Secrets of the Hanged Man (Icarus Fell #3) (An Icarus Fell Novel) (20 page)

I paid the dweeb with the too-cool-for-school glasses and the I’m-great-because-I’m-a-cell-phone-salesman attitude, jammed the pay-as-you-go phone into my pocket, and headed out of the store.

“You didn’t have to be rude to him.”

I didn’t expect to find Dido waiting for me. Or maybe I did.

“I thought I told you to wait for me at the motel,” I said, hurrying past her. “And what makes you think I was rude? You weren’t in the store.”

“
I know you well enough by now. And remember what happened last time you told me to wait in your room?”

“
Different motel, this time.”

“
I suspect the gentlemen in the black overcoats don’t need a forwarding address.”

True
.

We got to the corner and crossed the street against the orange flashing hand; she rushed, but I took my time. A car wouldn’t hurt her but it might cause me serious discomfort, yet she was the one who hurried.

“Where are we going with your new cell phone?”

“
It’s for Trevor.”

“
What’s he need another cell phone for?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t have one.”

Dido touched my forearm and I thought a mild shock coursed across my skin, but it disappeared quicker than it came and I doubted it had been there at all.

“
Are you kidding me? A fifteen year old without a cell phone? Even I had a cell phone. Well...before that guy shot me.”

“
His mother won’t let him have one.” I pulled my arm from her grasp, continuing on my way. “She thinks they emit harmful gamma rays or some shi...crap.”

“
Well, it’s true. Those things’ll kill you.”

I raised my eyebrow, wondering if it was too soon for humor.
What the hell.
“Those, and mom’s jealous boyfriends.”

“
Hmph. Water and cars and monkey bars, too.”

Good to see she had a sense of humor about what happened. We walked for a minute in silence. I regarded my shoes and the ancient splotches of discarded gum on the sidewalk bleached white by the sun.

“Did Poe ever tell you how she died?”

I glanced over at my pint-sized companion, a furrow in my brow, but she stared straight ahead and didn’t see my questioning expression.

“No.” I’d never bothered to ask her. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “Curious, I guess. Didn’t you ever wonder?”

“I’m not sure you want to bring up her name right now.”

“
Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She stole a peek over her shoulder, making me suspect she was worried someone watched us or listened in, waiting to catch her like a nun at a Catholic school hoping one of the students drops an f-bomb so she can tell fucking Father Dominic and he can put his switch to work.

Or maybe that was my old shit coming up. Again.

“
Don’t worry,” I told her, bulling my way through a group of tough-looking grannies hanging around outside a coffee shop. “I’m sure Mikey won’t mind you talking to an angel who’s working for the other side.”

I made sure to emphasize the sarcasm in my voice, unsure if an eight-year-old spirit was capable of catching the subtle nuances of my brand of humor without a little help. She stopped and grabbed my arm again, dragging me to a halt. I looked from her face to her hand on me, then back and frowned.

“Will you stop doing that?”

“
You promised you wouldn’t tell,” she said, concern and a pleading tone in her voice.

“
I’m not telling,” I said. “But maybe you’ll think twice before following me next time I want to be left alone.”

She stared at me for a minute, lip quivering as though tears weren’t far behind. I softened my expression a tad and considered apologizing, but she nodded once, like we’d struck a bargain, relieving me of responsibility.

“I have to get moving. Trevor will be out of school soon and I have to catch him before he gets home.”

“
I’ll wait for you back at the room.”

She turned to leave and this time I touched her arm to stop her.

“Whoa. You already said you didn’t think it was safe.”

“
Yeah, well...they didn’t get me last time.”

“
You should probably come with me. People can’t see you anyway.”

She shook her head. “Trevor will.”

“What do you mean? Why would he be able to see you?”

“
Because he’s been to Hell.”

I never told her that.

Hand on arm. Stop. Again. This time the guy behind me walked right into me and snarled a derisive comment. I ignored him.

“
I don’t remember telling you Trevor had been to Hell.”

“
I...er.” Her gaze darted away and her feet followed. “I’m going to go,” she called over her shoulder as she took off back the way we’d come.

“
Hey.”

Other people on the sidewalk glared at me, most of them with at least vaguely annoyed miens, but the subject of my shouting ignored me. Of course, they couldn’t see her, so they probably thought me crazy, a sentiment to which I’d grown accustomed. In fact, there were times I’d have been counted amongst those concerned for my sanity.

Shaking my head, I glanced at my watch. I didn’t have time to follow her or I’d miss Trevor, and I’d done that too much in my life already. As much as I didn’t want anything to happen to Dee, my son’s safety ranked higher in priority.

I hurried across another street, dodging cars driven by people who seemed they’d rather hit me than the brake pedal, and then cut across the park, making a wide berth around the duck pond and its overhanging willow tree. Too many angels found me hanging out with the waterfowl these days, so I’d decided to take time away from the aroma of bird shit and pond scum. Someone else would have to fatten up the ducks with unhealthy white bread crusts.

A few students were already making their way across the damp grass, so I quickened my pace, keeping my eyes on them to make sure I didn’t miss Trevor amongst them. By the time I reached the edge of the park nearest the high school, the place was a sea of ripped jeans, black leggings, and teenage angst.

I waded through the throng of teens who should have been happy to be free of their learning environs, but their mood didn’t seem as bright as one might expect. Then I remembered the school had lost three students, which explained the sense of melancholy. Not only did a bunch of these kids lose friends, they’d spent the afternoon listening to talks about dealing with grief and teachers urging them to speak with a councilor. Not a great day at school.

After a minute sifting through the acne-covered faces, I saw Trevor crossing the school yard, walking away from me. He was with a kid I didn’t know, a tall, lanky boy with hair longer than Trev’s and no jacket.

Stupid teenagers.

“Trevor.”

A few students loitering nearby regarded me as though a third eye winked at them from my forehead—expressions likely reserved for any non-teacher over thirty invading their space. I chose to ignore them. When Trevor didn’t respond, I shouted again.

“Trevor!”

This time both my son and his companion turned to scan the crowd. They should have been able to pick out the one person with the ability to grow a full beard in the group of their peers, but I made it easier for them by raising my arm and waving. I quickly wished I hadn’t when a bolt of pain shot from my shoulder and through my chest. I lowered it again, attempting to hide my discomfort from my approaching son, his friend, and his classmates.

“Ric?” he said as they came closer. “What are you doing here?”

It pained me to hear him call me Ric instead of dad, but it needed to be that way in public. Many of his classmates would know muggers killed Trevor’s father under an old oak tree outside the church. Apparently, when you’re murdered in a churchyard, it’s big news. I even made the front page the day after I died—my Andy Warhol fifteen minutes of fame.

“I’ve got something for you.”

Trevor wore his usual leather jacket, jeans, and tee-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a heavy metal band I’d never heard of:
Gojira.
His friend was similarly clothed in the black uniform of youth, with limp hair hanging in his eyes and hands jammed deep in his pockets. He didn’t appear cold despite his lack of proper winter attire.

I started toward them, but the calf that had provided sustenance for a creature in Hell exploded with pain and I stumbled, barely catching myself before I took a fall. I straightened and took another step that turned out more hop than limp.

“Are you okay, D-- Ric?”

“
Yeah, fine. An old football injury acting up.”

“
Pfft. Right. Like you ever played football.”

“
Trevor,” I pseudo-scolded. “Don’t embarrass me in front of your friend.”

I gestured toward the other kid who’d stopped a few steps behind Trevor and stared at me with an odd look in his eyes and his mouth hanging open. His awed expression made me feel like something of a rock star. Weird.

“Who’s your friend?”

“
Oh yeah. This is Cory. Cory, this is my...a friend of the family. Uncle Ric.”

“
Ric is fine,” I said offering my hand and shooting Trevor an appreciative wink. We’d planned the friend-of-the-family story in advance in case I needed to see him with other people around. The uncle part was unnecessary and might confuse things, or give people ideas; I’d mention it to him when we found a few minutes alone together again.

The kid dragged his gaze from my face to my hand, hesitating like I held out a foreign thing and he didn’t understand what to do. Apparently he didn’t, because he left a brother hanging. I took my hand back, thankful for the opportunity to do so because my sonofabitch shoulder ached beyond reason. My gaze hung on Trevor’s friend for a few more seconds, wondering what his deal was until realization dawned:
he’s a teenager.

“
What have you got for me, Ric?”

I paused, regarding my son for a second. Despite his inability to do it now, it took my death for him to become comfortable calling me ‘dad’ again after years of neglect and doubt. That alone might have been worth the bullshit thrown at me in my afterlife.

I fished the cell phone out of my pocket and held it out for him on my flat palm. His eye widened.

“
A phone? Mom’s not going to be happy.”

“
Don’t tell her.”

“
But I can’t afford to pay for it.” He took it anyway and turned it over in his fingers like something precious—a gem stone or, for him, a hard-to-find live bootleg.

“
It’s a pay-as-you-go. I loaded it up with a bunch of minutes, but it’s for emergency only.” I put my hand on his shoulder and looked past him at his friend Cory. He’d backed up a step and considered me as though I wore the Michael Myers’ mask from the movie
Halloween.
I directed my gaze back to my son.

“
Did you guys know the three boys who died?”

“
Three? No, two.” Trevor leaned close to me and lowered his voice. “Do you know something we don’t?”

They haven’t found Tom’s body.

“They were accidents,” Cory said.

The spot in my gut where a hellacious pig’s large tusks tried to make sweet love to my intestines twisted with pain and I bit down hard on my teeth to keep from crying out. The teen’s expression changed from wide-eyed awe and surprise to something teetering on the edge of anger, as though he felt it, too, and blamed me.

“That’s right. Two friends, two accidents in the same night.” My gaze lingered on Cory’s narrowed eyes for a second before finding its way back to my son. “I’m sure everything’s fine, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“
You don’t have to worry,” Cory said. The pain in my gut tweaked again, his words a finger poking it. “I’ll take care of Trevor.”

I looked his skinny frame up and down and considered commenting on how he didn’t appear able to defend himself from a smurf attack, but decided to keep silent. In my experience, teenage boys have notoriously delicate egos. Grown up men, too, really.

“Well thanks for that...Cory, right?” He nodded and I put both my hands on Trevor’s shoulders. The ache in my shoulder made my arm feel as though it outweighed the rest of my body. “But if there’s ever any trouble, I programmed my number into the speed dial. Hold number one and it’ll dial me.”

“
Okay. Ric.”

I dropped my hands from his shoulders, letting them dangle at my sides. The pain in my shoulder flowed along my arm to the tips of my fingers, an electrical charge taking over my nerve endings, pulsing through them and making me wish they didn’t exist. I glanced from Trevor to his friend and back again.