Deadhead (Damned Girl Book 1) Read online

  “You’re pathetic,” she said, before turning to me. “Trust your first impression with this one, my dear. Do not allow yourself to be swayed. Trust none of them, for they’re all telling you lies and half-truths. The witch, the faery and the monkey mean you no harm, but the ghost is leading you to danger.”

  Well, I could have told her that. If it weren’t for Ed, none of my near-deaths in the last 24 hours would have happened.

  She leaned in close. “He prays,” she whispered. Ah, of course. Satan’s number one sign that someone can’t be trusted. Prayer.

  I was certainly convinced.

  “We’d better go,” I said. “Got a murderer to catch.”

  “You’re close,” she said.

  “If you know who it is, then –”

  “It’s your Quest, my dear.” Her voice dripped with something between sarcasm and condescension. It always did, but especially on that sentence. What was I meant to do? Not get a licence? Wasn’t that illegal? Wouldn’t I get fined? I had no money! I couldn’t afford to take that risk. Didn’t she realise this?

  This is why a relationship would never work out between us.

  Well, that and the fact that she was the embodiment of all things evil. But mostly the other thing.

  There was a whooshing sound and I whipped around to see a portal open behind me.

  Out stepped Death, in his full regalia – the black cloak, the scythe, you know. He’d clearly just come from work. Contrary to popular folklore, The Grim Reaper was not a skeleton at all, but a decently buff guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. With a flick of his arm, his uniform disappeared and he stood before us in jeans and an “I <3 Kale” T-shirt. You and me both, buddy.

  “Nessa,” he said.

  “Reapo, my man,” I answered. He smiled a little.

  “You know I hate that nickname.”

  “What else should I call you? Big D?” His smile grew wider and I felt myself blushing. “I meant ‘D’ as in ‘Death’, not…”

  “Sure.”

  Well, right now he was being a total D.

  “What are you doing? Just reporting in to your boss?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, but the smile didn’t totally leave his lips. Satan wasn’t really his boss, of course – he killed whomever he chose – but they did have a certain business relationship. Reaping souls for the underworld, etc. Calling the devil his boss was the quickest way to get to him.

  “What are you doing? Getting saved from vampire attacks by your step-mum?”

  “She’s not–” I stopped myself in time. He was obviously just trying to stir me up. We’d been friends for nearly as long as I’d known Satan, and he teased me constantly. Step-mum, though? Was the age difference that insurmountable?

  I started the conversation over, introducing him to Henry, Daisy, Hecate, “And this is Ed. Oh, I uh, I guess you guys have met.” Awkward.

  “We have,” said Death, giving Ed a look that would have put him in serious danger if looks could kill. And if the Reaper hadn’t already ripped Ed’s soul from his body and all… I wondered why Death looked so unimpressed to see Ed again. Normally the Reaper was a pretty nice guy. Maybe Ed just annoyed everyone.

  Before we move on, I guess I should explain to you how the whole ‘Reaping of Souls’ thing works. The basic idea is that when a human dies, their spirit is freed from their body, but is bound to the corpse like a dog on a leash until Death turns up, does the admin and sets them free. (Animals don’t require this process, because they’re a bit more easy-going and just tend to move on by themselves. Only human spirits seem to think there’s something so great about being alive.)

  Death could either kill people himself or turn up after the person had already died (depending on the situation) to free their soul. Sometimes he arrived instantaneously, sometimes it took up to a week. That was why there were often ghosts rising at the cemetery by my house. He would ferry them to the afterlife or, if they were bent up on hanging around the formerlife, he’d let their spirits roam free as ghosts. I didn’t really know how the different types of ghosts (pink-auras, poltergeists, the fuzzy ones that looked like clouds) were formed. I’d have to ask Death some time.

  “Reaper,” said Satan from behind me. “So nice to see you again. I wasn’t expecting you until later this evening.”

  “Well, I was bored,” he answered. “Heard Nessa got her self into trouble and you had to bail her out. Again. Thought I’d drop in.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course he knew. The Reaper knew everything. When he said he ‘heard’ I was in trouble, he of course meant that he’d sensed it with his crazy soul-reaping ESP. He just didn’t say weird shit like that, because for an annoying, death-obsessed, zillion-years-old creature he was much more sensitive to what was a strange thing to bring up in conversation than most other old magical weirdos. Like, you know, Satan with her weird ‘I smell species’ thing.

  “Well, you must stay for dinner! I was just about to send my marketing team home anyway, seeing as Nessa here interrupted our creative flow. We can have a party! I’ll let Giorgio know I have company. How many of us are there?” She pointed to each of us and counted. “Six. Excellent.”

  “Seven,” Death said. “Including you.”

  “I’m a ghost,” said Ed. “I can’t eat.” Look at this idiot, trying to tell Death how being dead worked.

  Reaper rolled his eyes like he was already done with this shit. Ed seemed to just have that effect on people.

  “You’re in the afterlife now, Ghosty. Any soul can eat here.”

  “Oooh, I like that,” said Satan. “When we open up the restaurant we can use that as the slogan.”

  “The restaurant?” Death queried.

  “Hell’s Kitchen,” said Satan.

  “Ah,” said Death.

  “Anyway, dinner for six,” Satan continued.

  “Seven,” said Ed. “If I can eat here.”

  “Oh, you can,” said Satan. “But you won’t. You’re not welcome to eat here.”

  Oh, wow. Ed was making some powerful enemies tonight.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Should I just wait in the lounge? Or maybe you can send me back to the real world where I can be killed by vampires.”

  “You’re already dead!” I said.

  “Oh no,” said Satan. “You’ll sit at the table. But you won’t be eating. You can just watch everyone else enjoying their meals and contemplate the life choices that have led you to this moment.”

  She really was not a fan of prayer.

  Satan turned on her heel and called out to Giorgio.

  Thirty minutes later (the ovens in Hell were apparently very efficient) the seven of us were seated at a table covered in a feast fit for the Queen of Darkness. Ed sat at the opposite end of the table from Satan, the only person with no place setting in front of him. Whenever she got the chance, Satan stared daggers at him. I’d forgotten how much I liked her.

  I really should drop in more often, I thought.

  Tonight Satan appeared to be foregoing her usual macrobiotic diet in favour of an Italian feast. She must have really wanted to make Ed suffer. Laid out in front of us were roughly a billion different dishes – arrabiata, napolitana, seitan meatballs (which I’m sure she ate just as much for the reason that the name sounded like ‘Satan’ as because she was vegetarian), bruschetta, artichoke crostini, ferinata with sundried tomato and olives, a white bean and kale dish (which I believe Giorgio described as ‘Tuscan-inspired’, which meant it probably wasn’t all that authentic, but hey, he was Italian and it was delicious so whatever). Death looked pleased about the kale.

  I’m pretty sure I saw Ed shed a tear as he watched the rest of us dig in.

  When the tiramisu (made with coconut cream, of course, as Satan did not consume dairy because, and I quote, “Drinking from animal tits is just weird – I like my breasts human”) arrived, I thought Ed might actually explode.

  Throughout dinner, Daisy, Henry and Hecate seemed to grow more comfortable w
ith Satan, and the conversation stopped being quite so stilted. Part of this was due to Death’s impressive conversational skill. He was a mingler; the sort of person who could talk to anyone and make them feel at ease. He had the sort of charm that would make the prospect of dying and having him ferry you to the afterlife not seem so unappealing.

  Death was being so charming, in fact, that even I didn’t realise until we were well over halfway through the main course that he was subtly questioning Daisy, Henry and Hecate about what they were up to.

  “A robbery at the police station?” he was saying. “Oh, it must be related to that bank robbery. Clouding spells were used at both, right?”

  “Yes,” the three of them agreed heartily. Death had clearly woven them all under his spell.

  “And what exactly was taken?”

  “Money,” said Daisy vaguely.

  “And some things from the safe,” Hecate added.

  “What was in the safe?” asked Reaper.

  “Doomstone,” they all said in unison, sounding kind of groggy. What exactly was going on here? Surely Death already knew all of these details. He knew everything. Why was he bothering asking them? I looked towards Ed. He appeared to have fallen asleep.

  “Alright, you’ve helped her enough,” Satan cut in. What did that mean? Helped who? Me? Helped me with what? If that was meant to assist me on my quest, then it very well had not. Why hadn’t they just told me who did it so I wouldn’t have to continue this ridiculous search? Surely they knew.

  “What have you done to them? Did you drug them?” I asked, my voice sounding significantly more high-pitched than normal.

  They laughed.

  “Don’t be silly, darling,” said Satan.

  “We’re two of the oldest beings in existence. If we can’t do a little truth spell then what on earth are we good for?” said Death.

  “How about telling me what exactly is going on here? Why won’t you just tell me who killed Ed so I can stop with this quest? Then you might not have to bail me out of a vampire attack again, and I can stop pretending to be a law-abiding magical citizen with no powers other than talking to ghosts.” It seemed like a reasonable deal to me.

  Death opened his mouth, but before he could speak Satan cut him off.

  “Finish your dinner, darling,” she said. I thought I detected a flicker of annoyance in Death’s eyes, but it was gone before I could be sure. Before I could start questioning them again, everyone else came to. The moment was gone.

  My troupe was looking a little confused, unsure as to what had transpired over the last twenty minutes or so. Death started talking again, this time about benign matters such as magical policy and the latest gossip about celebrity supernaturals and how Hecate’s crimson hair really brought out her eyes, and everyone got back to eating (or, in Ed’s case, watching), and seemed to forget about their disorientation a moment before.

  There were always risks when you sat down to dine with Death and the devil, I suppose. What exactly were they up to? Why the hell was I involved?

  And what exactly was this Doomstone?

  Chapter 10

  After dinner, Death escorted us back to the realm of the living. He re-opened the portal in the waiting room and we all stepped through, coming out in the forest near my house.

  “I didn’t want to open it too close in case I tore the fabric of time and space a little wide and your whole cottage came tumbling down,” he said. A genuine risk with my house.

  I walked slowly and let the rest of the group get in front, Ed leading the charge out of the forest and back to my front door. The ground had dried out a little during the day, but it was still soft from the rain the night before. I could feel magical energy all around us and knew that all manner of creatures were scuttling around in the undergrowth, from wolves to witches to dragon hatchlings. (OK, maybe the hatchlings were a stretch, but a girl could hope. I really wanted to see a dragon someday.)

  I suspected that we wouldn’t really have to worry about those vampires anymore, seeing as Satan was probably having a word with them right at this moment, but everyone seemed keen to get out of the forest nonetheless. I was happy to let them go ahead – I wanted to ask Death some questions.

  “What the hell is going on?” I hissed at him as soon as I was sure the others were out of earshot. “What is a Doomstone? Why won’t you and Satan just tell me who killed Ed? I know that you know. This whole quest thing is ridiculous. What –”

  Suddenly the ground dropped away and the trees around us faded. I gasped like an 18th century maiden who’d just seen someone’s naked bottom. Where were we?

  “Where did the world go?” I asked Death, a little dazed.

  “We’re in a void, outside time and space. I needed to take you somewhere that Satan couldn’t overhear us, but we have to be quick before she realises that you’re missing.”

  “Whaaa….”

  “That doesn’t matter. What matters is what I have to tell you right now. I can’t tell you what’s going on.”

  “Oh, great. That’s handy.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Shut up and listen. Don’t trust anyone.”

  “Anyone?”

  “Anyone.”

  I thought for a second. “You mean Satan, don’t you? That’s why you brought me here.”

  “I mean everybody. Everyone is lying to you. You need to find the Doomstone and finish this as fast as you can. No one is here to help you, no matter what they say.”

  “What about you?”

  “I can’t help you. I’m forbidden from telling you what’s going on. You’re on your own. And I mean that – don’t trust them.”

  “I don’t even know what the Doomstone is! How am I meant to find it?”

  “You can do it. You have to do it.”

  “But –”

  The world came rushing back and Death kept walking as if nothing had happened. I knew I couldn’t ask him any more questions in case Satan heard. I couldn’t trust her? Or any of the others? Two of them were cops, one was a Department official and the other was the guy that got murdered! Who exactly could I trust? Was the Grim Reaper my only friend? That was really sad if it was true.

  He walked me to my door (the others were already inside – I hadn’t locked it last night since I had nothing worth stealing and most robbers were too creeped out by the graveside location to come here in the dead of the night) and nodded once. I was pretty sure this guy was on my side. What did he have to gain by lying to me? He could take my soul whenever he wanted. But then again, what did any of the others have to gain by lying to me?

  The Doomstone must be the key. They hadn’t told me about the robbery even though they were sure it had something to do with Ed’s death. It must be significant. And probably dangerous.

  Everyone else was sitting around in the loungeroom looking kind of shell-shocked when I walked in. I’d probably been the same the first time I met Satan. But then, I’d only been fourteen at the time. What were these adults doing with PTSD? It hadn’t been that traumatic an experience. We’d all made it out alive and she hadn’t even tortured anyone.

  Deciding I didn’t really want to talk to them right now (partly because I didn’t want to face their questions about my relationship with Satan, and partly because I didn’t know what to think of them anymore and I needed time to think), I excused myself and went straight to my room. I’d talk to them later, when I knew what we were up against and had some sort of plan. Or, more likely, when I still knew nothing and I had to ask them what the hell was going on.

  I headed for my computer, having decided to use Google first, even though I knew it probably wasn’t going to be that easy. Nothing on this quest was, and for some reason magic lore hadn’t yet been reliably digitised. You could only find the basic stuff online, and even then you had to be careful about your sources. There were a lot of normals who thought that they had some sort of affinity with the occult and put their dodgy information up as if it were accurate. Plus, it was tricky to sor
t out the fan fic from the legitimate empirical research on the function and performance of spells/herbs/talismans etc.

  The keyword ‘Doomstone’ brought up far more results than I could be bothered scrolling through. Unfortunately, all the top suggestions were for items in video games. Great. The normals had cluttered the internet with all their made-up magic to distract themselves from the boring reality of their lives. I was going to have to resort to the classic arcane research method: books. (Or, as they are usually called in the supernatural research context, ‘tomes’.)

  I pulled reference book after reference book off my bookcase, hoping to find some mention of this legendary Doomstone. It seemed odd that it was apparently such a big deal in the seedy magical underworld, and yet I’d never heard of it. I’d read a lot of occult books over the years in order to teach myself how to perform the various legal and not-so-legal spells that I required to get by. In the past, though, I’d always had Satan around to help me. Now it looked like I couldn’t go to my usual teacher. Death couldn’t tell me anything. All the officials were acting kind of shady. Who did that leave?

  I groaned.

  “What’s up?” came a voice from behind me. I screamed and spun around, falling over backwards. Displaying remarkable speed and an uncharacteristic concern for my wellbeing, Ed crossed the room and caught me before I hit the ground. It wasn’t like one of those weird romantic catches that always happen in rom-coms – we didn’t look into each other’s eyes and suddenly realise we were in love or anything. Ed fumbled a little and I ended up falling anyway, just not as hard as I had been before.

  “Sorry,” said Ed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Everyone was being weirdly quiet downstairs and we could hear all this weird thumping coming from your room so I came up to check you were OK. I did knock but I guess you didn’t hear.”

  I sighed. At least he’d saved me the trip downstairs to fetch him.

  “I need you to help me, Ed. I don’t think we can trust the others.”

  “Why not? Because of what Satan said?”

  I momentarily considered how much I should tell him. Satan had warned me about him, but that was probably because she didn’t like religious people. I decided to tell him about the Doomstone. “Partly. Partly because I overheard them talking, and I know they’re holding out on us.”