Secondhand Souls (Grim Reaper 2)

They climbed back in the Ford. Charlie texted Audrey that they would wait for them in the parking lot. He hoped that she wasn’t texting while driving, because that would be dangerous. No, she was smart, she’d hand her phone to the newly resurrected Egyptian demigod of death rather than do anything careless.

The light shining down from the bridge plus a three-­quarter moon gave them light to see the entire southern side of the fort. No one was visible. Not even at the main gate.

“Where are the guards?” Rivera asked. “The park rangers?”

“You know I never actually worked on the bridge, right? Mike Sullivan did. I didn’t even know there were guards here until you told me.”

“When Fresh gets here, you and Audrey need to stay here.”

“No.”

“Charlie, where are the guards? You don’t know that they haven’t been shredded by the Morrigan and are lying in pieces inside.”

“No,” said Charlie.

“Fresh and I will get Sophie.”

“My daughter is in there, Inspector. Plus, do you think I’ve done battle with sewer harpies, been poisoned and died, been resurrected and lived as a meat puppet, then had someone throw himself off the Golden Gate Bridge to give me his body so I could sit in the fucking car?”

Rivera considered it, ticked off Charlie’s points in his head, considered his lack of concern for his own safety, then said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” said Charlie.

They sat in silence until Rivera spotted headlights in his mirror and watched them go out even as the car continued on. “Good girl, Audrey,” he said.

When Minty Fresh climbed out of the Honda, Charlie ran to him and threw his arms around the big man’s waist. Minty held his arms out to his sides and looked from Audrey to Rivera with the humiliated but resolved look of a dog enduring a bath until Charlie finally let go and stepped back.

“Sorry,” Charlie said.

“It’s okay,” said the Mint One.

Audrey bailed Charlie out by performing the same, yet somewhat more appropriate run and hug move on him.

“So, how was dying?” Rivera asked Minty. Rivera raised an eyebrow at the Mint One’s outfit.

“Not as relaxing as you’d think,” said Minty.

“Charlie says you have some Yama-­stopping mojo.”

“Yeah, about that; Anubis was less than clear what particular talent I would have, other than I would be his avatar in this world. Right now I’m thinking pants would have been a good start.”

“Audrey?” Rivera said, looking to the nun. “Any hints?”

“I’m Buddhist. We believe all gods are illusions and constructions of ego. As far as I know, even you guys might be illusions.”

“That’s helpful,” Rivera said.

“Namaste,” Audrey replied. “If that’s even your real name.”

“What?”

“Sorry, Buddhist humor. Carry on.”

Rivera glanced over his shoulder at the fort. “Okay, here’s what we know. We can’t see any guards or park rangers, but if they’re there, and they should be, they’ll be armed with M4 automatic rifles. There was nothing on the radio about gunfire here, so we have to assume that if Yama is in there, as the ghost says, then they either haven’t seen him, or they haven’t seen him as a threat, which means he doesn’t have the Morrigan with him, because I can’t really see them as coming off as nonthreatening.”

“Or all the guards are dead,” said Audrey.

“Yes, there’s that cheerful possibility,” said Rivera. “So, what do you think? Shotguns and stab-­resistant vests?”