Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (Charley Davidson Series #4)by Darynda Jones
Welcome to the world of grim reaper extraordinaire, Charley Davidson. Try as she might, there's no avoiding her destiny.
Sometimes being the grim reaper really is, well, grim. And since Charley's last case went so awry, she has taken a couple of months off to wallow in the wonders of self-pity. But when a woman shows up on her doorstep convinced someone is/i>
Welcome to the world of grim reaper extraordinaire, Charley Davidson. Try as she might, there's no avoiding her destiny.
Sometimes being the grim reaper really is, well, grim. And since Charley's last case went so awry, she has taken a couple of months off to wallow in the wonders of self-pity. But when a woman shows up on her doorstep convinced someone is trying to kill her, Charley has to force herself to rise above . . . or at least get dressed. It becomes clear something is amiss when everyone the woman knows swears she's insane. But the more they refute the woman's story, the more Charley believes it.
In the meantime, the sexy, sultry son of Satan, Reyes Farrow, is out of prison and out of Charley's life, as per her wishes and several perfectly timed death threats. But his absence has put a serious crimp in her sex life. While there are other things to consider, like the fact that the city of Albuquerque has been taken hostage by an arsonist, Charley is having a difficult time staying away. Especially when it looks like Reyes may be involved.
Just when life was returning to normal, Charley is thrust back into the world of crime, punishment, and the devil in blue jeans in Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet, the hilarious fourth installment in the New York Times bestselling series from Darynda Jones.
“Jones perfectly balances humor and suspense.” Publishers Weekly (starred review) on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“Wickedly witty…will delight aficionados of humorous paranormals.” Booklist (starred review) on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“Charley Davidson is one of the most fun characters I have had the privilege to read. She is witty, independent, and lives a little on the crazy side of life.” Dark Faerie Tales on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“Absolutely amazing…a thrill ride from the very first page until the very last.” Red Hot Books (5 stars) on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“A hilarious, wickedly sexy, action packed, mystery that will have you howling with laughter… A strong character driven series, this urban fantasy takes you on a crazy laugh filled adventure with strong emotional story lines, multiple subplots, charismatic characters, and witty dialogue.” Smexy Books on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“Love!” Oh My Books! (4 ½ stars) on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“A barrel of laughs mixed with some intense action. Jones' trademark humor makes this series a must read for urban fantasy readers who like a good laugh with their suspense. Jones gives readers some of the most entertaining characters to come along in a long while.” Debbie's Book Bag on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
“Hilarious engrossing paranormal mysteries with absolutely no vampires or werewolves…with an easy-to-root-for herione.” Quirky Girls Read (A+) on THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD
Read an Excerpt
Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet
By Darynda Jones
St. Martin's PressCopyright © 2012 Darynda Jones
All rights reserved.
Only two things in life are certain. Guess which one I am.
— Charley Davidson, Grim Reaper
I sat watching the Buy From Home Channel with my dead aunt Lillian and wondered what my life would've been like had I not just eaten an entire carton of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy with a mocha latte chaser. Probably about the same, but it was something to think about.
A midmorning sun filtered through the blinds and cut hard streaks of light across my body, casting me in an ultra-cool film noir effect. Since my life had definitely taken a turn toward the dark side, film noir fit. It would have fit even better if I weren't wearing Star Wars pajama bottoms and a sparkly tank top that proudly proclaimed EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY. But I just didn't have the energy that morning to change into something less inappropriate. I'd been having lethargy issues for a few weeks now. And I was suddenly a tad agoraphobic. Ever since a man named Earl tortured me.
The torture. Not his name.
My name, on the other hand, was Charlotte Davidson, but most people called me Charley.
"Can I talk to you, pumpkin cheeks?"
Or pumpkin cheeks, one of the many pet names involving the fall fruit that Aunt Lillian insisted on calling me. Aunt Lil had died sometime in the sixties, and I could see her because I'd been born the grim reaper, which basically meant three things: One, I could interact with dead people — those departed who didn't cross over when they died — and usually did so on a daily basis. Two, I was super-duper bright to those in the spiritual realm, and the aforementioned dead people could see me from anywhere in the world. When they were ready to cross, they could cross through me. Which brought me to three — I was a portal from the earthly plane to what many refer to as heaven.
There was a tad more to it than that — including things I had yet to learn myself — but that was the basic gist of my day job. The one I didn't actually get paid to do. I was also a PI, but that gig wasn't paying the bills either. Not lately, anyway.
I rolled my head along the back of the sofa toward Aunt Lil, who was actually a great-aunt on my father's side. A thin, elderly woman with soft gray eyes and pale blue hair, she was wearing her usual attire, as dead people rarely changed clothes: a leather vest over a floral muumuu and love beads, the ensemble a testament to her demise in the sixties. She also had a loving smile that tilted a bit south of kilter. But that only made me adore her all the more. I had a soft spot for crazy people. I wasn't sure how the muumuu came into play, with her being so tiny and all — she looked like a pole with a collapsed tent gathered about her fragile hips — but who was I to judge?
"You can absolutely talk to me, Aunt Lil." I tried to straighten but couldn't get past the realization that movement of any kind would take effort. I'd been sitting on one sofa or another for two months, recovering from the torture thing. Then I remembered that the cookware I'd been waiting for all morning was up next. Surely Aunt Lil would understand. Before she could say anything, I raised a finger to put her in pause mode. "But can our talk wait until the stone-coated cookware is over? I've been eyeing this cookware for a while now. And it's coated. With stone."
"You don't cook."
She had a point. "So what's up?" I propped my bunny-slippered feet on the coffee table and crossed my legs at the ankles.
"I'm not sure how to tell you this." Her breath hitched, and she bowed her blue head.
I straightened in alarm despite the energy it took. "Aunt Lil?"
She tucked her chin in sadness. "I — I think I'm dead."
I blinked. Stared at her a moment. Then blinked again.
"I know." She sniffled into the massive sleeve of her muumuu, and the love beads shifted soundlessly with the movement. Inanimate objects in death carried an eerie silence. Like mimes. Or that scream Al Pacino did in The Godfather: Part III when his daughter died on those steps. "I know, I know." She patted my shoulder in consolation. "It's a lot to absorb."
Aunt Lillian died long before I was born, but I had no idea if she knew that or not. Many departed didn't. Because of this doubt, I'd never mentioned it. For years, I'd let her make me invisible coffee in the mornings or cook me invisible eggs; then she'd go off on another adventure. Aunt Lil was still sowing her wild oats. A world traveler, that one. And she rarely stayed in one place very long. Which was good. Otherwise, I'd never get real coffee in the mornings. Or the twelve other times during the day I needed a java fix. If she were around more often, I'd go through caffeine withdrawal on a regular basis. And get really bad headaches.
But maybe now that she knew, I could explain the whole coffee thing.
I was curious enough about her death to ask, "Do you know how you died? What happened?"
According to my family, she'd died in a hippie commune in Madrid at the height of the flower power revolution. Before that, she really had been a world traveler, spending her summers in South America and Europe and her winters in Africa and Australia. And she'd continued that tradition even after her death, traveling far and wide. Passport no longer needed. But no one could really tell me how she died exactly. Or what she did for a living. How she could afford to do all that traveling when she was alive. I knew she'd been married for a while, but my family didn't know much about her husband. My uncle thought he might've been an oil tycoon from Texas, but the family had lost contact, and nobody knew for certain.
"I'm just not sure," she said, shaking her head. "I remember we were sitting around a campfire, singing songs and dropping acid —"
I used every ounce of strength I had to keep the horror I felt from manifesting in my expression.
"— and Bernie asked me what was wrong, but since Bernie had just done a hit of acid himself, I didn't take him seriously."
I could understand that.
She looked up at me, her eyes watering with sorrow. "Maybe I should have listened."
I put an arm around her slight shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Aunt Lil."
"I know, pumpkin head." She patted my cheek, her hand cool in the absence of flesh and blood. She smiled that lopsided smile of hers, and I suddenly wondered if she'd perhaps dropped one hit too many. "I remember the day you were born."
I blinked yet again in surprise. "Really? You were there?"
"I was. I'm so sorry about your mother."
A harsh pang of regret shot through me. I wasn't expecting it, and it took me a moment to recover. "I — I'm sorry, too." The memory of my mother's passing right after I'd been born was not my favorite. And I remembered it so clearly, so precisely. The moment she parted from her physical body, a pop like a rubber band snapping into place ricocheted through my body, and I knew our connection had been severed. I loved her, even then.
"You were so special," Aunt Lil said, shaking her head with the memory. "But now that you know I'm a goner, I have to ask, why in tarnation are you so bright?"
Crap. I couldn't tell her the truth, that I was the grim reaper and the floodlights came with the gig. She thought I was special, not grim. It just sounded so bad when I said it out loud. I decided to deflect. "Well, that's kind of a long story, Aunt Lil, but if you want, you can pass through me. You can cross to the other side and be with your family." I lowered my head, hoping she wouldn't take me up on my offer. I liked having her around, as selfish as that made me.
"Are you kidding?" She slapped a knee. "And miss all the crap you get yourself into? Never." After a disturbing cackle that brought to mind the last horror movie I'd seen, she turned back to the TV. "Now, what's so groovy about this cookware?"
I settled in next to her and we watched a whole segment on pans that could take all kinds of abuse, including a bevy of rocks sliding around the nonstick bottom, but since people didn't actually cook rocks, I wasn't sure what the point was. Still, the pans were pretty. And I could make low monthly payments. I totally needed them.
I was on the phone with a healthy-sounding customer service representative named Herman when Cookie walked in. She did that a lot. Walked in. Like she owned the place. Of course, I was in her apartment. Mine was cluttered and depressing, so I'd resorted to loitering in hers.
Cookie was a large woman with black hair spiked every which way and no sense of fashion whatsoever, if the yellow ensemble she was wearing was any indication. She was also my best friend and receptionist when we had work.
I waved to her, then spoke into the phone. "Declined? What do you mean declined? I have at least twelve dollars left on that puppy, and you said I could make low monthly payments."
Cookie bent over the sofa, grabbed the phone, and pushed the end-call button while completely ignoring the indignant expression I was throwing at her. "It's not so much declined," she said, handing the phone back to me, "as canceled." Then she took the remote and changed the channel to the news. "I've put a stop to any new charges on your Home Shopaholic store card —"
"What?" I thought about acting all flustered and bent out of shape, but I was out of shape enough without purposely adding to the condition. In reality, I was a little in awe of her. "You can do that?"
The news anchor was talking about the recent rash of bank robberies. He showed surveillance footage of the four-man team, known as the Gentlemen Thieves. They always wore white rubber masks and carried guns, but they never drew them. Not once in the series of eight bank robberies, thus their title.
I was in the middle of contemplating how familiar they looked when Cookie took hold of my wrist and hefted me off her sofa. "I can do that," she said as she nudged me toward the door.
"Simple. I called and pretended to be you."
"And they fell for it?" Now I was officially appalled. "Who did you talk to? Did you talk to Herman, because he sounds super cute. Wait." I screeched to a halt before her. "Are you kicking me out of your apartment?"
"Not so much kicking you out as putting my foot down. It's time."
"Time?" I asked a little hesitantly.
Well, crap. This day was going to suck, I could already tell. "Love the yellow," I said, becoming petty as she herded me out of her apartment and into mine. "You don't look like a giant banana at all. And why did you cancel my favorite shopping channel in-store credit card? I only have three."
"And they've all been canceled. I have to make sure I get paid every week. I've also funneled all of your remaining funds out of your bank account and into a secret account in the Cayman Islands."
"You can funnel money?"
"Isn't that like embezzling?"
"It's exactly like embezzling." After practically shoving me past my threshold, she closed the door behind us and pointed. "I want you to take a look at all this stuff."
Admittedly, my apartment was a mess, but I still didn't know what that had to do with my card. That card was a tool. In the right hands — like, say, mine — it could make dreams come true. I looked around at all the boxes of super-cool stuff I'd ordered: everything from magical scrubbing sponges for the everyday housewife to two-way radios for when the apocalypse hit and cell phones became obsolete. A wall of boxes lined my apartment, ending in a huge mountain of superfluous products in one specific area of the room. Since my apartment was about the size of a Lego, the minute amount that was left was like a broken Lego. A disfigured one that hadn't survived the invasion of little Lego space aliens.
And there were more boxes behind the wall of boxes we could actually see. I'd completely lost Mr. Wong. He was a dead guy who lived in the corner of my living room, perpetually hovering with his back to the world. Never moving. Never speaking. And now he was lost to the ecology of commerce. Poor guy. His life couldn't have been exciting.
Of course, it didn't help that I'd also moved out of my offices and brought all my files and office equipment to my apartment. My kitchen, actually, making it completely useless for anything other than file storage. But it had been a necessary move, as my dad had betrayed me in the worst way possible — he'd had me arrested as I lay in a hospital bed after being tortured by a madman — and my offices had been above his bar. I had yet to discover what possessed my own father to have me arrested in such an outlandish and hurtful manner. He'd wanted me out of the PI biz, but his timing and modus operandi needed work.
Sadly, the bar was only about fifty feet north of my apartment building, so I would have to avoid him when coming and going from my new work digs. But since I hadn't actually left the apartment building in over two months, that part had been easy. The last time I left was to clear out my offices, and I'd made sure he was out of town when I did so.
I surveyed all the boxes and decided to turn the tables on Cookie. To play the victim. To blame the whole thing on her. I pointed at an Electrolux and gaped at her. "Who the hell left me unsupervised? This has to be your fault."
"Nice try," she said, completely unmoved. "We're going to sort through all of this stuff and send back everything except what you'll actually use. Which is not a lot. Again, I would like to continue collecting a paycheck, if that's not too much to ask."
"Do you take American Express?"
"Oh, I canceled that, too."
I gasped, pretending to be appalled. With a determined set to her shoulders, she led me to my own sofa, took boxes off it, piled them on top of other boxes, then sank down beside me. Her eyes shimmered with warmth and understanding, and I became instantly uncomfortable. "Are we going to have the talk again?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Cook —" I tried to rise and storm off, but she put a hand on my shoulder to stop me "— I'm not sure how else to say that I'm fine." When she looked down at Margaret, who sat nestled inside my hip holster, my voice took on a defensive edge. "What? Lots of PIs wear guns."
"With their pajamas?"
I snorted. "Yes. Especially if they're Star Wars pajamas and your gun just happens to resemble a blaster."
Margaret was my new best friend. And she'd never funneled money out of my bank account like some other best friends who shall not be named.
"Charley, all I'm asking is that you talk to your sister."
"I talk to her every day." I crossed my arms. Suddenly everyone was insisting that I seek counseling when I was fine. So what if I didn't want to step out of my apartment building? Lots of people liked to stay in. For months at a time.
"Yes, she calls and tries to talk to you about what happened, about how you're doing, but you shut her down."
"I don't shut her down. I just change the subject."
Cookie got up and made us both a cup of coffee while I stewed in the wonders of denial. After I came to the realization that I liked denial almost as much as mocha lattes, she handed me a cup and I took a sip as she sat next to me again. My eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Her coffee was so much better than Aunt Lil's.
"Gemma thinks that maybe you need a hobby." She looked around at the boxes. "A healthy hobby. Like Pilates. Or alligator wrestling."
"I know." I leaned back and threw an arm over my eyes. "I considered writing my memoirs, but I can't figure out how to put seventies porn music into prose."
"See," she said, elbowing me. "Writing. That's a great start. You could try poetry." She stood and rummaged through my box-covered desk. "Here," she said, tossing some paper at me. "Write me a poem about how your day is going, and I'll get started on these boxes."
I put the coffee cup aside and sat up. "For real? Couldn't I just write a poem about my ultimate world domination or the health benefits of eating guacamole?"
She rose onto her toes to look at me from behind one of my more impressive walls. "You bought two electric pressure cookers? Two?"
"They were on sale."
"Charley," she said, her tone admonishing. "Wait." She dipped down then popped back up. "These are awesome." I knew it. "Can I have one?"
"Abso-freaking-lutely. I'll just take it out of your pay."
Excerpted from Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet by Darynda Jones. Copyright © 2012 Darynda Jones. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet the Author
Winner of the Golden Heart® for Best Paranormal Romance for her manuscript First Grave on the Right, DARYNDA JONES can't remember a time when she wasn't putting pen to paper. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of more than twenty-five years and two beautiful sons, aka the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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Darynda Jones is a fantastic author! I love the characters that she has created. Start with the first book in this series and you'll have a hard time putting any of these books down. Love the humor in them and her quotes at the beginning of each chapter.
It took me awhile to get into Fourth Grave unlike the other books in this series. At the beginning of this book I was afraid the magic (the verve, the energy...) was slipping from the series and was having a hard time reading it. I'm glad I pushed through that and got further into the book because WOW! It was great!!! That's all I'm saying because if I say anymore it'll have spoilers and I don't want to do that to anyone.
I love each book in this series. It is laugh out loud funny. Great mysteries. Wonderful and original characters. I simply adore Charley. Reyes...is one of my all time favorite alphas. I love them together. The ending us great. Cannot wait for book 5 and 6 and book 7 and book 8 and so on....
Darynda has done it again. Charley is always getting into trouble, and this time it's doubled. It was great getting back in touch with all the characters. Charley and her crazy antics, Cookie who is always ready to back her up, and of course Aunt Lil and the ever present Mr. Wong. We get to see more of Donovant, and man...that guy can really turn up the heat! I love him and hope we get to see more. And of course, who can forget the ultra HOT, sexy, blazing, smoking, SINfully delicious REYES. That man can do things to me that...well, let's just say, cold showers DO NOT work! Now, Swopes, I'm a little scared for him. We don't get to see much of him in this one, and when we do, he is different. Not unexpected considering what he has been through. I think there may be trouble ahead. A few new characters like Margaret, Fred and Barbara are thrown into the mix. *snicker* More twists and turns that make your stomach do flips! Oh, we find out who moves into Charley's building. Loved it! I can't wait for Fifth Grave Past the Light now! With the way this one ended, I forsee lots of action in Charley's future. Well, at least that's what my crystal ball says. But sometimes, I can't trust her. She has been known to lie. So, to wrap this up...should you read it? Really, you're going to ask me that? *voice catches* You don't know me at all! OF COURSE you should read it! And I'm gonna stand here with my arms crossed patting my foot until you run out to get it. I received this book for review from the publisher.
This book was worth waiting for! I loved it. I still love how snarky Charley is and Cookie just amuses me to no end! Reyes is still SMOKIN' HOT and those darn Biker Bandits can kidnap me anyday! A definite must read!! If you havent read it then you need to...IMMEDIATLY!
A good story helped by some humor to make the reading fun. Disappointing that by the fourth book we don't really know much more about Charlie's abilities than at book one.
I love love love this series! All of the main characters are back for the continuing saga that is Charley's life! Look - the first book is still my favorite, but Fourth Grave definitely kept me reading well into the night! Charley and Reyes are smokin' hot! Cookie, UB, and the rest of the cast are still great. Not enough Garrett for me this time around but after the heart attack I thought I was having at the end of book 3, I may have needed a little space from him :) Sad thing is that now I have to wait for the next! Darynda Jones does such a good job keeping the reader interested in the story but still wanting more (I hate this - as now I have to wait for the next book!) I would definitely recommend this series if you want a little adventure, a little sex, and a whole lotta laughs! For sure start with the first though - you NEED all the back story. And if you like to listen to your books - I would highly recommend with this series too! Lorelei King narrates and she is AWESOME and brings Charley to life!
Loved this book and the other three before it. I wish I could forget them, just to relive the enjoyment of reading them again. Five stars this book has it all: comedy, action, mystery and romance. The main character is one of my all time favorites. The author has created a great series!
Loved this book! Love this series! Could not put it down kept me laughing the whole way thru!
For some reason the good books flash by so quickly. Darynda Jones always leaves you wanting the next book. Fun, full of action and seduction, with a plot twist you will never see coming. Read the entire series from the beginning for maximum satisfaction.
Just yet another wonderful story in this series. Each book has great humor and the characters are fantastic. She delivers with each book and you can't help but fall for Charley and Reyes.
Every book just get's better! Thank you for your great charaters, luv charlie and rese hope the become a permanate couple
Four books in this series and the author delivers with each new installment; plot, amazing characters, humor and sensuality. Reyes is one of the hottest male characters in popular literature. Thank you, Darynda, for another engaging look into the life and adventures of Charley!
Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet is the fourth installment in Darynda Jones's paranormal mystery series titled: Charley Davidson. My review is going to be short and sweet. If you've stuck with this series up to this point then I'll just tell you this one is more of the same fun: Our amazing heroine: Charley (aka grim reaper) continues to solve mysteries via her private investigator gig. She still has her hilarious sense of humor and that sexy, sexy Reyes hanging around (and in her pants!). The funny one-liners continue to set up each chapter (my fav part!), and the end keeps you interested in reading the next book. Read the book synopsis for details, but if you have enjoyed this series so far (like me), then you'll like this one...you may even like it a little more. Check it out! My favorite quote: “I meant to behave. There were just too many other options." The Charley Davidson series includes the following installments as of January 2016: #1-First Grave on the Right #1.5-For I Have Sinned #2-Second Grave on the Left #3-Third Grave Dead Ahead #4-Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet #5-Fifth Grave Past the Light #5.5-Shimmer #5.6-Glow #6-Sixth Grave on the Edge #7-Seventh Grave and No Body #8-Eighth Grave After Dark #8.5-Brighter Than the Sun #9-The Dirt on Ninth Grave #10-The Curse of Tenth Grave #11-Untitled
This book made me wonder why I've never named my body parts
Awesome series! Like Janet Evanovich does paranormal ! Funny! Keeps you laughing and loving the characters!
I don't spend much time reviewing books, and I am a hard sell. This series manages to literally make me giggle out loud to havibg tears in my eyes. The main protagonist is so REAL with that special "far more than meets the eye with more to come" quality. There is some serious heat in this book as well, but the romance certainly doesn't define the story. Fantasy, demons, beings from other planes but so very human, horror and the chaos that can be life sprinkled just right with wit. That humor and portray of strength though I know of course it's fiction is just what I need right now. Jones rocks these books.
A Must Read Contemporary, Suspense, Romance Albuquerque, New Mexico Charley Davidson is the grim reaper though she has been trying to avoid her destiny which refuses to be denied. Being the grim reaper can be quite grim at times. Charley has taken a couple of months off to wallow in self-pity as her last case went very wrong. Charley forces herself to rise above her self-pity or at least get dressed when a woman shows up on her doorstep because the woman is convinced someone is trying to kill her. Charley knows something is off when everyone that knows the woman tries to tell Charley that the woman is insane. The more the people dispute the story the more Charley is convinced it is true. Meanwhile, Reyes Farrow, also known as the sexy, sultry son of Satan is finally out of prison and out of Charley’s life. Which was what she wished for and after several perfectly timed death threats. Though his absence has put a crimp in her sex life. Charley is having a hard time staying away even with other considerations like the fact that Albuquerque has been taken hostage by an arsonist. What makes everything worse is that Reyes might be involved too. Just when Charley thought her life was getting back to normal. This is one series that just keeps getting better and better. The characters create a lot of humor which will have readers hungering for more. The pace is fast and keeps the reader guessing just what is going on until the very end. Charley is a heroine that makes for a great read. It will also have readers wanting a Charley in their lives to liven things up. This is a very unique storyline that makes for great reading and will have readers staying up all night just to finish each book as they will hate to put them down. It will also have readers wondering what next will happen to Charley. This is one series that is not to miss.