notes. However, he’d snapped two pencils thus far in his frenzied writing. Gram wrung her hands, and Mr. Jackson tried to comfort her to little avail. June sat quietly with a worried expression marring her pretty face. Jennifer had three open bottles of wine and was taste testing all of them.
Only Jimmy George Carrots was calm.
“Go with my gut,” I said aloud. “We need to find Jimmy George Carrots’ body parts.”
“What?” Gideon asked, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
He wasn’t all wrong. However, we were at such a low there was nowhere to go but up. For some reason, I believed that putting Jimmy George Carrots back together was part of the bigger plan. Why? I had no clue. I was working on adrenaline and fear at this point.
Shitty Ritchie was in the Gideon camp. “Why do you think that putting the seer back together will help?” His voice was higher than normal, which was painful, and his words were drenched in sarcasm.
But to me, his words felt like a gut punch—a good one. Maybe… “Say that again.”
“Why?” Shitty Ritchie asked, diving under the couch. “Are you going to decapitate me?”
“I’d love to,” I admitted honestly. “However, not just yet. Repeat what you said. Now.”
The tiny turd stayed under the couch as he spoke. “Shitty Ritchie asked why you think putting the seer back together will help?”
“Jimmy George Carrots is a seer?” I questioned.
Shitty Ritchie rolled his eyes and nodded. “Of course, he’s a seer. Anyone can see that.”
I looked around at everyone else. They were as surprised as I was. The only one who wasn’t surprised was Jimmy George Carrots himself. He smiled serenely and nodded.
“Tim,” I instructed as my insides tingled. “Define seer for me, please.”
“On it,” Tim said, grabbing his phone and looking it up. “I do know what a seer is, but let’s go to the technical definition.” It only took him thirty seconds to find what I’d requested. “A seer is a person who is able to see what the future holds through supernatural insight—an expert so to speak on what is to come.”
“BINGO,” I shouted, making everyone in the room jump. “We need to put Jimmy George Carrots, our resident seer, back together and then… I’m doing a mind dive. Part one of the mission, find his legs and his arm.” I held up the tube of superglue that I’d shoved into my pocket. “It’s time for some de ceased surgery.”
“Have you lost your ball-eatin’ marbles?” Candy Vargo asked.
“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “Let’s do this.”
Without another word, we split up to search for Jimmy George Carrots’ appendages.
We were moving forward. I hoped…