Grace Under Fury

by Annabel Chase

  “Didn’t want to,” I said. “I only came to get out of the house. My family was driving me nuts.”

  “Must be hard living home again after years away,” he said. “I can’t imagine how I would do in my parents’ house in Iowa. I’d probably resort to being their son again, instead of a grown man, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, I do. My family acts like I’m frozen in time. There are some evenings I expect them to ask me if I finished my homework.”

  The chief crouched over a discarded tissue. “I know it’s not your area, but I’ll let you know when I get the autopsy report, if you’re interested.”

  I wish I could let him know exactly how interested I really was. “Thanks,” I said instead. “I’m happy to help however I can.”

  We finished our search of the bar and left the building with Ethan so he could lock up.

  “Please let me know what you find out, Chief,” Ethan said.

  The chief gave a crisp nod. “I will.”

  Ethan strode toward his open-top jeep and climbed in.

  “Would you mind giving me a lift home?” I asked. “Anton left with the car.”

  “I’d be happy to,” the chief said.

  We walked to his car in comfortable silence. There was something oddly soothing about his presence, despite the nuclear-level sexual tension between us.

  He opened the passenger door and I slid into the seat, my heart thumping hard. The slutty part of me wanted to straddle him right here in the dark parking lot—my mother’s DNA shining through. I immediately rolled down the window to let in the cool breeze. Close proximity to the chief made me warm all over, so the night air was both delightful and necessary.

  “You okay?” he asked, casting a sidelong glance at me as he pulled onto the road.

  “Just hot,” I said. I fanned myself and turned toward the open window but not before catching the slightest hint of a smile on his handsome face.

  “Are you sure you want to go straight home?” he asked.

  I didn’t dare look at him and risk letting him see my flushed cheeks. “Where would we go?”

  “I’m fully awake now. Might as well take the scenic route home.”

  I rolled the window halfway up so I could better hear him. “Have you ever seen the town from the lighthouse at night? It’s very pretty.”

  “Won’t Mr. O’Neill be there?” he asked.

  “He doesn’t live there,” I said, although it seemed like it. “He definitely won’t be there at this hour.”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing the view,” the chief said, “although the one right here is pretty good, too.”

  The chief looked like an underwear model in uniform, but he thought the view in my direction was good? I had to remind myself that he didn’t know about my family’s nature or our history. He wasn’t scared off like Chris the werewolf because he didn’t know any better. He thought I was like him—a member of law enforcement. A human. I had to keep it that way.

  “Just the view,” I said.

  He grinned. “I can live with that.”

  I pretended to find a hidden key in a slot in the side of the lighthouse and used a gentle puff of magic to open the lock. A basic spell like this would barely register on the magic scale.

  Our climb to the top of the lighthouse became a competition, with the chief determined to stay at least one set ahead of me. I couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t a fair fight. That I could use my speed or even my wings to beat him to the top. Not that I would.

  “You’re not even out of breath,” he said, when we reached the top.

  “I do a lot of physical training,” I said.

  “Seems a waste for a cybercrime agent,” Chief Fox said.

  I crossed the round room for a full view of the bay. The stars reflected in the dark water, and it seemed as though the entire world was speckled with diamonds.

  “Clear nights are the best,” I said. I felt his presence next to me and began to regret my decision to come here. It was too romantic. I should’ve asked him to drive me straight home.

  “We don’t have any views like this in Iowa,” he said. “I mean, I have a soft spot for Okoboji…”

  “Okoboji?” I asked. “Sounds like something out of Star Wars.”

  He chuckled. “I have many fond memories on that lake, I’ll have you know.”

  “Before the Stormtroopers invaded?”

  He cocked his head, analyzing me. “You’d look pretty good with two buns on the side of your head.” He reached for my hair and gently twisted long strands around his hands. “Better than good, in fact.” He let go of my hair and took a moment to admire my face. “Your eyes. I’ve never seen anything like them. I see flames.”

  They were fiery and full of need. That’s what he saw. And maybe a little trace of immortality.

  “It’s a birthmark,” I lied.

  “In both eyes? How extraordinary.” He swept a stray hair off my face. “Not that it surprises me. You’re a pretty extraordinary woman, Eden Fury.”

  My pulse sped up. “You should really stop complimenting me now.”

  He edged closer. “Why? What will happen?”

  “Nothing,” I said, splaying my hands against his firm chest. “Because nothing is all that can happen.”

  He placed a hand over mine. “You feel that, don’t you?”

  “My heartbeat?” I was pretty sure everyone in town could feel the small earthquake.

  “No, the connection,” he said. “I don’t know what it is about you, but there’s something there. Something I’ve never felt before.”

  My thoughts grew fuzzy as he pressed closer. “I know. I feel the same.” What if we just indulged ourselves this one time? A one-night stand wouldn’t endanger him.

  “Eden, I won’t push you.”

  I leaned forward, my lips hovering dangerously close to his. The reality was that it would never be just one time with us. Neither one of us seemed partial to one-night stands and I didn’t want to sleep with him and then cut him off. That would hurt our professional relationship.

  Ugh. For once in my life I hated being good.

  “It’s not that I’m not interested,” I blurted. I took a huge step backward. “There’s an FBI rule. It’s protocol.”

  His brow lifted. “Is that so?”

  “Neville was reviewing the rules and regulations with me after Agent Redmond left and I saw it then.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize…I guess it makes sense. I guess I never had a reason to care one way or another.”

  “I can’t break the rules, Chief. I don’t want to jeopardize either of our jobs.”

  He rubbed my biceps. “No, we’re both new to our roles here. It wouldn’t be good for our careers.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Not half as sorry as I am.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d better drive you home now.”

  Chapter Six

  Voices drew me downstairs the next morning earlier than I would’ve preferred after my late night with the chief. I nearly tripped on Charlemagne on my way down the attic steps. The python had decided it would be fun to wrap himself around each step in a loop, creating a series of knots in his body.

  “Why would you do this to yourself?” I asked, when I reached his head at the bottom.

  Verity rounded the corner in pajamas, her face pinched in annoyance. “There you are, Charlemagne. Where is it?”

  “Where’s what?” I asked.

  “He ran off with Ryan’s Slinky,” Verity said. “Ryan’s cranky enough when he’s sick. I don’t need him upset, too.” She bent over the snake, hands on hips. “How do you propose to get yourself out of this one?”

  “I can unknot him from the tail end,” I said. “Unloop each section.”

  Verity wagged a finger at the python. “Aren’t you lucky to have Eden here? I would’ve left you to figure it out on your own.”

  Charlemagne’s tongue darted
out and I stroked his head. “I’ll handle it. You get ready for work.”

  Verity’s expression softened. “Thanks, Eden.”

  I knew it was challenging for her, working as a doctor in town and raising two young children. It didn’t help that my brother didn’t pitch in as much as he should.

  “You’re not worried, are you?” I asked.

  “About Charlemagne? I don’t think he actually ate the Slinky.”

  “No, I mean Ryan,” I said. “Whatever’s going around…”

  Verity squeezed my shoulder. “I already drew a blood sample. I’ll get the results later today.”

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” she said. “Could be completely unrelated. Could be a standard infection making the rounds and that singer got unlucky.” She managed a small smile. “I’m sure you would agree that information is power.”

  “Always.”

  Verity returned to her room and I liberated Charlemagne from the steps so that he could resume his reign of terror on the toys.

  “Eden, is that you?” a deep voice called.

  I entered the kitchen to see Uncle Moyer and his husband, Tomas. My family had been surprised by Uncle Moyer’s choice of an angel-human hybrid husband, but Tomas’s laid-back attitude and penchant for excessive compliments eventually won everyone over.

  “I thought I heard a distinctly masculine voice,” I said. “I assumed it was Grandma.”

  “Eden, you gorgeous magical creature.” Tomas vacated his spot at the table to greet me with an airy kiss on each cheek.

  “I didn’t know you two were coming for breakfast or I would’ve at least brushed my teeth,” I said.

  “It wasn’t planned,” Tomas said, “but nobody makes a better breakfast than my mother-in-law. If that’s black magic at work, then lock me out of paradise right now.”

  “Knowing you, you’re already locked out because you lost your key,” Grandma said.

  Tomas raked a hand through his unkempt blond hair. “That’s why I married Mr. Responsibility, so that I don’t have to keep track of such things.”

  “And here I thought it was my keen intellect and my dashing good looks that sucked you in,” Uncle Moyer said.

  I noticed a glistening transparent shield around my nephew. “Who put Ryan in a bubble?” I asked.

  “It was my request,” Uncle Moyer said. “I have an appointment with a very important client this morning and I couldn’t take the risk.”

  Ryan seemed oblivious to the protective bubble and happily tossed oatmeal and banana slices around the tray of his high chair.

  “Is there any oatmeal left for me?” I asked.

  Aunt Thora gestured to a bowl on the counter. “Still hot, too.”

  “Thank you.” I added honey and cinnamon and stood at the island to eat. “Where’s Mom?”

  As if on cue, my mother sashayed into the kitchen, still in her pink silk robe with an eye mask pushed to the top of her head. Her eyes and cheeks were puffy and her nose was red and seemingly itchy from the way she kept scratching it.

  “The end is nigh,” my mother said. “I have the dreaded lurgy.”

  Verity entered the kitchen behind my mother, now fully dressed. “What are your symptoms, other than the ones I can see?”

  Grandma smothered her response with a cough. “Man flu.”

  My mother’s eyes narrowed, which basically eliminated them all together because they were so swollen.

  “You don’t look on the verge of expiring,” I said.

  My mother put a hand on her hip. “Oh, look who’s an expert now that she’s immoral.”

  “You mean immortal,” I said.

  Uncle Moyer snapped to attention. “You’re immortal now? When did that happen?”

  “Nobody tells us anything,” Tomas complained.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Next time I’ll have announcements printed up.”

  “You could at least have made a vague Facebook post,” Uncle Moyer said. “I would’ve figured it out.”

  “That would require me to have a Facebook account,” I said.

  Verity scrutinized my mother. “Stick out your tongue.” My mother complied. “Any digestive issues?”

  “Not yet, but I expect I’ll have it much worse than Ryan,” my mother said.

  “Why?” Verity asked.

  “Well, because it’s me,” my mother said. “I do everything better, even illnesses.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Verity padded over to the counter for coffee.

  “You don’t sound concerned,” my mother said.

  “Are you complaining or relieved?” Grandma asked from the table.

  “There’s only been one death,” Verity said. “It’s sad, but these things happen. The flu kills thousands each year, but we don’t start building bunkers at the beginning of flu season. We take precautions and go about our lives.”

  “That’s a sensible attitude, Verity,” Aunt Thora said.

  “Would someone mind removing the bubble from my son so I can finish feeding him?” Verity asked.

  Uncle Moyer scooted his chair away and Verity took her place next to Ryan as the bubble dissipated.

  My mother ripped off her eye mask and tossed it onto the counter in a dramatic fashion. “Who cares for sensible when I’m on the threshold of death?”

  “Does that mean you’re at death’s door or you’ve only made it to the front porch?” Grandma asked.

  My mother ignored her. “What should I do, Verity? Do you have any potions to prevent this illness from consuming me?”

  Verity examined my mother, a thoughtful expression on her face. “There are a few remedies I’d suggest.”

  “Excellent,” my mother said, cheering slightly. “What do you recommend I do first?” She leaned her elbows on the counter and put on her best listening face.

  “Lemons are amazingly helpful,” Verity said.

  Aunt Thora’s shoulders straightened. “Naturally.”

  “Do I put it in my tea with honey?” my mother asked. “That’s not much of a potion. Humans do that every day.”

  “Well, you can,” Verity said, “but my secret druid remedy involves taking a slice of lemon and using it to wipe all the affected areas. The more juice, the more effective.”

  “Even my eyes?” my mother asked. She touched the puffy areas on her face. “Won’t that sting?”

  “Only for a minute,” Verity said, spooning oatmeal into Ryan’s eager mouth. “It’ll be worth it, though.”

  My mother smiled sweetly at Aunt Thora. “Do you mind if I use a lemon from the garden?”

  “Choose carefully,” she replied. “They’ve not all recovered.”

  “I thought you put a ward around the trees,” I said.

  “It didn’t work,” Aunt Thora said. “We’re trying something else.”

  Now that her problem had been addressed, my mother seemed ready to focus on those around her. “You’re holding that spoon wrong, Verity, sweetheart.”

  My sister-in-law shot her a quizzical look. “The spoon?”

  My mother zigzagged her finger. “The angle is wrong for his mouth.”

  “Are you sure he should be eating already?” Grandma asked. “Isn’t he still explosive?”

  “He can eat this,” Verity said.

  “He’s a year old,” Grandma said. “He should really be feeding himself.”

  “He has the rest of his life to feed himself,” Aunt Thora said.

  “Until he’s old and toothless,” Grandma said. “Then it’s back to this.” She gestured to Verity and Ryan.

  “Circle of life,” Tomas said.

  “Eden, you really should sit down,” my mother said. “It’s better for your digestion.”

  “I’m fine over here.” The table was crowded anyway.

  Disapproval knitted my mother’s brow. “You’ll end up gaining weight in your feet and Nyx knows you don’t need those to get any bigger than they are.”

  “That�
��s not how biology works,” I said. I spooned oatmeal into my mouth and said a silent thank you for my aunt’s culinary skills.

  “I’ll tell you how biology works,” my mother said. “You’re not the only one with an education around here, young lady. Do you think they just hand out black magic certificates to anyone with the right hat?”

  I squinted at her. “There’s a right hat?”

  “There’s always a right hat,” my mother said. “You’d know that if you ever bothered to pay attention to fashion.”

  A pounding on the door interrupted whatever zinger my mother was mentally preparing.

  “That sounds urgent,” Tomas said.

  Everyone continued to sit there.

  “Why don’t you answer it, Beatrice?” Grandma asked.

  “I can’t answer the door in my condition,” my mother said. “Why don’t you?”

  “I’m an old woman,” Grandma said. “Anything can happen between here and the door.”

  The pounding continued.

  “Someone is very persistent,” Uncle Moyer said.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll get it.”

  Princess Buttercup accompanied me to the door. A low growl escaped her before I even managed to open it.

  “Hush,” I told her. I cracked the door far enough to speak to the visitor. “Can I help you?”

  The man on the porch was red-faced and agitated. “Somebody on this street sideswiped my car and I intend to find out who it is,” he said. His body crackled with anger.

  “I’m not aware of any incidents,” I said. “Where was your car parked?”

  He pointed toward the mouth of the cul-de-sac. “I just moved in and left my car on the street so the moving van could park in the driveway.”

  “Oh. You’re Michael Bannon,” I said. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” Sort of.

  “There’s a deep scratch on the side of my car. I want someone to pay for that.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t already there?” I asked. “Do you check your car for marks every morning?”

  Behind me, Princess Buttercup growled again, catching Michael’s attention. “You plan to sic your attack dog on me now? Some neighborhood I moved into. I should’ve known better than to buy a house on a street that misspells its own name.”