Vicki Pettersson - The Taken

“Now dig.”

Courtney shook her head, but faced the grave and waved her hand in the air in a quick windshield-wiper motion. It was a necessary skill-some Takes were buried alive-and the ground in front of her shifted like it was being raked to the side. “You know, if this works, I could get in trouble for helping you. They’ll send me back to the Tube and force me to forget shit, too.”

Grif considered the fights he’d overheard between Courtney and Sarge, booming from the Pure’s office like they were being blared on a blow horn. She thought she needed more time in incubation. He always countered that that was the easy way out, that a Centurion had to work for the most important life lessons, not simply be handed them. So Grif frowned at Courtney as she continued flicking her wrist, flinging dirt. “Haven’t you been trying to return to the Tube since you reached the Everlast?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, eyes wide. “This might actually do it!”

And with that, she leaned forward, took a deep breath, and blew away the last of the dirt. When the enormous burst of dust had settled, Grif looked down and found a still-gleaming mahogany casket.

“And this is where I bow out,” she said, leaning against the trunk of a nearby oak. “All yours, Shaw.”

Grimacing, but resolute, he leaped down onto the casket. There was no room to sidestep or straddle, and he struggled for a moment to figure out how to open the thing.

“Got it down to a science, don’t they? You can practically knock on the casket next door,” Courtney called, from above. “If they only knew, huh? They probably wouldn’t bother.”

No, thought Grif, tugging at the casket. They’d bother. People did crazy things for those they loved. As evidenced by Grif’s actions now. A quick tug and simultaneous hop, and he managed to get one foot wedged in the opening. A little more maneuvering and he finally wrestled the lid open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Like overcooked barbecue and soured sauce. Not decomposing exactly, but sickly sweet. In return-and defense-Grif blew the breath he’d been holding directly back at the corpse, visualizing the electric coil given to him by Anne going with it. She’d been right about one thing, at least. It was time to stop fighting his angelic nature… especially when the power rushed through him like a river. The power-even just two feathers’ worth-of a Pure.

There was a flash, then a whiff of smoke, and the corpse jumped. Then, for an even briefer moment, the face of the Pure flashed over the bones of the dead. Grif waited as the smoke dissipated, and silence suitable to a graveyard once again blanketed the ground.

Then, a twitch.

And Paul Raggio’s body rose from the grave.

“Jesus Christ, who the fuck put me in this get-up?”

“Yo mama,” Courtney called down.

Paul looked up, neck cracking unnaturally with the movement, before falling immediately to one side as he squinted. His eyes pulsed in their sockets twice, and then he grimaced. “Aw, man. Not you again. I thought I saw the last of your stuck-up, grungy ass when they stuck me in the Tube.”

Grif looked up at Courtney, sucking in a deep breath while his head was tilted that way. “You didn’t tell me you knew him.”

Courtney made a face. “Contact shame.”

Grif could only nod. Death tended to accentuate a person’s more distinct character traits, and since Raggio had been a total ass prior to death, all that getting whacked had done was remove his conversational filter.

“Shaw!” Raggio’s head swung sickly to the other side. “You got wings!”

“I know.” Grif dug around in his jacket pocket for a stick, trying to not be unnerved that all the dead people could still see them, while he could not. The cigarette smoke would also help with the smell.

“Holy shit. You’re a Centurion?” Paul propped his wrists on his hips, though with no life force, no mortal coil to hold them up, they immediately slid back to his sides. “Well, I’m not impressed. We’ve already covered what happens if I don’t get over my traumatic death before my time in the Tube is up. Believe me, I’ve got no problem putting my past behind me. I mean, beam me up, Scotty. Paradise is totally where I belong. I’m not going to let regret and sentimentality keep me from my rightful place.”

“No,” Grif said, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Those particular emotions would be the least of your issues.”

“That’s an insult, right?” Paul laughed, spewing a fly, which surprised them all. Grif cringed, and Courtney groaned, while Paul wiped the side of his mouth before his arm fell again. “Well, I don’t fucking care. You and Kit can get your rocks off at my expense, but I… What’s that fucking smell?”

Courtney sat, legs hanging into the side of the grave. “Is it kinda like a jack-o’-lantern left on the stoop ’til December?”

“Yes.”

“Or a diaper that hasn’t been changed in a week?”

“Yes.”

“That’s you, dude.”

Head reeling all the way around on his neck, Paul’s panicked yelp trailed off into a gurgle. “What the hell? Get me out of here!”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “It’s your body.”

Paul scrambled, looking like he was literally trying to pull his head from his shoulders, but his arms kept slipping away. The energy Grif had given him was only enough to coil around his spine. He was upright, his body worked… but it didn’t work very well. “Get me. Out. Of. Here.”

“No.”

The dead eyes pulsed again with true terror as he looked at Grif. “Please, Shaw! I take it back. You and Kit are great, a perfect couple. Happily ever after, all that. Please!”

Grif lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

Paul stilled, head dropping to the right, eyes wide. “You want something. What do you want? Raven’s number? She’s hot, right? I only bagged her, like, half a dozen times, but those were all the freebies she had in her anyway. She dropped the B-bomb on me,” he said, and mouthed the word “boyfriend,” and then his jaw cracked. “Ouch. Why am I telling you this?”

“Because your mouth and your thoughts are like your body. Falling out all over the place. There’s no mortal coil to hold it in. So you’re going to tell me what I want to know about Chambers and his little cabal so that I can find Kit before it’s too late.”

“Kit?” His alarm quickly turned skeptical. “Chambers would never want her. She’s too old, too opinionated. Besides, he was furious with her for upsetting his wife at the gala. I told him I’d happily escort you two out, but he said he’d take care of it himself.” Paul frowned, and his brow stuck in that position. “Shit. Why did I say that?”

“Tell me what happened to you.”

“Now you’re talking! Solve a real mystery!” Paul lifted a fist in the air… and it dropped like a deflated balloon. “Um… I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t know,” Grif said impatiently. “What happened right before you don’t know?”

Paul’s furrowed brows unstuck. “Well, there was the gala… and Caleb was pissed at me for getting you and Kit in. How was I supposed to know you two were going to bring up murder in front of the missus? And then, after we came to an agreement on some things, Raven said she wanted to take me for a little ride. We ended up at some horse stables and… Shit, you think that bitch rolled me?”

“Guess she was done with you, too, Romeo,” Courtney called down.

Grif flicked ash on dust. “You never thought she might be one of Chambers’s girls?”

“Ravie? No way, man. She was good, but she wasn’t like, professional-good.”

“Couldn’t fake the O, huh?” Courtney shot from above. Grif and Paul both gave her a withering look.