by Jasmine Walt
Usually, the thought of sitting and talking with anyone is the last thing I want to do. But right now, company actually sounds nice.
“Sure.”
“Really?” She blinks and rapidly shakes her head. “I mean, great.” She motions to the cafe across the street. “Shall we?”
I roll the top of the paper bag down and fall into step with Gemma, going to the crosswalk.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks. “I don’t mean to pry, but you have this look in your eye that makes me think you broke up with a boy last night or something.”
“No breakups here.”
“But it is about a boy.”
“It might be.” The light changes and we cross the street.
“I have a very good I hate men speech ready if you need it. Guys can be such assholes.”
“This one isn’t an asshole,” I say, and while I’m not telling the truth entirely, it feels good to talk about this. I’ve never had a close girlfriend to spill my guts to. I used to act like I didn’t see the appeal of having a close female friend, but really, I was keeping the idea at bay so I wouldn’t feel like I was missing out.
“But he did something stupid?”
“Yeah. Something really stupid.”
“What’d he do?”
I open the cafe door. “I can’t tell you. It has to do with work.”
“Ohhh,” she coos. “You’re dating a co-worker. Is that against policy or do they just add that in for drama on TV?”
“We work in different departments, so it’s okay.” We get in line and Gemma silences her phone, which keeps dinging with text messages.
“So how mad are you?”
“I’m not mad. I’m worried. He’s out on an assignment and, uh, did something risky and I won’t be able to hear back from him until tonight.”
“Ahh, got it.” We move up in the line. Gemma’s lips curve into a sympathetic smile. “I worry too,” she says softly. “I feel like anyone I care about is going to die. The therapist told me it was normal and would go away, but here I am, twenty-four and still worrying I’m cursed.”
“I feel that way too sometimes,” I admit.
“Have you been subconsciously punishing yourself by not letting yourself develop real relationships?”
“Is that something your therapist told you?”
“Yeah. And it was kinda true until I graduated and got a job at Silver Living. I was a bit of a loner before.”
“I was too. Still am, if I’m being honest.”
She playfully elbows me. “At least you have a boyfriend.”
I smile. “True. You’re not seeing anyone?”
She shakes her head. “I just went through a string of losers and am taking a break for a bit. And by that I mean I’m having as many no-strings summer flings as I can.”
“Sounds fun.”
“In theory,” she says with a laugh. “I’ve never had a one-night stand before. So here’s hoping the guys aren’t all freaks.”
“Being a freak might not be a bad thing.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “I like the way you think.” We go up to the counter, order our coffees, and snag a table in the back while we wait. “Have you and your boyfriend been together long?”
“Not too long.”
“You seem to really care about him.”
She really is nosey, and while I didn’t mind at first, I can’t get into a round of Twenty Questions with her about my “boyfriend.” First of all, I don’t have just one boyfriend, and second, my boyfriends aren’t quite human.
“How was the night shift?” I change the subject before she digs deeper.
“Huh?”
“You said you worked the night shift.”
“Oh. Right. I did.” She forces a smile and looks away. “It was hectic, as always. But I like working nights because management isn’t there.”
“That would be a nice perk.”
“It has its drawbacks, but I’d much rather deal with that than have the director of nurses breathing down my neck. She’s a terrible human being. Our supply closet just happens to run low every time she takes a vacation. I’d report her to the state board of nursing if I wasn’t worried about losing my job.”
“If you got fired because you reported something, you’d have a big lawsuit on your hands. That’s illegal.”
She taps her chin. “You’re making it sound tempting. Get my asshole boss out of the picture and sue her. What am I waiting for?”
We both laugh. “Seriously, though, if you think she’s doing shady stuff, report her ass. Running low on supplies makes your job harder, and it’s not good for your patients. You have to stand up for those who can’t, right?”
Gemma suddenly gets fidgety and looks like she’s going to throw up.
“Are you okay?” I ask, finding her behavior too weird not to mention.
“Yeah.” She closes her eyes in a long blink. “It’s, uh…my aunt and uncle.”
“The Amish ones?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they okay?” I watch her shoulders relax just a bit.
“Yeah, yeah…they’ve been bugging me to come visit and I don’t want to. They care since I’m family, but they’re a bit judgmental.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I can see that being stressful.”
“You’re a good person, Ace,” she says quietly, and looks away. She doesn’t speak again until our coffees come, and she jumps up to get them. “Have you decided about going to your neighbor’s party? It’s coming up on Monday, right?”
“Shit.”
“You forgot about it, didn’t you?”
“I did. I’m supposed to bring a side dish, and I don’t cook. So I guess I’m not going.”
“I’m a great cook and have the best recipe for macaroni salad from my aunt and uncle. I’d love an excuse to make it and then eat it until I feel sickly full. I can make it and we can go together. If you want, I mean.”
I don’t want to go to Richard’s party. I don’t want to meet the other people on the street and pretend I’m interested in what goes on in their lives. But being friendly with the neighbors and figuring out who’s who in the nearby houses will definitely work in my benefit. What better way to do it than when everyone is all together?
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
Gemma beams and takes a sip of her coffee. “Yay! I’ll make it so you have fun, okay? They’re having free drinks, so it’ll be easy. Do you drink? I never asked, did I?”
“I don’t very often, but yeah. And I’m probably going to need a drink or two to get through this party. The guy who’s hosting—Richard—has a son who I caught trying to take pictures of me through my bedroom window.”
“Ew! What a perv! Did you arrest him?”
“I gave him a warning but will if he so much as sets foot on my property again.” I’m still leaving out most of the truth, but damn, it feels good to talk. Now I get the appeal of hanging out with friends. “Which reminds me, I really need to install a few cameras at my place.”
Gemma almost spits out her coffee. “You don’t have security cameras?”
“Not yet.”
“I imagine your job makes you pretty paranoid.”
I shrug. “It can, but I also know how to defend myself and I’m a good shot.”
“Right.” Her eyes go to my gun on my belt. “I’ve never fired a gun before.”
“I won’t say it’s fun because this is a tool not a toy, but there is something very satisfying about hitting your targets.”
She smiles. “It seems like it.”
I take the lid off my coffee to let it cool down faster.
“What’d you get at Lyra’s? Your bag is pretty full.”
“Just some basics, though she was out of mugwort.”
“I have a ton of it,” Gemma offers. “I can give you some if you need it.”
According to my book, mugwort helps with divination and dreams, and could help me see more of the curse. “I don’t want to t
ake your stash.”
“I have plenty, really. Will you be at the police department later? I can bring it by.”
“Don’t go out of your way. Bring it Monday. And thanks.”
“No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Right.”
“So Lyra canceled her tarot reading this weekend. Do you want to maybe go see a movie or something?”
The last time I saw a movie, I had a boyfriend. A human boyfriend. So…it’s been a while. And I love movie theater popcorn.
“I’m gonna say maybe, depending on the boyfriend situation.”
“Of course! It’d be fun to double date sometime. Which would require me getting a date in the first place.”
“I don’t think you’ll have trouble with that. You’re freaking gorgeous.”
She waves her hand in the air, dismissing the compliment. “Me? Have you seen yourself? You’re in incredible shape.”
“I work out a lot.”
“And I’m way too lazy to.”
I laugh. “It’s part of my job, in a way.”
“True. That makes me feel better.”
I smile, realizing that sitting here talking is making me feel better too.
17
I toss the paper bag from Lyra’s into the passenger seat and close the door behind me. Pulling the seatbelt over me, I feel calmer and clearheaded after having coffee with Gemma. This having friends thing just might be all it’s cracked up to be after all.
I drum my fingers on my steering wheel, deciding what to do. Going home and taking a nap—and making sure Jac hasn’t cracked more—sounds nice. But going into work and taking a stab at this case sounds more like me. Sitting around waiting for the sun to set will make the time go by slower than it’s already going, and honestly, being alone with my own thoughts makes me a little anxious.
Even though I called in and said I had food poisoning, no one seems too surprised to see me. Work has been my whole life pretty much since I started here. After meeting with the other officers working on the investigation and going over the evidence found on the victims’ social media accounts, we start to put together a profile for our suspect.
I leave at exactly five o’clock, feeling more like my old self. The confidence in solving this case is back, but I don’t have tunnel vision blocking out life around me. I’m worried about Jacques. If something did happen to him, how would the others take the news?
The guys feel like protecting and serving me is their job, but keeping them safe is mine. I woke them up. I’m the reason monsters will attack. They’re bigger and stronger than me, but I’m the one with the magical powers.
I make a detour to an electronics store on the way home, picking up just one camera for the time being. A good security camera costs more than I expected. My knowledge of hooking stuff like this up is limited to what I can learn from a YouTube tutorial, and I give up almost as soon as I start, realizing this old house isn’t wired in a way that I can easily hook up the camera to Wi-Fi from the outside of the house. I’ll have to go back out and get what I need to attach it later.
Going back inside, I lay out everything I need for the concealment charm. I have everything I need except the actual medium to carry the charm. The spell calls for a necklace to be worn, and while basically anything will do, a quartz amulet would hold in the power the longest. The quartz necklaces Lyra had are pretty and on a delicate chain, which isn’t practical and could easily break. I got them anyway, knowing a quick fix is all I need to make them work.
I take the quartz off the chain, removing the decorative pink beads, and string it through a leather cord, tying it with enough length to easily slip over my head. Then I get supplies ready just in case Jacques wakes up bleeding. My fingers tremble as I lay gauze and bandages on the coffee table in the sitting room. I add a couple towels, wet rags, and a blanket too, preparing for the worst.
Feeling restless, I change and go for a run, then clean the bathrooms when I get back. With time left before sunset, I shower, change into shorts and a T-shirt, and get started on dinner.
My sunset alarm goes off on my phone two minutes before the actual sunset, and I drop everything and run outside, grabbing the first aid supplies on the way. I look from the horizon to the clock on my phone over and over, counting down the seconds until the official sunset.
Thomas and Gilbert wake up first, stone crumbling away as they emerge. Gilbert jumps down, shaking out his hair, and lets out a breath of relief when he sees me.
“You’re alive.” He strides over, putting both hands on my waist, and looks me over.
“I am.”
Thomas walks behind me, playfully smacking my ass. “She looks good from this side too.”
I reach behind me and take his hand, heart thumping. “Guys, I have to—”
Hasan swoops down, looking just as relieved as the others to see me. They turned to stone right after we fought off the ghouls. My fate was as uncertain to them as Jac’s is to me.
We all look up, wondering why he hasn’t changed yet. Tears well in my eyes, and I turn to Thomas. “He got hurt. Right before he turned. There was one more ghoul and…and…” I break off, squeezing my eyes shut. Tears roll down my cheeks, and Thomas tugs me forward, cradling me to his chest.
Gilbert and Hasan take off, flying up to the roof. Thomas places a hand on the back of my head, gently turning me away so I don’t have to see.
“What happened?” he asks.
“There was one hiding out. It threw a spear at me but Jac took the blow. It hit him in the chest.”
Thomas tenses, and I pull back, looking up at the roof. Hasan’s back is to me, blocking Jacques from sight. He’s not moving, not saying anything. This isn’t good. Gilbert jumps down, face sullen and shoulders hunched forward.
“Is he dead?” I ask, voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” Gilbert responds, brows furrowed.
“It’s my fault,” I choke out. “I should have moved or stopped him or—”
Gravel rains down on us, and we take a step back and watch Jacques break free from the stone. He pitches forward, and if it weren’t for Hasan, he would have plummeted right off the roof. Hasan grips his arm and brings him down. Blood drips down Jacques’s chest, but it’s not nearly as bad as before.
Gilbert rushes over, taking Jacques’s other arm and keeping him upright. They bring him inside, sitting him on the couch. I grab a towel and spring forward, pressing it against the wound.
“Ace,” Jacques breathes. “Did you get them all?”
“Yes. I set them all on fire.”
“That’s my girl,” he says with a small smile. I bring the towel back and look at the wound. It’s small, much smaller than before, and is already healing.
“You’re…you’re okay.”
“Yes.”
“How? Not that I’m not happy, but I don’t get it.” I trade the towel for the damp rag. Carefully, I clean off his chest. The wound, which was a large gash, is now small and closing up. His skin is still torn and tender, and fresh blood pools at the surface, but it’s nowhere near as damaged as when he turned.
“I don’t know,” Jacques answers, shifting his eyes up to the others.
“Sleep,” Hasan offers. “Sleep heals.”
“Makes sense,” Thomas says. “Magic turns us to stone, taking away what little humanity we have left. And bleeding and feeling pain is about as human as it gets.”
“I was so scared,” I confess. “I thought you’d wake up dead.”
“You can’t wake up dead,” Gilbert mumbles, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Hasan elbow him. “I know what you meant,” he adds.
I clean up as much blood as I can with the rag and tear open an alcohol swab, doing my best to clean the wound.
“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you guys,” I say as I cover the wound with gauze. “You’re…you’re like my family.”
Thomas’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You’re like o
urs too, and I like this family arrangement much better than the one I had before.”
Smiling at him, I grab a clean rag and wipe the blood off my hands. Jacques sits up, wincing, and rolls his neck. His wing is almost healed as well, and the only evidence it was torn is a small scar.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Sore,” he says, hand going to the bandage on his chest. “And tired, even though I just woke up.”
“Rest,” I say, gently pushing a piece of tape down on a corner of the gauze and noticing his skin is warm. Too warm. I press the back of my hand to his forehead. “I think you have a fever.”
All of the guys tense, and I realize that a fever back in their time could be a death sentence.
“The spear you were stabbed with was filthy,” I add, and stand, gathering up the first aid supplies and pushing them aside. “Go upstairs and lie down,” I tell him. I have leftover antibiotics from the last time I had a sinus infection. I started feeling better after I picked up my prescription and never took it, but hung onto it in case I got sick again.
Jacques looks at me, ready to protest that he’s fine and doesn’t need to rest.
“Now.”
With a sigh, he gets up and goes to the stairs.
“I’ll be right up with medicine and food.”
The annoyance leaves his face and his eyes meet mine. “Thank you, Ace,” he says softly, and it hits me that he’s never had anyone take care of him before.
“What’s all this?” Hasan asks, voice coming from the kitchen. I make sure Jacques actually goes upstairs into the master bedroom and then go into the kitchen to explain to the others how I’m going to do the concealment spell.
“I have another spell idea,” I say, opening the book. “And if you guys think it’ll work, we should probably try it first.”
“A separation spell?” Thomas asks, looking down over my shoulder.
“Yes, but I’m not trying to break anyone up. I want to separate you from whatever forces you to go back to the same spots every morning.” I find the spell in the book and cross-reference it to Jacques’s notes.
“I’ll have to tweak it a lot, but in theory, it might work. Right?”