Darynda Jones - Second Grave on the Left

For the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys, Danny, Jerrdan, and Casey.

You are the reason I breathe.

Acknowledgments

Even in my wildest dreams, I never thought I would get an agent like Alexandra Machinist or an editor like Jennifer Enderlin. Ive said this before, but it bears repeating. Im not sure what I did to deserve you. Maybe it was that stretch as a volunteer at the local nursing home. Or the time I pulled that kid out of a burning building. No, wait, I never pulled a kid out of a burning building.

Kay, Im going to keep working on that. In the meantime, thank you so much to Jen, my spectacular editor, and everyone at St. Martins Press and Macmillan. You guys rock so hard.

To Alexandra, my own personal Superwoman, and everyone at the Linda Chester Literary Agency.

To the wonderful Whitney Lee at the Fielding Agency and the super-savvy Josie Freedman at ICM. Thank you guys so very much.

To the super-talented Liz Bemis at Bemis Promotions. Just, wow.

To my very own Charley Davidson, Danielle Tanner.

To my familyyou know who you areand my friends. Thank you for liking me. Or pretending to like me. I appreciate the effort either way.

To the goddesses of LERA and the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood, my other family.

To Bria Quinlan, Gabi Stephens, and Samira Stephan for help with translations.

To Commander Murray Conrad. Thank you for letting me bug you on a continual basis without arresting me.

And a special thank-you to my readers, especially those readers who stayed up the night before this book was due to give me feedback: Danielle Swopes, Tammy Baumann, and Kit Carson. I totally owe you guys a mocha latte. Or a small island.

Contents

Chapter One

GRIM REAPERS ARE TO DIE FOR.

T-SHIRT OFTEN SEEN ON CHARLOTTE JEAN DAVIDSON, GRIM REAPER EXTRAORDINAIRE

Charley, hurry, wake up.

Fingers with pointy nails bit into my shoulders, doing their darnedest to vanquish the fog of sleep Id been marinating in. They shook me hard enough to cause a small earthquake in Oklahoma. Since I lived in New Mexico, this was a problem.

Judging by the quality and pitch of the intruders voice, I was fairly certain the person accosting me was my best friend, Cookie. I let an annoyed sigh slip through my lips, resigning myself to the fact that my life was a series of interruptions and demands. Mostly demands. Probably because I was the only grim reaper this side of Mars, the only portal to the other side the departed could cross through. At least, those who hadnt crossed right after they died and were stuck on Earth. Which was a freaking lot. Having been born the grim reaper, I couldnt remember a time when dead people werent knocking on my doormetaphorically, as dead people rarely knockedasking for my assistance with some unfinished business. It amazed me how many of the dearly departed forgot to turn off the stove.

For the most part, those who cross through me simply feel theyve been on Earth long enough. Enter the reaper. Aka, moi. The departed can see me from anywhere in the world and can cross to the other side through me. Ive been told Im like a beacon as bright as a thousand suns, which would suck for a departed with a martini hangover.

Im Charlotte Davidson: private investigator, police consultant, all-around badass. Or I couldve been a badass, had I stuck with those lessons in mixed martial arts. I was only in that class to learn how to kill people with paper. Andoh, yeslet us not forget grim reaper. Admittedly, being the reaper wasnt all bad. I had a handful of friends Id kill forsome alive, some not so mucha family of which I was quite grateful some were alive, some not so much, and an in with one of the most powerful beings in the universe, Reyes Alexander Farrow, the part-human, part-supermodel son of Satan.

Thus, as the grim reaper, I understood dead people. Their sense of timing pretty much sucked. Not a problem. But this being woken up in the middle of the night by a living, breathing being who had her nails sharpened regularly at World of Knives was just wrong.

I slapped at the hands like a boy in a girl fight, then continued to slap air when my intruder rushed away to invade my closet. Apparently, in high school, Cookie had been voted Person Most Likely to Die Any Second Now. Despite an overwhelming desire to scowl at her, I couldnt quite muster the courage to pry open my eyes. Harsh light filtered through my lids anyway. I had such a serious wattage issue.

Charley

Then again, maybe Id died. Maybe Id bit it and was floating haplessly toward the light like in the movies.

Im not kidding.

I didnt feel particularly floaty, but experience had taught me never to underestimate the inconvenience of deaths timing.

for real, get up.

I ground my teeth together and used all my energy to anchor myself to Earth. Mustnt go into the light.

Are you even listening to me?

Cookies voice was muffled now as she rummaged through my personal effects. She was so lucky my killer instincts hadnt kicked in and pummeled her ass to the ground. Left her a bruised and broken woman. Groaning in agony. Twitching occasionally.

Charley, for heavens sake!

Darkness suddenly enveloped me as an article of clothing smacked me in the face. Which was completely uncalled for. For heavens sake back, I said in a groggy voice, wrestling the growing pile of clothes off my head. What are you doing?

Getting you dressed.

Im already as dressed as I want to be at I glanced at the digits glowing atop my nightstand. two oclock in the freaking morning. Seriously?

Seriously. She threw something else. Her aim being what it was, the lamp on my nightstand went flying. The lampshade landed at my feet. Put that on.

The lampshade?

But she was gone. It was weird. She rushed out the door, leaving an eerie silence in her wake. The kind that makes ones lids grow heavy, ones breathing rhythmic, deep, and steady.

Charley!

I jumped out of my skin at the sound of Cookies screeching and, having flailed, almost fell out of bed. Man, she had a set of lungs. Shed yelled from her apartment across the hall.

Youre going to wake the dead! I yelled back. I didnt deal well with the dead at two in the morning. Who did?

Im going to do more than that if you dont get your ass out of bed.

For a best-friend-slash-neighbor-slash-dirt-cheap-receptionist, Cookie was getting pushy. Wed both moved into our respective apartments across the hall from each other three years ago. I was fresh out of the Peace Corps, and she was fresh out of divorce court with one kid in tow. We were like those people who meet and just seem to know each other. When I opened my PI business, she offered to answer the phone until I could find someone more permanent, and the rest is history. Shes been my slave ever since.

I examined the articles of clothing strewn across my bedroom and lifted a couple in doubt. Bunny slippers and a leather miniskirt? I called out to her. Together? Like an ensemble?

She stormed back into the room, hands on hips, her cropped black hair sticking every direction but down, and then she glared at me, the same glare my stepmother used to give me when I gave her the Nazi salute. That woman was so touchy about her resemblance to Hitler.

I sighed in annoyance. Are we going to one of those kinky parties where everyone dresses like stuffed animals? Cause those people freak me out.

She spotted a pair of sweats and hurled them at me along with a T-shirt that proclaimed GRIM REAPERS ARE TO DIE FOR. Then she rushed back out again.