Devon Monk - [Ordinary Magic 02] - Devils and Details

by Devon Monk

  Ben chewed on the corner of his lip, the razor tip of his incisor briefly denting the soft flesh of his mouth.

  “Tell her or I will,” Jame rumbled.

  Before Ben could say anything, Piper was back. “What can I get you gentlemen?” She set the lemonade and tomato juice down in front of them.

  Jame ordered his steak and Ben asked for the fries with a side of Worcestershire sauce.

  Piper didn’t even bother writing down the orders, but she did refill my coffee before saying she’d be back in a blink. Then she sashayed off.

  “Tell me what?” I asked.

  “Rossi makes every family member strip before he allows them to stay in town.”

  He delivered it with the same kind of nonchalance one might expect to hear from someone saying shoes must be removed before one was allowed to board a plane. None of the vampires who came to Ordinary were young, either in mind or body, so it wasn’t like he was creeping on minors. Still, it bothered me.

  “Why?”

  “He doesn’t want to be surprised by anything.”

  “Such as?”

  “Messages. Things from the past—his past—that might put Ordinary, and all the rest of us in danger.”

  “On bodies.” I still wasn’t sure why that was important.

  “He...” Ben glanced over at Jame. Jame shifted so that his shoulder was pressed against Ben’s in support. “This isn’t something I’m really supposed to share outside the family.” Ben laughed a little at himself. “But we all know I’m not one to follow the rules.”

  Jame’s arm moved and I knew he squeezed Ben’s leg under the table.

  “Rossi doesn’t accept every vampire who wants to live in Ordinary. We have to prove ourselves. That we will follow his rules, your rules, and mortal rules. We have to swear loyalty to him, his laws. Things like no hands-on feeding, no kills, no wars. All disagreements are taken to him, and him alone. In return, he swears to keep us fed via blood drives and to protect us from anyone, anything that would want to do us harm.”

  “Right,” I said. This was all stuff I knew.

  “Have you ever asked yourself who he’s trying to protect us from?”

  “Humans?”

  His smile was wide and wicked. “Not a lot of humans think we exist.”

  “Gods? Werewolves?”

  He shook his head. “Gods treat us like any other creature—which is to say we’re basically below their notice. And yeah, there’s tension between weres and vamps. But it’s navigable.”

  “Vampire hunters?”

  He stilled and his eyes, for a moment went black. “Did he tell you about that?”

  “I know they exist.”

  “They do.” He licked his lower lip, a little more fang showing. “They’re...that’s not much of a concern to us.”

  “All right. I give up. Who is Rossi trying to protect you from?”

  “His past.”

  “You already said that. Can you be specific?”

  “Rossi was turned at the same time as another mortal. They fought in wars together. More than one, through the centuries. They were close. Brothers. Then they had a parting of ways. Rossi thinks he was killed. But there’s a reason Rossi is the prime of our clan. He is a jaded, suspicious old bastard. He never saw the body of his brother-in-arms. Won’t believe he’s dead, and therefore won’t believe he’s not a danger to him or us until he sees his rotting bones.”

  “Rossi thinks Lavius is alive?”

  “He told you his name?” Ben said that with a sort of stunned reverence. “Holy hell, Delaney. Holy hell.”

  “He told me he knew he was dead.”

  Ben hummed a little sound of agreement. That must be the line Rossi told everyone. Except, apparently, Ben.

  “And why did he tell you something different?”

  Ben grinned again. “We’re...uh...close.”

  I was trying to picture Ben and Rossi and Jame in a threesome and doing a terrible job at making that work in my head.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m one of his.” At my look he smiled again, but this time it was softer, and so very much older. “He turned me. It was...a long time ago. And it was a gift of sorts.”

  “So that makes you blood related?”

  Jame chuffed again.

  “I’m sort of his only son.”

  Wow. That was not in the history books or records that my family kept on Ordinary. I wondered if Dad had known about that. Wondered if Myra knew.

  “Do most of the Rossis know this?”

  He shrugged and it was the typically graceful, flowing vampire thing. “It’s not a secret. But we don’t exactly hang out in the front yard playing catch either. Our relationship isn’t brought up often.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s very protective.”

  “So the fewer people who know you’re related, the less of a target you are if Rossi’s past comes looking for him?”

  “Something like that.”

  It both surprised and impressed me. That kind of caution spoke of feelings, maybe even a caring relationship.

  It was sweet. Who knew Rossi had it in him?

  “Did the words on Sven’s back have something to do with Lavius?”

  His gaze dropped and he went back to drawing on the table top. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sven wasn’t as old as me, not nearly as old as Rossi. But I’ve seen those words, written in Latin before.”

  “Where?”

  “In Rossi’s letters and personal papers. It was used as a closing in several documents.”

  “Coincidence?”

  Ben stared at me for an extended moment. “I hardly think so. Do you?”

  That slightly imperious tone made me curious about which time in history Ben had been originally born into, and what his occupation or social status might have been. Right this moment I’d have said royalty, or maybe snooty school teacher.

  “No,” I said. “Coincidence is the one thing I don’t believe in when it comes to Ordinary.”

  At that moment, Piper was back, a tray with all of our food balanced on her arm. She placed each order in front of the correct recipient.

  “All right then. Is there anything else I can get any of you?”

  “This looks great, thanks.” Ben stared at his fries like they were a starving man’s last meal, his fingertips pressed into the table top on either side of the mound of potatoes.

  “Thank you,” Jame added, having already cut a chunk from the steak and stuffed it into his mouth.

  I gave her a smile. “This is perfect. Say, Piper. When do you get off tonight?”

  A little color hit her cheeks, but I couldn’t tell if she was surprised by my question or just overheated from the job. “I’m done at eleven-thirty. Pretty late, unless you’re pulling graveyard shift?”

  “No. But if I’m around by then, let’s talk.”

  She held very still, studying me like I was a language she couldn’t read. “Sure,” she finally said with a false smile. “Let’s talk. Need steak sauce?”

  “No thanks,” Jame said around another bite.

  “Then I’ll leave you to it.” She hurried off to the next table.

  No, I’m not really the one in the family who gets vibes. But something about her willingness to talk with me had the tin can rattle of fate.

  One thing for sure, I was going to ask her exactly what abilities she had. I didn’t want a repeat of suddenly finding out we had a shape-shifting mimic in town.

  Talk about an awkward race for mayor.

  “Why are you freaked out over Piper?” Jame asked as he stabbed steak, potato chunk, steak onto his fork shish kabob style.

  “I’m not freaked.”

  He paused with the food halfway to his mouth, gave me a look. “She worries you.” Statement. Long stare.

  “Nice alpha glare. But that doesn’t work on me.”

  He grinned and just like that was back in motion again. “Something about her,” he said with his mouthfu
l.

  “Something,” I agreed. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

  Ben was currently sucking on a French fry with the kind of ardor not usually allowed in a family restaurant. “She’s not human.”

  “What?” He hadn’t exactly mumbled around the fry, but I wanted to make sure I’d heard him right. Because other than the apparent ability to see into the future of menu orders, she seemed very human to me.

  He must have gotten his fill of sucking out the oil and salt. He licked up the length of it one last time then gleefully bit the fry into tiny pieces as he pushed it tip-to-end between his teeth. “She isn’t human.” He shook Worcestershire sauce into his tomato juice, dipped a new fry into the juice and started with the sucking again.

  “What is she?”

  He paused. Exchanged a look with Jame.

  Jame straightened from being bent over his plate, sat back, and took a long drink of lemonade, watching me over the rim. Okay, maybe the alpha thing was a little unsettling.

  “We thought you’d know.” He placed his lemonade exactly back on top of the ring of condensation it had left on the table.

  “Why?”

  “She smells like a god.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  That look was definitely not kidding.

  “Gods smell?”

  This time he gave me a slow blink. Yeah, okay. That was a dumb question. Every kind of thing probably had a specific smell to a werewolf.

  Holy crap. She was a god.

  “But not a god,” Ben added. He nipped down another fry with tiny, vicious bites, and swirled a third in his glass like it was fancy shrimp in gourmet cocktail sauce.

  “Explain?” I picked up my half sandwich and took a bite. Really decent combo of turkey, cranberry and cream cheese on lightly toasted, lightly buttered sourdough. Simple, handmade, and because of both: delicious.

  “She’s not not a god.” Jame said this like it was a conversation they’d been having before they’d gotten here.

  “And not just a god.” Ben pointed his fry at Jame. “Something else. Something more. Or less. Just...something.” He held Jame’s gaze and slowly slid the entire fry between his lips, sucking enough to hollow his cheeks as he devoured it whole.

  From the look on Jame’s face, the fry-play his boyfriend was engaged in was doing it for him. He gave Ben a look that might best be saved for the bedroom.

  “Hey,” I snapped my fingers. “Love birds. You’re in a family restaurant. Don’t make me be a cop on my dinner break.”

  They gave me twin unrepentant grins.

  I ate soup and tried to look imposing. Soup was good too. Hearty vegetable with just the right amount of basil.

  “So you’re not sure she’s a god?”

  Ben inhaled, exhaled, and his eyes did that vampire-light flash thing as he considered the question. “We thought you would know. Reed family job and all that.”

  “I didn’t think she was a deity. She didn’t stow her powers, so if she is of the godly persuasion, she’s found a way to smuggle herself into Ordinary without the regular alarms going off.”

  “You have alarms set up for god invasion?” Jame’s steak was gone, but he was still working his way through the potatoes, the neglected pile of green beans pushed carefully off to one side.

  “Not physical alarms, no. I’d know. It’s...I guess it’s a part of our agreement with the deities. I can spot one a mile away.”

  “So she isn’t?” Ben was done with his fries and sipped the tomato juice pausing to lick his bottom lip every once in awhile.

  I watched Piper wipe down a spot on a recently cleared table, then tuck her cloth in her apron pocket and walk back to the kitchen. Was there something godly about her?

  I could hear god power, knew the song of it, even when it was stored away and the god was vacationing as a mortal. A little echo of that power resided within the deity. I had gotten used to hearing it with Odin, Crow, Than, and the others. But I knew they were gods. Maybe I was just tuned into it because of that knowledge.

  “I don’t hear power, don’t...sense it in her.” That worried me more than if I had sensed it.

  Jame stole a few fries off Ben’s plate and stuffed them in his mouth, making a point to lick each of his fingertips as he gave Ben that alpha stare.

  “Maybe whatever else she is covers it up,” Ben suggested. “Maybe she doesn’t know what she is.”

  I shook my head. “If she’s a god, she knows. Power is never subtle, not even when it’s contained. I’ll talk to her. Do you think Lavius is alive?”

  Ben didn’t even blink at the subject change, but Jame tightened, all the muscles of his shoulders and arms bunching beneath his shirt.

  “Rossi said he’s dead,” Ben said.

  “I already heard that from Rossi. I want to hear what you think.”

  “I think he’s alive. I think he had Sven killed.”

  “Do you have any proof? Anything I can use?”

  If I thought Jame had been tense before, he was practically granite now. “No,” Jame said.

  “Maybe,” Ben corrected. Another long-term argument? From the flare of annoyance on Jame’s face, yes.

  “When I get that proof, I will contact you,” Ben continued as if his partner wasn’t balling his hands into fists hard enough to make his knuckles pop.

  I looked between the two of them. Settled on Jame. “Don’t let him do anything stupid, all right? One Rossi was murdered. I don’t want to see that happen again.”

  Now that I knew Ben was Rossi’s actual vampire-related kind-of-son, I really didn’t want to see what Rossi would do if Ben were hurt.

  “I’ll look after him,” Jame rapped his knuckles on the table top. “No matter how stupid he’s being.”

  Ben made a dismissive sound. “I’ll have you know I’m older than both of you by a long shot. I know how to look after myself, thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Jame said. “So did Sven.”

  “Sven was foolish,” Ben said. “And trusting. I’m smart and suspicious. Besides.” He flashed a winning smile. “I’ll have you tight—very tight—at my back.”

  Okay, that was a bit over the line for subtle double-entendres.

  Jame turned on the alpha-smolder and Ben laughed. Apparently, it didn’t work on vampires either.

  “I’m serious, Ben,” I said. “If you have anything that will help me catch the killer, I want to see it. But not at a risk to your life, understand? And if you do anything—anything—to mess up this case or compromise my investigation, I’ll bring you in on charges.”

  Ben tucked his smile away, though I still saw laughter in his eyes. “Understood. I promise not to jeopardize myself or the case.”

  He pushed the plate of fries away with a sort of regretful frown, then turned toward his boyfriend. “You done eating? Because I’m in the mood for a night cap. Something...hot and strong.” He watched the smile pull the corner of Jame’s mouth and there was a new hunger that passed between them.

  I started calculating the melting point of Linoleum and vinyl.

  “Good-night, Chief,” the werewolf said without taking his eyes off Ben.

  “Night, boys. Have a good couple of days off. Remember to stretch before and hydrate after.”

  Ben chuckled. They stood, Ben sliding his arm around Jame’s wide back, long fingers plunging down into Jame’s back pocket. They talked quietly to each other and grinned as they walked out of the diner, oblivious to the people around them, and oh, so obviously in love.

  I sighed. They made it look easy, even though they had so many factors working against them.

  Why couldn’t I figure out my dating life? It wasn’t like the questions were hard to solve. I either loved or didn’t love Ryder, and would either give him a chance to prove he was innocent or not.

  And I either forgave him for dumping me or I didn’t.

  Easy.

  Why did it all seem so much harder than that?

  My half-eaten tur
key sandwich and quickly cooling soup didn’t have any answers for me, so I finished my meal, and checked in with Myra and Jean one more time to see if they’d made any progress on the video.

  It was easy to stay busy with work while I drank my way through a pot of coffee. The Blue Owl had that sort of outside-of-time effect. People came and went, first the families, then the late night diners, then the college kids and singles loading up on good, cheap food between hitting the bars.

  Through it all, Piper was cheerful, friendly, and prompt. But I never once heard so much as a peep of power.

  What I did hear was a text from Jean, who had gotten a clear view of the ring on the hand across Sven’s mouth. She was looking into any identifying marks that would lead to its owner.

  She sent me a picture of it. All I could see on my phone was the band, and that it was clearly a man’s fingers, so I wasn’t much help.

  But at least it was something we could go on.

  By the time eleven-thirty finally rolled around, I’d given up coffee and was sipping a cup of tea. The last bunch of twenty-somethings laughed their way out of the diner, waving at Piper and each other.

  Three of them put umbrella hats over their beanies and made silly faces and high-fives.

  Oh, for Pete’s sake.

  It had stopped raining. Even though clouds still crowded the edges of the moon, light shone through.

  There were no other customers in the diner. No cars in the parking lot. I hadn’t seen anyone walk around outside, didn’t see anyone loitering now. But in a half hour, I was supposed to meet someone out there.

  It was time to go.

  I stood and Piper stopped by the table. She set down two slices of pie and an extra pot of tea. The plate in front of me had blueberry crumble, her plate was the chocolate mousse I’d seen so many diners rave about tonight.

  “I know it’s not midnight,” she said, “but since you’re here, and I’m here, and no one else is, how about if we just do the meeting now?”

  “Meeting?” But then it hit me. She was the anonymous letter writer.

  Chapter 11

  “Sure.” I gestured to the chair across the table.

  Piper sat with a sigh, tired from her long shift at the diner. I moved some of the paperwork out of the way while she poured tea for herself and for me, and took a sniff or two to see if I could smell anything god-like about her.