Page 30 of Grave Curse

“No.”

“You say that like you know. Oh! Because youdoknow,” she gasped with a clap of her hands, only to groan and put a hand to her brow. “You do know who sent you that care package, don’t you? That’s why you felt it was safe enough to take the Alka Seltzer. So who did it? Who sent it to you?”

“Like I said, I can’t really talk about it, and I’m certainly not going to spend another second worrying about it.” I made a beeline for the door just as it opened and a trio of college-aged women came in on a wave of happy chatter. “I have to go across the street, but I’ll be back.” With a quick wave, I headed out before Roxie could say another word. Work was important, of course. But at the moment I had other fish to fry.

The wind rolling off Lake Michigan held the first true breath of the coming winter, and with a grateful sigh I at last ducked inside the warm and welcoming showroom of Ride Or Die Choppers. A familiar face messing around with some boxes drew my attention, and I changed course to head for her.

“Shiloh! Girlie, it’s been forever.” I flung my arms around Shiloh Valentine, Romeo’s stunning, pocket-sized goddess of a wife and Ride Or Die’s frightfully efficient office manager. Withgolden brown curls halfway down her back, grass-green eyes and an adorable baby bump rounding out the overall look, Shiloh had come into the Gravedigger world and instantly owned it like the queen she was. “Why don’t you ever pop into Vixen’s Den?”

“Because seeing all those sexy outfits right now would just make me feel like a beached whale.” Laughing and clearly delighted with her “whale” status, she smoothed an absent hand over her bump. “Did you come over to help us with the Halloween decorating?”

“Us?”

As if on cue, Misty, Mabel, and Mabel’s man Ashtray exited Misty’s office. While Misty was the latest iteration of the proverbial blonde bombshell, Mabel was definitely last generation’s model, and she was still working it for all her glorious fifty-something worth. She cut quite the figure in skinny jeans, fringed boots, a leather cut that told the world she was Ashtray’s property, and impossibly platinum hair piled high on her head. Generally she played mother hen to all the Gravediggers’ biker babes, and it was up to her if a woman made it or not in this highly cloistered and exclusive world.

“Hey there, stranger.” Mabel lit up before tackling me in a huge hug. My bones were still groaning when she backed far enough away to beam at me. “Been waiting on you to send us our invitation to your Halloween birthday bash, but so far we’ve got nothing. Have you forgotten us?”

“Mabel, nobody could ever forget you and Ashtray.” I bent to give her man Ashtray a quick hug in his wheelchair, happy to see he looked bright and chipper despite having been shot in the back last January by Hades’s cowardly son, Marvel. “No one’s gotten an invitation because I’m not throwing a party this year.”

“Girlfriend, I’m not sure that’s even allowed.” Misty stepped up for her own hug, all the while giving me a reproachful look. “Your birthday also happens to be our friendiversary.”

I blinked. “Friendiversary? Is that a thing?”

“Of course it is! Hallmark makes cards for it and everything.”

“Oh, well, if Hallmark makes cards for it…”

Misty rolled her spectacularly made-up eyes. “I first met you at your birthday party when Lasso and I were dating. That was two kids and one mortgage ago, and in all that time you’ve never missed throwing a birthday bash. What gives?”

“I’ll bet it’s that fucking asshole Hades.” Ashtray’s whole face wrinkled, like he’d just taken a big swig of sour milk. “It’s because of the war, isn’t it, Ginge? I tell you what, that cocksucker ruins everything.”

“Guys, it’s not that deep, and for once Hades has nothing to do with ruining my fun. I’m just not feeling it this year, because twenty-nine is a scary number, and I’m not looking forward to the last year I have before I hit the big three-oh.”

“Seriously?” Mabel stared at me while Shiloh looked up from untangling orange and black garland to gape at me. “You’re not throwing the best costume party of the year… because you’re feeling old?”

“Not feeling old, Mabel. I am old. Too old to party like I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, because that’s not really the case anymore.” Then, when I heard how self-pitying that sounded, I waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s no big deal. I’ll probably go twice as big for my birthday next year. But with Hades and his psycho wolves howling at the door, it’s probably for the best I’m giving it a skip this year.”

“See? I knew it was Hades and not that other bullshit about getting old.” In true Ashtray form, the big biker skipped over all the things that didn’t have to do with his personal opinion, and shrugged his beefy shoulders. “I don’t know why you women don’t listen to me more often. I know what the fuck I’m talking about, and damned if I’m not always right. Honestly, it’s a burden.”

“That’s my man,” Mabel said proudly, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “You tell Ginger how wrong she is, baby.”

“Ginger, you’re wrong,” Ashtray parroted dutifully, and even as I bit my lip to keep from grinning, I saw Shiloh hide her gentle laugh by turning toward the decoration boxes. “Now is the time to go full throttle—drink harder, fuck harder, brawl harder and live harder than ever before. Hades ain’t the boss of us. He has fuck-all influence on every last person standing on Gravedigger ground, and we prove that shit to him and his dumbass crew of flesh-eating mutants by living as large as we can.”

“Flesh-eating mutants? Ew, Ash.” Shiloh paused in pulling out a giant-sized Grim Reaper whose cloak seemed to be about as big as a parachute. “Now there’s a phrase that’ll turn a preggo lady’s stomach.”

“Thing is, it’s true.” Mabel’s smoky voice dropped to a stage whisper, and we all moved in closer, not wanting to miss a single delicious drop of tea. “Hades has a psycho guy on his crew—all his teeth have been sharpened to points so he can eat the faces off of his victims.”

“I’m so gonna barf,” Shiloh said faintly, and she did look pale, poor girl. “But I wouldn’t put too much stock in that, Mabel. It almost sounds like an urban legend.”

“No, it’s real, Shy girl. Guy goes by the name of Pirahna,” Ashtray whispered, tapping the side of his nose. “Though you didn’t hear that from me. That’s club business.”

Good grief, Ash. “I remember Pirahna,” I said after a moment. “Weird dude, and that’s putting it politely. He’d been one of those boot-licking, shit-sucking types of prospects that never would have made it in Odin’s Chicago Gravediggers. But the moment Hades took over, this Pirahna guy got patched in and called up to be one of Hades’s lieutenants. Really liked to hang around me and my little friends as we’d walk home from school. Middle school, to be precise.”

Misty sent me a cringing look. “Oh, no. Really?”

“Yep. I’ll never forget the time Pirahna offered me twenty bucks to jump rope in my pleated-skirt school uniform without any panties on. I was twelve.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, now he has to die.” Looking so furious I half-expected him to leap out of his wheelchair, Ashtray’s barrel chest heaved like a bellows. “You have to tell Tyr about that, honey. It’ll light a fire under everyone if they know what Pirahna really is.”

---