Page 45 of Having the Time of My Midlife

Shit was an understatement. All I could do was watch as my daughter tended to the slain adorable stinkers. As she chanted in the strange language Gideon had spoken earlier, I wondered if she understood the words. Regardless, the souls of the dead and torn-to-shreds mammals rose above the bloody murder site.

“Come to me,” she commanded. “Come to me. NOW.”

One by one, all fifty souls of the skunks flew into my daughter’s body. She didn’t flinch. She barely moved. Her arms were outstretched, and her magic swirled around her. I had no clue what the hell she was thinking. If she assumed that because Gram hopped a ride in me, that she could somehow bring the skunks to safety, we were going to have a serious talk.

“Well, slap my ass and call me Sally,” Gram whispered in shock as Alana Catherine turned around and faced us with a huge smile on her face. “Our little gal is a Soul Keeper as well as the future Death Counselor.”

“Wait. What?” I asked, sure I’d heard her wrong. That gift ran in bloodlines, just like the Death Counselor ran in ours. I was very sure that I’d given birth to her and that Gideon was her dad. Missy, who was a legit Soul Keeper, had nothing to do with it.

“That’s not possible,” I told Gram.

“Darlin,” she said with a smile. “Anything is possible, you just have to believe.”

My daughter approached us. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “It’s all okay.”

Sucking an audible breath in through my teeth, I shoved my hands into my pockets in frustration. “There might be a little problem.”

She looked confused.

“Nothing dies here. It all comes back. What happens when all the souls you’re housing come back to life?”

“Okay,” Alana Catherine said in a higher pitch than I was used to hearing. “Wasn’t aware of that wrinkle. You sure about that?”

“Positive,” I replied.

“Fuck a duck,” Gram muttered, using the F-bomb for the second time today. At the rate we were headed, she was going to make the Guinness Book of World Potty Mouth Records. Candy Vargo would be proud.

If I was my daughter, I’d be freaking out a little. I was not my daughter. She wasn’t freaking out. She threw her head back and laughed.

“That’s funny?” I asked warily.

She nodded. “Not to worry. When they want to regenerate, they’re free to leave.”

I wasn’t positive, but I was pretty sure Gram dropped another F-bomb.

I walked over to my daughter and took her in my arms. “That was insane. Scared the heck out of me. I have a request.”

“Shoot,” she said, hugging me tight.

“Next time you’re going to take a few centuries off my life, could I get a heads-up first, please?”

She giggled. “Yes. That’s completely reasonable. Would you like to know what I’m going to do next?”

“Umm… I think so,” I replied with a slight wince. “I mean, do I want to know?”

“You do,” she assured me, walking over to Sam, John and Birdie. “I’m going to invite our dead friends into me to hang out with the skunks for a bit. They’ll be safer that way.”

To say I was stunned to silence would have been an understatement. My child was way ahead of all of us. Gideon was going to flip. I wasn’t sure there was anything we could teach her that she didn’t already know. Hell, she could probably teach us.

“That’s a beautiful plan,” I finally told her. “Sam, John and Birdie, please meet my daughter, Alana Catherine. She’d like to give you a safe haven until you can go back into the Light. Is that good?”

They were weak and fading. I wasn’t sure if they’d understood what I’d just said. They had. With smiles of gratitude, they floated into Alana Catherine’s open arms. The moment they made contact, they disappeared. It was simple and stunning.

“Can you feel ‘em all in there?” Gram asked.

Alana Catherine smiled. “Kind of, but not physically. It’s more of a spiritual knowledge that I’m their host.”

Glancing around the stage, I noticed a door at the very back was lit up like a Christmas tree. It was beckoning to us.

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