by Devon Monk
Then Dan Perkin had gone and blown up his rhubarb patch, a dead god had washed ashore, my childhood crush had dumped me, and I’d pretty much put that experience out of my mind.
“You sure you don’t want me to go through the lock system again?”
“Walk to door, door unlocks. Walk away, door locks. Push button to override. I think I can handle that.”
“Good! We like to supply simple solutions whenever we can.”
“Thanks for doing this on short notice,” I said.“Even though I still don’t like it, I’m sure you pushed other business aside for me. I appreciate that.”
“No problem, baby blossom.”
“Excuse me?”
“Elf talk,” he said with a serious nod. “Because I know you wouldn’t want to deny my elf traditions. It is also a part of my elf traditions to charge you double for rush jobs, baby blossom.”
“Convenient,” I drawled.
“Capitalism.” He grinned.
“Con artist.”
“Keep complimenting a man like that and I’ll never want to leave.”
“Want me to come up with some traditional names of my own I can call you?”
He laughed. “I do. But alas. The joy of parting is nothing to the pain of meeting again.”
It was my turn to laugh. I think it was the first time he and I had ever agreed with each other.
He waved and was out the door that locked with a third-act swish behind him.
“Totally unnecessary,” I said into the silence. “All of this. Even the popcorn.”
“Don’t hate on my salty love,” Jean said.
Myra stood and stretched, then walked into the kitchen. “I made soup. Let’s eat before we have to go see Old Rossi and make a plan to kill an ancient evil.”
I would have argued for a nap instead, but I knew better than to pass up Myra’s homemade soup or to head into today’s meeting with an empty stomach.
Chapter 3
Standing in my little kitchen with my hands in sudsy water while my sisters talked quietly in the living room gave me time to take stock of myself.
I’d put up a pretty good face for both my sisters. They knew I was tired, they knew I was angry that we still hadn’t found Ben, they knew I was irritated by the new lock and camera system on my house.
What they didn’t know, what I was very careful not to show them, was my terror.
Lavius had bound me to him. Drank my blood. Claimed me. He hadn’t turned me into a vampire. That took more than one bite, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if my Reed blood would actually take to being undead. It was more likely I’d die before transitioning to vampirism.
I wasn’t frightened, exactly, about the possibility of being turned.
I also wasn’t frightened, exactly, about dying.
But belonging to Lavius, the ancient horror? Yeah, that was pretty much on the teetery top of my nightmare shelf.
And I knew, because I’d seen it before, that being claimed by a vampire meant being used against the people you loved.
Our ability to keep the people, gods, and creatures safe in Ordinary was not looking very strong right now.
“What would you do if you were here, Dad?” I asked too quietly to be heard over the sounds of the conversation in the other room.
I waited, hoping maybe I’d hear him, or feel him, warm and solid moving beside me. I could picture him drying the dishes in the drainer and placing them in the wrong cupboards like he used to when I was little. For a man who had run the police station with one hand behind his back, he had never been good at kitchen organization.
But he was not here. Not anymore. We were on our own with this mess. And just because we’d taken a couple hits didn’t mean we were out of the fight.
I let the water out of the sink and squared my shoulders. With all of the creatures, the gods, and the humans in this town, there had to be a way to save Ben.
There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to bring him back safe.
“Ready?” Jean called from the couch.
I dried my hands and walked into the living room. Myra and Jean waited by the open door, sunglasses propped on their heads.
“Where is the meeting?”
“We thought about having it here, but not enough room.” Myra nodded at the door, and I grabbed my keys, let the lock do its thing, and walked out.
We headed down the stairs, Jean already almost at the bottom. “Any reason you and Jean have decided not to keep me in the loop on what’s going on? Locks, cameras, and now this meeting relocation?”
“You can’t blame us for wanting to protect you.”
I could, actually, but I got her point.
“All right. Yes. You’re worried, and you should be. Withholding information will backfire. It always does. I might be compromised, but I’m not sidelined. So from now on, you get information, I hear it. And I’ll do the same with you. Right?”
We’d reached the gravel driveway, which was still wet in all the shaded places.
Myra ran her fingers back through her hair, tucking it behind one ear. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking since her eyes were hidden behind her aviators.
“We’ll tell you. We only kept you in the dark about the locks because we knew you’d hate it. But it’s not the wrong decision.”
“I’ll give you that. But would have rather known you were doing it. I can argue. You can out-vote me.”
Jean scoffed. “You’ll veto.”
I shrugged. “Get Ryder on your side. Or Roy, or Bertie. You know how to force me to see things your way.”
“We’re not letting you out of our sight,” Myra said. “We all agreed on that.”
“That’s going to make showering and using the toilet unnecessarily weird.”
“You know what I mean,” Myra said.
“Just as long as you both understand I am still your boss.”
The breeze picked up and ruffled across the tops of the twisted trees, buffering us with scented puffs of warmed pine and green.
“Like you’d ever let us forget.” Myra started toward her cruiser and Jean did too.
“Carpool,” Jean said.
“Shotgun,” I called.
Jean paused with her hand on the passenger side door, then laughed. “You suck.”
“Backseat, little sister.”
“Stunningly gorgeous little sister, thank you.”
Myra and I both snorted.“ If you kick my chair, I will hide your new Saruman action figure.”
She made an offended sound then more noise as she threw a few elbows and knees at the back of it my seat.
“Hey!”
“Knees don’t count!”
Myra ignored the whole thing as she settled in, started the engine and turned down the talk show about jazz on the radio.
“Which of you arranged this meeting and where are we going?” I asked.
“We left it up to Ryder.” Myra headed down the gravel road.
Jean laughed. “You’ll never guess where he chose.”
“Is it a weird place?” I gave a moment’s thought. “Too many weird places to choose from. Tell me it’s not out in the middle of the Devil’s Punchbowl or something.”
A very small smile tucked up the corner of Myra’s mouth. “It’s indoors. I think he was going for neutral ground, out of the way, and private. He is such a rule follower now.”
“Don’t tell me he rented a boat.”
“Better.” Myra’s smile had teeth. “The lighthouse.”
“Really?”
“Yup.” Jean said.
“Well, it is neutral ground,” I said. “Like seriously set in stone from the moment Ordinary was established as neutral ground between gods, creatures and humans. How did he know that?”
“How do you think?” Myra asked.
Yeah, he knew it because my boyfriend was now tied to a god of contracts. Even if he hadn’t been told, Ryder could probably sense the neutrality of the place.
“I’m thinking of bri
nging in a few more hands,” Myra said.
The day was sliding into afternoon, the sky a dreamy blue. People wandered the sidewalks and businesses a little stunned and drunk on sunlight.
We were going to see a huge influx of tourists catching at the last straws of decent vacation weather.
“Tillamook?” I suggested.
“They didn’t get the rains like us,” Myra said. “Maybe Hatter and Shoe?”
Hatter and Shoe sounded like names out of a fairytale book, but they were actually humans who had been partners for the last eight years up in Tillamook about forty-five miles north of us. They were good cops and had sharp eyes. Sharp enough that they’d cornered Dad and he’d let them in on the secrets of our little town.
They’d both not only believed him, but had kept their mouths shut and offered to help when needed.
I hadn’t called them in for anything since his death, hadn’t seen them since his funeral. I guess I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else that my sisters and I were enough to take care of this town.
Not sure I’d stuck the landing on that yet.
“Stop scowling,” Myra said. “We could use the help. Dad used to call them in at least once a summer. No reason why we can’t do that too.”
She was right.
“Are you going to put them up at your place?” I asked.
“It’s Jean’s turn.”
“Damn straight it is,” Jean said. “We’re gonna party all night.”
“You work nights,” I reminded her.
“Party all my night.”
“Do not corrupt them.”
“Like I could. You ever done shots with those boys? I did. Once. Haven’t touched tequila since.”
The twisty single lane off the main road led us to the lighthouse built on a high jut of rock that overlooked the bay.
Long summer grass in the field surrounding it wouldn’t go brown for weeks yet. A walkway wended along the edge of the bluff, the stone and cable fence standing as the only barrier between walkers and the ocean below.
The lighthouse should be open for tours explaining how far out to sea the light could be seen (twenty-two miles) and whether or not the place was haunted by the ghost of the lighthouse keeper’s daughter, Harriett (probably).
We got out of the car, and I waited there on the sidewalk. I didn’t see Ryder’s truck among the dozen parked cars, and my heart caught with worry. He should be here. He set this up.
For one private, ridiculous moment, I let the terror of all the other things I was dealing with roll over into fear for Ryder’s safety. Was he hurt? Kidnapped? Was he the next person in my life who I’d lose?
But as soon as I’d thought that, the growl of an engine grew louder and his truck came into view.
My stupid racing heart leveled down to a dull thud as he parked precisely two spaces over from where Myra’s cruiser was slotted a little crookedly and over one line.
Ryder stepped out of the truck.
Sunlight caught in his dark hair, flickering against the random strands of copper and blond, and setting off the gold of his tanned skin. He wore a clean white T-shirt that clung to his chest and lean stomach and a dark green flannel rolled up at the elbows to show off his thick, muscled forearms. The jeans were worn down and faded where they curved over his strong thighs. His steel-toed boots were scuffed and practical since he spent a lot of his time either on build sites or as acting reserve officer for the force.
But it was his smile, soft and warm when he caught me staring at him, that lit up his face with so much relief and happiness, I wanted to push the sun out of the sky so I could soak up his light alone.
The way he walked, that comfortable rolling stride that was all confidence with a little challenge, drew my eyes to his hips, the twist of his waist, and his broad shoulders.
Everything in me went tight and warm and wanting.
Mercy me.
I couldn’t stop staring at him, wanted the taste of him on my lips, the warmth of his skin pressed against mine, the weight of his hands touching me everywhere, holding me.
He’d been turning my head since before we were in middle school and now that we’d admitted we wanted each other, I couldn’t look away from him. Didn’t want to waste any more years trying to.
“Hey, Delaney.” He reached out for me, and I drew forward easily, folding into his arms, pressing my face against his shoulder, breathing in the scents of him: spice and wood shavings and the under-sweetness of his cologne that mixed with a smell that was all his own.
His arms wrapped around my back. Thick, muscular fingers caught then slid into my back pocket. His other palm drifted up to cup the back of my head.
We’d just seen each other yesterday evening before Old Rossi had shown up. Even so, it had been far too long since we’d touched.
We had years to make up for.
“Hey, snuggle boo-boos!” Jean called out. “Smoochy-smoo later. Worky-work now.”
Ryder grunted so softly, if my head hadn’t been on his chest, I wouldn’t have heard him. His arms tightened, then released.
I stepped back and grinned up at him. “Just like that? Are you gonna let her boss you around?”
“Yes. I know better than to argue with a Reed.”
I didn’t know I could smile any brighter. “Smart man.”
We started toward the lighthouse. Jean stood waiting at the door–Myra hadn’t been kidding they were going to keep an eye on me at all times. Then Ryder stopped as if a rope around his waist had just pulled him up short.
“Problem?”
He scowled at the police cruiser. Specifically at the tires.
“Ryder?”
“What?”
“Something wrong?”
He tightened his hands into fists, then relaxed them with what looked to be applied effort. “No.”
“There’s plenty of parking,” I said. “It’s okay if she’s a little over the lines. The park is going to close pretty soon.”
“I know. Closed an hour after sunset.” He said it in monotone as if he were reading it off the back of a brochure.
“Yeah, that’s right. So…you want to come inside?”
“I….” He wiped his palm over his mouth then dragged fingers across his jaw and scratched at the stubble there. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
He couldn’t seem to look away from the slightly crooked parking job.
And sure, things had been weird lately, but this was double-weird.
“Tell me.” I closed the distance between us, crowding into him as if our contact would explain what his words could not.
He looked down at me, seemed surprised I was wrapped around him again.
“Now would be good.”
“It’s…no, it’s not a big deal.” He drew his arms around me as if he couldn’t help himself, which I liked, and looked sort of embarrassed, which I didn’t like.
“It’s the cruiser? Something about the cruiser? About it being here?”
He hesitated a second, then exhaled. “It’s outside the lines.”
“I see. And that’s…important?”
One jerky nod.
“I didn’t know this would be a problem.”
“It isn’t. For you.” This time his gaze locked on mine. I saw more than embarrassment there. I saw a deep stubbornness.
“Because?”
“It’s…I notice all the breaks in contracts now. All of them.”
“Contracts?”
“Going over the speed limit, spoon on the wrong side of the plate, jay-walking.”
“Those are all things almost everyone does. Well, maybe not the speed limit breaking, but spoons and jay-walking? Not really contracts that have been broken. Just people making choices.”
“I know that. You know I know that. But I can’t ignore it. I can’t not care about it.”
“I told you being the snitch for a god of contracts came with some nasty side effects.”
“I am not a snitch. I’m a warden.”
“Mmm. Big difference.” I rubbed my hand down his back, enjoying the rise and fall of muscles, the dip of his spine.
“Being a warden is a lot liked being a cop.” He tightened his arms, shifted so our hips fit together better. I could feel one tension in his body sliding slowly into another.
“Not even a bit the same. You’re more like a legal consultant. Deal with contracts. Which means something signed.”
“‘A written or spoken agreement that is intended to be enforceable by law,’” he quoted like he’d memorized the entry in the dictionary.
“You can’t enforce cutlery placement, Miss Manners.”
“Do not laugh at me.”
“See me not laughing?”
“Oh, you’re laughing.” I liked how low and rumbly his voice had gotten.
“Is there some kind of rule against laughing? A contract enforceable by law, maybe?” I waggled my eyebrows.
He sighed and tipped his head up to the sky like he was looking for his patience to parachute in. “I don’t want to be so…this isn’t me.”
The fact that he’d foolishly agreed to become tied to a god, to do that god’s work here in Ordinary, must finally be soaking in.
“It’s you now, Ryder. But just one part of you.”
“That’s how you see what you do? Guardian of Ordinary. It’s just a job to you?”
No. But that was different.
I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t the same thing. I was from a long bloodline chosen by gods to specifically not get foolishly tied to any one god. I was here to look after Ordinary and all those within it. To keep those who would do harm out of it.
I was born to this. I hadn’t been tricked into it.
“Don’t say it’s not the same thing,” he said.
“Some of it is the same. You’re tied to a god, I’m tied to the town.”
“But?”
“If I decide I don’t want to be the bridge for god powers to be set down, that I don’t want to be the guardian, I can step down. Someone else in the Reed line would show up to take over the job.”
He was quiet. Jean, still at the door, was giving us this time. It was sweet of her.
“Would you ever leave Ordinary, Delaney?”