As Good As Dead Novels & Stories

The scar where they took my liver still ached faintly. My dad let out a heavy sigh. "Noah, I'm telling you one last time. My daughter is dead. Believe it or not. Now get out of my house, or I'm calling the police!"

No surprise the whole department knew our names. Hearing the chief now, though? Yeah, they'd been warned about Keyla. Just ignored it. They probably thought those warnings were planted by us—like we sent people to spy. Made them resent us even more. Their buddies had all kinds of tips on winning back a girl. Edmond and Philip didn't need advice. They just never bothered trying with us. Then, right through the noise, Edmond's voice hit like a slap. "They're dead." The room froze. "They're both dead." Total silence.

ᯓ★ BREAKING NEWS: 30-year-old Ginger Cadette, the owner of the Bar & Life passed away yesterday due to brain cancer. Her family kept her burial private. With hard work and persistence, she successfully started and ran Bar & Life. But when she discovered that she had brain cancer, the business was passed on to her twin brother, Carter Cadette.

“Did any of them say ‘I’m glad I’m dead because death is better than slavery’? Did any of them say ‘I died for decency and it’s better than being alive’? Did any of them say ‘I’ve been rotting for two years in the earth in silence and darkness, but see how lovely it is to die for your native land’?” - Johnny Got His Gun * * * *

Stellan Montclair was alive. He shoved the lid aside and sat up in the coffin. His face was deathly white, his lips had gone purple, and his eye sockets were sunken deep. He looked like a corpse that had just crawled out of its own grave. The potion had only just worn off, and his body was still dangerously weak. Even opening his eyes took visible effort. "I'm... not dead..." The words scraped out of him, faint as a dying flame.

Then he makes a sound. Low. Short. Not a word. Something beneath where words live. The entire left flank folds inward like a hand closing. Maya’s grip tightens on the radio. Marcus makes another sound. Different. The formation opens. He is not relaying information. He is not telling them where the dead are. They already know where the dead are. Everyone with eyes, ears, or a functioning sense of doom knows where the dead are. He is doing something else. Something Maya has no useful word for.

I knew better; the fish I gave her was boneless. Jane's lips trembled as she tried to steady her voice, "That's because the nurses cleaned her up before they brought her here." "Cleaned her up, huh?" My voice turned icy. "Then answer me this: after death, the body cools, starting with the limbs." I pressed down on my daughter's rigid arms and belly. "So why is her stomach colder than her arms and legs?" I yanked up her sleeve to reveal more than just cold skin. "Livor mortis already? That was fast."

Text from Amon: How are‌ you feeling? Like death​, I t​ype​ bac​k. B‌ut the good kind.‌ Is there⁠ a g​ood kind o​f dea⁠th​? I stare at his ques‍t‍i‍on. For a famil⁠y like ou‌rs,‌ death isn’t abstract a​nymore. It’s Ayana’s empty room. It’s the graves we visit every Sunday. Wro‍ng choice of word⁠s, I correc​t. I f⁠ee​l terrible but hap​py abo‌ut‍ it.

I instinctively curled up, trembling as blood poured from my lips. In the moments before total unconsciousness claimed me, I perceived the skepticism in Carl's eyes dissolve, twisting into outright terror. I then heard his voice echo toward me, growing clearer. "You're not allowed to die without my permission, Aria! You'll stay alive to atone for your sins!" I doubted I would ever have the chance to complete the requested atonement, as I was certain my life would end in just two more days.

“Go ‘head and call it in.” The crackle of a radio stung my ears. “Ashford is dead.” The second one said. An electronic beep signaled the end of his message. “Can’t believe I killed an Alpha. You think I’ll get a raise for it?” “He’s not an Alpha. Not yet, anyway.” “Well, he ain’t gonna be now.” A loud, wet laugh echoed throughout the mall. Seconds passed when Macon’s sent slithered into my nostrils. I let the shock flow through me, releasing it as quickly as it had come. All that mattered was my breathing, keeping my heartbeat slow.