Miss You When You're Gone (On Behalf of Death Book 7) Read online

  MISS YOU WHEN YOU’RE GONE

  E.G. STONE

  TARNEY BRAE CREATIVE ENDEAVOURS

  Copyright © 2021 by E.G. Stone

  A Tarney Brae Creative Endeavours Production

  Cover design by Fay Lane

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my tiny furry wingless creatures

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by E.G. Stone

  CHAPTER 1

  “I’m going to die,” I groaned, face half-buried in the cushions of my couch, my blanket pulled up to my chin, a pile of tissues collecting in the rubbish bin next to the coffee table. My coffee, which I’d had Yolanda prepare about half-an-hour ago, was untouched. It was tragic and I felt horrible.

  “You can’t die, Cal,” Agravane said, sounding ridiculously cheerful. He sat in an overstuffed armchair at a ninety-degree angle to the couch, laptop in hand, only looking at the muted action movie on the television across from the couch every thirty seconds or so. Considering he was technically keeping me company while I died a horrible, slow death rather than working in my marketing office a floor below us, I wasn’t going to complain about his being distracted from work.

  “It’s been three days,” I grumbled. “Just kill me now so I can get over it.”

  “Would that even work?” Agravane mused, tilting his head. I was about to suggest that we could give it a shot—surely it couldn’t be worse than my current state—when Agravane burst out laughing, pointing at me. “Your face! You looked so hopeful! You can’t honestly think killing you would get rid of your cold?”

  “It’s got rid of a bunch of other problems.” I reached for another tissue and honked into the stupid piece of flimsy paper, my nose throbbing.

  “It’s a cold, Cal, you’re not dying.” Agravane looked smugly at me.

  “Yeah, well, until your stupid magical butt can actually catch a cold, don’t tell me I’m not dying.” My head ached, my mouth was cracked and dry, my nose was an everrunning faucet and I felt like I had a ball of phlegm stuck in my lungs.

  “One of the perks of having a magical butt,” Agravane retorted. I considered throwing my used tissue at him, but that would have required movement, so I just grunted horribly and buried my head in my blanket.

  I used to think that being accidentally immortal as a result of working for Death as his marketing agent, while also in possession of Reaper abilities named Sebastian, having no soul, and various other sundry things that came with living full time in the magical realm of Elsewhere, that I surely couldn’t get sick. I hadn’t got sick since being hired by Death, unless you count being not-quite-killed numerous times. Turns out, I was just as susceptible to colds now as I had been while living in the mortal realms as nothing more than a slightly ignorant human.

  I hated the world.

  The afternoon progressed in a fairly sedate manner, which is to say, I tried to breathe while Agravane did his work in relative silence, though I had the feeling he was probably playing games rather than doing marketing work. The occasional whoop of victory was a pretty good indication. Yolanda stopped in every now and then with updates on the office—my email was suspiciously quiet and the phone hadn’t rung once, apparently—and to bring me tea or water or coffee or soup.

  Then, just as the afternoon moved into evening and Agravane prepared to go home, Death strode into my apartment, the door slamming open behind him and his expression stormy.

  “Your mother is a far more capable negotiator than I anticipated,” Death grumbled. I did my best to hide a grin while I sniffled.

  Last month, I had been sent back home to London to deal with a situation that my cousin Baz had caused, and in the process, Death had offered Baz a job as Justice. My cousin had then done the only intelligent thing he could and appointed my mother temporary power of attorney so she could negotiate terms and benefits on his behalf.

  Death was a power of the universe, equal only to Life. He had skin the colour of a black hole, eyes that held the voids of the deep and was remarkably levelheaded and reasonable. Life, his chaotic wife, was everchanging and tempestuous, in both looks and personality. Neither one of them could stand up to my mother, Teresa Thorpe, and hope to come out unscathed. My mother was simply that capable.

  For example: I was currently in possession of the former Justice’s lifeforce, due to rather complicated circumstances. That meant Baz couldn’t become Justice until I had given him my lifeforce. My mother had deemed this unacceptable and both Baz and I were able to keep our own lifeforces, negotiated by means of giving Baz holidays off. I have no idea how this happened, but it was also about the time that Life walked out of negotiations permanently.

  “What happened this time?” I asked, my cold making me sound miserable instead of smug.

  Death sank into the other armchair with a scowl, slumping until his shoulders were up to his ears and his chin touched his chest. His suit was as immaculate as ever, a charcoal grey with minuscule pinstripes, his waistcoat a deep shade of plum. It was the only part of him that looked unruffled.

  “Sunglasses,” Death said, as though this was the end of the world.

  “Sunglasses?” Agravane frowned. “What’s wrong with sunglasses? I mean, yes, we don’t get much sun here in your lands, but the rest of Elsewhere and the mortal realms are relatively sunny.”

  Death shook his head. “She refused to blind Baz—“

  “What?” I nearly sat up in shock, then collapsed back onto my pillow when my sinuses protested the change in elevation. I sniffled. “Baz does not need to be blind!”

  In fact, I had a suspicion that a blind Baz would be infinitely more destructive than a sighted one. He was simply that chaotic. Even Life had once commented on it.

  “Justice is blind,” Death said. Right. As if that made it better. “But your mother was similarly offended, so we negotiated down to sunglasses. Dark sunglasses.”

  Baz was going to love that.

  “In exchange for…?”

  Death shook his head. “There was no exchange. Only adamant refusal. If I did not agree, the negotiations would be over.”

  Like I said, my mother was not cowed at all by Death, no matter that he could literally kill her with a touch. Life, who could actually do more significant damage, was so unnerved by my mother that she refused to interfere in the negotiations at all, despite the fact that Baz would technically work for both of them.

  I was going to make some comment with high amounts of snark to Death, but coughed instead. Almost immediately, Yolanda appeared as if from nowhere, a steaming mug of broth in her hands. With surprising delicacy for a rock troll with the physique of a rugby player, Yolanda set the mug on the coffee table.

  “Are you sick?” Death asked, tilting his head at me.

  “Yes,” I wheezed.

  “Huh.”

  “Huh?” I sniffled and took a sip of the broth. It was too warm, but s
oothed my sore throat anyways. “Is that all you have to say?”

  Death shrugged. “Just wondering who you caught it from is all. There aren’t many who can carry such a virus here in Elsewhere.”

  For all I knew, Life gave it to me just because she was bored. I decided not to answer Death.

  As if I had conjured her from my thoughts, Life swanned through the door. She strutted into my apartment as though she owned the place, no concern for knocking or asking permission to enter. She gave a dismissive glance to her husband, then looked at me and nodded. “I need you to do a job for me,” she said without preamble.

  I coughed. “No.”

  Life quirked an eyebrow. “No? Need I remind you of our arrangement? You work for me, even if your job title is gofer.”

  “I work for you on a part-time basis, and I can’t do anything right now,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m sick.”

  I think my answer must have startled her, because Life actually looked at me. She took in my prone form, the pillows, the blanket, the numerous beverages and pile of tissues in the rubbish bin. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ and she tilted her head, as if I were an abstract painting where she expected sculpture, or something equally bizarre.

  “Well, that won’t do me any good. You’ll have to get better.”

  “Yes, because I do this for my own pleasure.” I pulled the blanket tighter around me. Death tried to suppress a chuckle. Agravane and Yolanda wisely stayed out of the argument, looking intently at Agravane’s computer, as if he hadn’t turned it off five minutes ago.

  Life tossed her hair, and I’m sure had my sinuses been clear, I would have smelled her intoxicating scent. As it was, I just glared. Before I could do so much as sniffle, Life sauntered over to me, leaned over, and pressed her lips to my forehead.

  Now, that might sound romantic, but people aren’t supposed to actually touch Life. She was too powerful, too overwhelming. Had I been a normal human, a simple brush of her skin against mine would have sent so much life experience coursing through me that I would have burned up from the inside out and never been seen again. I was not a normal human and therefore could not die, but that didn’t mean I felt none of the power of Life’s kiss.

  Generally, it was something I preferred to avoid, as it was extremely painful.

  Like really, really painful.

  My throat was too raw to scream. My limbs locked up, muscles tightening. I felt like I had just run several marathons simultaneously while also jumping off a cliff, falling in love, experiencing the worst grief I could imagine, and getting shot. Multiple times. My skin felt feverish, I’m pretty sure my hair was standing on end and I very nearly bit my tongue. And those were just the sensations I had words to describe.

  A few seconds later and Life pulled back, smirking. My vision flared white for a moment. I blinked rapidly until everything looked normal, then pressed a hand to my head. I was almost certain I would find the impression of Life’s lips permanently burned into my skin, but thankfully, there was nothing there. I straightened my glasses, sat up, and realised I could breathe normally.

  Life had killed me.

  She had also cured my cold.

  I glared.

  “That was unnecessarily dramatic,” Death said. “You could have just willed him better.”

  Life waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be so boring. What fun would that have been?”

  “Plenty,” I said flatly. I was wearing my pyjama pants and a t-shirt I had stolen from Baz with the Tiny Dinosaurs With Phasers band logo. They were some obscure punk band that Baz enjoyed thoroughly, and while their music was…questionable at best, they did make a very comfortable shirt. It was not what I would have preferred to face Life in; with her, I liked to be girded in my best suits, my most impressive shoes and an expression that could ice over the desert. Instead, I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes.

  “You’re no fun, did you know that?” Life huffed.

  “I have been informed.” I pushed my glasses up my nose. “What job did you need me to do?”

  Life thrust out her hand and waved an embossed envelope in my face. I took it gingerly, half-expecting it to burst into flames, then opened it.

  “This is an invitation for a coronation ceremony,” I read, looking at the neat card inside, also embossed with what I suspected was real gold. “For the…Great Northern Ridge tribe of the—“

  “No,” Yolanda said, though I think it might have been a shout.

  I turned to gape at her. Yolanda was a perpetually cheerful individual, with nothing but good things to say about the world unless she was around someone powerful who could notice her existence. She was not the sort to interrupt. Life terrified Yolanda, and I had never heard her do something so dramatic as shout in Life’s presence.

  “Um…?” I asked. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No,” Life said. “I just don’t want to go. I have a marvellous week planned in the tropics and would have to postpone if I attended this coronation. So you’re going in my place. Isn’t that fun?”

  “No,” Yolanda said again, more seriously. Life scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Just because they threw you off a cliff doesn’t mean that Cal can’t go in my place. Besides, rock trolls throw decent parties, especially when swearing in new rulers. And now that Cal is feeling better, he doesn’t have any excuse. Ta ta!” Life turned on her heel and vanished before I could get a word in edge wise and ask any questions. She didn’t even have the courtesy to close the door behind her, not that I was really surprised by that.

  I looked to Death for some sort of answers, but he stood abruptly, straightened his necktie and left without a backwards glance, muttering about sunglasses. He closed the door to my apartment with a decisive click and I was left alone with Agravane and Yolanda and an invitation in my hands that I was not certain I wanted to accept.

  Agravane closed his computer and set it aside, giving Yolanda a pat on her hand, resting on the chair behind him. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “What’s going on here?” I asked, though I had a sinking feeling that I knew most of the answer.

  See, Death hired capable people to work for him, but he could only hire them in the Instant of Death, the moment when we crossed into his realm, even if we could potentially be brought back through medical or magical means. Yolanda told me when I was first hired that she had started working for Death after her people rejected her. They were about to throw her out. I just hadn’t realised she meant that literally.

  “So the Great Northern Ridge tribe…” I prompted, answering part of my question for her. “They’re your people?”

  Yolanda winced. She shuffled over to the chair Death had vacated and threw herself into its embrace. Her massive form made the wooden frame creak ominously and she didn’t really fit properly. Yolanda scrunched her knees up to her chest, making the chair look smaller.

  She picked at the leather with her grey-green fingers. Nodded. “Yes, they’re my people.”

  “And they threw you off a cliff?” Agravane asked, voice dripping with incredulity. Yolanda winced, but nodded.

  “Yes, they threw me off a cliff,” she said.

  “That sucks.” I tossed the invitation to the coffee table. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Yolanda gave a watery smile, but at least she was showing at least some of her usual cheer. Even if it was forced. We sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes, Agravane fiddling with his phone and Yolanda literally twiddling her thumbs. I wanted to ask more, wanted to know why her people had thrown her off a cliff, wanted to know why she was so opposed to this coronation celebration. Anything I asked would be intruding, though, and I didn’t want to do that. I stared at the mug on the coffee table instead, mentally calculating the distance from the couch to the microwave.

  “Fine!” Yolanda threw up her hands in the first fit of temper I had seen from her. Well, excepting that one time I got captured by vampires and she rescued me with her battle m
agic. I don’t think that counts. “I’ll tell you.”

  “We didn’t ask,” Agravane said, hand over his heart, eyes wide.

  “You were thinking very loudly.” Yolanda scowled, and it was so unlike her usual smile that I wanted to hug her. The emotion surged up through me to the point where I was out of my seat and wrapping my arms around her before I could even contemplate the emotion. My arms wouldn’t meet all the way around her shoulders and I think both of us felt awkward after only a second. Yolanda patted my arm.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It just sort of seemed like a good idea.”

  “That’s alright, Cal,” Yolanda said. She patted my arm again. “You can let go, now.”

  I released her and shuffled back to my seat. Sebastian, the semi-sentient Reaper abilities I had, woke up for the first time in weeks and fixed me with a confused look. I shrugged mentally and it went back to sleep.

  “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” I said, trying to sound polite and concerned rather than monotonous. Some emotions were still difficult for me, even though it had been a decently long time since I had lost my soul. The theory that practice and time would make my soulless state more normal was definitely false. Most of the time, I felt nothing at all. The rest of the time, my emotions swung wildly from passion to despair, covering everything in between. To cover up this lack, I started talking rapidly. “I mean, I really would like to know, since it’s both a terrible thing and also I have to go attend this party on Life’s behalf, now that she killed me to cure my cold and—“

  “Cal,” Agravane said, interrupting me with a glare. “Drink your coffee and shut up.”

  My coffee was cold, but I did as he told me. Immediately, my body relaxed and reality stabilised around me to the point where I could think, even if it wasn’t coherent.