“I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”
The concern had been for her, then. She relaxed, but only slightly. Why did he have to be so wonderful? “You’d tell me if I did?”
“Of course. I’m not the suffer-in-silence type.”
No, he wasn’t. Something she’d always loved about him.
“How are you?” he asked. “Are you…feeding properly?”
“Not yet. I’ve been living off my immense overindulgence, but the full feeling is fading,” she admitted. “I’ll be hungry very soon.”
“Very soon isn’t now. We have time.”
Time together, he was saying. Time before she had to start worrying.
When would he learn? She always worried. “Just finish the wards,” she said on a sigh.
“All right. But this conversation isn’t over.”
Yeah, it was, but she didn’t comment, and a few hours later, she was the proud owner of six new wards.
“Sexy,” Tucker said, wiggling his brows at her.
“Do you want me to pluck out your eyes?” Riley snapped as he dismantled the equipment and stuffed it into a bag.
“Fine.” Tucker held up his hands, all innocence. “She looks disgusting.”
Disgusting? “Thanks a lot, you traitor.”
Tucker shrugged, unapologetic. “We tried dating, we failed. Therefore I know not to put my eggs in your basket. If I do, they’ll be met with a hammer.”
Okay. Were eggs a metaphor for his balls? Because that was disgusting. Still, it had Riley nodding, genuinely happy for the first time all day.
“You’re not putting your eggs in my basket, either,” she informed him.
He, too, shrugged. “You’ll change your mind.”
“Just…keep your lips away from me!” If he kissed her, she’d cave, she always did. His mouth weakened her, and that was that.
He gave her a secret smile, one that promised he’d be all over her when they were alone. And she’d like it. She shivered. No being alone with the wolf!
“I didn’t say anything about kissing you. Did I?”
“Sick, just sick.” Tucker pretended to gag. “Stop flirting in front of the innocent bystander.”
“I doubt you’ve ever been innocent,” she said dryly.
“And don’t you have somewhere to be?” Riley demanded. “Like with your pregnant girlfriend?”
Penny. Mary Ann hadn’t yet called her today and wondered if the girl was still hunched over a toilet, vomiting out her guts.
For the first time since Tucker had stepped in front of Mary Ann, begging her to let him help her so that he could make up for what he’d done to Aden, claiming he only felt “right” when he was with her, that he could fight his darker urges as long as he kept her close, he appeared utterly defeated.
“Penny will find happiness without me,” he said without emotion.
“Well, her—your—baby won’t. He’ll be part demon, and Pen needs help raising him.”
His defeated pallor washed away with the flush of longing.
Did he…could he really…love Penny and want the baby? Maybe some part of him did. But maybe he also knew being with them would destroy them in ways leaving them alone wouldn’t. His dark nature might cause him to do things he would regret for the rest of his life.
Mary Ann knew the feeling. Being without Riley was killing her. She missed him a little more every day—even missed him while he was beside her—but she would do anything, anything, to keep him safe.
“So, are you done with Mary Ann? Tell me you’re done. Because I’m ready for my turn,” Tucker said, rubbing his hands together a second time.
Riley snorted. “Yeah. Right.”
“Hey, I don’t want to be cursed, either. And as I’m a valued member of this team.”
“Our definition of valued must differ.”
Tucker popped his jaw. “Just like our definition for shifter must differ. To you it probably means one who can change shapes. To me it just means asshole.”
“How about I ward you with permanent impotence?” Riley withdrew the gun and shook it at him. “How about that?”
“Unnecessarily cruel, wolf. I’m hurt. Really.” Tucker wiped pretend tears from his eyes. “Those witches and fairies are hot, and if I’m captured by one of them, I need to be in working order. You remember how I like to work, don’t you, Mary Ann?”
Oh, no. He wasn’t dragging her into this. “We never had sex, and you know it.”
“You were too busy nailing everyone else,” Riley snarled at him.
“Yeah, like your mom,” Tucker said.
“My mother is dead.”
There was a beat of silence. “Yeah, like your dad,” Tucker said without an ounce of remorse.
Actually, Riley’s dad was dead, too. No reason to mention that aloud, allowing Tucker to come up with someone else he could have nailed. “You two are such…guys,” she said, standing.
“He’s a guy.” Riley shrugged. “For the most part.”
Tucker’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? The rest of me is a girl?”
“Hey.” Riley held up his hands, palms out, in a mimic of Tucker’s earlier profession of innocence. “I’m not the one who admitted to nailing a dude.”
“That was a lie, Fido. An insult to your parents that you’re clearly too dumb to get.”
“Can we go now?” Mary Ann asked before they could fight. Again.
“Yes,” Riley said at the same time Tucker said, “What ever.”
Thankfully they traveled the fifteen miles to Dr. Daniel Smart’s former residence without incident. She would have preferred to go alone, but hey. At five, she’d wanted a pony. She’d learned to live with disappointment.
No one answered the door after a bout of hard knocking from Riley, followed by an equally hard bout of knocking from Tucker, as if even that was a competition, but their little group of dysfunction didn’t leave. They sat on the porch swing, Mary Ann the meat in a testosterone sandwich, and waited.
She’d checked the county records, and Dr. Smart’s wife still owned this place. So, Tonya Smart hadn’t changed the name on the deed, which most likely meant she hadn’t remarried.
Maybe she’d rented it out, though. Maybe she wasn’t here because she worked weekends. Maybe she would take one look at Mary Ann and tell her to get lost. She definitely wouldn’t want to answer questions akin to, “Was your husband a weirdo who could raise the dead?” But Mary Ann was going to try.
The sun shone brightly, clouds floating by and obscuring the golden rays every few minutes. Mist formed in front of her face every time she breathed. As she unrolled her shirtsleeves for added warmth, she asked, “How’s Aden?” ashamed for not asking sooner. In her defense, he was the reason she was here.
“Recovering,” was all Riley said. “No thanks to Tuck.”
“Can you just let it go?” Tucker snapped. “I said I was sorry.”
“Absolutely I can let it go. The day you’re dead.”
Mary Ann pinched the bridge of her nose, certain her head would explode by the end of the day. She had never wanted to become a referee, but that’s what they had reduced her to. Next go-round, she was going to demand a paycheck!
After two hours of the back-and-forth insults, her headache was more of an enemy than the witches and the fairies, and she was very close to convincing herself Tonya Smart couldn’t help her. Of course, that’s when she heard the purr of a car motor, the crunch of tires coming up the drive.
Mary Ann hopped to her feet. Her butt had fallen asleep, and the abrupt movement awakened it with a vengeance.
“Let me do the talking,” she told the boys.
“What are you going to say?” Tucker asked.
“Just watch and learn, demon,” Riley said. “She’ll say the right thing, that’s what.”
Tucker pouted. “You told him your plan, but didn’t tell me?”
“No. He just trusts me. Now zip it.” She hadn’t told either one of them because she ha
dn’t yet figured out what angle to pursue. But this was crunch time. She had to figure it out now.
Ms. Smart emerged from the vehicle. She was in her mid-fifties, with light brown hair, a trim form, her clothes neat and tidy. She was pretty in a motherly way, and at one time, she’d probably been beautiful.
She carried a sack of groceries and smiled warmly as she approached. Mary Ann wished she could see her eyes, but they were hidden behind sunglasses.
“Can I help you?”
She was human, Mary Ann thought, surprised her mind now worked that way. Nowadays, the first time she met someone new, she immediately sized them up.
“Her aura is black,” Riley muttered, and he sounded confused.
What exactly did that mean? No time to ask. “Yes, you can help me. My name is Mary Ann. You’re Tonya Smart, right?”
“Right,” she replied, just a bit hesitant now.
Finally. A break. “I’m just…well, my mother died the same day as your husband.” Was she really going there, right from the beginning? “In the same hospital.” Yep. She was. “She gave birth to me, and…that was it. The end.” How stupid did she sound?
Some of the warmth faded, wariness taking its place. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for yours, as well.”
Ms. Smart nodded in acknowledgment, shifting the grocery sack to her other arm. Her gaze must have skidded over the boys, because the wariness became laced with fear. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you here?”
“We won’t hurt you,” Mary Ann assured her. “The boys can leave if they bother you. In fact,” she said, glancing at them, “go. Now.”
Though Riley looked like he wanted to protest, he reached out, grabbed Tucker by the shirt collar and dragged him away. They didn’t go far, stopping under a large oak in the front yard.
“So which one are you dating?” Ms. Smart asked.
“Neither. The dark-haired one. Neither,” she added.
Smart laughed, relaxing once more. “Oh, to be young again.”
Mary Ann found herself studying the boys. Riley, with his dark hair and rough, fighter face, resembled a devil. Tucker, with his pale hair and innocent features, resembled an angel. Yet, personality-wise, the opposite was true. Doesn’t matter right now.
She returned her focus to the woman and cleared her throat. “One of my friends was born that same day in the same hospital. St. Mary’s,” she added, in case Ms. Smart thought she was lying. Proof was in the details, after all. “He’s looking for his parents.”
Confusion flittered across that aging face. “And you think my Daniel could be his father?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just, my friend…and me…we…can do…things. Weird things.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Riley fighting the urge to close the distance and sweep her away. She shouldn’t be admitting this. To anyone. Especially not to a virtual stranger who might mention what she’d said to the wrong people. People who could come after Mary Ann and Aden. There was no other way, however.
Besides, she’d done her homework. Daniel Smart had to be Julian. The pieces just fit. “I wondered if…”
“What?” Smart insisted.
“I wondered if Mr. Smart could do…weird things, too.”
A heavy pause, then, “Weird things. Like what?”
She couldn’t say it. She just couldn’t.
“Never mind,” Smart said a split second later, her voice cold. “I want you to leave. Don’t come here again.”
“Please, Mrs. Smart. This is a matter of life and death.”
The older woman pounded up the stairs and skidded around Mary Ann. At the mention of death, however, she paused at the door. Without facing Mary Ann, she whispered, “Are you trying to…raise someone?”
Raise someone—from the dead. She knew. She really knew! Someone ignorant of what Julian could do would not have known to ask that kind of question. Mary Ann wanted to whoop. “No, no, I promise you. Nothing like that.” By sheer will alone, she managed to remain sedate. “I’m just trying to find the person who could…raise something. A person who died the same day I was born. Someone who might have…passed that ability to someone else.”
If Daniel Smart was Julian, his last wish might have been to talk with this woman. Tossing out these half truths as she was, Mary Ann risked alienating her, but she couldn’t just spill the entire truth, either. Not yet.
Silence. More of that dreadful silence.
Then, “My Daniel couldn’t do what you’re asking.”
“Oh.” She’d been so certain. Maybe…maybe Smart was lying. There simply wasn’t another explanation for what Mary Ann had read.
“But his brother could,” the woman finished.
Okay. There was another explanation.
“He disappeared that night, too, and hasn’t been heard from since. Now please. Leave. And remember what I told you. Don’t come back here. You’re not welcome.”
TWELVE
AN HOUR LATER, MARY ANN found herself nestled inside The Wire Bean. The ridiculous name aside, she liked the place. The internet café was cozy, with plush couches and small round tables, as well as booths with multiple plug-ins right there on the side.
She pretended to sip a mocha latte—because actually drinking it would have made her sick. Human food was no longer hers to enjoy, only the magic and powers of others. Not that she was bitter. Except that she was freaking bitter!
Anyway. The drink had been “paid for” by Tucker.
His version of “let me get this” was casting an illusion so that the girl at the register—who’d smiled and flirted with him and Riley to an annoying degree—thought she’d been handed a twenty when in reality, Tucker had handed her a nice helping of air.
Riley had voiced a complaint. Tucker had looked at him and said, “Really, Rover? You stole Mary Ann a laptop, and you question my methods? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“At least my victim isn’t going to cry all night about losing the first ten pages of his book report.”
“Well, aren’t you just the do-gooder,” the shifter sneered.
At one time—like, an hour ago—all of this bickering would have bothered her. Right now? Hardly a blip on her radar. She was busy.
Of course, then they’d argued about who got to sit next to her. Flattering, as well as insulting, since it was merely a pissing contest and not a true desire to be near her. Riley won. Barely. And only because he tripped Tucker and the boy fell face-first into the coffee-stained tile.
Now her shifter was leaning back, his arm stretched out behind her, and Tucker sat across from her, scowling at them. Mary Ann continued to pretend to sip and type, breathing in the delightful fumes while searching for answers about Daniel Smart’s brother, Robert.
“You know,” Tucker said. “I’m actually a pretty good guy when it’s just me and Mary Ann. You kind of harsh my mellow, Fido.”
“I’ll pretend that’s true.”
“It’s true,” Mary Ann said without looking up from the screen. “Just like I negate Aden’s abilities when I’m around him, I negate Tucker’s evil.”
“I’d argue the word evil,” Tucker said.
“And you,” she went on, ignoring the demon, “negate my negating ability.”
“Poor Tucker,” Riley sneered. “Having to deal with being a bad boy.”
“And don’t you care that I’m calling you by different dog names, Max?” Tucker said with an obvious sulk.
“No. And by the way, Max is my brother’s name.”
“Wait.” Tucker leaned forward, lips twitching into a grin. “Your brother is a wolf-shifter and his name is Max?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So you do know that’s, like, the most popular dog name of the year?”
“What are you, a statistical handbook?”
Frowning, Tucker ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re not gonna react to insults the right way, I’m not sticking around. First I ca
lled you Fido. No reaction. Then I called you Max, and you corrected me. You’re lame.” He slid from the booth. “I’ll be outside. Smoking. Maybe drinking.”
“Don’t stab anyone,” Riley said with a wave of his fingers.
His expression darkened. “Do you have anything to add to this conversation, Mary Ann?”
“That’s great,” she said distractedly, having already tuned them out.
He pushed out a sigh. “Find me when you’re done.”
“Sure, sure,” Riley assured him. Then flipped him off.
Tucker stomped out of the café, the bell chiming over the door.
“What a douche,” Riley muttered. “I’m going to kill him before this is over, you know that, right?”
“That’s great.”
“And you’ll be okay with that?”
“That’s great.”
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, either, are you?”
“That’s great.” Seventeen years ago, people had not Facebooked or tweeted their every thought, so finding Robert Smart was a little more than difficult. But she was finally getting somewhere.
She found a news story about him, and that led to another, and another and still another. Each one had to do with Robert Smart’s ability to locate dead bodies and communicate with the dead. But none of them mentioned raising the dead. More than that, there was no mention of his death. So, she might be getting somewhere, but it wasn’t doing her any good. Until—
Bingo! A story about his disappearance. Excitement rushed through her as she read the first few lines. He’d disappeared the same night his brother was killed. And…oh. Disappointment replaced her excitement. “His body was never found, and he never married,” she said. “He had no children, no relatives other than Daniel and Tonya.” Which meant talking to his family was out. Tonya was likely to call the police if she caught sight of Mary Ann again.
“That’s great,” Riley said, mimicking her. Then, without taking a breath, he added, “But he could be out there talking to the witches or the fairies, you know.”
And if he had no family, what kind of last wish would he have had? Not to say goodbye to them, of course, as Mary Ann’s mother had wanted to do with her. So, what had he wanted?
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