Smoke & Mirrors
Page 43
Standing, I wiped at the wet on my face. Finding tears and not blood, only made them want to come faster. But Ronan was gone. Crying wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t change what I’d done. And I had no time for grief.
I dragged him to the riverbank. Raising a fire fierce and hot enough to cremate, I watched his body blacken and burn until there was little left. As I kicked Ronan’s ashen remains into the water, the fire snuffed out. A part of me did, too.
Epilogue
I cleared my throat, and the man under the covers jerked awake. Within a breath, his reflexes kicked in. He thrust a hand under the pillow, and bolted out of bed, taking aim at the shadowy form inhabiting the chair in the corner of his bedroom. Blonde tips pointed in all directions. A ribbon of muted orange street light fell on his bare chest and striped his red boxers.
“Nice shorts,” I said.
Creed didn’t flinch. The reaction was all in his voice. “Nite? Is that you?” His gun-arm unwavering, he fumbled for the lamp on his bedside table. The bulb clicked on, and he breathed out an angry, “Son of a bitch…”
I shrugged. “Merry Christmas.”
He stared at me, not moving, saying nothing.
“Happy Hanukkah?”
Shaking his head, Creed lowered the gun and pointed at me. “Fuck you.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, trust me. That didn’t hurt near enough.”
“You have every right to be mad.”
“Mad?” He ran a firm hand over his scruff. “I watched them put you in the back of an ambulance. You were barely conscious. And then you were gone. Vanished. Without a goddamn trace.”
“I’m sorry.”
He laughed, dark and unkind. “Well, that makes it all better, doesn’t it?”
“No, but—”
“Just like that bogus resignation letter you supposedly sent to Barnes. I knew that story about taking a job out of the country was bullshit. Who moves halfway around the world and takes nothing but the clothes in their closet?”
“You searched my apartment?”
“What the hell did you expect me to do? You nearly died, Nite. There was no way you walked away from that ambulance under your own power. I don’t give a shit what private care facility Marshall Parish said he whisked you off to—or how many times Evans lied to my face that you were fine.”
“That’s not his fault.”
“No. It’s yours.”
I nodded, taking the blame. “Evans lied to you because he thought that’s what I would have wanted. He was trying to help.”
“Yeah? Well he didn’t. I knew something was wrong. I knew something happened to you. Your fucking jeep was trashed for god’s sake. But no one would listen.” The ire faded a moment from his voice. “Do you know what it’s like when everyone around you thinks you’re crazy?”
I didn’t know what to say. Naalish and Evans both hinted at Creed’s adverse reaction to my disappearance. But it was worse than I thought. On one hand, I was glad he knew I didn’t run off without saying goodbye. On the other, I’d become one of his obsessions, one of the unexplained, unsolvable cases he couldn’t let go. It didn’t help that no one trusted his instincts. No one believed him when I went missing.
Just like his brother.
It all revolved around that moment, around that day Creed went into the woods and came back without his brother. It all stemmed from the red halo chaining his emotions in place. And I didn’t know what to do about that any more than I knew how to handle his worry.
So I did exactly what he’d expect me to do. I cracked a joke. “I guess this means you don’t have a new partner?”
He grunted. “I’m lucky I have a job.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“But it did. And now, you break into my bedroom in the middle of the night with a,” Creed squinted at the object on my lap, “a bottle of whiskey? If that’s your peace offering, leave it and go.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“What I want is a goddamn explanation. But you won’t give me that, will you?” He gave me no time to answer. “You have no idea the shit that went down after you left, or how goddamn long I looked for you.”
“I missed you, too, Alex.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
His posture changed then; a slight softening of the shoulders and jaw.
“As far as the whiskey goes,” I said, “you can take it as a peace offering. You can tell me to go to hell, kick me out, and go back to bed. Or I can stay. We can drink it together and have that conversation you’ve been after.”
“What conversation?”
“The conversation.” I paused, making sure he understood. “It’s up to you.”
After a short hesitation, Creed sat his weapon on the nightstand. “Sure. Why not. We’ll talk now. It makes about as much sense as everything else has lately.”
“You might want to prep.” I tossed him the bottle. “And sit.”
He eyed me a moment before unscrewing the cap. Taking a generous drink he perched on the end of the bed. “If you’re serious about this, then I want it all. No more lies, Dahlia. Can you do that? Can you tell me the truth? Because if you can’t,” Creed took a pained breath, “you might as well disappear back where you came from.”
I nodded.
Impatient, he gestured at me. “Let’s have it.”
I scooted to the edge of my chair; looking more composed than I felt. A part of me still wasn’t ready. And it never would be. But regardless of how he reacted—no matter how dysfunctional his definition of the word was—Alex Creed was my friend. My secrets had turned his life upside down. He deserved to know why.
My hand shook as I extended it toward him. Crimson scales rippled out to replace my human skin. Fire leapt bright into the center of my palm, and I raised my eyes to meet his. “I’m not what you think.”
The End
Acknowledgments
I’d like to recognize my husband, Bryan, for making it all possible. Jack, for our writing sessions, and Quinn for his creative spirit. I’m so proud of you both! As always, a huge thanks goes to my amazing team of beta readers for their insightful opinions and dedication. Your commitment means more than you know. Immense gratitude to my dedicated and supportive editor, Sara, at The Right Words Editing, for going above and beyond to make my work shine. Your advice is such a vital piece of the process. Your on-call color consultation is a close second! Special thanks to my talented cover artist, Alan Dingman. Much love to my friends for putting up with my disappearing acts, to my fellow authors for inspiration and friendship, and to the members of my Street Team for cheering me on. Hugs to Amy for so many reasons.
Thank you
Thank you for reading Smoke & Mirrors. I hope you enjoyed Dahlia’s third adventure and will consider leaving a review. I would love to hear your thoughts! Please visit my website at www.clschneiderauthor.com to learn more about Nite Fire and my epic trilogy, The Crown of Stones. There, you can subscribe to my newsletter to stay up to date on future releases, including the upcoming audiobooks of both series. If you would like to further support my work, get exclusive content and sneak peaks, join my Street Team. The form is on my website.
Stay tuned for more murder, mystery, mayhem—and dragons. Slash & Burn, the fourth book in the Nite Fire Series, will release in 2020.