Gina Grant - Esprit de Corpse

I crouched down and peeked at the front page. Ah, it was the contract she’d been reading when I’d first materialized. Was it only three days ago?

“It’s all in order.” She held up the document for her dad to see. “I’ve quit my job at Iver PR. I’m no longer the CEO. Or anything there.”

His new eyes bulged out of his new head. He made a retching noise I assumed meant “what the fuck?”

“That’s right, Dad. All your machinations were for nothing. I had our lawyers—no, not your buddy Gill Hammerhead. He never would have gone for it. But Ray Mora. One of their associates. Together Ray and I came up with a new business model where Iver PR is going to be run as a cooperative. A public-private hybrid.”

Conrad rasped and gasped, falling back on the pillows as if having a stroke. But between the recent revelation that he couldn’t die and the upright angle of the bed, it really lacked drama. We ignored him and Shannon continued.

“Everybody in the company was allowed to buy a share for five thousand dollars. It’ll be run as a democracy with the new CEO voted in and holding the office for a term of five years.”

“’Mocracy?” Conrad shrieked, sounding like titanium being torn in two. I covered my ears.

“The reason Frannie was so anxious to turn on me and get me put away was because she had accumulated so much personal debt from online gambling that she couldn’t raise the five thousand dollars any more than she could raise the dead.” She threw her hand over her mouth and blushed. “No offense.”

“None taken,” we dead folk chorused.

“I would have grandfathered her in but she’s far too vindictive and manipulative to keep around. After all, she studied under the master.” She glared at her father again, who beamed like he’d just been complimented. Skegger.

To avoid the reminder that I, too, had gotten my spin doctorate under Conrad’s tutelage, I changed the subject. “What will you do now?”

“I was never cut out for corporate life. I would have made a terrible CEO and the company would have foundered. Clients and employees would have been left out in the cold. My dad was actually right about that.”

Conrad smiled warmly at his daughter. On his new face, a warm smile was a terrible thing to behold. Shannon took a half step back.

But I’d seen her in action and I think she was underestimating herself. She’d really known the business. Still, if this was what she wanted she had my blessing, er, um, approval.

“So I’m going to follow my bliss. I’m returning to school to finish my Master’s in social work. And when I graduate, I’d like to work with inmates.” She gave her father a watery smile. “Probably at Vanier. But before I do that, I’m going to take all the money I made selling shares in Iver PR and use it to endow an educational grant for any inmate or former inmate who wants to study social work. It’ll be known as the Theresa Mudders Memorial Award. I think that’s only fitting, don’t you?”

“Oh, Shannon, that’s wonderful.” I hugged her tight. (Testing first that my arms wouldn’t merely fly right through her and I’d end up hugging myself. They didn’t.)

“And Kirsty, I, um . . .” Shannon pulled back from my embrace, but clutched my hands in hers. “I have to apologize. I believed my dad’s version of events even when, deep down, I really knew what had happened.” She bit her lower lip, but didn’t look away.

“It’s okay, Shannon. You were exposed to Conrad’s spell longer than anyone. It’s amazing you were able to disconnect from it as soon as you did.”

“Yes, Shannon,” Dante added. He stepped up beside us, raised a hand to lay on Shannon’s shoulder, but instead turned and caressed my shoulder. “It took Kirsty several months, Hell time, to come to terms with the manipulation she’d experienced. That you freed yourself of your father’s influence so quickly is remarkable.”

The jealousy and anger I’d felt had been slipping away, but now it kicked back in again. I tried to shrug Dante’s hand off my shoulder, but he only held on tighter, turning me gently toward him. My hands slipped from Shannon’s, so I crossed my arms over my chest.

“It is my turn to apologize, Kirsty. I should have been more supportive. While it is true that as Reapers, we must investigate every possibility, I was unnecessarily harsh with you. I should never have behaved like that. I will understand if you do not wish to be with me anymore.”

He hung his head, peeking out from under his overlong bangs. Something about his little-boy look melted my heart. I uncrossed my arms and stepped forward. His head shot up and hope shone in his eyes. I allowed him to wrap his arms around me briefly before I stepped back out of the circle of his embrace.

“Yes, Dante, you did behave badly.” I was about to get into it when I realized everyone in the room—including my evil ex-boss—was watching us like television. If popcorn put in an appearance, so help me—

We’d briefly been the couple that fought in front of their friends and coworkers. Now we were the couple that made up in front of our friends. And not just friends, but also in front of my evil ex-boss, our not-too-evil current boss and . . . what was Judge Julius to me?

“Let’s discuss this at home. For now, your apology is accepted.”

“We like the way this all wrapped up,” Judge Julius said, caterpillars assuming the happy face position.

“You’re pleased?” Shannon said, cheeks pinking up. “So you can all go to Hell now. Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant—”

“’S okay, girlie. No offense. We all wanna go home. I’ll bet Dante and Kirsty more’n anyone. Right?”

Dante grabbed my hand once more. He activated his scythe saying, “Request permission to go to Hell, sir!”

“Permission granted, Reaper Alighieri.”

I stuck out my tongue at Conrad as I dematerialized. Last thing I saw was him holding up a significant finger at me.

I didn’t need the universal translator for that.

HOME. WE WEREgoing home again. I felt as if we’d been gone forever.

And we were all nice and in love again. It looked like I was going to get off Scott free even though I might have been possibly, perhaps, maybe a teensy bit in the wrong.

And by the way, who’s Scott and why does he get away with stuff?

We materialized in our front hall. I immediately grabbed Dante and tried to kiss him.

Only to have him push me away.

“What? I apologized already for behaving badly. It all worked out.” I tried to kiss him again but he planted his palm in the middle of my chest and straight-armed me, leaving the fun parts on either side untouched. I couldn’t get to him so I stepped back and waited.

“Kirsty. Cara. Your family is now living with us. Ricordi? ”

Oh, right. My aunt and Leslie. We couldn’t have wild monkey sex just anywhere anymore.

Does this pout make me look fat?

Still pouting, I hung my Reaper robe on its hook by the door. I swapped pouting for a proud smile when, for the first time ever, I hung my scythe beside it. I was a real Reaper now. I’d captured my very first soul and helped orchestrate a second one’s creative punishment. My new career was in great shape.

Too bad my sex life wasn’t.

I guess if I had to sublimate sex, I might as well eat. I headed for the kitchen, calling, “Carey! Leslie! We’re home.”

Silence. Maybe they were out. They needed to earn a skegload of points to get out of karmic debt and into a restaurant franchise. I grabbed a huge, freshly baked cookie from a tray on the big plank that served as our table. One great thing about having Leslie around is that she loves to cook.