Free Esprit de Corpse by Gina X. Grant Page B

him.
    Almost.
    Conrad remained silent for the rest of the drive but I could tell the wheels were spinning. Could he access Shannon’s thoughts, memories or feelings?
    Or morals. Maybe he’d catch something—like a severe case of remorse—and return Shannon’s body to its rightful owner.
    But if that were going to happen, it didn’t happen during our ride to Milton.
    Finally, we pulled into a bleak expanse of property. As expected, fences, razor wire, and locks figured heavily into the landscaping. Once inside, the big gates clanged shut and the van drove up to a prisoner loading and unloading dock. Two new guards supervised, hands resting on stun guns as Theresa unchained first Conrad, then Maddy from the van. They remained cuffed as they were led through the facility by guards.
    We passed occupied cells as we all trooped along the uniformly gray corridors. A few inmates eyed the new prisoners, but nobody called out threats or insults or promised to make either of them their bitch. One older guard welcomed Maddy back. Maddy ignored the sarcastic greeting.
    So much for prison drama. I don’t think we’re in Oz anymore.
    Maddy and Conrad were assigned a cell together and locked in. Once inside, a guard requested first one and then the other to stick their hands through the bars so that their plastic cuffs could be clipped off. Another guard stood by, stun gun at the ready. I figured it was to keep either prisoner from attempting to grab the heavy-duty cutters. Neither woman tried. After double-checking the lock, the guards departed.
    “Top bunk’s mine, bitch,” Maddy announced, vaulting up.
    Conrad gusted out the sigh of the long-suffering, muttering under his breath about lawyers and lawsuits. He plopped down on the lower bunk, old springs creaking under Shannon’s 130 pounds. Oh, sure. She’ll tell you she’s 125 . . .
    “And shut the fuck up,” Maddy added, making herself comfortable on her chosen bed.
    Conrad puffed up and for a moment, the ghostly outline of his demonic form hovered over Shannon’s body. But he bit his stolen tongue and punched the saggy gray pillow instead.
    I released the breath I’d been holding out of habit; the breathing, not the holding.
    “Dante,” I whispered. As if anyone other than Shannon could have heard me. “Stick close in case you have to materialize. In fact, maybe you better teach me how to show myself and move stuff right now.”
    Dante stared at me as if I were speaking another language. Oh, I guess I was. Our scythes carried a universal translator microchip so we could understand each other and the souls we came for. Mostly. Had mine failed this time? I thwacked my scythe on the palm of my hand then held it to my ear. I couldn’t hear any ticking, but then it hadn’t ticked before I’d thwacked it.
    “Now, Kirsty? This certainly isn’t the time nor the—”
    “Dante. Much as I’d love to see Conrad punished, that’s Shannon’s body and we need to keep it safe and whole.”
    His eyes opened and so did his mouth. But then he closed it again and nodded. “You are right. If Shannon gets her body back, it should not be harmed.”
    “When, Dante. Not if.”
    He nodded again although it didn’t ring with commitment. I could tell he was humoring me. We hunkered down to wait for whatever came next.
    The two newcomers had missed dinner, so trays were delivered to their cell. Maddy demanded the meat off Conrad’s tray. He looked like he might protest, but again, he backed down, although whether wisdom was the better part of valor or the better part of not eating those greasy gray chunks, I couldn’t tell.
    They hadn’t been issued uniforms or nightclothes, so Conrad washed out his panty hose in the sink, carefully hung up his suit as best he could without hangers and lay down in his bra and panties.
    I glanced over at Dante to see if he were ogling the seminaked female body, but he’d turned his back and was examining the vacant cell across the way. Whoever