“Are you familiar with black magic?” I asked her.
“Some of it. But it’s not my area of expertise. I’m a medium, sure, but black magic? If this is truly some sort of symbol or—”
“Sigil,” interjected Elena.
“A sigil,” repeated Sylvia. “If a sigil was carved onto a rock and put on my property, it sure as hell wasn’t by my hand.”
“Are you sure you’ve never seen this symbol before?” I asked. “It’s pretty distinct looking.”
“I’ve never seen it in my life. I promise you.” I could see the truth in Sylvia’s eyes. “And I don’t want to see it again,” she said, her voice becoming strained. “I don’t know what it means, but I know the damned thing is evil. I can feel the darkness coming out of it.”
“Can you do a reading on it?” asked Elena. “Like you did when you were remote viewing?”
“No! I won’t. It has an aura coming from it that’s pure blackness. The blackest of black. I’ve got a mind to call in someone to come blow up that rock to pieces.”
“Not yet,” said Elena. “It’s evidence. The best way for you to help us is just leave it alone.”
“And if you see anyone out in the woods where we found it, let us know,” I added, and handed her my card. Sylvia didn’t look pleased, but she didn’t object.
Good.
The last thing we needed was a townie with dynamite blowing up what little evidence we had.
21
Elena
“Thanks for saving so much hot water for me,” Logan said as he stepped out of the teeny tiny treehouse shower.
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” I stopped combing my wet hair long enough to look up and get a great view of him in nothing but a bath towel. Maybe it was because he was so tall and so muscular, but the towel looked downright tiny on him. Water dripped down his chest, soaking into the cotton fabric wrapped around those narrow hips.
“I’m serious. My ex used to stay in the shower ‘til it ran out. But you were in and out in seven minutes.”
“I guess I figured we’d sleep better if we weren’t freezing our asses off,” I said, and went back to combing my hair. It was only five-thirty in the morning, and I was just glad to have snuck back into the treehouse before Sheriff McKinney woke up. The last thing I wanted to do was explain why we were covered in dirt or why I’d confiscated my partner’s gun. Luckily, he seemed back to his old self . . . for the most part.
I turned around and put my hair in a bun while he got dressed.
“It’s safe. You can turn around now,” he said after a few moments. When I looked again, he was only wearing boxers. If there were ab gods and tricep gods, they were all smiling upon me. I watched as he unrolled the sleeping bag and set the pillow up at the top. “I swear, if we’d stayed in Sylvia’s house any longer, I was gonna have an asthma attack. And I don’t even have asthma.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled from the comfort of my bed. “I didn’t realize how bad it was in there until the sun came up. It looked like she hasn’t vacuumed in a decade.”
“She might not own a vacuum,” Logan said. “Even if she does, there’s no electricity, unless she runs extension cords from the kitchen. I can’t imagine living like that. I feel bad for her. Do you think we should call social services or something?”
“We could ask someone at the county level to check in on her,” I replied. “But I imagine McKinney’s already done that.”
With a big yawn, he rubbed at his tired eyes and closed the blackout curtains over the windows. It was barely light enough to see each other across the tiny space, but I could see that he was just lying there, staring at the ceiling as he tried to get comfortable. It didn’t seem to be working. I set down my comb and sighed.
“I know you’re being a gentleman or professional or whatever, but you need some decent rest. The bed’s big enough for both of us, you know.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine here.”
“Really? You look exhausted.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Yeah, but I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about. What’s wrong? Are you worried that you’ll wet the bed?”
Logan’s head whipped in my direction.
“What? No! I just . . . The last person I shared a bed with was Bridget, and . . . I don’t know. It just seems weird.”
“It’s not weird. Back in the olden days, entire families used to sleep in the same bed.”
I heard Logan snort a laugh.
“Back in the olden days, entire families bathed in the same water. Doesn’t mean we should keep every tradition.”
“That’s not the point I’m trying to make,” I huffed, but he’d made me smile. “One of my foster homes made me share a bed with two other kids. But we got along great and I loved it.”
“You did?” he asked with a skeptical glance.
“Totally. I think I liked it because it made me feel safer than sleeping alone. Look at all this room in here.” I scooted over to the far side of the mattress until I was pressed up against the wall. “See? There’s a shit-ton of room. We’re gonna have our hands full once we meet up with McKinney. I’d rather you weren’t cranky from being up all night tripping on mushrooms.”
Logan shook his head, then sat up.
“If I come over there, will you be quiet and actually let me sleep?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Dude, I’m only looking out for your best interest. That’s why I took your gun and the car keys. I know how to adult when it matters.”
“Fine,” he said, grabbing his pillow. “I guess it’s just for a couple hours.” He climbed in beside me, lying stiff as a board as he tried to keep a decent amount of space between us.
As I closed my eyes I was aware of the bright sunlight streaming around the edges of the curtains, along with the sound of birds singing. Normally I would’ve loved their songs, but this morning I found it more of a challenge.
“I can’t sleep,” I complained.
“It’s been like, ten seconds.”
“I know, but I can’t sleep.” I rolled over and saw Logan staring at the ceiling. “What are you thinking about?”
He was quiet for a long time before he spoke.
“Every time I close my eyes, I either see Sylvia’s face turning into a black hole or I see those creepy fucking goblin things surrounding me out in the woods.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen you that scared before.”
“My brain feels like it’s been turned inside out,” he went on. “Like every horror movie I watched and laughed at as a kid is actually real. It’s like everything I ever believed is a lie. Turns out the boogeyman is real after all.”
He turned his head and looked at me. The bureau’s big, bold golden boy had been replaced with a clueless football star who was way out of his league. To his credit, he was still here.
“Even faeries are real. And if I hadn’t been high, a few hours ago I would’ve told you that talking cats are real, too.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in all at once,” I said, trying to imagine what it must be like to be in his shoes. “But you’ll be okay. In a few months, you’ll look back on this night and laugh your ass off. You won’t even recognize who that clueless FNG Agent Hawthorne was.”
“We’ll see.”
“Trust me.” I propped myself up on my elbow, shooting him a grin. “Before you know it, tonight’s just gonna be another weird case you worked on. There’s gonna be lots more.”
Logan returned his gaze to the ceiling as the reality of his job struck him full force. This was just the first case of many. He’d spend the rest of his professional life investigating the unknown, being forced to face literal monsters head-on. It would mean more monsters, more dimensions, more scary things that I’m sure he couldn’t even imagine.
He bunched up his pillow and maneuvered onto his stomach, looking at me curiously.
“How do you do it? How do you do this stuff da
y in and day out without losing your mind?”
“I don’t know. I just do my job.”
“But you’re so fearless. They say fools rush in where angels fear to tread, but you actually know what you’re doing.”
“That’s because I’m more experienced than you,” I said, gloating with pride. “Look, you’ll get there. Aside from me, nobody started in the OCD having much experience with this stuff. Pretty much the only way to learn the job is to get thrown into the deep end.”
“Has anyone ever quit?”
“Pssshhh . . . lots of people,” I told him. “Which sucks because I don’t have anyone to talk to about work. I suppose that’s what Jameson is for.”
A soft snicker rose from Logan’s chest.
“Now that I understand. My dad couldn’t tell my mom about work, and I couldn’t tell Bridget about work. Still, doesn’t the whole magical paranormal spin on things make it harder? Aren’t you worried you’ll go nuts?”
“No. Not really.”
He smiled softly at me. “I suppose you’re already a little nuts.”
“Hey, watch it,” I laughed and gave him a playful thump on the arm. He raised a brow at me, pretending to be shocked.
“Rivera!” he scolded, still smiling. “Did you just punch a federal agent?”
“No,” I said, and did it again. “I thumped you. There’s a difference.”
He yawned again, this time so deeply that his whole body rocked up and down. When I looked up at his face, his eyelids were flickering shut.
“Finally getting tired?”
“Mmm-hmm . . . Must be having you to talk to that’s calmed me down. You’re better than Blanton’s.”
After hearing that, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d have to get him a bottle next time I came across one. I felt a rush of heavy, delicious, sleepy endorphins like no other. Fuck those goblins and the psychic visions and the black magic rocks. As I yawned and closed my eyes, I thought how lying here and feeling safe was what I’d remember most about this night.
There were a few things I’d never done in my entire career. I’d never taken my pants off in front of a colleague, and I’d never slept in a bed with one, either. Now I’d managed to do both in one shot.
My brain woke up long before I opened my eyes, although it was one of those times where consciousness didn’t come easily. It was taking a lot more effort than usual, so I let myself glide through the process of fully waking up.
The birds had calmed the fuck down and mostly I just heard Logan breathing above me. His warmth had somehow come to surround me, shielding me from the terrors he’d witnessed the night before. I became aware of our tangled limbs right about the same time I remembered he was still wearing nothing but his boxers. My baggy t-shirt was now twisted around my body, and I was pretty sure one of my boobs was pressed against his ribcage. My face was stuck to Logan’s muscular chest, and one of his long, powerful arms was draped over me with the weight of a dead log. I was trapped.
It felt incredible.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in bed with a guy. It had been months, if not a year or two since I’d gotten laid. And if I remembered correctly, I didn’t let them stick around afterwards for Olympic-level snuggling. I got what I wanted and kicked them out before they could fill my place with their nasty human smell. What was it about Logan that made it so easy to let my guard down? For some reason, I wanted to get even closer to him than I already was. I wanted to be closer in a way I hadn’t been with any other human being.
An identity crisis was imminent. I didn’t even like humans all that much. I put up with them because I had to. Why the hell wasn’t I repelled by this one? His smile, his laugh, and his scent had all managed to sidestep my radar. Instead of being annoyed, I only wanted more. I could see in his eyes that he could be trusted. And he was a virgin when it came to magic. There was no doubt that he’d been traumatized by what he’d experienced these last couple of days. I guess that made it easy to develop a soft spot for him.
Was I tapping into some latent, secret part of my brain that longed for companionship and connection? Or was it something more carnal? Maybe I was just horny as hell and wanted those hard, thick, long beefcake muscles holding me . . . wrestling me . . . manhandling me . . .
Fucking me.
A warm shiver flickered through my body at the thought. It would be so easy for me to slide on top of him and work that man meat into my pussy through the opening of his boxers. I imagined how it would feel to grind against him until I came, then begging him to fuck the living daylights out of me until he did too.
It would give a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘rise and shine.’
It wasn’t any secret that I gave conventionality the middle finger and liked to do things my way at the bureau. So what if I turned Agent Hawthorne into my personal boy toy? Even if Harris found out, I bet he wouldn’t fire me.
Logan yawned, and I could hear the air being expelled from beyond the muscles of his broad chest as his heartbeat picked up. The strong arm holding me close moved away, careful to avoid touching my ass.
Dammit. He should’ve touched it. Should’ve grabbed a big handful of it.
“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he said softly, his voice tickling the top of my head. I was about to tell him that yes, yes we should, and that’s when I realized my cheek was stuck to his chest by a massive, gooey puddle of my own fucking drool.
I bolted upright and wiped off his chest with the edge of my shirt, then used it to clean off my cheek. I didn’t realize I was flashing my tits at him until I caught him staring at them.
“Oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck!”
I couldn’t scramble out of the bed and into the tiny bathroom fast enough. I couldn’t even lock a door—all I had was a pathetic little curtain hook. And while I was having a mini-meltdown, Logan was laughing his ass off.
“Holy shit, Rivera!” he howled, still laughing. “I’m gonna need a towel to mop up all this slobber! What are you—part Saint Bernard?” Mortified, I stared into the mirror and tried to get my shit together. It wasn’t like I’d wet the bed. I just drooled on him. A lot. On his chest. Right by his fucking nipple. And then I’d flashed him both of mine.
“Elena? I’m just fucking with you,” he called. “It’s no big deal.” I could hear him moving around the room, rustling through his suitcase.
“Whatever! I’m fine!” I snapped. I wasn’t fine, but what else could I say? That I leaked out of my mouth on people all the time?
“Can you hand me my toothbrush? I think it’s in the cabinet.”
I quickly found it and stuck my arm out of the curtain. I wasn’t ready to look him in the eye. Not yet.
“Thanks.” I heard zippers opening and closing, caught the scent of mint, and then heard the sound of him opening the treehouse windows while I brushed my teeth.
“Hey, I’m not feeling like a run this morning. You wanna grab some breakfast before we get back to work?”
I contemplated telling him to just meet me at the police station, but right about then my stomach started growling. All the puking from the day before had left me ravenous. Even Sylvia’s biscuits and honey were no match for my metabolism.
“Sure. Give me a minute, okay?”
“Take your time. I’ll meet you by the car.”
I cleaned myself up and got dressed as fast as I could, then hustled down the ladder and high-tailed it across McKinney’s lawn.
Logan was leaning against the Navigator, talking on his phone. He was dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, sporting a pair of aviator sunglasses. How had he managed to make himself so goddamn presentable in five minutes? Twelve hours ago he was telling me I had purple beams of light shooting out of my fucking head. Now he looked like James Bond’s cuter younger brother.
We didn’t say much on the way to the diner, although our waitress took great pride in seating us at what was becoming our booth. I ordered their “famous” giant cinnamon roll and a Mountain Dew
while my partner got a black coffee and an omelet with a side of seasonal fruit. The two of us stared at our phones until our food arrived.
My eyes lit up when the giant cinnamon roll was set down in front of me. I understood why it was famous. It was the size of a bowling ball, taking up a full dinner plate, covered in icing, an extra dusting of cinnamon, and a hearty sprinkle of candied pecans. Shaking with excitement, I ripped off a hunk and shoved it into my face hole before Logan had even unwrapped his paper napkin. I caught him laughing to himself as he watched me inhale the bit of heaven on my plate.
“So . . . are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” he finally asked.
“Mmmphhh?” Part of me wanted nothing to do with the elephant in the room. The other part of me—the hungry part—just wanted satisfaction at all costs.
“I’m not timing you on how fast you eat, Elena,” he said, cutting his omelet into sensibly-sized bites. “Why don’t you slow down long enough to breathe?”
“Oph cmmm brfff,” I argued. He nodded and ate a few bites of food before speaking again.
“Look. I get it. We’re partners. I know we’re spending a lot of time together, and I’m glad we’re starting to get along, but we can’t lose focus on our work.”
I managed to shove enough chewed-up cinnamon roll into the side of my mouth so I could talk.
“Sorry about flashing my tits in your face. That was an accident. So was the drool.”
His blue eyes brightened as he held back a smile.
“I’m not complaining. Probably shouldn’t make a habit of it, though.”
“Duly noted,” I grumbled, and tore off more of the cinnamon roll. I’d barely made a dent in the thing. “Although we didn’t really do anything wrong.” I stuffed more pastry into my mouth before I could say anything dumb.
“I suppose not, but . . . ” He lifted his cup to his mouth, looking out the window as he sipped. “I just don’t want you to . . . ”
Wiretaps & Whiskers (The Faerie Files Book 1) Page 20