by Amy Lane
Ernie thought about it. “A couple of days,” he said, not sure what prompted him but trusting it, just like he’d trusted his urge to make apple fritters. “And yes, thank you, I would very much appreciate a place to stay until he gets back.”
Ace nodded. “Sonny, stop pouting about people taking care of you and help take care of Ernie. Also, one of you may want to take Duke for a walk—you know how excited he gets when Ernie comes over.”
Back in the days before Burton had committed, Ernie had spent his time with Duke the Chihuahua, wandering the desert at night. Duke had enjoyed their little forays—and probably missed their time together now—so Ernie made sure to come take him for a walk once or twice a week, just for old-time’s sake. When Burton was there, they’d go together and talk desultorily about the way the desert smelled and what the stars could possibly mean. But without him, Ernie’s brain—and therefore his psychic ability—tended to reach out into the vast world and bring back things Ernie was never sure what to do with.
There was nothing he could do to stop a bus crash or a bank robbery. He would tell Burton and hope for the best. Occasionally his brain came back with stories of the serial killers he’d been asked to assess when Karl Lacey’s illegal behavior modification project to create the perfect soldier had been up and running. That, he’d reported immediately, via text if Burton wasn’t home. Burton always told him when his contact with the “bugs,” as he called them—because their brains were crawly twisted places—panned out.
So far Ernie was eight for eight as a reliable bug catcher, and he was glad he could help. But he really hated stumbling into a bug’s brain when he was all alone and unprepared.
“I’d love some company,” he said a little desperately, and Ace tilted his head, as if he heard the things Ernie wasn’t saying.
“Jai, go with him,” he said. Ernie still did the books for the gas station, and while Ace was their friend as well as their boss, it was obvious this was an order.
“Da,” Jai said, not even bothering to complain.
THEY WERE about a mile out from Ace and Sonny’s place when Jai said his first words. “You haven’t said anything.”
Ernie knew what he was talking about. “About your friend in the mountains? No. You lied to me so I wouldn’t know, and I figured that meant you didn’t want everybody else to know. Why not?”
Jai shrugged. “George is… he’s a nurse. A good guy. I am not.”
Ernie snorted. “That’s hilarious,” he muttered.
“No, no—I have—”
“Killed people. I know. You don’t understand. I keep running into serial killers in my mind. That’s why I wanted your company, you know. Their brains are awful. Like bug warrens. Like little shit beetles crawling through their head.”
“Lovely,” Jai said, shuddering with revulsion. Jai was well over six feet tall, with a shaved head and a black goatee. Watching him shudder was a treat in itself.
“Yeah. Well, I’ve known you for a while now, and your brain isn’t like that. Your brain is all these neat little boxes. Well, one of your boxes has a guy named George in it, and he’s bursting the box’s seams. You’re going to have to share him with Ace and Sonny soon or he’s going to break your brain.”
Jai groaned. “Ugh. Could we go back now? I don’t want to think about this.”
“Sure.” To tell the truth, Ernie didn’t want to either. He wanted to think about Burton, under the same sky he was under, looking out into the cloud of mottled stars and thinking about Ernie, the way Ernie was thinking about—
“Burton’s going to have to pull that thing,” Ernie said, suddenly right back in the present. “And yell at Jackson to duck. Jackson’s going to duck and roll, and there’s going to be a crash, and then Burton can come home.”
Jai was staring at him.
“What?” Ernie said, shaking himself all over.
“That was the fucking creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ernie groaned. “Well, keep it to yourself, okay? I’ve got to text Burton so he knows what’s coming.”
“How on earth can he know what’s coming from that?” Jai asked in wonder.
“Same way I knew how to make apple fritters, Jai. Shit just comes to us.”
He typed as fast as he could, and when he was done, he let out a breath.
Thanks, kid.
Now, some boyfriends would blow him off—but Burton had learned to trust him in the past six months.
And now they just had to wait.
For his part, Ernie was very curious as to what it all meant.
Hail, Lucy Satan
“ELLERY!” ELLERY’S mother looked impeccable. With her hair pulled back into a shortened bun, makeup done with razor-line perfection, a cool linen suit, and sensible ecru pumps, Taylor Cramer never traveled with anything less than aplomb.
“Mother?” What in the fuck was she doing here?
“Ellery, who’s at the door at fuck all y’all in the morning?”
“Jackson, could you get my bags, please?”
Ellery turned to find Jackson, mid pit-scratch, in his boxers, having a panic attack.
“Oh, dear God.”
“Jackson, my mother’s here.”
“For sweet fuck’s sake!”
Ellery grimaced. The weird thing was, he was almost certain Jackson liked his mother. Revered her, in fact. But that didn’t mean she didn’t scare the crap out of him. “Jackson, maybe come get her bag like she asked.”
“Hello, Lucy Satan,” Jackson muttered as he came to the door. “Are you moving in?” His eyes bulged out, and Ellery managed to look behind his mother.
“You brought a trunk?” Ellery asked, his voice pitching in dismay.
“Don’t get too excited, Ellery. Some of those are gifts for Jackson’s family. Thank you so much, Jackson. I’ll take the guest room, per usual.”
Well, yeah, but usually Ellery’s mother stayed with them when there was something wrong.
“It smells like dead grandmas,” Jackson mumbled, wrinkling his nose at the trunk.
Taylor Cramer smirked, and Ellery had to look twice to make sure it was his mother. “That’s the perfume you bought me for Hanukah, sweetheart. I’m so glad you like it.”
“I thought it was Christmas,” Jackson mumbled, still pulling the giant wheeled case behind him. “I am so confused.”
Ellery took his mother’s smaller case and kissed her cheek, ushering her in. “It’s lovely to see you,” he said diplomatically. “Is there an occasion?”
“Mm…,” she said, smiling serenely, which told Ellery that yes, there was, but she had no intention of telling him. “Let’s just say that I’ve become enchanted by your charming little valley, and I understand there are all sorts of outdoor spring activities that we should partake in. Jackson? Did you hear that?”
“I don’t understand a word of it!” Jackson called back. He came plodding into the living room as Ellery passed him on the way to the bedroom with the smaller case. “You’re here so we can go outside?”
“Exactly,” she said. “And I understand you have a new vehicle.”
Jackson’s eyes widened. “The tank?”
“The tank?” Ellery echoed, having settled as much as he could in the guest room.
“Yes. It’s new, isn’t it? Weren’t your friends going to outfit it to make sure it was the last vehicle you would ever need?”
Sonny and Ace had retrofitted the SUV—an Infinity QX30—and reinforced the panels, removed padding, added bulletproof glass and custom seat belt webbing, not to mention the several highly illegal things they’d done to the suspension and engine itself. The result was… well, a very sturdy vehicle.
“It might be,” Ellery said diplomatically, “but I always thought it would be the last car you’d ever be caught dead in.”
His mother patted his cheek. Patted his goddamned cheek. “Oh, Ellery. Son. That only shows how much you really know about me. Now it’s a lovely April day. The sun is shining. The birds
are singing. Let’s find some donuts and go to the zoo, shall we?”
Jackson’s eyes hadn’t gotten any smaller, not since he’d opened them to see Taylor Cramer on the doorstep. “The zoo?”
“Donuts?” Ellery squeaked. “You showed up on our porch to… to….”
“To go see the zoo and have donuts,” she said happily. “I’ll just make some coffee while you two shower and change. Hustle, boys. There’s so much I want to see!”
The two of them stumbled into the bedroom, Ellery in the pajamas he’d been wearing when he’d opened the door, Jackson in his boxer shorts, both of them wearing the veil of confusion like a miasma.
“I….” Ellery struggled. Jackson’s warm hand on his waist was not reassuring. “Please don’t leave me because my mother has just done the first spontaneous thing I’ve ever seen her do in thirty-one years.”
Jackson half laughed and kissed his neck. “I won’t leave you. But you know, this doesn’t seem spontaneous in the least. I’m pretty sure she’s hiding something from us.”
Ellery stared at him. “How would you even guess that?”
Jackson shrugged and gave a soft smile. “Hunch.”
“But what do we do?”
“What would we do under normal circumstances?”
Ellery sighed and let his shoulders slump. “Anything my mother wanted.”
Jackson nodded and kissed his neck again. “And hurry, Counselor, or I’m going to do one or two things she might not want me to do at all….”
Ellery hustled to the bathroom and heard his mother cooing at the cat in the sudden quiet.
His mother. Staying with them indefinitely. Oh dear Lord, what had they done to deserve this?
Two days earlier…
BURTON BLEW out a breath and dialed the number.
“Taylor Cramer,” said Ellery’s mother, her voice crisp and no-bullshit.
“Yes, ma’am. This is—”
“I remember you from the waiting room,” she said with hardly a wobble in her voice. “Is anything wrong with my son?”
God, she was quick. “No, ma’am. We just… I’m on a secure line, but I don’t think you are.”
“Understood. Where would you like me to call you from?”
“Sacramento,” he said promptly. She would know what that meant.
“Indeed? Anywhere particular in Sacramento?”
“As many public places as possible.” He and Jason had it on good authority that this particular death squad liked to work in secret and make things look like an accident. Well, that would be hard to do if Ellery, Jackson, and Taylor were touring the outdoor delights of the city in the spring.
“How long should I call you from there?”
Burton had no idea. “An indefinite length of time. I’ll contact you when you can go back to using your home phone.”
There was a silence. A long, uncomfortable silence, during which Burton squirmed uncomfortably.
“When you contact me, you’d better have a damned good explanation for that, young man.”
Burton blew out a sigh of relief. Well, yeah. She deserved no less. “You will, ma’am. I promise.”
“Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must procure some plane tickets and go shopping. I’m not showing up without copious amounts of random gifts, you understand?”
“Understood, ma’am. Happy travels.”
“You too, young man. And say hello to your young baker, while you’re at it. I did enjoy meeting him, as well.”
Burton thought of Ernie, at home, making donuts. “I’ll give him your regards, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
Burton hung up and looked in agony at Jason Constance.
“So, she’s going to be with her son and his friend before the team gets to town.”
“Confirmed,” Burton told him and then slumped forward. “Sir, are you ready for tomorrow?”
Constance frowned, obviously surprised. “Certainly, soldier. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you haven’t met these people. There is no telling what comes next.”
Constance didn’t seem to believe him, but Burton was actually relieved when he got home and Ernie was making apple fritters. It meant they had Ernie’s witchiness on their side.
Dollars to Donuts
JACKSON SAW the shadow outside his window as Ellery got into the shower, and he hurtled past a surprised Lucy Satan and out the front door before Ellery’s mother could so much as gasp.
A pink box sat on the stoop. If Jackson hadn’t paused to make sure it wasn’t lethal, he might have caught Burton as he left from putting it there.
Don’t throw away, I’ll know.
He opened the box and took a deep breath. Mm… apple fritters. Ellery’s mother’s favorite.
Sent by someone who’d know if he threw them away.
And delivered by someone who could leave them on the porch without triggering the alarm and get away like a ghost.
“Jackson?” Ellery’s mother was not going to let him rocket out of the house without an explanation. “Jackson, what on earth—”
Jackson turned to her grimly, box in hand. “You and me have got to have a talk,” he said quietly.
She pursed her lips. “Is that a donut box?”
“Apple fritters. Your favorite.”
She looked confused. “Why is that a—”
“Remember Ernie?” he asked pleasantly.
Her eyes got big. “I do.”
“He came to visit me and Ellery a couple of times when we were in the hospital. Smuggled me éclairs that would make a saint come. I never told him they were my favorite. He just knew.”
“We should go inside,” she said pleasantly. “I’ll get some milk.”
He took one more hasty look around his neighborhood and spotted the flash of something shiny behind the fence three houses down—the neighbors who had gone to visit their daughter in Florida over spring break, the sadists.
He gave the shiny thing a two-fingered salute and followed Ellery’s mother inside.
“We can’t tell Ellery,” Lucy Satan said softly as they neared the kitchen. The water was still running—Ellery could take an epic shower when he didn’t have to be somewhere. Or when his mother was in the house.
“Can’t tell him what?”
She grimaced. “When was the last time you swept the house for bugs?”
Jackson blinked. “Two days ago.” After they’d found them in January, he and Ellery did it once a week—vacuum, dust, scrub the toilet, check for bugs. It was the new housecleaning regimen.
“Oh,” she said, nodding. “So nice to know you’re sensible about things. But your friend”—she nodded toward the donut box—“simply said I should come here and spend some time in your company.” She grimaced. “In public. So I looked up some activities for the next week. How do you feel about craft fairs?”
Jackson’s eyebrows went up to his hairline. “I actually don’t mind them.” He’d furnished his duplex with thrift store finds and the occasional handicraft, but he was the first to admit his taste was eclectic and… well, not suited for Ellery’s gracious, masculinely furnished home. “But—”
“Good. Tours of the capitol building?”
“I’m not even sure they’ll let me in—”
“They will if I’m there. How about sporting events?”
“I can get us some Kings tickets and some Republic tickets and some Rivercats tickets—” It was late March. Everything was in season.
“Be sure to put them on my credit card,” she said smoothly.
“I can pay for my own goddamned ballgame,” he muttered. Ellery did the same thing, and it drove him batshit.
“But this time, I’m paying for it,” she said with a pleasant smile.
“Not if I’m getting the tickets. Anything else you’re on for? Wine tasting? A bus tour of San Francisco?”
“All of the above,” she said, without blinking an eyelash. “You go to work on that while I unpack. I think
today we should stay local, tomorrow maybe go to San Francisco, then Saturday we could visit your brother—”
Jackson’s eyes got big. “For fuckin’ real?” Because Kaden loved surprise visits as much as Jackson did. Which was to say if Jackson hadn’t walked by the hallway when Ellery opened the door, he seriously would have gone out the back door and over the fence and run across town in his boxer shorts so he didn’t have to do what he was doing right now.
Which was anything Ellery’s mother asked him to do, apparently, without getting any answers as to why.
“Of course. I brought gifts for his wife and the children. The day after we should attend some sort of sporting event with your sister and her boyfriend—”
“Jade hates sports,” he said blankly.
“But her boyfriend adores them. And of course, we should eat out. Except for this morning, when I shall indulge in some lovely donuts.”
As she’d been speaking, she’d invaded Ellery’s kitchen, poured two glasses of milk, and put the apple fritters on a plate. Jackson cleared the table of everything except his laptop, which he put at the end, and helped her set breakfast up, then looked longingly at the coffeepot, which he had been about to turn on when she’d knocked.
She ran a knowing look up and down his scrawny recovering body. “How is your heart murmur?” she asked, and he grimaced. He’d acquired scars on more than the outside in November when his heart had stopped. Since he and Ellery had returned to Sacramento in February, he’d been trying to be good about seeing a cardiologist.
“Caffeine isn’t forbidden yet!” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. Only in small doses—that’s what Dr. Keller had said. He had yet to ask her to quantify “small doses.” He assumed a pot a day was a small dose, if you eked it out with lots of cream and sugar, with only one or two sodas on the side.
“Fine. I’ll start the coffee and unpack. You start our itinerary and wait for Ellery so we can eat. You may proceed.”
Jackson sat down at the table and grabbed his laptop. Yeah, he still had no idea why Burton wanted her there, but honestly, doing all that shit she had him planning was a damned sight easier than arguing with her, that was for sure. She was already talking about his caffeine intake and diet—he needed to keep her busy now before she started making him kale shakes for breakfast and serving him nothing but tofu and fish!