by Tara Lain
“Karl Evenride. You know, the idiot who came to the picnic. Donald’s father?”
“I know who Karl Evenride is. What about him?”
“Has he been in touch with you? You know, since the picnic?”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” He blinked. “Actually, I think I’ve gotten a couple emails from him asking if he can come and see me, but I haven’t had a chance to answer.”
She leaned across her corn flakes. “Daddy, this dude is trying to spread a bunch of crap about the Vanessen family. You’re sure he hasn’t said anything to you?”
He frowned. “No, but I haven’t been real available. Why the he—heck would someone want to spread lies about Casper or Lindsey?”
“We don’t know. But the guy’s bad news.”
Dash leaned in and put a hand on Carla’s arm. “But we’d like to know what he’s using as his so-called evidence against the Vanessens, so if he contacts you, please agree to see whatever he has, okay?”
“Well, yes, of course. This is very disturbing.”
“Yes, it is, sir.”
“How could someone say negative things about Casper? He’s as close to above reproach as any businessman I’ve ever met. I’ve seen him do many things that were against his own best interests in order benefit his employees or the community. A lot of people would say the man’s a saint.”
“Evenride says the Vanessens are devil worshippers,” Carla snarled.
The governor barked a laugh. “Seriously?”
“He claims it is.”
“If you’re finished with this line of idiocy, why don’t you invite all your fellow interns to dinner?” Mrs. Mendes added. “I’d love to meet them, and I always enjoy seeing Jazz, little devil worshipper that he is.” She smiled and they all laughed.
“ARE YOU thinking you’ll enter the family business after college, Jazz?” Mrs. Mendes passed him the mashed potatoes again. He smiled politely and handed them over to Dash, who sat beside him at the dinner table. Dash handed them to BeBop, who took another huge spoonful, then ladled on a river of gravy.
He grinned. “Ptolemy said a human can never get enough mashed and gravy.”
Khadija gave a small smile. “And Descartes maintained, ‘I think, therefore I eat mashed potatoes.’”
Jazz laughed, and Carla snorted. “Dij, you’re a hoot!”
“In answer to your question, ma’am,” Jazz said, “I’m seriously considering going into the family business after college. I don’t have a ton of experience yet, but it’s hard to imagine anyone being more inspiring than Pop-Pop.”
Governor Mendes raised his tea glass. “That’s certainly true. You’ve got some other pretty impressive relatives in that family of yours too.”
“Yes, sir, I do. I could spend a lifetime trying to live up to my mother and brothers’ examples.”
“What about you, Khadija? Do your parents live in New York?”
For an instant, her eyes widened a fraction. Then she replied, “No, ma’am. They live in the old country. I have an apartment with my sisters.”
“I thought you said your sisters worked in the family business,” BeBop said.
“Oh, they do. My aunt owns the security and maintenance business they all work for.”
“But you broke with family tradition and decided to intern at Vanessen. How brave of you. Do you like it so far?” Mrs. Mendes smiled.
She glanced at Jazz. “Vanessen is very inspiring.”
The governor’s expression got more serious. “I understand you have some questionable people hanging around at Vanessen.”
Jazz nodded. “Yes, sir, we do. We appreciate you keeping an eye out for us.”
Mrs. Mendes put a hand on his arm. “Is this something to be concerned about?”
Carla rocked back in her chair. “No worries, Mom. We got this.”
“Carla, you have a tendency to be reckless. If there’s any question of security, you stay out of it, you hear me.”
Dash smiled. “Jazz and I will keep her safe, ma’am.”
BeBop looked ready to ask a bunch of questions, but Mrs. Mendes turned to him and asked, “So BeBop, dear, what are your future plans?”
He glanced at Jazz, then leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure, ma’am. I’m going into my junior year at NYU this fall, but I’m thinking I might skip the rest of undergrad and go into the PhD program directly.”
“I see.” She swallowed. “How do your parents feel about that?”
“They died, ma’am.” The kid kept his cool, but Jazz could smell the hurt.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear.”
“I live with my uncle, but I make all my own decisions about my future.” He furrowed his brow. “I try to see my situation the way my parents would have. That’s why I went for my undergraduate degree. For socialization, you know. They always worried about that.” He frowned. “But the classes are pretty boring, so I took the internship at Vanessen to spend some time with people my own age. Then I’ll feel okay about skipping undergrad.” He grinned, as if everything he’d said was absolutely normal.
“BeBop, we’re all three or four years older than you and years behind you in school,” Carla said. “Doesn’t that seem odd?”
He nodded sincerely. “But you all have social experiences I haven’t had yet, so I think it’s great exposure.” He leaned his head on his hand. “Don’t you?”
They all burst out laughing, and that reduced the tension, although Mrs. Mendes looked ready to adopt BeBop.
Khadija carefully folded her napkin. “I’m so sorry, but I need to start home or my sisters will worry.”
“Hey, you can stay with me, Dij. That’d be fun.” Carla gave her a big smile.
Khadija glanced at the floor. “It would be fun, but I’d best go home tonight. Perhaps another time.” She smiled in her quiet way.
“Okay, but soon.”
Dij nodded. Jazz suspected she didn’t get invited for a girl’s night often, and she really seemed happy about it, despite her refusal.
“Could you wait a few moments longer?” Mrs. Mendes said to Dij. “You wouldn’t want to leave without dessert. We have ice cream. Coconut crunch.”
Carla planted her hands on her hips. “Ah, but do we have cones?”
“I asked cook to get the waffle kind.”
Carla punched the air. “Yes!” She bounded up. “Come on, you guys. This stuff will reorganize your DNA.”
Oh great. Just what a werewolf needs.
But Carla was oblivious. “BeBop and Dij, you can’t miss out. We’ll get you a cone for the car. Mom, show them where. I need to run up and grab my hoodie. Be right back.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jazz walked with the other four out to the governor’s limo, licking what he had to agree was totally awesome ice cream in a waffle cone. Roast beef ice cream would have been even better, but this would do.
At the car, BeBop asked, “Okay, dudes, what’s this big threat?”
“Remember I told you about that asshole who told me the Vanessens weren’t to be trusted?” Carla answered.
“Yeah. Crazy town, baby.”
“Well, it’s worse than that. He’s totally off the rails. He claims that the Vanessens are devil worshippers.”
Khadija’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Yeah. He claims to have”—she made air quotes—“evidence.”
Dij frowned. “What might that be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damn, baby! We need to know what this dude’s got,” BeBop said.
“I know. I’m thinking I should go back to him and see what else I can find out.”
Jazz took hold of her arm. “No. You need to stay away from this guy. He could be dangerous.”
Her eyes widened as she took a big lick of ice cream. “Ya think so?”
“Yes. We’ll find out what he has some other way. Maybe he’ll show your father or something. But you stay away from him.” He swallowed. “I just worry about you.” That was true for more re
asons than one.
“Okay.” She looked kind of happy, maybe that Jazz cared about her safety. Well, he did, but he also couldn’t let her get any closer to the truth that his family was, in fact, his pack. Crap, he felt like a huge sword was hanging above his head, and no matter which way it fell, he was dead.
Dash gazed at him with an expression so neutral, Jazz couldn’t even guess what he was thinking.
“We’ll talk about this some more, but we need to get the Dij back to her family unit,” BeBop said.
“Yes, that makes sense.” Jazz nodded a little too hard.
BeBop and Dij climbed in the car. As it left the mansion, Carla, Dash, and Jazz waved.
When the limo was gone, Carla held up a finger. “Stay here a sec.” At the open door to the house, she leaned in and yelled, “Hey, Mom, I’m taking Dash and Jazz out to the point to see how pretty it is by moonlight.”
Mrs. Mendes came to the door, a slightly incredulous look on her face. “How very aesthetic of you, dear. Since when have you been interested in long walks in the moonlight?”
She looked at Jazz and Dash. “Since I have two such gorgeous escorts.”
If ever there was a comment designed to win over Mrs. Mendes, that was it. Some part of her must secretly yearn for a daughter who wasn’t such a badass tomboy. She smiled at Carla. “Want to take more ice cream with you?”
“Thanks, Mom, but I’m guessing we’re good with this.”
Carla went back to Jazz and Dash, and the three of them walked away from the mansion onto the grounds.
“Man, this is really pretty,” Jazz said, taking a bite of his cone.
“Yeah. I’m going to show you the best place around.”
“How large are the grounds?” Dash asked as he licked some coconut from his finger. Jazz forced himself not to imagine where he’d like that tongue to be.
“Four acres. But the spot I’m taking you to is off the property. Come on.” She led the way from the more manicured parts of the property into a dense stand of trees.
After they’d walked a while, Jazz heard water. Falling water. “What’s that?”
“That’s it.” She walked faster. A couple of minutes later, they broke through the bushes and came to a waterfall flowing down to a lovely pond about twenty feet below. She threw out her arm. “Ta-da!”
“Wow.” Jazz shoved the last piece of cone into his mouth.
“We can sit here and talk.” Carla plopped down on the somewhat damp precipice overlooking the pond.
“Is there enough room for all three of us?” Jazz asked.
“Sure. Sit. Sit.”
Dash squatted next to her. Right. His jeans probably cost a lot.
Jazz wasn’t so concerned. He sat on his butt. “So what’s up? Why have you called us together, kiddo?”
She patted her lips with her paper napkin, then slid her hands down her thighs, wiping her hands on her jeans. “When I went upstairs, I had an email from Evenride.”
Chapter Nineteen
JAZZ’S STOMACH clenched.
“Really? What did Evenride say?” Dash asked.
Carla looked at Jazz, then back at her hands. “I didn’t print it out because I didn’t want anyone else to see it.”
“That bad?” Jazz murmured.
“Well, yeah. This asshole is repeating the idea that you guys are dangerous devil worshippers, and he says you have, like, powers.” She stood and waved her arms. “He says I should spy on you to see for myself, and that I should warn my father when I feel convinced.” She walked a few feet and turned.
“Carla, come sit down,” Dash said.
She waved him off. “I’m fine. Fine. Holy shit, Jazz. This guy is poison. We’ve got to shut him up. You know how people are about stuff like that.”
“I know. But come on over here and sit down.” Jazz patted the ground beside him. She was making him nervous on so many levels.
She paced to the ledge that looked over the water, then back, the whole time waving her arms and yelling. “Jesus, Jazz. If he starts spreading this crap around, what are people going to believe? People who claim to love your Pop-Pop could flip if this asshole gives them an excuse to hate him. We’re talking tar and feathers, man.” Her arms flew out to the side, and she stepped back to make some big point. Jazz watched her foot as it hit a patch of spray from the falls and slipped from under her. “Eep!” Her expression changed from passionate anger to desperate fear in a second.
“Carla!” Jazz hurled himself forward as her body slowly tipped backward into space. Space that was not going to stop her from hurtling onto the rocks at the bottom of the falls.
“Stop!” A flash of fire blazed through Jazz’s brain as he reached toward Carla.
Beside Jazz, Dash rocked up onto his knees and threw his hand out toward her falling body.
She stopped.
In midair—frozen in that space Jazz knew could never support her, except it did.
He blinked and blinked again.
Dash glanced toward Jazz, his hand still suspended, stretched toward Carla’s immobile body. Slowly he rose, walked the few steps to the ledge, and grabbed Carla’s arm, which was immobilized in midflail. Grasping her wrist, he pulled her back onto solid ground.
Carla blinked and sucked in a breath. “What-what happened?”
Slowly, Dash stared at Jazz, his eyes like blazing emeralds. Jazz stammered, “You almost fell. Dash pulled you back.”
She glanced around. “I did?” She frowned. “Oh come on, you guys. You just panic easy. Pay attention to what I’m telling you. We need to find some way to shut Evenride up.”
It’s too much. Jazz dropped his head in his hand, feeling shaky. What the living, breathing hell just happened?
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Carla asked.
He raised his head and speared her with what he hoped was an intimidating gaze. “You scared the shit out of me, that’s what. Let’s go back to the house and talk about this. I want to get you away from any other places you might want to take a dive off.”
She waved a hand and snorted. “Okay, let’s go home. But I want to hear some really creative solutions to our mutual asshole problem. We’ve got no idea how far and wide Evenride is spreading his poison mouth.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Jazz was still trying to catch his breath, but Carla gave him an approving glance.
“So what have you got?” She started walking back into the bushes and trees toward the mansion—all as if she hadn’t just been saved from death by some weirdass supernatural event.
Jazz looked at Dash with raised eyebrows. What the hell did that guy do? How did he suspend her in midair? Who is he?
Dash gazed back at him, his face neutral and indecipherable, but he fell into step behind Carla.
Jazz had no choice but to join in.
Jazz inhaled deeply as he walked. Whether it was from the wacked crap that just happened or watching Dash’s butt in tight jeans flexing in front of him, he wasn’t sure. He sucked in air and managed to get his pulse out of cardiac infarction range.
Before they got back to the front porch, Dash took Carla’s arm and stopped her forward progress. “What if you tell Evenride that you need to find some hard evidence to take to your father,” he said. “See if he can supply any, and tell him you’re looking for clues on your own. Ask him to assure you that this claim he’s making won’t go any further until you have proof, because if the governor hears it as a rumor, he’ll surely fly to the Vanessen’s defense and never believe any data you supply.” Dash crossed his arms. “That might get him to shut up until we can prove he’s a fraud who’s out to destroy the Vanessens.”
She nodded. “That’s a good idea. What do you think, Jazz?”
Jazz managed to nod, even though his head felt stuffed with crap and unicorns. What did Dash think? That Jazz would ignore this whole thing? Pretend it didn’t happen? Does he think I’m blind? Or is he going to use some brain-erasing device on me?
“Okay. You guys
want to help me write an email to the asshole?” Carla said.
Jazz cleared his throat. “I better get home. I trust you to be eloquent and stealthy.”
“Okay. Sleep good. Sorry I scared you.” She moved closer to kiss his cheek, then waved a hand. “Dash, did you want to help?”
Dash fell in beside her as they walked toward the porch. Jazz watched for a second. Despite all his raging confusion, he still wished Dash had decided to give him a good-night kiss too. God, I am a stupid ass.
He walked toward his car, trying to feel the earth under his feet to reassure himself the world was real. True, suspending someone in midair probably wasn’t any weirder than turning into a wolf. Obviously, the weird you know is less weird than the weird you don’t know.
The very slight crunch of gravel behind him made him turn instantly.
Dash walked toward him.
Jazz frowned. “How did you get away?”
“I told her I wanted to ask your advice on some wording.”
“Think fast.”
“I will.”
Silence.
Jazz crossed his arms protectively over his chest. “So when are you going to explain?”
“What?”
“I know you’ve got to get back, but when are you going to come clean? Tomorrow at work? Hell, we don’t have time then either.” He huffed out a breath. “I’m not fucking blind, Dash. You can’t convince me I didn’t see what I saw. I want to know how you did it, and I don’t want to wait long for an explanation.” He frowned for emphasis.
“I don’t understand. What do you want me to explain?”
“Dammit. This is what I mean. No gaslighting, man. I saw it. I saw her suspended in midair before you pulled her back to solid ground. I want an explanation. I want to know how you did it.”
Dash shook his head with a little smile. Infuriating! Dash pursed those beautiful lips. “I can’t explain it, Jazz.”
“Why not? Did you have an adrenaline rush? Should I google it?” Jazz paraphrased the lines from the old Twilight movie.
“No, I can’t explain how Carla was saved—because I didn’t do it.” He smiled but his eyes bored into Jazz’s with a cool fire. “I didn’t do it. You did.”