The Lost by Vicki Pettersson

added.
    â€œThat’s how you know you were human.”
    Jeap thought about it. “If the afterlife—”
    â€œEverlast,” Grif corrected.
    Jeap lifted his chin. “—is so great, then why are you here?”
    Grif sighed, wishing the kid wasn’t quite so alert now. “I’m looking for the guy who killed me,” Grif finally said, then mentally corrected himself. Guys.
    Jeap slumped. “I guess I don’t have to do that.”
    Nope, and again, Grif wondered what Sarge thought he had in common with this gowed-up kid over half a century his junior. Jeap must have wondered the same thing, as he stared at Grif’s wings, then back at his mortal remains. “And that other thing? The one that was pulling on me?”
    â€œOnce Pure.” Grif shrugged. “Now Pure evil. But don’t worry. It can’t ascend.”
    â€œIt called me lost, but I don’t feel lost. In fact, I actually feel . . . good.” Jeap tilted his head, and took a moment to think about that. “For the first time since I can remember, I don’t feel like hiding.”
    â€œGood. Then you should get through incubation just fine.”
    â€œShe should hide, though.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat girl. She needs to run, something. That . . . thing . It’s going to circle back for her.”
    From far away, it seemed to Grif that he heard screaming in the night. He managed to control his voice as he spoke. “How do you know that?”
    â€œIt was in me, right?”
    Grif gave a jerky nod.
    Jeap tried for a nonchalant shrug, but it morphed into a shudder. “So I was in it, too.”
    Grif’s mortal blood took up the scream, zinging through his veins, forced by his frantic heart. God, he thought. Not Kit. Not again.
    â€œLet’s go,” Grif managed, needing to get this duty over with so he could get back to Kit.
    But Jeap gave his earthly remains a final sad, lingering look.
    â€œWhat?” Grif asked impatiently.
    â€œI don’t know. Now that I think about it, maybe under the weight of flesh and blood and, you know, free will, maybe we’re all just a little bit lost.”
    Grif froze, staring at the kid. “C’mon,” he finally said, hoping Jeap hadn’t noted his hesitation. “You’re beginning the Fade.”
    And he led Jeap toward the adjacent bathroom, where he shut the door. Jeap stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could open it again.
    â€œYou sure they’ll take me? I’m . . .” Jeap looked back at his destroyed body. “Unclean.”
    Grif held out his hand, and because the kid needed it—because they both did—gave him a little smile. “The place would be empty if they only accepted the pure. Now come on.”
    And he reopened the door so they could step directly into the Everlast. Jeap gasped, sucking in stardust and solar wind, and as horns heralded his arrival, Grif led him into the Universe’s welcoming arms.
    K it was neither ashamed nor surprised that she had a little breakdown before calling the cops. What the hell was she supposed to do after stumbling upon a man who was both rotting and alive, not to mention possessed by some sort of malevolent spirit? Of course it’d freaked her out. She was a reporter, not a crime scene technician. Not a clairvoyant.
    Certainly not a D-E-V-A .
    Shuddering at the memory of leaves whipping along interior walls, Kit gave in to tears that scalded her cheeks in the dawning light. Duty eventually got the best of her, and so her hiccupping sobs were gradually replaced by deep, cleansing breaths. Still, she didn’t dial 9-1-1 like a normal civilian. Instead she invoked one of the perks that came with her job, and called Detective Dennis Carlisle.
    â€œI like you, Craig,” he said, voice dusted over with sleep. “But I’m hanging up.”
    â€œDon’t you dare, Dennis. I need