The Business Of Death, Death Works Trilogy by Trent Jamieson Read Free Book Online Page B

child, reporting to their head teacher. Lissa watches me and my face burns, though there’s no judgment in her expression.
    “It’s lockdown in here,” Morrigan says. “Only we haven’t done the locking. I don’t know who it is. There’s three of them. Stirrers from the feel of it, but not like any I’ve encountered before. For one, they’re using weapons. They’ve not yet made it into the main offices. You’re lucky you couldn’t get inside, believe me. Everyone in the vestibule is dead.”
    “Do you want me to come back?” Something shatters. A gun fires. Even down the phone the sounds have me flinching.
    “No, that would be… unwise.” Morrigan’s voice lowers to a whisper. “We’re holed up here. I’m trying to get some word out. Just keep away. Derek’s here. If we can keep them out of the main office, I can still keep track of people.”
    I hesitate. “I’m not far away… I could—”
    “You’ll do no such thing,” he snaps. “You keep away, Steven. Keep moving. You did good running. They’d have just gotten you too. We’re losing Pomps.”
    “I know, Lissa told me.”
    He’s silent for a moment. Then, “Lissa—Lissa Jones is with you?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Oh.” I can hear the sadness in his voice. Morrigan knows everyone. He may be based in Brisbane, but he has a lot of influence in the other states, too. You don’t get to the top without knowing the people beneath you. “You listen to her, Steven. This is worse than I thought. If Lissa’s gone, Melbourne’s gone, too, probably Sydney as well. She’ll help you. I need you to stay out of this. Tell her, I’m sorry.”
    “Maybe Tim—”
    “No, keep him out of it. The last thing we want is the government involved. If they trample over this the whole country’s going to circle the drain. He’s your cousin, Steven, but he’s not one of us. He made his decision.”
    “OK, no Tim.”
    “Good lad. Steven, I should have seen it coming.”
    “Seen what?”
    “I’d found references in some books, though I never believed—” The phone dies, there’s nothing down the end. I smack it with the palm of my hand.
    “That’s not going to do anything,” Lissa says.
    “Makes me feel better.” I jut out my lower lip, and scowl. Just how petulant can I be? My face reddens again but Lissa’s ignoring the show, considering the problem like I should be. After all, I’m the living one here.
    “Is there some drift?” she asks.
    I shake my head. “No, the signal’s strong.” I show her the phone.
    “The under and upper worlds are in sync. They’re almost rubbing up against each other.”
    “Maybe that’s why all this is happening. All this death. All these murdered Pomps.”
    “It’s not murder,” I say. “It’s assassination.”
    And then I have a terrible thought.
    Something so obvious that the realization hits me hard and cold.
    “Gotta call Mom and Dad.”
    “Too late, Steve,” says a voice at my ear.
    It’s Dad, and Mom is with him.
    “Been too late for at least half an hour,” he says.

6
    T his is the moment I’ve dreaded all my life. I’d always imagined it differently. But here it is, as it is for civilians: unexpected, sudden and utterly terrible.
    Dad’s in his usual attire—pants, and a light tan sports jacket. All of it crumpled. He’s even wearing his favorite fedora, hiding his thinning hair. Pomps are well dressed in the main. Most of the time we’re in a suit, black, of course; comes from going to so many funerals. But Dad could get away with wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt to a funeral. Charisma, I guess. He dresses sloppy, but it’s charming sloppy. I’ve never really understood it but people tell me it’s there. Everybody loves my dad.
    “It’s not your fault, Steve,” Dad says. His face is lined, but those lines were drawn by smiles. It’s a generous face, though he’s already losing that—the emotions are slipping away to the One Tree. He frowns. “Did you have a big night