Page 78 of Aftermarket Afterlife

“Where are your grandparents?” I asked, looking around the room.

“They went upstairs,” said Alex. “I’ll have to tell them, too. Grandma Angela really liked Aunt Jane.” His face fell, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to start crying again.

“All right,” I said, and stood, giving him one last pat on the shoulder. “I’m going to head out. I think you should stay here.”

“What? But the funeral—”

“Won’t be for at least a week, and hopefully by then, this will all be over,” I said. “It’s too dangerous for you to travel right now, and we still need to find out how they found the house, or the Fringe.” Megan, it was Megan, and telling him that would do no good. “You have work to do here. Annie and I are going to take the fight to the Covenant.”

“Please don’t let my baby sister get herself killed,” said Alex, with grim serenity.

“I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”

Turning, I walked back to the kitchen, where Uncle Mike was waiting, to finish arranging for the acquisition and delivery of the bombs I needed. Just another ordinary day for a dead girl in the middle of a war most of the world had yet to notice.

Sometimes I really wish the dead could drink.

Fifteen

“Nothing wrong with handing your kids to a dead girl so you can get a moment’s peace. You need the patience of a corpse to raise kids.”

—Jane Harrington-Price

Returning to the barn, ready to continue

MY AIM WAS GOODenough to get me to the compound, if no better: I appeared in the barn, alone. Jane’s body was still on the table, and the air around it was colder than it should have been, a sphere of James’s magic holding her in a sort of cold storage that would keep her from decaying before we could call people together for the funeral. As someone who preferred to work with the social side of the cryptid world, Jane had a lot of friends, allies, and acquaintances who were going to want to be there when she was buried, if only because it was the only way some of them were going to believe she was actuallydead.

Everyone else was gone. I moved toward Jane’s body. She wasn’t there—no one knew that better than I did—but there was still a strange comfort in addressing her as if she were. I leaned over and brushed a lock of her hair back from her cheek, smoothing it into place.

“Hey, Jane,” I said. “We’re taking care of things. I know it won’t bring you back, but we can stop them from doing this to anybody else. Then we’ll start getting things together for the funeral. I know you wouldn’t want us to drag our feet on that one. Everyone’s going to be there. It’ll be the social event of the season.” My voice broke on the last word, and I bowed my head, eyes burning with unshed tears. I’d known this woman since she was a screaming baby placed in my arms by Laura, who had still been bloody from the home delivery. I held her before her own mother did. I saw her through skinned knees and first crushes and first loves and real love and her own courtship, marriage, and children. I had watched her do everything in her power not to grow up anything like her mother, and in the process, become more like her mother than she could ever have dreamed she’d be.

And I had loved her every inch along the way. Gods and goddesses, but I’d loved her. She hadn’t chosen to stay, but I was still here, and I still loved her, and I always would, forever.

I leaned down to kiss her cold forehead, then straightened and walked out of the barn, leaving her behind. A corpse is nothing scary to someone who’s already dead, but I had living people to talk to, and plans to make.

As I had almost expected, I found all five of my companions around the firepit, as well as Greg, who was curled up at Sarah’s feet like a parody of a big, fluffy dog. He was keeping his limbs well away from the fire, but seemed to be enjoying the heat. James and Sally shared a log, while Antimony sat on the ground, leaning back on the log where Sam sat, his knees flanking her face and his tail wrapped around her ankles. That would make getting up interesting, when it happened.

Sally saw me first, and waved for me to come over and join them. I walked over and settled on one of the open logs.

“I wish we had some marshmallows,” said Antimony, idly. “I know I shouldn’t be hungry when I’m grieving, but I am, and this seems like a marshmallow-toasting sort of day.”

“You think every day is a marshmallow-toasting sort of day,” said James.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty much always right,” said Antimony. “Hey, Mary. Everything good?”

My throat went dry. “Not really,” I said. “Verity’s fine. I’m sure she’ll call home soon.”

Sarah raised her head, eyes widening and flashing white in the same instant as she stared at me. Antimony scowled, looking between the two of us. “You’re not telling me something,” she accused. “I don’t like being left in the dark.”

“Would you be happy if I went inside right now and told your parents Sam had proposed? If I decided I got to be the one who spread that news around, whether or not you were ready?” I kept my eyes on Antimony until she shook her head, shoulders slumping as she backed down. “Then you’ll wait for Verity to call. What I know isn’t for me to share. Or for anyone else to share.” I shot Sarah a hard look. She wouldn’t be able to read my expression, but she’d be able to understand my intent. Face-blindness and telepathy is a good combination for actually knowing what’s going on.

“Okay,” said Antimony. “But you know that just makes me want to know even more.”

“Can’t be helped,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Did you find Uncle Mike? Did you talk to him about the bomb?”

I nodded. “I did, yes. We have a plan, but it’s going to take three days for him to get the bombs to me. The Covenant isn’t going to back off and stop harassing us because we’re waiting on our munitions.”

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