by Devon Monk
“Right. That’s so much different.”
“Out of bracelets came door handle wraps, bike stand cozies, and tree sweaters.”
“I saw the lamppost flower. It was cool.”
“Yes!” Three of the knitters said in unison. They high-fived each other, then went back to furiously working yarn between needles.
“Yes. It is lovely, but required an extension ladder under the cover of darkness. I’d like to establish some safety measures. Perhaps borrow a few of the city workers to help install the art?”
“I thought you called them bombs.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t make up that term, Delaney. It’s an international phenomenon and it’s time Ordinary staked its claim and become a part of it.”
“It sounds like you’ve got everything in place to go ahead with this. You know the forms you need to fill out and file. I’ll tell my officers not to drag anyone in on graffiti charges if they catch them in the act of installation.”
“Good. Then at the end of the summer season, let’s say Labor Day, we’ll have a nice little ribbon ceremony for the most original, a few other categories, and maybe give a walking tour to anyone who wants to see the creations in a sort of art on the lane.”
“You sure you’re not jumping in on this a little late? This stuff usually takes months to plan.”
“In this case, I think striking while the iron is hot is more the way to go.”
Several of the crocheters were done packing their gear and were making their way toward the exits. Bertie kept an eye on Chester, following the Macy sister’s slow but steady shuffle.
“There are a details I need to sort. Delaney, don’t wait for me. I’ll catch a ride from someone here.”
“Are you sure?”
She gave me an arch look. “Why don’t you get a cup of coffee before you go patch things up with Ryder?”
I blinked. Not because she’d guessed that I was thinking I should find Ryder and make sure he wasn’t angry, but because I wasn’t. That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. And it should have. I should have felt worried and maybe even miserable about him storming away from the station.
About me telling him to leave. That I needed time and some space and he was angry about it. Probably justly so. Was I making a huge mistake pulling away from him? It seemed like the right thing to do. I didn’t want him hurt, and there were too many things in my life that weren’t under my control that could hurt him.
This was the smart thing to do. For both of us. Because I cared about him. So it made sense to step back, make sure the choices I made didn’t negatively impact, or worse, actively harm him.
For a second I was absolutely frozen with the terrifying notion that this would be my life. I’d drift through it, nothing making me happy, or sad, or excited, or terrified. That I’d live every day with a sort of blank, steady progression from logical thought to expected action, to logical thought, over and over again.
I couldn’t just drift like that, a tourist in my own life. Not for long. It would drive me crazy. It would tear me up inside, even if I couldn’t actively feel it. And then what would happen? Would the next logical step be that my life was pointless? My life wasn’t worth living? Would I just give up my badge, walk away? Would I even have the strength to end my life if I was living it while dead?
Did I just seriously just map my remaining days out to the inevitable conclusion of suicide? And was that the only thing I had to look forward to?
I couldn’t be overreacting, since I didn’t even have the emotional energy to fuel a panic attack.
Although this felt like a panic attack, minus the panic.
“Breathe.” Bathin held out a cup of coffee. “One, two, three. Exhale.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“She told you to go after your man.”
I did not have enough brain cells available to figure out what that hot look of his really meant, much less the words he said. He pushed the coffee out again and half nodded toward Bertie. “She’s expecting you to say something.”
The coffee was in my hands now, and I looked back at Bertie. “Okay. Thanks. Keep me in the loop with the, whatever this whole thing is.” Did that make sense? I was having a hard time corralling my thoughts as they slipped through me too fast and liquid.
Her stern gaze caught my attention. Anchored me somewhat, a rope thrown out into the storm of my thoughts. “I think you have enough on your hands without dealing with the yarn crafters. Yarn walk, Yarn amble, Y’all?”
“Yarn Y’all? That’s what you’re going to call it?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll have it decided before the end of the day.” She waved a gold tipped hand at me. “Go. Have your coffee. I have work to do.” She paused halfway through turning away from me and gripped my wrist, her fingers strong and pointed and surprisingly tight. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I saw you go pale as a sheet just now. Ryder isn’t a lost cause. Neither are you. Just don’t lose hope in the ashes. Love is a power that does not yeild as long as you return to your heart.”
There it was again. Those words. “Who told you to say that?”
“No one tells me what to say.”
“‘Love is a power that does not yeild?’ That’s not something you just rattle off in farewell.”
She frowned. “I think it perfectly suits this situation.”
“Does it?”
“Doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what it means!”
Understanding clicked on behind her eyes. “Just because the demon has your soul, doesn’t mean it isn’t yours.”
That made less sense.
“Careful,” Bathin murmured. “Tell all my secrets and I’ll tell all of yours.”
“There are none I regret.” Steel in those words, an absolutely uncompromising confidence.
“Oh, I’m creative,” he said.
“I can see that. And I see so much more. All those within you.”
Bathin did that uncomfortable thing where he sort of blushed. What was it with Bertie? What dirt did she have on him? I really wanted to know.
“Couldn’t hurt to let me in on some of his secrets,” I said.
Bertie winged me a tight smile. “Let’s have lunch then. Soon.”
Bathin scowled.
I smiled, even though the feeling didn’t last long enough for my mouth to get securely in place. But still there was something so normal about this. Bertie being her typical overbearing self, my vampire-bitten, soulless, demon-bound, break-up filled life making little to no impact on her plans and her busy schedule.
Plus, she was never one to shy from the opportunity for a good gossip.
I liked it. Liked knowing that I wasn’t the center of the universe. That the people of our little town were going forward with fences and bowling leagues and yarn bombings all without any input from me.
“Good. I’ll call.” And with that, Bertie was off, taking the straightest line to intercept Chester before she made it past the cage of plastic bouncy balls near the doors.
All in all, that had gone a lot better than I’d expected.
I lifted the cup to my mouth automatically, but paused to stare at the plastic lid before it
could touch my lips. “What is this?”
“Some call it coffee.”
“From the Starbucks?”
The look he gave me.
“What kind of coffee?”
“I’m assuming the kind made out of roasted coffee beans and hot water.”
“No, seriously, what did you order for me? How do you even have money anyway? You spit in this, didn’t you?”
“I’m beginning to wish I had. It’s a vanilla latte, Delaney. I told the barista to give me what she thought Chief Reed would want and she gave me this. If you don’t like it, dump it out.”
He wasn’t angry. As a matter of fact he was grinning pretty widely, and had pushed into my space a couple more inches like he just couldn’t get enough of me right no
w.
I couldn’t tell if he just loved getting a rise out of me, or just loved getting a rise out of everyone.
“What did you pay her with?”
“She comped it because she appreciates the law, or maybe just wanted to thank you for getting rid of the gray-haired screaming rumblers.”
Good name for a rock band.
“They didn’t have gray hair.”
“I like your attention to the details that don’t matter.”
“I like you getting out of my space.”
“And your spunk.”
“You’re about to find out if you like my fist, my knee, and my can of mace.”
“What, no TASER?”
“Why waste the charge?”
“Ouch. Still, that’s a lot of effort you’re promising.”
“No effort at all. I feel like punching something right about now.”
“Isn’t that grand? I’m right here.” He waited, daring me.
My phone rang. “Step back. Now.”
He paused, then stepped back and slurped at his drink. The store, the sounds of shoppers, beeps of the checkouts, smell of coffee and maple glaze and rotisserie chicken all surrounded me again. I hadn’t realized it had all faded away, hadn’t realized all my attention and every sense I owned had been tuned to one thing only.
Bathin.
Why? I didn’t even like him. Was it a soul thing? A demon thing? Was he making me see only him? Or was it just because he had my soul tucked away somewhere I couldn’t feel it anymore and I wanted it back that I couldn’t look away?
My phone rang again. I glanced at the screen. Ryder.
I swiped my thumb across his image–a picture I’d snapped of him with the face paint mask he’d worn at the Cake and Skate. He didn’t look like a business owner, or a reserve officer, or a secret agent for the DoPP or a lackey for a god in that picture. He looked like a guy who had gone a little nuts and let his considerable artistic talent go wild with a fine point brush and a box of carnival paint.
He looked happy, alive.
“Ryder?”
“I’m at the hospital. You need to come down here.”
I was already walking to the door. “Ben?”
“He’s awake.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” The tone of Ryder’s voice wasn’t giving me a lot to go by. “Is that not good?”
“He says he knows where Lavius is.”
“Holy shit. Okay. That’s great. Why don’t you sound happy?”
There was a pause, and I rolled my comment back through my head. It didn’t seem like a strange thing to ask and didn’t seem emotionally tone deaf. I was starting to be uncomfortably aware of that now. Like every time I opened my mouth, I had a chunk of parsley stuck in my emotional teeth.
“He said he doesn’t want to say anything more until you’re here.”
“I’m on my way.” I unlocked my Jeep and climbed in, Bathin following like a coffee-slurping shadow.
He was also eating a candy bar. When had he paid for that? There was no way the barista had comped him a Butterfinger.
“I don’t think you should come.”
Right. I was still talking to Ryder.
“What does that mean?”
There was a shuffling sound and I imagined he was moving out of hearing range of someone.
“He’s insisting he talk to you. It’s all he’ll say.”
Okay, that was a little weird, especially if Jame was there for him to talk to. But trauma was a trip and a half and I was more than just a cop. I was also the person who made it right for the creatures who lived in this town. The person who made it right for the gods to vacation here.
It wasn’t too much of a stretch to think he wanted to give me information and that he thought I would be the best person to receive it.
“Like I said, I’m on my way.”
“Delaney.” The pause while he gathered his thoughts and I listened to him breathe.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, then exhale on a sigh. “Let’s look at this from another angle. Ben was kidnapped. Lavius found you on the beach and bit you to send a warning to Rossi. Which you did. Then you just happened to pick up the rock with your dad’s trapped ghost or whatever in it at Jame and Ben’s house where it’s been for the last year or so.
“You don’t know who sent that stone, who planted it here,” Ryder said. “And it just so happens to contain a demon in it who just so happened to know where to find Ben.”
“He’s on our side,” I said.
“Is he?”
“I…I don’t know.”
He grunted as if I’d just proved his point.
“We know Lavius sent demons in vampire bodies to Ordinary to hurt Jean,” he reminded me like I hadn’t been there when she’d been run over.
“Maybe not Jean specifically.” I was playing devil’s advocate, trying to poke holes in the theory Ryder was unpacking.
“That was not a luck-of-the-draw hit-and-run, and you know it.”
True.
“Do you think Ben is possessed?” I asked.
“It’s possible. Isn’t it.” Not a question.
I answered him anyway. “I don’t think he’s possessed.”
His theory that Bathin might not be playing for our side was pretty strong. I could take it one step further and wonder if Bathin had also been sent by Lavius. It wasn’t inconceivable that vampires could play a long game. Immortality had to have some perks.
Dad didn’t know who sent that demon-infested rock to him.
It could have been Lavius.
It could have been Bathin.
It could have been anyone.
“Is Rossi there with you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you asked him?”
“If Ben is possessed? Do you really think he would be objective about that?”
“He’s old, Ryder. When it comes to stuff like this, he is stone cold solid.” Or at least I hoped he wouldn’t let his affection for the man he considered his son make him blind to something as serious as demon possession. “You can ask him and you can trust him. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I hung up because even if Ryder’s theories were correct, and Lavius wanted me to see Ben because it was a trap of some kind, I’d need to be there to deal with the fallout. I considered calling Myra, but she’d stayed up even later than I had last night, poring over old books for “answers” according to the curt text I’d gotten when I’d pinged her this morning.
“Trouble in paradise?” Bathin asked.
“This isn’t paradise,” I said as I merged into traffic toward the hospital.
“Every man’s paradise is another man’s hell.”
And I didn’t know if the yearning in his tone was a good thing, or a bad thing.
Chapter 14
Ryder was pacing inside the lobby, his stride slow and easy, and more of a prowl. He saw me coming before we were in speaking range, his eyes shifting to Bathin, who walked stride-in-stride with me.
I could see the anger on Ryder’s face, and just shook my head. I didn’t know how to tell him that I didn’t like Bathin and that we were not friends or friendly no matter how much he walked at my side like he belonged there, or how many free lattes he scored for me.
“He’s not my friend and I don’t like him.” Hey, look at that. The direct approach. Go, me.
Ryder’s eyebrows went up. “Who?”
“Bathin. I know what he is. I know what he’s done to me, and the first chance I get, I’m going to fix it, or make him fix it.”
“You really shouldn’t tell your enemy your plans you know,” Bathin noted. “Takes all the pop out of it.”
“Then why don’t you tell him to back off and leave you alone?” Ryder said, ignoring Bathin like he hadn’t even spoken.
“I have.”
“Have you?”
“You really haven’t,” Bathin supplied.
“Shut up,” I muttered.
&nbs
p; “Well?” Ryder asked.
“What?”
“How about you tell him now.” It wasn’t a question. It was a dare. “Tell him to get the hell out of this hospital where one of your friends is injured. Tell him to pound sand.”
I knew how much Ryder wanted me to do this. I wanted to do it too. But I also knew Bathin would be more useful to us if I kept him in my sight.
I didn’t trust him, didn’t like him, and didn’t want to set him loose on our town.
There wasn’t much about this situation I had control of, but I could darn well keep the demon on a leash.
Bathin chuckled. It annoyed me briefly until it didn’t.
That annoyed me too.
“Friends close, enemies closer.” It sounded lame even to me.
I’d never seen Ryder shut down so hard. Every line of his face settled into stone, unmoving, unemotional. Only the fire in his gaze gave away what he thought about that old chestnut.
And what he thought was that he hated I was going with the easy out. He might even think that I had fallen for Bathin’s overpriced charms.
What would the whole-soul Delaney do in this situation? Hug him? Smile? Tell him I was scared, determined, clear-headed?
I wish I knew what whole-soul Delaney would have done, because all I did was nod. “I know you don’t like it. But it’s not going to change right now.”
The pulse of silence beating between us was miserable.
“I don’t agree with you, Delaney. Not at all. Ben’s this way.” Ryder turned and walked away so quickly, I could feel the warmth of the space between us disappear like a draft up a chimney.
I started after him, and Bathin, wisely, followed at a bit of a distance. My emotions were a muddle—anger, fear, hope, sorrow—and they each hit me hard, like silver spikes hammered into my chest. Spikes that were yanked out again so quickly I was left breathless from the pain of impact and removal.
I stopped halfway down a hall and pressed my palm against the wall to catch my breath. To steady my reeling mind and body.
This no-soul thing wasn’t just hard, it was exhausting.
“Now, now,” Bathin murmured from behind me. “We aren’t giving up already are we? Your father assured me you Reeds are stout stock. I had his soul for more than a year. I’ve had yours for less than a day.” He made a clucking noise with his tongue.