“Only you could work a date into this,” I teased.
“Nah, he’s in his twenties. Way too young for me.”
Carl laughed loudly. “You’re barely an adult.”
She tossed her hair in an exaggerated movement. “I’m surrounded by centuries-old creatures most of the time. I tend to steer toward older men.”
“Some human boy your own age would be good for you.” I was only half-teasing that time. Sometimes Esther forgot about the other side of her heritage. She was always so busy trying to live up to her role, her brother’s reputation, and the expectations of the ancient beings around her that she forgot she was a twenty-one-year-old who still had a chance at something normal.
“Whatever. I’ll check on any phone numbers and see if my hacker boy can tell me anything about breaking a siren’s code. I’ll get him to run that name, but it might be unrelated.”
“I’ll try to dig up something on the victims and survivors from the newspaper articles,” Carl offered.
“I can do that,” I said automatically.
He grimaced. “I’m capable of helping.”
“I just thought, well, you’d be busy in the shop. Especially with trying to find out if Illeana bought that book there.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Esther and I exchanged glances.
“Fine. I’ll check the inventory for that book,” he said at last.
“Carl, I wasn’t trying to─”
“Forget it. It’ll be faster if you do the legwork, right?” His half-smile was full of bitterness.
Esther got to her feet. “Listen, I should head on. I’ll take what I need and leave you two to sort the details.”
Esther gathered most of Illeana’s things. When she asked me to help her carry some of it to her car, I knew she wanted to talk in private. Bear shifters tended to be stronger than they looked; Esther rarely needed help carrying anything. I picked up a box and followed her out to the car.
She opened the boot of her car. “He’s not dealing.”
“What am I supposed to do? It’s not his fault. None of it is. But he’s so weak right now that I can’t risk him hurting himself even more.”
She stared at me as if considering my words. “You can’t treat him like he’s a child, though. I’ve seen it before. Shifters… Guardians… they fall in combat, can’t get back on their feet, try to trick themselves into thinking they’re the same as before, but they aren’t. They can’t be. He’ll get over it, but it takes time. And I don’t think he can do it himself. I mean, he’s been through so much that I’m surprised he hasn’t lost his mind.”
I shook my head. I knew that already. He was stronger than any of us had ever anticipated. He had to be to have survived everything he had gone through. But I didn’t know how to handle Carl when he was acting as though he had been neutered or something.
“I’ll get started on this.” Esther got in her car and fastened her seatbelt. “Stay safe. Both of you. We need to keep this as down-low as possible. Keep an eye on Peter. He might crack before Carl.”
She sped away before I could think of an answer. When had I become the stable one of the group? Both of the humans keeping me human were teetering on the edge of something. I wasn’t equipped to deal with my own problems, never mind anyone else’s.
I still felt guilty about Carl. My suspicions of Eddie’s motives had been simmering for a while. The first time I had bonded Carl to me had been an accident, but I should never have trusted Eddie’s advice. I had become certain that Eddie knew the bond hadn’t broken fully the first time. I should have known. After all, he was Eddie Brogan, the one person who always seemed to know what was going to happen next. It was too late for Carl either way because the effects had lingered in our systems for so long they might never fade.
I had tied him to me in a way that was dangerous for both of us. It hadn’t protected him from the succubus I had basically dangled him in front of. Saving him from her, and from myself, had hurt him beyond repair. Even a healing miracle from an angel hadn’t quite done the trick. And now that he was in control of his own mind fully, for the first time in months, he was intent on pushing me away. It hurt.
When I went back inside, his mood had turned again as he looked over the newspaper articles with excitement.
“There has to be somebody left,” he said. “Somebody who remembers what happened. I think Peter was right about Illeana finding a witness.”
“Maybe. Maybe you could help me track them down. If I could just get a couple of phone numbers, we could ring them.”
He brightened. “Of course. There have to be some old articles online. Maybe something with a little more information. Finding them should be easy. Getting them to talk will be another thing.”
“I’ll go and see any we find. If we find any. I have a bad feeling that Peter surviving the attack on his family was a fluke. These creatures have no qualms about killing anyone who gets in their way.”
“All we need is one,” he said. “We just need the right one to see if we’re on the right track.”
“Think we’ll ever find the truth?”
He dropped the paper on the coffee table. “We have to. Between the lot of us, we can do it. And while I’m checking out the records at the shop, I’ll take a look at some of the more obscure books to see if there’s an image or description matching Peter’s demon.”
“Don’t call it that!” I took a deep breath. “Sorry, it just weirds me out a little.”
“He’ll be fine.” Carl patted my hand, seeing through my anger as always. “But maybe we should deal with this stuff without him. There’s no point rubbing his nose in it, especially if we don’t come up with something. And if we do, he’ll need to have it broken to him gently. Trust me.”
“I’m worried for her, too.”
Carl shrugged. “Esther needs to keep her mind off things. I’m not surprised. Something’s got to give.”
“She’s hiding it from Aiden. I wonder how well that one will work out.” I found it funny how all of us were so concerned with each other’s problems, yet so hesitant to deal with our own inner demons.
“Probably not well at all, but she isn’t ready to talk, so we have to wait it out.”
“I suppose.” I made a face. I wasn’t good at waiting. “But what I can’t figure out is what that book has to do with anything. It’s bugging me why she would steal that specific book.”
Carl rubbed the tawny stubble on his jaw. “That book was mostly about your kind, Ava. About the things nephilim could do.”
“Like open gates,” I whispered.
We exchanged a glance that said we were both thinking the same things.
“It might mean nothing,” he said. “It might have been the wrong book, or there’s something we’re missing here.”
“Or it might make perfect sense.”
He rose to his feet slowly, clearly in pain. “Don’t go assuming anything. We’ve plenty of work to keep us going, remember?”
“You should be using your walking stick on days like this,” I scolded.
He waved me away. “I’m not depending on a piece of wood to get around. I can walk. It isn’t going to kill me.”
But it hurt him. I could see it in the limp, the tightening of the lines around his eyes, and the controlled gasp as the aching reached its peak.
“Eddie will give you something for the pain if you ask.”
“I don’t need help,” he insisted. “I should get home. Maria will worry.”
“How is she?” I wasn’t being polite. I really wanted to know how she was treating him.
“She’s good, mostly. Getting over everything. She’s started at me about returning to work. Her dad’s forgiven me now. Pitying the poor invalid.” He grinned, but the lightness was gone.
How I wished I could turn back time and fix Carl. “Would that make you happy? To work there again?”
He tried to laugh, but his breath caught, and he coughed instead. “Definitely not
. I would rather suffer in Eddie’s shop than be perfectly healthy at her father’s business. I might not be any use at defending myself anymore, but I’m good at this stuff.” He gestured at the book. “This stuff comes easy for me, and if I can make a difference, even like this, then it’s worth it.”
I knew he meant it, and I was happy to have him in my life.
Chapter Five
Loud banging at my door and someone desperately shouting my name woke me from a particularly restless sleep. “Ava! Ava! Help me! Please! Someone help me!”
In a panic, I jumped out of bed and fell over myself trying to get to the door. Someone needed me. I heard the fear in their voice, and I had to run to help them.
To my surprise, I found Dita on my doorstep, in her pajamas, the beginning of a bruise swelling her cheek. She threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“What happened?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“It’s Daddy. He’s mad. I think he’s going to kill her. Please, help me.”
“Your house?”
“Yes!”
I kneeled in front of her and gripped her shoulders. “Get inside and lock the door after me. Let nobody in unless I tell you to. Put on the radio or the television and turn up the volume. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I moved to leave, but she pulled at my arm. “No! Don’t go in there. He’ll hurt you, too. I just… I didn’t know…”
“I’ll be fine, Dita. Get inside.”
I pushed her in and closed the door. I had no idea what kind of being her father was, and I didn’t have my dagger, but I had to take my chances.
I heard the sounds then, and I knew someone would call the Guardians, or the police, or at the very least, Mrs. Yaga. The noise of things being smashed by either being thrown on the floor or against the walls assaulted my ears, but there was no screaming, and that terrified me.
I ran through the open front door toward the source of the noise. In the kitchen, a human man, red-faced and obviously drunk, towered over Anka, Dita’s mother. She was curled up into a ball on the floor. I could smell blood, but I could also hear two strong heartbeats, so she was alive. He had a small microwave in his hands, the cord ripped off, and he was about to slam it on top of Anka.
“Put that down,” I snapped.
He turned, comically slowly, the microwave still in his large palms. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the person who’s going to kick your head in if you don’t get the hell out of here. Right now, you cowardly fuck.” Years of bad memories flew in front of my eyes as if they had been waiting to show themselves. Anka was defenceless on the ground, and still he didn’t care.
I remembered curling on the floor, hoping a man would stop kicking me, hoping someone would come and rescue me. I couldn’t watch it happen, and I wished the drunk would try to hit me. I had since learned to hit back.
He threw the microwave at me, but missed badly, and it flew into a chair at least two feet to my left. I lurched toward him and slammed my palm into his nose, wishing I had closed my fist, wishing I could hit him over and over again, wishing I could make him curl up into a terrified ball.
I grabbed his collar and led him out of the house before he could take the time to react, holding my breath against the smell of the blood seeping from his nose.
He was absolutely stunned, stumbling after me obediently, and it wasn’t until the fresh air hit him that he truly fought back. I avoided his punches and finally forced him into a choke hold that soon sent him into a snorting, slobbering mess.
“Is he dead?” Anka stood in the doorway, staring at me coldly.
I shook my head. “I need to get him out of here, though.”
“My daughter?”
“She’s in my house, safe.”
“I keep quiet, so she won’t hear. But he’s loud, and she wakes. She comes to save me. Like a superhero. But he slaps her away.” She stared at his prone body. “I almost wish you had killed him.”
“Yeah, I wish I had, too.”
“I called Mrs. Yaga. I need to clean up before Dita sees me.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait for the landlady.”
She was so bloody calm and dignified. My blood was steaming. Her tank top clearly displayed deep bruises, but her face was unmarked. As she turned, I saw a long slash across her back, with plenty of old scarring, too.
He knew what he was doing. He was well practiced, and she didn’t do a thing against him, simply kept quiet and waited for him to finish. And poor Dita had been struck by her own father, and probably because I had tried to convince her she could be a hero. Every time I interfered, I just made everything worse.
Mrs. Yaga turned up as the man began to stir. He mumbled something incoherent and just rolled over. She stepped out of the car carefully. I didn’t see who was driving, but they pulled away immediately.
“You interrupted my date.”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious.
She nudged the man with her walking stick. “This is him, I suppose.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure what to do with him.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Someone is on their way. Where is the child?” She sounded very protective of Dita.
“In my house. I didn’t want to get her until he was gone.”
“Understandable. Why don’t you keep Dita company until he’s removed? I need to speak with Anka alone.”
Shrugging, I headed back to my house. I rapped on the front door and called out to Dita, telling her it was okay.
“Is he gone?” she asked when she opened the door. “Did you hurt him?”
“I didn’t hurt him.” I stood there feeling awkward. “Your mother is just cleaning up, so hang out with me for a few minutes, okay?”
She nodded and let me lead her back into the living room. She had managed to find some late night/early morning cartoons. She sat on the sofa, her hands on her lap, more still than any child I had ever seen. The bruise on her cheek seemed to darken before my eyes.
“Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
“It’s going to be okay, Dita.”
Her eyes filled with tears that didn’t drop. “No. It won’t.”
The flat tone of her voice scared me a little, but a soft rap on the door interrupted us. I opened the door to Mrs. Yaga and Anka.
“Come on home, Dita,” Anka said, acting as though nothing had happened. Nodding, Dita clung to her mother’s hand.
Mrs. Yaga watched them leave. “He’s gone. Thank you for helping them.”
“You care about them.”
“The same could be said for you. After all, you stepped in.” She sighed. “I knew her mother once. A shame it came to this for her.”
“Where is he?”
“Taken away,” she said firmly. “He shouldn’t be back, but if you hear anything again, please call me.”
“Police? Guardians? Who took him?”
Her thin lips curved upward. “No matter who. Get some sleep. You look exhausted.” She left without a word, and I realised her walking stick was missing, yet she walked easily without it.
I tossed and turned the rest of the night, unable to relax. When I heard Dita playing in the back garden the next morning as though nothing in her life had changed, I couldn’t resist knocking on her front door.
When Anka saw it was me, she let out a weary sigh before beckoning me in. “Thank you for last night,” she said as she laid out cups and a teapot. “Dita has never gone through that, so it was a shock, I suppose. I’m sorry she disturbed you.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m just sorry I didn’t hear anything earlier.”
She glanced up at the clock and twisted her dirty blond hair up into a loose bun. “There was no need for your interference.”
I stared at her. “He was beating the crap out of you. He could have killed you.”
A humourless smile curved her lips. “I’m sturdi
er than I look.” But her eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that look.”
I was taken aback. “I’m not giving you any look.”
“I see your judgement, how you think I’m weak, but I’m doing what’s best for my daughter. She needs her father, even if he didn’t make a good husband. I bring out the worst in him. When it’s just the two of them, they’re happy. They love each other. That’s completely separate to how it is for him and me.”
“How could it be best for her to see her father hurt her mother? She was terrified last night. And he hit her.”
She glanced at the window. “And now she’s fine. Children are resilient. As long as the good times outweigh the bad. I’ll make sure she never sees him hit me again if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried I won’t get here in time. Next time. There will be a next time. Surely you see that.”
“Like I said. I’m resilient. He’s human. A bruise is nothing to me. Believe me, there are worse things.” A shadow crossed her face, and I saw true fear in her eyes. She might be calm and sedate, but she had known what it was like to see her death coming.
I could relate, and I softened. “What’s your story then, if this is of such little consequence? What’s happened to you?”
She shook her head. "If I ask your story, will you tell it?”
I couldn’t control my smile. “Try to stop me.”
She lit a cigarette and took one long drag. “You are nosy. I couldn’t tell before. Dita likes you. She talks about you as if you are a friend. You don’t judge her for what she is, do you?”
“I have no idea what she is. Hell, I’ve no idea what I am.”
“Funny you say hell.” She inhaled deeply, apparently savouring the taste of nicotine on her tongue. “My mother is a boginka. Do you know this word?”
Taken (Ava Delaney #4) Page 4