Grave Alchemy Read online

  Grave Alchemy

  (A Zoey Graveley Mystery Book 1)

  Amanda Armour

  Copyright © 2019 by Amanda Armour

  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

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  The attendant had assured me that this was the most up-to-date trail map available. I should have known better than to trust a guy who sold gas from a pump marked ‘contains lead’. After spending an hour hiking up and down the wrong trails I was tired, sweaty and completely lost. A rustling in the undergrowth sent me scurrying blindly back down the steep trail. When I stopped to catch my breath, I caught a glimpse of the aging hippie. He was sitting in the middle of a swaying suspension bridge, chanting a mantra.

  I waved my arms over my head as I called out to him, "Hey, Sam. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Sam rose in one fluid motion and turned to look at me. “I don’t know you. What do you want?”

  “I’ve been trying to find you for hours. Will you please come here? I need to talk to you.”

  “Why should I?” he said, crossing his arms. “If you want to talk, you’ll have to come over here.”

  “Umm…no. It'll be over faster if you just come here. It’s time for you to go.” Feeling sweat beading on my brow, I resisted the urge to look down into the valley. But I could still hear the river roaring two hundred feet below, and reached out to steady myself on a nearby branch.

  Sam leaned forward, scowling. “What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? You’re cute, but you’re not my type. Are you stalking me?”

  “What? No. You’re Sam Chivers, aren’t you?”

  With his arms stretched wide, Sam spun in a circle. “Yeah. Did you know that these trees are hundreds of years old?”

  “So I’ve been told,” I replied, shaking my head at Sam, spinning on the bridge was the very reason he had ended up on my scroll. I shivered as a heavy white mist rolled in, sliding through the trunks of the ancient trees. It seemed to enhance the earthy smell while enveloping the surrounding forest.

  “What’s your problem? You lonely or something?” Sam stopped spinning and leaned over the side of the bridge. “I came here to commune with nature. That means alone. Go find your own trail.”

  “I didn’t come out here to become one with the trees. I’m here for you.” I forced myself to smile as I watched him bounce on the bridge. And to make matters worse, the mist was flowing over the cliff into the canyon below. It wouldn’t be long before I was soaked to the skin. “In case you haven’t notice, you’re dead. I’m here to collect you.”

  Sam drew his eyebrows together and edged backward. “You’re a real downer you know. I’m not dead. I’m hiking.”

  “Look at your feet. They’re not even touching the bridge.”

  “What the…” Sam looked down—he was hovering a foot above the handrails. “Cool, I’m levitating. This trip keeps getting better and better.”

  “You’re on my list.” I pulled out my scroll and waved it at him. “See—Sam Chivers, 68.”

  “But I don’t feel dead. As a matter of fact, I’ve never felt better.”

  “That’s a common side effect. You fell off the bridge into the canyon. Your body’s down there.” I pointed down toward the river. “Take a look.”

  “You’ll have to show me,” Sam said with a sly grin.

  “No thanks. I’m fine right here.”

  “Ha! Scaredy-cat,” Sam said, taunting me.

  “You died cause you went out on that bridge and spun around like a fool. I’m alive and I plan to stay that way.”

  Sam’s body floated through the handrails as he looked down into the canyon. “Bummer. Do you think I’m polluting the river?”

  “Probably not. Even if you are, there’s nothing you can do about it. So if you just come closer, I’ll send you on your way.”

  “But I planned to walk the entire Creek Trail,” Sam said as his shoulders drooped. “Why don’t you come back next week? I might be ready by then.”

  “I can’t. I’m going home tomorrow. The best I can do is pass the message on. If you’re lucky, someone might stop by to pick you up. No promises though. We’re all really busy.” I flipped up my hood as the light rain misted my face. My normally straight hair was starting to frizz, along with my patience. Coastal Oregon had stunning scenery, but I was more than a little sick of the constant drizzle.

  “What’s it like?” Sam asked.

  “What’s what like?”

  “Heaven—what’s it like? That’s where I’m going, right?”

  “How would I know what it’s like? I’m not dead. It’s not like they give out brochures. And yes, that’s where you’re going.”

  “You must know something. How can you send people there without knowing what it’s like? Don’t they train you people?”

  “I’m a reaper, not a travel agent. It’ll be whatever you think heaven is. But you don’t want to go. So it doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Would it be like this? I love it here!”

  “Sure, just like here. If that’s what you want?” I didn’t know if that was true. But at that point, I would have said anything to get out of the forest.

  Sam’s grin spread from ear to ear as he drifted towards me. “Okie dokie.”

  “Okie dokie what?”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Finally,” I mumbled, relieved that this was my final pickup in Oregon. I pulled out my borrowed scepter and pointed it at him. It fizzled, sputtered, and then died. Drops of water sprayed outward as I shook it and slapped it on my hand. Unzipping my jacket, I used my t-shirt as a makeshift towel. Equipment failure had plagued this entire trip. You’d think they would have supplied us with waterproof scepters, given the climate.

  “Let’s try this again.” This time the scepter worked—Sam dissolved into a vortex as he was sucked in.

  The heavy mist crawled up the trees, obscuring the trail. Bubbles escaped from my soggy sneakers with each step I took. The thought of a hot shower and relaxing in front of a blazing fire with a glass of wine spurred me on. Four souls suddenly appeared in front of me. They were weaving between the trees, running full tilt toward the canyon. If those souls had died recently, they should have been on my list. I let out a yelp as someone or something slammed me from behind, knocking me off my feet. I heard a faint jingle as I hit the ground. Looking up, I saw a reaper chasing the souls. He cursed loudly as he attempted to cut them off. Before I could ask what on earth he thought he was doing, he disappeared. I picked myself up and brushed off the dirt. With a jolt, I realized that my pockets were empty. The jingle had been my car keys hitting a rock. Muttering in frustration, I dropped to my knees and swept my hands over the ground, blindly searching between the roots and rocks. My fingers snagged on something sharp tucked under a massive root. I sat back on my heels, and my heart rate slowed as I gazed at my keys da
ngling from an ornate silver brooch. I made my way back to the parking lot after securing my keys and the brooch into a zippered pocket.

  My name is Zoey Graveley. I was currently in Oregon, filling in for a vacationing family friend. Uncle Iggy had volunteered me for the job. He had just assumed I would go, but that was nothing new. He said it would be a working vacation, minimal pick ups and beautiful scenery. But he had conveniently forgotten to mention the weather. The constant rain alternated between a drizzle and a torrential downpour. I’d been here for a month and had yet to see the sun. I guess that was why everything was so green. The townhouse complex where I was staying sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. For the first time in years, I was able to relax and not worry about family obligations. Oddly enough, the drumming of the rain was somehow peaceful, rather than annoying. Even the air felt different here. Silver Falls, my hometown, spread out from a small bay on the southern shore of Lake Ontario. We had a few rolling hills, but nothing as majestic as the Oregon mountains.

  A half hour later, I was in my car blow-drying my hair with the heater vents when my phone vibrated and fell to the floor. As I reached for it, my hair tangled in the vent controls, trapping me against the console. Walter was calling—he was the area supervisor.

  “Great timing, Walter,” I said as I teased my hair free.

  “Are you still at the trailhead?”

  “Yeah, I’m just sitting here drying out. That old scepter seized up again—I think it hates the damp. Have you ordered the new ones yet?”

  “They’ll be here next week, but right now I need you to pick up another soul. Natasha won’t be able to get there in time.”

  “No problem. Just text me the info. By the way, I ran into another reaper earlier—he was chasing four souls. Actually, he ran into me, but that’s beside the point. Those souls should have been on my scroll. Why did you assign them to someone else?”

  “So that’s where they went. They were assigned to Lars, and he lost them. You must have run into a rogue, there’s been a plague of them lately. Just head to Natasha’s soul. There’s nothing we can do for the other ones.”

  Natasha West was a fellow reaper; we had first met years ago during a family vacation. She had taken an instant dislike to me and went out of her way to make my life miserable. To this day, I had no idea why, and her attitude toward me hadn’t changed.

  My destination was the Bait and Hook Fishery, located on a rocky inlet just north of Bowfort. It sat alone on the edge of the water, with piers jutting out into the ocean. Aside from a marine supply store, the area was deserted. The odor emanating from the plant was so strong that I could understand why no one wanted to hang around here.

  The office was deserted, so I wandered into the plant through a door marked ‘employees only.’ The fishy smell grew worse the farther I ventured in. Charles Hook was floating beside an open vat, gripping his lapels and grinning like a fool.

  As he turned to me, his grin slipped to a frown. “Who are you? You’re not allowed in here. This area is off-limits to the public.”

  “This place really stinks.” I stifled the urge to plug my nose and breathe through my mouth. I needed to get this job done quickly. “You died, and I’m here to collect you.”

  Charles kicked in vain at the mound of fish scraps at his feet, then took a deep breath. “Are you nuts? This is the perfume of success.” He spread his arms wide and glanced around. “I did all this. I transformed a worthless fishery into an international success. Tonight we’re celebrating the signing of a multi-million dollar contract. It will be the party to end all parties. And I’m not dead, I’m the life of the party.”

  “Well, the party’s over. It’s time for you to move on.”

  Charles arched his eyebrows and squinted at me. “It hasn’t started yet. If you change your clothes, I might invite you. I’m quite a catch you know.”

  “What, like crabs are the catch of the day?”

  “With a mouth like that it’s no wonder you’re alone.”

  “There’s no need to be rude. I really don’t care what you think. Your time is up and you need to go, so get your butt over here,” I said, eyeing the mess on the floor. I shouldn’t have been talking to him, but he was out of my scepter’s range. The last thing I wanted to do was to step in that pile of rotting fish.

  “Go. Go where?” Charles asked. “I don’t have to go anywhere. I’m busy.” He began to drift away. “And you didn’t answer my question. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “I’m Zoey. You’ve had an accident,” I explained, pointing at the catwalk running above the vat. “You’re dead, and I’m here to pick you up.”

  “I told you, I’m not dead—I feel more alive than ever. We have the best safety record in the county. We’ve been accident-free for—umm,” Charles tapped his lips before continuing, “Two years.”

  “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

  “I don’t answer to you—or anyone else for that matter.”

  “That railing broke, and you fell into the hopper.” The railing had indeed broken free and was dangling over the hopper. “So much for your accident-free record.”

  “That’s impossible! I just had that railing replaced. Wait till I get ahold of that installer. He’ll wish he’d never been born.”

  “Look, you’re dead…”

  “Where is my body? You’ll have to show me. If there’s no body, I can’t be dead,” Charles said as he looked around the plant.

  “I don’t care what you want. Just get over here.” I refused to look in the vat. Chopped Charlie was not something I wanted engraved in my memory.

  “Now who’s the rude one? Besides, there’s going to be lots of hot chicks at the party. They all want a piece of Charlie and I won’t disappoint them.”

  “There are bound to be lots of burning-hot chicks where you’re going.” I pulled out my scepter. Everything would be hot where he was going.

  “Prove it,” Charles said with a smirk.

  He really wasn’t getting the whole dead thing. “Prove what?”

  “Prove I’m dead.”

  “Fine. Look in the hopper.”

  Charlie floated up to the hopper and looked down. “Yuck, that’s gross. But it doesn’t prove anything.”

  “Fine. Touch this then. If you can touch it, you’re not dead,” I said as I held out my scepter. I wasn’t above tricking the jerk.

  “Why would I want to touch that? I’d rather touch you.” Charles leered as he lurched towards me.

  My body reacted violently as his hands passed through me, freezing me to the core and sapping my strength. As I slid down into the waiting pile of fish, I managed to engage my scepter and suck him in. After a few minutes, I recovered and got to my feet. It was a good thing I kept a change of clothes in the car. After a bit of searching, I found the employees’ locker room tucked away in the back of the building. Entering the locker room was like stepping into a time warp. Open stall showers, lockers, and cubicles were scattered along the walls, but the most startling feature of the room was a massive fountain-like structure. A cylindrical object extended upward through the middle of the fountain, and a metal ring encircled the pedestal base. It wasn’t until after I had stripped off my soggy clothes that I realized the showers were non-functional. Since I couldn’t see any sinks in the room, I assumed the fountain must be some kind of communal washing station. Stepping on the metal ring produced a stream of water that gurgled out of the cylinder—trouble was, it appeared on the opposite side. After shifting around the fountain, I finally found a spot where the water would appear in front of me. It wasn’t the best option—but it would do until I could take a real shower.

  Chapter 2

  I’d named the South Beach office the Tardis. From the outside it appeared to be a small nondescript clapboard house, but inside was a different story. The entrance door was actually a dimensional portal, it had been created by an ancient wizard with a limited housing budget. Passing through the
portal brought you into a large reception area, with multiple hallways radiating outward like the spokes of a wheel. I’d stopped in on my way home to say goodbye and to drop off my borrowed scepter. They were still using the old scepters, the ones that offloaded into portals. The newer ones had the reaper version of Wi-Fi—instant delivery.

  I could hear voices raised in anger echoing off the walls as I entered the front door. Jewel, the receptionist, was at her desk, flipping through cards in an old Rolodex.

  “What on earth is going on?”

  “Natasha did it again,” Jewel explained. “She didn’t ask permission and attacked a gargoyle. What happened to you? You smell like fish.”

  I patted my hair, feeling for stray bits of fish. “I had an accident at the fish plant and I haven’t had time to shower. I’ve never met a gargoyle. Aren’t they supposed to be evil?”

  “Don’t think so, at least he doesn’t look evil. He’s just mad and threatening to sue anyone and everyone. I’m looking for a lawyer for him, but I don’t think he has much of a case.”

  The door to Walter’s office banged open and Natasha stomped toward me. “I see you didn’t take my advice and go to the hairdresser I suggested,” she said as she wagged a finger at me. “She would have fixed that mess in no time. And by the way, you stink.”

  “Gee thanks, so nice of you to notice. I decided to leave it alone, and it’s growing on me,” I countered, pulling my hair. My sister Annie was a trainee hairdresser, and she had used me to practice on. Two months ago I’d let her experiment, and the result was a ragged A-line bob with neon-blue streaks. It was slowly growing out, and I liked the streaks. This week they were pink.