Delaney decided she might as well leave her mouth open—because each new revelation took too much energy for her to shut it only to have it slide back to the floor again. “What? Vincent didn’t talk to the dearly departed—not by a long shot. He did shitty things and represented shitty people as a defense attorney.” No, Vincent wouldn’t have cared if he helped some lost spirit cross unless there was something in it for him.
“Here’s the deal in a nutshell. The power given to Vincent was by proxy. When Richard died, it was passed to Vincent. When Vincent died, it was passed on to you, Delaney, because you were the next living relative in line. It’s why you can see ghosts. Jesus, I thought you could always see ghosts. I had no idea this thing you call a gift happened just after Vincent died. How could we fucking know each other for ten years and you not tell me this?”
“Don’t go all put out on me now, Marcella. I’ll explain everything later—get to the point!”
“Either way, you began to see ghosts because of this power that freak Vincent passed on to you. The power you now possess is what’s termed neutral, meaning it can be used either way. If you’d been, say, a serial killer or a murderer? The FBI, CIA, and Interpol would’ve been working some mucho overtime these past fifteen years. Because of the person you are, because you’re undeniably a good human being, you used it to cross over people who were in turmoil. Helped spirits who needed guidance. Vincent used it to be a filthy pig and get away with murder. But it’s also why Clyde couldn’t stay away from you. You’re connected by this thing—this contract and that transplanted heart—like some big cluster fuck.”
“And you know this for sure, how, Marcella?” Clyde asked.
“Oh, brotha—if you had any idea the feelers I’ve had out since Delaney shipped my ass off. I knew something was up—who would want to get rid of moi?” She flapped an impatient hand at Clyde. “I don’t have time to explain now. Just know I know people—have some contacts—and they paid off.”
Delaney struggled for clarity, an answer to this tangled mess. “Okay, so what does that have to do with crossing Clyde over?”
Marcella rolled her eyes, but her grip had become more urgent. “Here’s our problem, and this has to be done precisely right. Vincent’s soul still lives because of that freakin’ heart. He’s still in there in some fucked-up way.” She pointed to Clyde’s body on the bed with a glossy, pink nail.
Delaney tried to grasp what she was saying, but her confusion only mounted.
“Don’t you see?” Marcella shook her with a bone-rattling shake. “The devil never collected Vincent’s soul the night he died. What does the devil love more than a fresh soul—especially a contracted soul? That’s why he showed up the night of Vincent’s death, D! He didn’t get it when you donated Vincent’s heart, and now Satan wants that shit back. But here’s our fucking snafu.
“If we don’t get Vincent’s soul out of Clyde’s body, which means pulling the plug, Clyde can’t get back in because if he does before Vincent’s kaput, his soul will once more be tied to Vincent and the devil will take him, too. He won’t be able to cross. Lucifer’d eat up Clyde’s soul like an ice cream sundae because Clyde deceived him by switching those damned assignments. We need to stop that heart from beating—get Vincent’s soul out of that body— and then we have to get Clyde back into his body, and cross him so he’s out of harm’s way.
“Look at Clyde, Delaney—look!” she demanded. “That’s why Clyde’s beginning to fade—because his soul needs to be freed. His soul, no matter what his brain’s saying, belongs in his body, and before long, we won’t be able to keep him from trying to get back in.”
Delaney’s stomach began to roll like waves in the sea as realization sank in. It was true. Clyde had been harboring Vincent’s soul in his body for all these years . . . your heart, according to some, was the essence of your soul, Marcella had said. Not only had Delaney screwed up Vincent’s soul when she’d donated his heart, but she’d screwed up Clyde’s shot at going where he needed to be because he was all twisted up in Vincent. “So all this time Clyde’s been keeping Vincent’s soul from Satan because he had his heart? Their souls have been all tangled up?”
“Yes!” Marcella bounced from foot to foot. “And he ended up in Hell because somebody didn’t keep track of his soul. It sprang free from his body before it should have. I swear, I don’t know who’s in charge up there, but bloody hell, they screwed this one up royally.”