The Graveyard Shift (Charley Davidson, #13.5)

by Darynda Jones

“Was there life everywhere you went?” “Oh, yes. There is no death without life. I cannot enter a dimension that does not contain the departed in one form or another.” “Fascinating.” “Right? One place I went to was all water. The entire dimension. I didn’t even know it at first because it wasn’t like our water. It was much thicker. Like baby oil. But once I figured out how to breathe, it was amazing. Then I went to this one where the air was acid. It was horrible. I do not recommend that one. Then I found one that my mother had been to. A hell dimension with wraiths named after coffee drinks.” “Yes,” Cookie said, excited. “Your mother named them.” “You got out of it?” Robert asked, astonished. “Even your mother couldn’t do that, and she can—could—dematerialize.” “I did, but only because I used a wraith to unlock the next dimension. I believe her name was Salted Caramel Macchiato, but don’t quote me on that.”

“The problem was, I didn’t kill him. And now, he has to hunt me until the stars burn out. Either I have to finish the job, or he has to kill me. He can’t go back home until he honors his house, though his reputation may never recover.” Cookie glanced around the table. “And we care about that? Are we caring about that?” “No, sweetheart,” Robert said.