Page 2
Kristie rolls her eyes so hard I worry I’ll never see them again. “I’m older than you. And I’m not little. I’m just short.”
“Kristie. La Strega. La Madrina and whatever other aliases you have, I’m not going to refer to you as Short Sister.”
“Ugh, whatever. And yes, I’m sure. I need help, Gabe. I don’t know if you remember or not, but I pretty much cleaned out the whole of the Mancini Mafia.”
“On Halloween night, no less,” I mutter.
That was the night I realized that sometimes souls don’t just go to rest. Sometimes they’re stolen between life and death and people like the last Godmother then use them for evil. Luckily my sister is a pain in the ass and like a dog with a bone. Not only did she get rid of the last godmother, she’s also cleaned out the Mancini Mafia of those undeserving of life.
Me? I’ve spent the past two months helping evil souls move on to where they deserve to be. Not all souls get to go to the Good Place, the place where they can rest in peace. No, some souls need to be sent to the Bad Place, where they pay penance for their sins earthside. Unfortunately, some of them don’t go there on their own and I need to send them there. So far, in my sister’s mission to clean out the bad apples in the Family, we’ve sent so many evil souls to the Bad Place that the Mancini Mafia is looking a little light on numbers. Which is why I’m meeting with my sister in her office in Dima’s house.
I try to hide my smirk as I take in the room that Kristie uses to conduct business. Kristie is the only La Madrina to run her business out of a cutesy cottage in the French Quarter and not an obnoxious mansion somewhere. Ironic really because she’s probably the most obnoxious godmother the Mafia has ever seen.
“Yeah, of course I remember helping get rid of 90% of the Mafia.” I give her a bored look.
“Good. So you know I’m short staffed and need your help. Did I mention it was a paid role?” She pastes an innocent look on her face, but I know what she's scheming.
She knows all my weaknesses. One of them being that I will never go back to being that poor, terrified little boy I once was. I live frugally, only spending what I need, because let's face it, being in the soul business doesn't really pay a lot. A paid role in the Mafia though? Well, that can help me save a deposit for this little apartment I have had my eye on. It’s nothing flashy, but it’ll be mine. It sits above an odd emo-looking coffee shop, but the coffee there is fantastic and the redheaded barista makes my chest feel fucked up for reasons I don’t want to think about.
“No, little sister, you did not mention it was a paid role.”
“Well, it is. I need people I trust, Gabe, and considering I don’t have many people due to the fact they drop dead all the time, all I have is you and Dima until I make some new friends. Or can weed out who is left in the Mancini family that isn't afraid to work for me. So far it's only the Sanificatore.”
“Those creepy cleaner guys of yours?”
“The very same. So, what do you say?”
I narrow my eyes, “What will I be doing?”
“Pretty much the same as you do now. Help souls move along.”
“OK. Count me in.”
“Yessss! Thank you so much, big little brother!” Kristie launches herself at me, wrapping her short arms around my much larger body and squeezing tightly. “You won’t regret this, Gabe.”
“Time will tell, little sister, time will tell.”
Chapter 1
Gabriel
Pushing through the door my gaze swings, looking for my sister. At home, in her main office, she’s easy to find. Her emo punk princess look at odds with the chocolate box cottage she and her Russian mafia husband own. Here at Afterlife Coffee? Her black skinny jeans, black lacy tops, Doc Martens, short dark bob and copious amounts of eyeliner have her fitting in with all the other emo punk princesses. And princes. I shake my head as I veer away from the pasty boy I mistook for my sister.
“Gabe! This way, buddy!” Kristie coos and I have to control the roll of my eyes. If she sees that she’ll give me some extra shitty job I don’t want. The last one was bad enough. “Aw. You still pissy with me after that whole explosion debacle?”
I try to school my face, but as per usual, it betrays me. “Explosion debacle?” I hiss. “You mean the fuck up where I was in the blast radius of a rotting corpse?”
Kristie lets out a long, loud, obnoxious sigh. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about once?”
Kristie is not normal. Most people would cringe after being called out. She just grins at me and holds up a set of keys. “How about I’m sorry and these are the keys to your new apartment.”
I stare at her. And stare. I stare so long that I don’t feel her come up beside me. Brenna. She’s perky and pretty with her copper curls, button nose, freckles and wide blue eyes. She’s full of love and light and definitely not for me. The Prince of Darkness my sister calls me. It’s not my damn fault the dead like to dump all their problems on me.
“Hey folks, what can I get you today?” Brenna’s tinkling voice washes over me and my eyes close involuntarily. There’s something so soothing about her. And intriguing. Namely the fucking soul attached to her.
Most souls I can see clearly as if they are people. If we’re going to get Hollywood about it, I see them the way the kid in that movie saw Bruce Willis. Some are clearer than others. Most look exactly as they did when they were alive. Others I feel their energy. Especially if they don’t have a reason to find me. Some souls are happy just being energy. Moving through the world, zigging and zagging. Others really struggle with moving on. They have unfinished business and that’s where I usually come in. But the soul attached to Brenna? That is something I’ve never seen before. It moves as if it’s part of her. It’s light, bright and it feels separate but not at all. I don’t know how to explain it.
