by Devon Monk
“I’ll tell you about it later, Jean,” I said. “Right now, I want to know why Bathin came here this morning. To a women’s restroom.”
“You were making deals with a crossroads demon who had set up shop right outside of Ordinary,” Bathin said. “Where else would I be?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Were you spying on me?”
“Don’t you think highly of yourself?”
A flash of heat hit my cheeks, but it was not anger. He just…he just made me want to shut him up. And not in police officer ways. In other ways that involved a lot of touching. Kissing.
Groan. Why did I have to want him? Why did I have to want this illusion of the man I knew he wasn’t?
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. It had to be the smoke and near-miss with the crossroads demon that was messing up my head. I didn’t fall for…whatever he was. Whatever I was feeling. I didn’t fall for that.
Bathin waited for my answer, the soft expectation lit up his face. The wind tossed his black, thick hair, pushing a curl of it across his forehead. I wanted to reach up and draw that lock of hair clear so I could better see his eyes.
He raised one eyebrow and…did he just nod?
“If I find out you are doing anything,” I said in a tone of voice that would freeze the core of an active volcano, on Mars, in the dead heat of summer, during a solar explosion. “Anything at all to actually read my mind, I will break your face.”
“Whoa,” Jean said. “Nice. Well, I see you two are getting along so much better than the last time I saw you together.”
“Last time you saw us together,” Bathin said to Jean without looking away from me, “she was locking me in a cell and threatening to disembowel me so she could use my blood to draw a spell that would turn me”—he did a little circle thing with his finger in the air—“inside out.”
“Good times.” I smiled.
“Do you see me complaining?” he practically growled.
The sound of his words set something off in me. Something like fire. I couldn’t look away from his face, his eyes, his mouth.
Oh, hell nope.
I’d given up on that kind of relationship. With anyone. Too complicated.
“Maybe you should tell me about that letter,” he rumbled. “Was it dirty?”
I couldn’t talk because my mouth had turned into a desert.
The fire truck pulled off the main road and started through the parking lot toward the restroom.
“Thank goodness the firefighters are here,” Jean said.
“There’s no actual fire,” I said again.
“Not in the restroom, there isn’t,” she said. “But you two? Whew.” She waved her hand in front of her face and laughed.
And Bathin, damn him, laughed with her.
Chapter Three
“So, we have a new god in town,” Delaney said, adjusting the bundle strapped to her chest. “Well, not a new god. He’s been here before, but he’s back now.”
I sipped my tea and stared across the diner table at my sister. She fiddled with the strap of the backpack she’d slung around so it hung in front of her and set the whole thing on the booth seat next to her.
The backpack squirmed, the lump of whatever it was inside it getting bigger, until it was…sitting up?
“What’s in the backpack?”
She turned from waving down the waitress for coffee and stared at the pack.
“It’s…you know.” She reached over and unzipped the top of the bag. Two soft, pointed ears popped up into the air, followed quickly by a fuzzy pink head, darling bright eyes, and a little piggy snout.
“You’re carrying the dragon in a backpack?” I asked.
“Don’t even start. It’s a long story. Ryder didn’t have time to ‘babysit my problem child.’” She did the finger quote thing, then dropped down on the booth seat next to the pig, who looked happy as a…well, a dragon pig in a pancake house.
“He was taking Spud to the vet and was worried pig dragon would get bored alone in the house and eat something. Like the couch. Or our bed.”
I tipped my head, studying the pig. “Could he?”
She nodded, then shrugged.
The waitress, an elderly woman who moved like both knees had retired back in the Eisenhower administration, shuffled over and poured a nice, steady stream of coffee into Delaney’s mug.
The heavy scent of fresh coffee mixed with the smells of bacon, eggs, and the hot apple crumble they baked from scratch every day.
It was only five o’clock in the morning, and the breakfast rush, such as it was, hadn’t hit the Blue Owl yet. The truckers who used the parking lot to catch some sleep had already rumbled out of town hours ago, and the commuters heading to the valley or up and down the coast wouldn’t be here for at least another thirty minutes.
“You going to tell me what really happened at that restroom yesterday?” she asked me after she’d drunk half her coffee.
“You read my report.”
“Yes, and I talked to Jean. And Bathin.” There went the other half of her coffee. Down in two gulps. Somebody wasn’t getting enough sleep.
I took a sip of my tea so I didn’t immediately start grilling her on what Bathin said about what happened at the restroom. Because I didn’t care what he thought.
“There was a crossroads demon,” I said. “I asked her for information on how to get your soul back.”
Delaney nodded. She was far calmer about having her soul in the hands of a demon than I was. I couldn’t understand that about her, and honestly, it made me angry that she just accepted she’d have to give up something like that to keep this town, and these people, safe.
“You didn’t make a deal?” she asked.
Again.
“I did not make a deal. I was blackmailing her, not trading cows for beanstalks.”
She smiled briefly, then leaned her elbows on the table. “Blackmail. Why, Myra, I didn’t know you had it in you. Naughty.”
I waved her comment away, which signaled our waitress to return. Poor thing had barely made it back to the order counter behind us. At the speed she was ambling, we had time to talk about anything we needed to before she was in range to overhear our conversation.
“Then Bathin showed up. He knew the demon. Didn’t like her much,” I said.
Delaney rubbed at one eye. “Okay, about that. He told me she’s dangerous.”
“All demons are dangerous.”
“We have one demon who is living inside Ordinary. If he tells me some crossroads demon who’s been operating in a public bathroom none of us have ever been inside…” She shook her head. “I mean, how is it even possible we’ve never been in that bathroom?”
“It’s technically outside Ordinary, or at least the circle she worked within.” I glanced over at our waitress, who was still steaming along. “Don’t you think it’s amazingly coincidental that I happened to find that crossroads demon who happened to be susceptible to blackmail for information? Amazingly coincidental that Bathin showed up just as I was closing the crossroads?”
Delaney tipped up her mug, but the coffee was gone. She set it down and frowned at it. Her dragon pig had dug his way out of the backpack and snuffled over to sit next to Delaney like he expected a plate to be set for him. Probably so he could eat the plate.
She distractedly picked up her napkin and held it down for him. He took it in his little maw and just held it there for a second. Dragon pig with a clean white napkin hanging out of his mouth.
A tiny flicker of fire kindled in his little piggy eyes. Then he hoovered the napkin into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, all in one blindingly fast motion. A tiny puff of steam curled up from his cute little snout, and his curly tail wagged.
“I just chalked it up to your family gift. Right place. Right time.” Delaney dropped her hand and petted his head. The dragon pig arched up into each stroke, made a grunting sound, and then snuggled up closer to Delaney, still sitting like a perfect little dragon pig waiting for
his breakfast.
Why did I get the sense that he wasn’t just waiting for breakfast? From the way he sat, it looked like he was waiting for someone or something to do anything to threaten Delaney so he could eat them.
Dragons were like that.
“You think Bathin set it all up?” Delaney asked.
“I do.”
“But he was on your side. He wanted to shut the crossroads down and get rid of the demon.”
“Sure. That’s what he said. For all I know, he made her show up there, created that crossroads, and did it all to feed me false information for how to save your soul.”
The waitress finally landed on our shore, and we both ordered breakfast.
“Okay,” Delaney said. “Don’t eat the fork.”
The dragon pig stood to its full, tiny height and carefully rested its head on the top of the table, snout almost touching the fork that rested near Delaney’s elbow. “Why would Bathin go through the effort and trouble of making a crossroads, then shut down a crossroads? What’s in it for him?”
The dragon pig opened his mouth and inched his little lips closer to the shiny silver cutlery.
“No fork.”
“He wants to get on my good side?” I suggested.
Delaney took a moment to really look at me, my uniform: clean; hair: neat; makeup: on point. She might be under-caffeinated for the day, but she was no slouch in paying attention to the people and things around her.
“Do not eat the cutlery,” Delaney warned the dragon pig.
The dragon pig closed his mouth, but didn’t really move his snout away from the fork. He did give it a longing look.
“Bathin wants to get on your good side to what?” Delaney continued. “Keep you from finding a way to release my soul?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Okay, so why were you at the viewpoint? I thought Jean talked you into helping her pick out a Valentine’s Day gift for Hogan.”
“She didn’t need my help. She just wanted someone to shop with her and buy her lunch.”
“So why did you go to the restroom?”
“I knew I should be there. So I went.”
“Then it was the family gift.”
I nodded.
“We know Bathin doesn’t have any influence over that,” she said. “Where’s the… Oh my gods. Where’s the fork?”
The pig was still sitting next to her as if he hadn’t moved at all, his snout pressed on the edge of the table so that only his little button eyes could peer over the top, his pink, perky ears straight up. There was a tiny puff of smoke wafting out of his nostrils.
He was fricking adorable, and I couldn’t help it—I chuckled. “I think he ate it.”
“Oh, for gods’ sake. Really?” She scowled at the little pink menace. “Do you know how many spoons I have left in my house? Three. I have three spoons. And it’s not like I ever see him climbing up to open the silverware drawer. I can’t tell if he’s convinced Spud to bury them, if he’s eating them, or if he’s hoarding them. Spud’s such a doofus dog, he’ll do almost anything to make Terrible here happy.” She glowered at the dragon pig. His eyes rolled just enough that he could see her, but he squeaked like a good, terrible piggy dragon, and wagged his tail even faster.
Was it even possible for him to look cuter? Yes. Yes, it was.
“Check the backpack?” I suggested.
“I’ll check the backpack, but you know what else a”—she lowered her voice—“a dragon can do? It can cloak things that it likes to steal. Ask me how I know this.” She dug through the backpack. There were no forks.
“How do you know this?” I asked, playing along. She might be complaining, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t upset that a dragon in the form of a tiny baby pig had adopted her and moved right in with her and Ryder.
While none of us knew why the dragon had decided to come into town—unless we wanted to believe a trickster god, that the dragon was a Christmas gift—the dragon had already proved useful.
Dragons could track down demons.
Much to Bathin’s dismay.
And my utter, utter delight.
Anything that made Bathin dismayed was my kind of thing. Including a not-so-innocent cutlery-eating dragon pig, and yes, even questionable crossroads demons.
Our breakfast arrived on the much speedier knees of a younger waitress, who gave us both a quick smile, pulled bottles of ketchup and hot sauce out of her apron pocket, left a full carafe of coffee on the table with a quick “On the house, chief,” and then was off in a flash to handle the small crowd of customers waiting to be seated.
“There was a fire hydrant in the middle of our bedroom,” Delaney said.
I blinked. “A fire hydrant.”
“Yep.”
“A real fire hydrant?”
“Yes.”
“As in, a functional fire hydrant that belongs to the city?”
“As in, a functional fire hydrant that not only belongs to the city but also belongs on Northwest Twelfth Street, and had been missing for a week.”
“Week.” I was trying to figure out why I hadn’t heard about it. Also, how the hell did one steal a fire hydrant? There was water attached to those things. Water that gushed and flooded when the hydrant was disturbed.
She gulped fresh coffee then took a bite of her sourdough toast. “I didn’t know it was gone. Nobody knew it was gone. No one called it in.”
“Explain.” I started in on my breakfast. I’d ordered the scramble with onion and mushrooms, fresh tomato slices on the side, and buttermilk biscuits. All made from scratch and with the kind of deft hand that would keep people coming back even if this wasn’t the only twenty-four-hour diner in town.
“It looked like the hydrant was there. No one in the neighborhood thought it was missing. There was no water going anywhere. The only thing that was kind of weird was that dogs didn’t like walking past it. That happened enough that a couple neighbors called in to mention it to us.”
It had to be one of the creatures who lived on the street. Humans never paid attention to the supernatural unless it was right up in their faces and unavoidable. Most humans would just think their dogs were being quirky or acting silly if they shied away from a fire hydrant.
But those of us who kept the town’s secrets knew that dogs—really most animals—had great instincts when it came to things outside the realm of normal.
“So you checked it out?”
She nodded. “Ryder and I drove by. Pinko here was with us.” She tipped her head toward the dragon pig, who was now snuffling at the backpack. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to find a way to crawl into it, or if he was wondering if it would make a good palate cleanser.
“Do not eat the backpack,” Delaney said without glancing at him.
“You are sounding more and more like Mom,” I said.
She chewed bacon angrily at me. “Shut up.”
“It’s uncanny,” I went on just to needle her. “Have you and Ryder talked kids? Because it looks like you’ve got the scolding and annoyed face down.”
“Shut your mouth.” She bit down on more bacon, but this time she grinned. “And no, we have not talked about kids because we are taking our relationship slow and easy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Nothing about your relationship has ever been easy. You both ignored your feelings for each other for years before you sort of caught fire and exploded into love last spring.”
“We did not explode.”
“Like a fuel-leaking rocket.”
“How’s that flirting thing going with Bathin?” she asked between crunches.
“I do not flirt with him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t.” My face was heating up. Stupid face.
“Yes, you do, Mymy. All the time. And he flirts back. Constantly. Are you going to date him? Is that what you want?”
My brain was throwing out mayday signals, and my heart was jumping under my skin. I was not going to admit to my s
ister that I was attracted to Bathin. Because I wasn’t attracted, obviously. I was just…
lonely
…interested in him so I could get rid of him. Or, at the very least, make him give Delaney back her soul.
“So that fire hydrant,” I said. “That’s so fascinating. How did you figure out it was missing?”
“You still haven’t told me what happened on Christmas when you two had wine and ‘talked’ all night,” she said.
“There was no flooding?” I said. “How does that even happen? The water main wasn’t shut off.”
“Is that what really happened on Christmas, Myra? You talked all night? Or was there something else going on between you two even then?”
“Illusions I can understand, but dragons don’t have control over the elements. Well, most of them don’t. You haven’t seen any other suspicious water situations at home, have you?” I asked.
“Because even though I’m not sure falling for a demon is a good idea, I can see the appeal.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “He’s…well, not nice, but he’s hot. And since he’s here in Ordinary, he’s going to have to abide by the rules, which could work for something short term? I just worry about you. I know you’re not the casual dating type, and Bathin seems like the kind of guy who isn’t really into settling down.”
“I mean, a stolen fire hydrant is a pretty big thing. Have you seen any other strange water situations, like the toilet flushing counterclockwise? Or the sink flowing upward. Maybe tea evaporating before it hits the cup?”
“You know I drink coffee, not tea,” Delaney said, breaking our not-answering-each-other standoff. “I’m worried about you, My.”
“I know. I know how to take care of myself. And I’m not going to get involved with anyone.”
Her eyes softened and she reached out and touched the back of my hand. “That’s what I’m worried about. Not that you’ll be careful—I know you’ll be careful. You’re always careful. You won’t put yourself at risk. But…life is all about taking risks sometimes.”
I made a groaning sound. This wasn’t the first time she’d given me this talk.
“Just,” she said, pressing her warm palm down across my hand until my palm flattened on the cool linoleum table, “listen.”