Weight on my head had my hand flying up to see what was going on up there. My fingers met fabric, and I realized the pressure was just from a sequined headband, complete with an ostrich feather. Hmmm. A glance down proved that the rest of my clothes had changed, too. Gone were my elastic band, yoga pants and sweatshirt. Instead, I was now primmed up in a pink, drop waisted dress. One that was stomach-churningly familiar. I’d spent over a century wearing it, after all…

  When I’d dressed up for that last Hollywood party, I hadn’t known I was picking an outfit I’d spend the next hundred years wearing.

  “This damned thing,” I muttered, feeling a flush creeping up my face.

  “You don’t like it?” Looking up, I found Damon now sitting across from me in the booth, sipping wine from a crystal glass and watching me as I tried to make sense of whatever the heck was going on around me.

  “Not after being stuck in it for the last hundred years,” I answered, without realizing what I’d just admitted—that I was a born-again ghostie—something I wasn’t supposed to admit to anyone. As soon as it dawned on me, I swallowed hard.

  Damon gave me a real slow smile and the second I glanced down again, I found myself in an emerald green, silk dress. I looked up at him again, shocked down to the rhinestones along the hem.

  “Better?” he asked.

  I looked up at him again. “Uh-huh.”

  The negligent way Damon held the glass with his fingers, and the hint of a smirk on his full kisser, well they both just started to ruffle my hide. You can only be scared for so long before your mind just filters that fear right back out, and I was on my way to working up a bit of steam. Cain was probably rubbing off on me.

  Either way, I was tired of games and tricks of hand and versions of Death.

  “Where is Lorcan?” I demanded. “What have you done with him?”

  Damon swirled the wine in his glass as he watched me. “Are you worried about him?”

  “What kind of boneheaded question is that?”

  Damon looked a little shell-shocked for a second, like no one in the entire of history had ever pointed out when one of his questions was exceptionally jingle-brained and then his smile got even bigger. “Perhaps it was a boneheaded question,” he answered on a real amused smile. Then that smile broke out into an actual chuckle, followed with a big puff of air. “Well, don’t be worried about him.”

  “And just why shouldn’t I be worried about him?” I demanded, throwing my hands on my hips. “You made him blink right outta existence!”

  He chuckled again. “He’s not truly dead. More’s the pity.” Before I could comment on that little aside, Damon continued. “I simply threw him out my hotel for being disrespectful. He’s probably prowling around outside, trying to find his way back in not unlike a rat. Stubborn undead.” Damon shook his head before taking another sip from his glass.

  He really didn’t seem to like Lorcan, which was hinky, because Lorcan was a pretty likable guy. “Why don’t you like vampires?”

  Damon’s eyebrows about reached for the coffered ceiling and then he shrugged them big shoulders o’ his. “Because they cheat death.” Then he locked peepers with me, like he was daring me to argue with him. But I couldn’t really argue that point because it was true—vampires did cheat death. But, still, that wasn’t no reason to hold it against them. The brilliant amber color of Damon’s peepers was even more striking up close, framed as they were by his dark lashes.

  “So, what if they cheat death? What do you care?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You could say, in a way, they then cheat me as I am a death dealer… or collector, depending how you view it, I suppose.”

  “Hmm,” I answered and gave him a frown to say I wasn’t convinced. But it was more that I was just real scared of him, even if he did look every inch the sheik.

  He chuckled. “Vampires are simply trapped souls in bodies that never age. It’s damn unfair, and greedy to boot.”

  I’d never really thought about it quite like that, but I guessed Damon had a point in that vamps were set apart from the whole life and death cycle. They were a bit of both, and yet neither at the same time. I’d never expected Death to have such a hang up over it though. Seemed a little petty if you asked me.

  “And all these spirits you’ve drawn here?” I started. “What are you gonna do with them?”

  He cocked his head to the side and studied me. “That, I believe, is my business.”

  “Well, it’s my business too,” I said, real matter-of-fact. “I work for Spook Society.”

  He chuckled again, acting like I was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen. “I imagine you are quite good at your job.”

  I narrowed my peepers on him. “I am.”

  Damon leaned forward then, setting his wine glass on the table. He smiled at me, flashing white teeth. “I hope you can forgive the pun, but I’ve been dying to meet you, Darla.”

  I startled and not at his silly pun. “Who, me? What? Why?” Chills ran down my spine like ice melt at the thought of Death wanting to meet me. And how in the heckety-heck did he know my name? I guessed the short answer was the fact that he was Death so he probably knew the names of every Jane or John Doe. Or Darla Doe, as the case may be.

  Damon propped his chin on his fist, gaze flicking over my face. “Well, I had planned to take your soul when you first came to town…”

  “Check please!” I called out as I raised my hand, hoping someone was tending to this restaurant of the afterlife.

  Damon started laughing out loud and patted at the air with his hand so as to calm me down, or so I thought. Maybe he was just going to pull a fast one and handcuff me with the irons of eternity. “No, no, Darla, no worries on that front now.”

  “And why no worries on that front now?” I demanded, hoping this wasn’t some kind of ‘trick Darla into thinking she’s gonna be feasting on roast beef, but instead we’re gonna harvest her soul’ trick.

  “Why, because you’ve been reborn so I can hardly take your soul now… you’re alive.”

  “Oh,” I answered nodding and giving him my best ‘take me serious’ look. “Right—I have been reborn.” Then I put my index finger in his face. “And don’t you forget it!”

  “I’m not liable to forget it anytime soon,” Damon continued, still giving me that strange amused sort of look. “You are… well, I must admit you’re something I’ve never seen before.”

  “A broad from Hollywood?” I frowned.

  He chuckled again. “No… that I have seen before,” he admitted, dropping his chin as he looked up at me and made his peepers appear even larger. “No, you are… you are a standalone, Darla. You were dead, spirit, but here you sit before me, radiating heat and life, vivacity.” He breathed in deep, like he was trying to suck up some of that radiated heat of mine. “I find you quite intriguing.”

  Well, that, I figured was a good thing. I didn’t say nothing so Mr. Death kept on talking.

  “It’s not every day that Death finds himself enamored with a soul.”

  “Okay, you stop right there,” I said finally, holding up my hands. “I understand that I’m a right sheba and it was fine when you were going on and on about my heat and my viv… viv… my viscosity—”

  “Vivacity.”

  “Right, that’s what I said.” I took another deep breath and shook my head at him. “But you aren’t allowed to be enamored with me.”

  “I’m not allowed?” He grinned, somehow managing to look boyish in spite of himself.

  “No, because you and me… we ain’t sweethearts. We ain’t even friends.”

  “I should like us to be friends, Darla. I should like it very much.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t like it!”

  “I believe that will change in time.”

  “In time?”

  He nodded and lifted his hand, gesturing around the restaurant, the tables, the walls, the gorgeous chandeliers on the ceiling. “I designed this place especially for you.”

  “For me?” I nearly squawked like an angry chicken. I mean, sure this hotel was the ritziest place I’d ever seen, and it was beyond the cat’s particulars, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to go all smitten architect.

  “Yes. In hopes you’d stay.”

  There were so many things in that little speech that I didn’t know what to make of so I just sat there, blinking for a minute like a palooka who’d just got his bell rung. “I… What does that mean?”

  Damon lifted one of my hands from the table and brought it to his kisser real slow like. If I was directing a romance movie, I woulda said this was the moment when he tried something real suave on the heroine. And, in this case, that heroine was me.

  “Don’t think o’ tryin’ anythin’ real suave with me.”

  With those burning amber peepers locked onto my face, he brushed his lips over my knuckles, and tingles shot up my arm like my blood had been replaced with fireworks. I wasn’t sure if it was my own response to Death or if he was somehow bribing my body to act in such a way.

  “Why art thou yet so fair?” he murmured, his lips still brushing my knuckles.

  “I don’t speak Shakespearean, Mr. Death.”

  He chuckled and kept talking the medieval stuff that didn’t mean squat to me. “Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in the dark to be his paramour?”

  Why Damon had suddenly started spouting Babylonian I had no clue. But I didn’t have to say nothing because Cain suddenly came back to life and spoke up from the back of my head, sounding right shocked.

  Is it just me or did Death just propose to you?

  Even though I was kinda sure it was just Cain, I wasn’t gonna take no chances. The last handcuff I wanted to wear around my finger was one belonging to Death.

  I couldn’t say who was more surprised when I shoved away from the table, Damon or me. I regretted it almost instantly, because standing I felt more exposed than before. Sure, the yoga pants and top I’d walked in with had been pretty form fitting, but standing in front of that scorching amber gaze, the silk and sequins felt like no protection at all.

  “Sorry,” I blurted. “I already got me a fella.”

  Damon frowned, his dark brows pulling together. “Ah, yes. The witch spawn. Henner Tayir, I believe his mortal name is?”

  My heart froze for a second, then started slamming against the inside of my ribs as if to make up for it. The idea that Death knew Henner’s name, and his heritage, I didn’t like that. Not one bit.

  “It is.”

  “Ah, your Mr. Tayir will someday have a date with me, fairest. They all do.”

  My shoulders squared, I plonked my hands on my hips, feeling like I was about to step into the ring. Damon Deathman had better not have been threatening my fella, or I’d bop him one in the sniffer, Mr. Death or not.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” My tone came out sharper than I’d intended, almost demanding.

  “It means, my dear, that I have the power to collect anyone at any time.”

  “You mean… killin’ Henner?”

  He cleared his throat and smiled this real uptight kinda smile. “I mean… I can collect a soul whenever I choose to collect a soul—Henner’s… perhaps your friend, Poppy? The sasquatch? Even that haughty witch you think of as your mother?”

  I felt my mouth drop open as I realized what this conman was getting at. “Are you threatening my friends?”

  Damon didn’t seem offended, though. He just tapped his chin like he was considering what I’d just said. “Perhaps,” he said, real thoughtful like. “I wouldn’t have any interest in your friends if you played by my rules.”

  I sputtered, and only the knowledge that it would be a really, really bad idea kept me from smacking that expression right off his face. I crossed my arms, glaring down at him. “Played by your rules?”

  Damon pursed his lips, thinking. Finally, he sat back in the booth. “Have you never heard how Death enjoys games?”

  I frowned as I wracked my brain but couldn’t find anything about Death liking Monopoly. In fact, there wasn’t much in there about Death in general.

  That amused grin o’ his never left his kisser. The rat bastard. “I’d like you to play a game with me, Darla.”

  “A game with you?”

  “Yes, and if I win, you agree to stay with me… here.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

  “Stay with you?” I repeated, not unlike a parrot. “Here?” He nodded as my peepers narrowed. “For how long?”

  “All eternity,” he answered quickly. “But of course you would be undying, remaining the age you are now for the rest of time, and travelling with me from place to place as I tend to my flock.”

  Maybe if we were talking about a flock o’ sheep or goats or even monkeys, it woulda been an easier answer. But this wasn’t no easy answer. I stared at him, at a loss. He didn’t even know me, and he wanted to go steady for all eternity? Talk about tightening the screws!

  He musta read the confusion on my face, because his smile grew, looking real predatory.

  “I’ve never seen anything like you, Darla,” he admitted. “You are unique, and I find that uniqueness quite fascinating. In all eternity, never has a spirit returned to life, her incorporeal form suddenly flesh and blood again. And after eons of performing my duty and reaping souls, something new is a treasure beyond counting.”

  Curiosity? He wanted me to become his longtime roommate over curiosity? But then I thought about it. Nothing in life is certain, except for death and taxes, that’s what people said anyhoo. But then I happened and made the certain uncertain and now the only thing left was just taxes.

  Chapter Nine

  Damon had been doing the same thing pretty much since life began.

  That was a long, long time and I guess I couldn’t blame him for getting bored or getting a fascination for something that was new, different and fascinating—namely me. I mean, no matter he was taken with me—how often did Death get cheated at his own game?

  I eyed him. “And what do I get if I win our game?”

  Damon smiled, looking intrigued. “What do you want?”

  That one took some thought, and fortunately he wasn’t inclined to rush me. In movies, when these kinda things happened, wording was usually the most important point and the one that always ended up sticking the lead character with a pointy end.

  “If I win,” I started, slow, real careful like as I measured each word. “I want the hotel to stay.”

  “Done.”

  I frowned at him. “I wasn’t finished yet. Hold your darn horsemen of the apocalypse.”

  He chuckled at that and I gave him another expression to let him know just how unamusing I found him to be. “And…” I continued. “I want the hotel to become a designated safety zone for spirits.”

  Damon frowned at that. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means that any of the displaced spooks that Marty and his crew exorcise would be relocated to your grand hotel here and the ghosties would remain safe in the hotel until me or Bailey or whoever from Spook Society can help them move on to their own afterlives, at the spook’s own pace, no rushing. And,” I added, crossing my arms over my bubs ‘cause Damon was making it all too obvious that he was looking (though there really wasn’t much to see in that department—the good lord had blessed me in many ways but mountainous bosoms weren’t included).

  “And?”

  I held my chin up. “And you’ll pay us for our work when we do move them spirits on.”

  Damon laughed, and it felt like velvet sliding down my spine. I shivered and turned my face away when he stood up from the booth. He was tall, almost a whole head taller than I was. Which was really saying something, since I wasn’t no shorty. Butterflies started doing the Charleston in my stomach as he came closer.

  “That’s a hefty price,” he said, voice light and almost teasing.

  I shrugged, my face turned away, but I kept watching him from the corner of my eye. “And I ain’t even done yet.”

  “There’s more?” he asked, his amusement flashing through his peepers.

  “Right, there’s more,” I answered. “You recall how you made a point o’ pointing out that you could take any of my friends whenever you wanted?”

  He gave a brief nod. “I recall.”

  “I want your word that all my friends are safe from your paws.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I’m afraid I can’t make that agreement, my pet. As you must realize, everyone must pass through Death’s gates eventually.”

  I nodded, irritated with myself that I hadn’t been more clear. “I meant you won’t take them before it’s their natural time to go. I want them all to live into old age and have them real good lives.”

  He thought about it and was quiet for a few seconds before that big grin spread across his real handsome face. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “I play for keeps.” I kept my voice breezy in return, hoping he couldn’t see the way my hands were trembling. I wasn’t sure how much of a good idea it was to make bets with Death.

  The touch of his fingers against my face surprised me enough that I didn’t resist when he tilted my chin up. He was standing right in front of me, so close that only a couple inches of air separated us. Then he leaned down, and before I could think to step back or turn my head away, his lips brushed mine.

  It was just the barest touch of his mouth on mine, light as the flutter of a moth’s wing. His lips were warm, and surprisingly soft. Tingles ran down my arms, my knees trembled, and I had to fight to keep my peepers from fluttering closed. I wasn’t sure if Death had this sort of magic—to make you feel things you had no business feeling, considering you had you a sweetie. Or maybe this wasn’t Death’s doing at all and it was just my no-good, double-timing female parts that were driving the bus.

  Embarrassingly enough, that gentle, barely there kiss was one of the most intense I’d ever had, in this life or the previous one. And probably the next ones after that. Death had a way of kissing you from your mouth all the way down to your toes and back up again.