Gina Grant - Esprit de Corpse

That’s it! The first time I’d had coffee with Seiko post-averted-apocalypse, he’d presented it to me as a memento for saving the world.

But I hadn’t really wanted it because I’d been the one to endanger the world in the first place. I blamed myself for the lost lives—well, not lives, exactly—for Raul and Rod, who’d been sucked into Heller that day.

So I’d thanked Seiko for the skull and then gotten rid of it at the first opportunity. Now what had I done with it? I’d given it to someone. Someone who valued it. Someone who could use it again next semester . . .

I opened my eyes, stepped around my boss and pointed at his display cabinet. “It’s right here, sir.”

“Can’t be. I’d know if I had . . .” He turned to look where I pointed. “Oh.” He grabbed the skull, gifting me with a look that fell somewhere between sheepish and This is all your fault! “Let’s get going.” He activated his scythe and bobbed his head once. Glad to see I wasn’t the only one who’d watched too many I Dream of Jeannie reruns.

I activated my scythe, tried twitching my nose and failed. So head-bouncing it was. I popped back into the women’s bathroom at the courthouse. It looked exactly as it had when I’d left only now it featured fewer people and more yellow crime scene tape. Blood and one formerly ensorcelled stapler still littered the floor. They’d sure cleared out fast. I checked my own death watch. Only ten minutes had passed since I’d last been here. I still wasn’t used to Coil and Hell time syncing up. Go, time lords.

But where was Dante? I squinted at the spot I’d last seen him, but now there was no glimmer at all. I surveyed the bathroom, turning this way and that. Was he behind me? In front? I ended up spinning around, but I was alone. I called out to Dante. If he was still there, I couldn’t see him. A third tear tracked down my damp cheek. Or was it my fourth? I’d lost track of my tears.

And I’d lost my boyfriend, my boss and my—what exactly was Judge Julius to me? Never mind. Not important. What was important was that I was lost, alone and desperate.

Again.

I stood there shakily, considering my options. Should I go back to Schotz’s office? Would Reaper Monroe have a clue? Or Sybil Serpent? Sue Sayer or Claire Voyant probably would, but they were at their monthly meeting of the Seers Guild. I checked my hellphone for messages that might have downloaded during my five minutes in Hell in case either of my psychic friends had called in advance to warn me I was going to have a problem. But nada. Damn seers. Never around when you needed one. You’d think they’d have known . . .

Should I try Vanier prison? Would the sergeant and the judge go there? What about the morgue where Theresa’s body probably lay awaiting— ewww !—an autopsy. I shuddered. I’d worn that body. I’d been Theresa. It’s always fun till somebody loses an I.

No, wait! I snapped my fingers. The hospital. Dante would follow the contract amendment and the sergeant knew how to work the GPS in our scythes so he’d follow Dante. Judge Julius would follow Schotz.

Toronto’s “Hospital Row” is formed by half a dozen hospital buildings lining either side of University Avenue, but I was pretty sure one of the EMTs had mentioned Mount Sinai while I spoke with Shannon. It was a place to start. I activated my scythe again and imagined myself at Mount Sinai Hospital.

I materialized in a hospital room. It looked familiar. Oh, it was the one I’d been in when I’d first been scythed. I stepped cautiously over to the bed, barely daring to breathe. Oh, wait. Never mind that last part. Bad habits again.

The bed housed a large balding man whom I didn’t know. I hoped he wasn’t in for anything serious. I told him pointlessly that I’d probably see him soon and went to look for my boyfriend and my best friend.

I tried looking at the giant white boards located at each nursing station, but in the interest of confidentiality, everything was in code, even patient names. No, the only way to find Shannon, and hopefully my dead posse, was to walk through every room on every floor. I so didn’t want to do that. As a Reaper I was comfortable with either life or death but I really hated the in-between part.

I girded my loins, whatever that meant, and began to stride through walls into patient rooms and operating theaters, trying not to look too closely at the people in either place. I’d ascertain if Shannon and my fellow souls were present and if not, move on.

Luckily, she was in the fourteenth room I checked. Whew! If I never again heard the shrill whine of a bone saw as long as I after-lived, it’d be too soon.

I’d been right about everyone being in the room Shannon was in. What I hadn’t figured on was that the room Shannon was in was actually Conrad’s room. After everything he’d done to her, Shannon still wanted to spend time with her dad?

Maddy’s body lay on the bed, handcuffed to the metal frame on either side. Shannon sat in one of the hard plastic guest chairs at the foot of the bed. A uniformed policeman sat on a second chair out in the hallway, politely eavesdropping. I’m sure he wondered why the skeg she’d want to visit her former cellmate and attempted murderer. Knowing that in reality she was visiting her father and attempted murderer, I couldn’t help but agree.

Dante stood by the bedside hale and hearty again. Was hale something like wan ? I’d really have to look that up one day. Along with bombastic . He tossed the crystal skull in the air and caught it again, then pointed to something on the contract amendment Sergeant Schotz was trying to read with Judge Julius peering over his shoulder.

“Dante!” I exclaimed. I wanted to throw myself at him but refrained, fearing another face-plant in case he wasn’t corporeal to me.

“Oh, hi, Kirsty. Glad you could join us.”

Oh, so two could play cool as a bat. “I see the skull did the trick.”

“Yup.”

He tossed the crystal skull to me and I nearly fumbled it, memories of Rod’s fatal fumble surfacing again.

I tried to return it to Sergeant Schotz but he waved me off, focused as he was on the amendment.

Judge Julius stood up straight, hooked his glasses over his horns and smoothed his trained caterpillars into place. “Looks in order,” he said to Shannon. Apparently we were visible to her. I willed myself to manifest for her. I had the trick of it now.

“Oh, hi, Kirsty. When did you get here?”

“A second ago.” I gave her a little finger wave, not anxious to draw too much attention to myself.

“So you,” the judge continued, speaking at Shannon. “You get a twenty-five-year extens—What? Oh, I see. How am I supposed to know who’s in what body?” He harrumphed, put his glasses back on his judicious face and focused on Conrad instead. “Ah, yes. So you, Conrad Percival Iver, have found someone willing to surrender their remaining time on the Coil to you. I have communicated with Reaper Monroe at Hell’s Cells and he tells me the de-souled individual, one . . .” Julius flipped pages. I could see a note in Dante’s handwriting added underneath the bloody signature line. “. . . Madeline Ann Stryker, says she’d rather be incarcerated in Hell than here on the Coil. Says the view’s better.” He stopped to consider this, then shrugged and continued. “Plus while incarcerated down there she can earn an early release for bad behavior. So,” he summed up, “you get to keep the body you’re in. You’ve earned yourself twenty-five more years of earthly life in that nice, healthy—” He stopped, took in Maddy’s badly dyed hair, multiple tattoos and damaged throat. “Well, relatively young body, anyway. Congratulations.”