The Dirt on Ninth Grave(42)

"This guy giving you a hard time?" he asked me.



"What guy?" I turned to where he'd nodded. An elderly departed man stood not two feet from me, trying to poke me with a stick. An incorporeal one. Had he died with it in his hands? His hands were shaky, so he kept missing, which worked for me.



"I'm kind of investigating something. Can you go into this house and see if anyone is inside?"



"For you, mi amor, anything. And then we can make out."



"Dude, you are like twelve years old. Really?"



He straightened his spine, rising to his full height. All five feet two of it. "First of all, I died when I was thirteen. But that was years ago. I'm really old now, like, I don't know, forty or something."



"I think I'll pass anyway."



He shook his head, then disappeared after tossing out a quick "You don't know what you're missing."



A shudder ran through me. I didn't care how many years he'd been dead. Kid was thirteen. Bottom line. I felt a soft poke at my rib cage and brushed the stick aside.



About thirty seconds later, Angel popped back out again. "Not a warm body in sight. What's going on?"



I started to reply, then asked him, just in case, "By warm body, you aren't insinuating that there are some cold ones in there, are you?"



"Dead people?"



I swallowed hard and nodded.



"Nope. No dead ones either. But there is a really pissed-off cat." 



"Oh, no!" I brushed off another poke and turned an exasperated glower on my attacker.



He lifted the stick and tried to poke my eye. What the hell?



After brushing him off again and stepping away from the elderly version of Charles Darwin as he attempted to identify a new species, I asked Angel, "Do you think it's hungry?"



"No idea," he said, chuckling. "Want me to go ask?"



My eyes widened in awe. "You can talk to cats?"



"Fuck no, I can't talk to cats. What the hell?" His brows crinkled just under the bandanna he wore, feigning insult if the laughter sparkling in his eyes was any indication. It made him look even cuter. Even younger.



But he did dis me. No way was I taking attitude from a punkass kid with no skeletal system.



"Look, half pint," I said, curling my frozen fingers into his dirty T-shirt. I drew him closer until we stood nose to nose. "I don't know how this shit works, so stop being a little bitch, go back in there, and find me a way inside so I can save the cat." I shoved him. Admittedly, not very hard.



A slow Cheshire grin slid across his handsome face. "Damn, girl. You got a set the size of a Cadillac. And here I thought you were all shy and sweet and helpless."



When I clenched my teeth and went for his shirt again, he held up his hands in surrender.



"I'm going. I'm going."



He disappeared just as my fingertips touched his shirt. He was lucky. That time.



While Angel searched for a way inside, I checked out the exterior, which was ridiculous in the dark. I could barely see beyond the otherworld enough to put two feet in front of me, much less find a way inside a locked mansion. Especially with Darwin poking me every five seconds.



"Seriously, dude. You have to stop."



"Got it!"



I jumped and whirled around. Angel stood behind me.



"There's a doggy door. A big one. You can squeeze in through there." He fought another grin. A suspicious one.



"All right, what's the catch?"



"No catch. It's just, I don't think you'll fit with your clothes on. Probably best if you take them off." When I deadpanned him, he added, "You wouldn't want to get them dirty."



"Not. Happening."



We strolled around to the back of the house, and he showed me the doggy door. Thankfully, he was right. It was for a large-breed dog. I could actually fit if I wiggled a lot. That should make him happy.



I took off Reyes's jacket and regretted it instantly. The frigid air swallowed me like an ice-filled ocean, and I gulped a lungful of icy air. Which actually didn't help. I got onto all fours and pushed the plastic door in. "I totally need a flashlight."



"No idea why. You're like the freaking sun."



But I was busy trying to get my shoulders past the doorframe. It cut into them, then into my ribs, then into my ass. When I felt something in that general area, I said, "Angel, that had better be departed Darwin poking my ass."



"It is," he said, stifling a chuckle. "I swear."



I rolled my eyes and heaved my ass through the suddenly tiny opening. It hurt. The frame scraped across my legs. I was totally going to bruise.