by K. B. Draper
I waited a long beat, reorganizing my thoughts. “What if it’s all a lie?” I started in mid-thought.
“He’s an archangel. I don’t think they can lie,” Ashlyn offered, not needing an intro to my question.
I huffed my disbelief.
“You don’t trust him.”
I shrugged my free shoulder. “I don’t know. There’s just something …”
Ashlyn ran a fingertip across my bottom lip. “Too much blind faith for you?” When I didn’t immediately answer, she went on. “I get it. I don’t have a good feeling about it all either. I mean, I want to believe that everything that comes out of there is for the good of humankind, but …” she trailed off.
“We have to assume that Apoc poses a threat to them too,” I offered.
“Yeah, it only stands to reason that if Apoc has the power to harm Lucifer, he might have the capability to harm them too. God. Or at least the angels? And if so, would they want that kind of possibility out there?”
“Exactly.”
“Where does that leave us?”
“I guess all we can do is continue to help Michael protect his son and support his decisions.”
“A good place to start,” Ashlyn agreed.
“Unless his decisions are stupid,” I added as I turned to face her.
She smiled, “Well, duh.”
My thumb began tracing her hip bone, one of its favorite past times. “You get ahold of your brother?”
“I did. He’s going to head to Boca to stay with my mom. He was obviously concerned.”
“He should be. I’ve met your mom.”
Ashlyn chucked me playfully in the stomach. “Cute.”
I caught her hand and held it there. “You sure you don’t want to join him? Help protect them?”
Ashlyn was silent for a long moment and I felt my heart go drunken kung fu master in my chest with every silent beat, scared she would take me up on the offer; scared that she wouldn’t.
“I don’t want you to ask me that again,” she finally stated. “You need to accept that I’m in this to the end. I can protect them more by being here. Fighting with you.”
I brought her knuckles to my lips. “I couldn’t deal if something happened to you because of me.”
“This isn’t because of you. This is about a millennia-old fight between good and evil.”
I nodded, knowing that what she said was true, but unable to let go of my fair portion of the blame.
Ashlyn read my thoughts and let me have my due. “You might have pissed him off, but you didn’t cause this. They’re taking advantage of a …” she trailed off, not wanting to give it voice. I didn’t blame her. “… situation.”
I knew this as well. Knew this was all happening because there was an innocent kid out there that had nothing to do with his creation, yet might have everything to do with the world’s destruction. Kind of makes ya check yourself when you’re staring at your own “shit ain’t fair” cards. “I know. I also know I will protect you to my dying breath.”
She propped herself up on an elbow, putting a fingertip to my nose and doing a quick press. “And that’s just one of the reasons I kind of like you.”
“One of the reasons?” I traced a slow fingertip along the curve of her exposed breast, “Care to name any of the others?”
Her body quivered under my touch. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I would say that you’re a pretty good kisser.”
“Pretty good?” I scoffed, mock offense in my voice.
Her hand left my side to make a little seesaw motion between us. “Eh, I’ve had—”
When I finally released her, she rolled onto her back, her breath ragged, her heart thudding in her chest, which had my own blood pumper responding in kind.
“Scratch that; you’re the best,” she panted.
“Damn right.” She chuckled, and I wrapped around her in a protective embrace, needing to hold her against me. Needing to feel her against me. She was my walking, talking, breathing Thunder Blanket. The feel of her calmed my deepest, most vulnerable parts. And in that moment, with all the impending moments, I knew now more than ever that my words to her had never been truer; I would protect her beyond all else. I knew, and I’ll straight up admit it was a selfish thing, but if something happened to her … if she wasn’t here to counter the WTFs in my world, I was confident, to Dr. Phil it, that I’d engage in some serious self-destructive shit.
As if she’d sensed my growing implosion, Ashlyn twisted in my embrace to place a kiss over my heart, then began to trace it with a fingertip. “We’ll get through this. Some way. Somehow,” she whispered, “we’ll come out the other side.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said with what I hoped was more confidence than what I felt at the moment.
We lay in companionable silence, relaxing into each other, both within our own thoughts. The steady beat of her heart, the tracing of her finger across my skin, was having a calming effect on my soul.
Her finger eventually stopped caressing and I thought she’d drifted off to sleep, but the sigh she let out was a blinker for the upcoming lane change. “I think we should go visit your family. Tell them about all this.”
I stiffened. “Um.” Insert fun fact here: my fam is amazing. Muy awesome-o, and I was extra happy that we shared the DNA digits, but they didn’t really know … about my life. I’d totally Double Top-Secret Black Op Area 51 File 9FB any and all details. I mean deets on the first zero to seventeen years they totally had, and numerous photo albums to prove it, but post-Norm taking up residence in my skin abode … nope. It had taken me … hum, we’ll go with a “significant ass load” of time to accept the fact that I had an ancient Native American warrior spirit dude riding perma-shotgun so I hadn’t imagined the convo going super awesome with the parents.
“Mom, Dad, I have something to tell ya. Probably best if you sit down.”
“Are you pregnant?” Mom would ask.
“Remember the last sit-down? The whole gay thing?” I would have replied.
“Yes. Of course. Sorry, auto-fear response. By the way, you know that we love you and accept you just the way you are,” Mom would confirm.
“I do,” I would say, glancing down at her new rainbow bead garnish that wrapped two inches high on her wrist. “Thank you.” Dramatic pause. “Okay, something happened when Grams and Pops took Brook and me to Oklahoma and we visited that reservation.”
Mom’s hand would fly to her heart. Dad’s hands would ball into fists. “Nothing like that.” They’d relax slightly. “I kind of snuck out and met up with a boy. Still gay,” I’d direct at mom.
“And we still love you,” mom would confirm. Again.
“Anyway, we might have kind of gotten a little tipsy on some homemade alcohol. Yes, I know, I shouldn’t take candy or grain alcohol from strangers,” I insert quickly to cut off mom’s lecture. “I’m fine, but I kind of maybe sort of stumbled into an ancient ritual, where see they, I guess, were trying to pass a spirit from grandfather to grandson so that he could take on his destiny of fighting demons and …”
“AJ, what did you do?” dad would growl.
“I kind of … totally did … stumble … more of a fall really, in the middle of it and …”
“And?”
“And I might have come home with their spirit. Thing. Dude.”
“Well, you have to give it back,” mom would insist. “We talked about taking things that weren’t yours.”
“In the truck.” Dad would stand. “We’re going back. I mean seriously, what kind of place doesn’t have safety rails around ritual sites. We’re going to need to talk with whoever is in charge of …”
And yeah, it just kind of falls apart from there ending in a straitjacket. For me or them—TBD.
“I’d like to meet them before well, you know.” Ashlyn was saying, bringing me back from What If land.
“Orrrrr maybe, I could just call them and tell them they need to make a Costco run: bulk up on the water and granola bars.”
Ashlyn narrow-eyed me. “Do they not know about … I mean, they know about you, right?”
“They know I’m a Virgo, I don’t do dresses, and I have a strong aversion to coconut. Beets too. I mean seriously, they taste like dirt—”
“Nice try.” Ashlyn sat up, the sheet dropping to her waist. I hate to inform her, but her current convo was now playing second fiddle to, ummm, let’s say everything north of her Mason-Dixon Line. Reading my mind, she pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. Boo to that.
“Pay attention. Eyes up here.” She snapped next to her head, so as to give my peepers a target. Her face, even in its current mixology of confusion and frustration, was just as distracting as the rest of her. More so. Long eyelashes that didn’t need the help of mascara to accentuate the beautiful fierceness of her pale green and gold lightning-streaked eyes, full lips that demanded to be kissed, and soft lines that constructed the stunning contours of her face.
“You’ve never come out to them? Your mom and dad don’t know that you …” her hand did a little dance and swirl routine between us.
“Do the chica un chica thing? Pssh. No, yeah, they know that. And they’re totally cool with it. It’s the ‘Hey mom, dad, I have a dead Native American renting space in my skin shack and we run around fighting demons together’ thing that I’ve put on the back denial burner.”
Ashlyn chuckled. “If you describe it like that … then well, I could see why. Are they religious?”
“Ish. I grew up Methodist. Not the down south fo’ realz Methodist, more of the ‘go to church, sing, sit, sing, sit, preach for thirty, sing, sit, prayer and then get out in time to beat the Baptists to KFC’s Sunday buffet’ and you know the just be nice to people Methodist,” I paused. Ashlyn and I had been through a lot together, had talked a lot about immediate past and current events stuff, but hadn’t really dived down into the childhood stuff, minus events around her father’s tragedy and my making of a demon hunter documentary. “Were your mom and dad religious? Did you grow up in church? Oh God, please say you didn’t go—”
“Gawd no. Reverend Cline? No, we were one of the few families that didn’t go to his church. My mom and dad were more … I guess they more believed in being kind, sharing what you had with others in need, and treating everyone with respect. I mean, they believed in God; it was more the mass religion that they couldn’t get behind.”
“Speaking of religion and big get-behinds, have you talked to Loretta lately?” I had chatted with Loretta a few times since her father, Mr. Holier Than Thou preacher dude tried to adopt the bringer of doom, take over the world and well, insert Danny, Ashlyn, and I, epically failed. But Ashlyn had been the main go between, checking in on her old friend after she’d had to decide between fighting for the good side or for her douchey DNA donor. Sheriff Loretta Linn hadn’t hesitated, jumping in and throwing down. Hard. To which I had mad respect.
“We texted a week or so ago, and she’s doing good. Most of the town has settled in and moved past the Cline family headlines. The county commission hasn’t made any more comments about removing her, so she’s back to work and, yeah, she’s doing her thing.”
“Probably should give her a heads up,” I said, and Ashlyn agreed with a nod.
“Back to your family. We apparently have a few days, so let’s go visit them.” When I didn’t immediately confirm or deny her request, she dropped the sheet. I watched it pool at her waist. “I’m sure you’d feel better if you complied with my wishes.”
“How much better?” I asked, a wicked grin tweaking the corner of my mouth. “Like on a scale of one to ten?”
“Forty-five,” Ashlyn said, her own smile curling at the corners of her lips.
Chapter 3
“Before we go in, I need to warn you about—” the screen door of my childhood home was flung open, which acted as a visual end to my sentence. Mom was already three steps off the porch before it slammed back into place with a loud clap. Mom’s smile was dang near as widespread as her arms, which were out and smoother-hug ready. Her apron—yes, a real-life Leave It to Beaver apron with its strings doing somersaults in the draft she was pulling in her mad dash across the yard.
Danny leaned forward between the seats to finish my warning. “What AJ was going to say is Joy is a hugger. Straight up.”
“Oh my god, she’s adorable,” Ashlyn said, her hand already on Woody’s door handle.
I totally agreed, taking her in as my boots hit the driveway. Mom’s cheeks were rosy, flushed from the short run. She had more gray in her dark brown hair than the last time I’d seen her, which of course she’d blame on me. Deep laugh lines cut into her cheeks, confirmation of her always first-to-laugh personality. Smile lines framed her sometimes green, sometimes brown eyes, eyes that gave away her emotions like a mood ring. She wore just enough makeup to accentuate her already beautiful features. And her hands were outstretched to me in a pre-hug mode I knew would be soft, but tough in nature.
I closed the distance fast, too fast if anyone had a stopwatch on me, my own smile stretching closer to my earlobes with every step. Mom tended to do that to a girl. “Hey, mom,” I said, laughing as her arms went around me in a tight embrace.
“AJ, sweetheart, it’s about time. If you hadn’t called, I’d already told your father we were packing up the RV and hunting you down.”
“Sorry. We’ve, ah, been a little busy,” I offered, not wanting to drop the demon-hunting, apocalypse truth bombs in the opening scene. Those were more of an after-dinner regalement, I thought. That was also why we’d dropped Michael, Six, and Apoc off at the motel just outside town. We’d get around to those intros a little later too.
Mom tightened her embrace, then released me enough to lean back and look at me. “Busy with things more important than your family?”
I smiled. “Never. I’ll do better next time.”
She patted my cheek. “Do that. I thought you were bringing more guests?”
“Yeah, Apoc— the baby was up early and was restless. Michael was going to try and lay him down for a bit, so we dropped them off at Norma Lee’s. Danny will go grab them later.”
“Well, alrighty then. In the meantime, why don’t you introduce me to this delightful woman you brought home,” she said, arms already outstretched reaching in the direction of said delightful woman.
Ashlyn grinned. “Mrs. Mattox.”
“Oh, it’s Joy, please.” She enfolded Ashlyn into her arms. They stood like that for a long moment and okay yeah, the sight of the two most important women in my world, caught in a warm embrace … I. Was. Donesy.
The moment was broken up by Danny falling out of the rear passenger door, a computer cord tangled around his ankle. He tried to catch himself on Woody’s frame. He failed. “Sorry,” he sputtered as he stood quickly, hitting his elbow on the door frame. “Ouch. Crap.”
I snorted as he danced in pain, earning a backhand from my mom. She had a big old soft spot for Danny, and Danny always got a little like a love-sick puppy when it came to my mom. Not in a “don’t make me blender your macadamia nuts” way, but in a boy who had lost his own mom way too early and valued the unconditional maternal love my mom gave so freely way.
Mom caught him by the arm and gave his boo-boo’d elbow a soft rub. “That’s what you get for not bringing my baby girl home sooner.” She gave him a wink. Then as she’d done with the rest of us, she took him into her arms, swaying a little as she squeezed him tight. “Oh, Danny. Sweetie, it’s been too long.”
“Way too long,” Danny responded, all the love and admiration he had for her evident in his voice.
Yeah, they had their own little mother-son thing going on, something that had happened two seconds after mom learned Danny had lost both of his parents in an accident. The same accident that we’d recently learned was just one of the first FU’s fate had in store for Danny and me. But I guess fate also had put these two together, and though it wasn’t the same as his own family, Danny and my mom had a special connection
. I guess not too dissimilar to mine and Grand’s. In those ways, we were both lucky.
I moved to Ashlyn and took her hand. She looked down, apparently surprised at the public-family sign of affection, but my parents were affectionate. Contrary to my earlier years filled with “gag me’s,” “why do you have to embarrass me in front of my friends,” and the “seriously, you need to roll it back, Ross and Rachel,” they still kissed and held hands in public after some thirty-five years together. It wasn’t until Ashlyn came into my world that I understood that deep desire to feel your connection, the need to hold and to be held onto by the one person who could tether you to the here and now despite the world around you.
Mom hooked an arm through Danny’s, leading him back toward Ashlyn and me. “I am just so happy you all are here. Let’s go inside.” She wrapped her other arm through Ashlyn’s as she passed. “We’ll come back to get your bags. I have muffins, eggs, and juice ready for you. I hope you didn’t eat already.”
I don’t know what mom does to her blueberry muffins, but a dab of butter and blink, blink it’s seven muffins later. I held my stomach as I pushed back from the table. “God, I missed those muffins. I’m going to end this apocalypse thing just to save those muffins.”
Mom scrunched up her face. “Apocalypse thing?”
Ashlyn waved a hand in a “you opened that door, now walk through it” gesture. “I um, nothing. Just saying the muffins were amazing. As always.” Ashlyn’s eyes swept the ceilings of their sockets. “I’ll get to it geez, but Dad will—” and as if I’d abracadabra-ed him, Dad came rushing through the back door.
“AJ! Sweetheart!” My dad spoke in exclamation points as it matched his stature and personality. He was six-foot-four and all muscle, toned from years of physical labor on construction sites, though there was starting to be the smallest of paunches just above belt level. Mom’s muffins. The end.
I was on the way out of my chair to greet him, barely on my feet when he snatched me from the floor and spun me around. “I’ve missed my favorite girl.” I knew my sister was also his favorite girl, my mother was his favorite, and my two nieces were also his favorites, but it still had my heart pounding extra, as he meant the term of endearment with his whole heart each and every time he said it. That aside, dad and I did have a special bond. Where my sister spent her youth connected to the phone with one friend or another chatting about their latest love interests and makeup secrets, I’d spent my time handing dad tools, holding the measuring tape, fetching hammers, and holding this thing, or that, or whatever other sidekicky thing was needed at the time. I’d spent my summer breaks on construction sites, at first running errands, but once I’d hit my teens and could hold my own, I was allowed amid the well-planned chaos of drilling, hammering, cutting, or painting. FYI, painting was my least fav thing, but dad was adamant that I learn every aspect of the business. We never talked about it, but I think it was his way of preparing me to take over the company someday. I mean, how could one oversee a job site, accurately bid a project, and ensure quality if you didn’t understand what went into the job in the first place?