by Cassi Carver
Bright lights flashed as patrol cars descended upon the scene. Their sirens were silent, and it seemed right that they should be. The whole city should have stilled and bowed its head for the lovers.
A man in a navy SDPD uniform stepped out of his cruiser for only a moment before ducking back in and radioing for an ambulance. When he was done, he jogged to Tray. His short black hair clung to his head as if he’d just removed his cap, and his dark brown eyes stood out on his pale skin. “Oaks? Were you hurt?”
“No. Just my friend here. There are two people trapped under the beam, but they didn’t make it.”
Kara braced a hand under her and tried to rise.
“What are you doing? You need an ambulance,” Tray said.
Kara lowered her voice. “The beam didn’t get me—just the plywood. If nothing’s badly broken, you know I’ll be fine.”
“Let them check you out, please.” The look he gave her told her to play human and go along with it, but the last thing she wanted was an EMT seeing her small cuts mending before his eyes.
“I’ll probably heal better at home.” She was wearing jeans and a sweater, but gouges and scrapes were visible through the tears in her clothing. She already felt the burning itch of skin regenerating on her scuffed cheek.
He frowned, then understanding lit his eyes. “Johnson, get me a couple of blankets from the trunk of your car. Miss Reed wants to sit up. We’ll put her in the back of your cruiser for now.”
When Johnson returned with the blankets, Tray wrapped Kara in the thin wool. She tried to avert her eyes as the other officer ushered her past the fallen beam and into his car. Already, a cluster of uniforms gathered around the unfortunate couple.
“Hey, isn’t this your ex-girlfriend’s pal?” Johnson said to Tray. “Abbey’s friend…” He seemed to be talking to himself. “Kara?”
Kara nodded. She didn’t care at the moment what Tray’s coworkers might think about him being out with his ex’s best friend. What was Tray doing here anyway? She was still blocks from where they’d planned to meet.
An ambulance wound its way through the parked police cars. At the other end of the street, an industrious officer with a whistle waved pedestrians and vehicles down a perpendicular side street.
Tray rested his arm on the open car door and studied Kara. Nestled into the back of the cruiser, she was wrapped head to toe in charcoal-colored blankets as if it were the dead of winter instead of a balmy October night. But at least her healing wounds were covered. Given her chattering teeth and uncontrollable trembling, if being cold wasn’t an excuse for being swaddled, shock certainly was.
Another man in uniform approached the car. “Are you all right, ma’am?” Then without waiting for a response, he asked Tray, “Do you think she can answer a few questions about what happened?”
Tray nodded brusquely and allowed the other officer to question Kara. She cooperated the best she could, but there wasn’t much she could tell them that they couldn’t see with their own eyes.
When the firemen began lifting the beam from the couple, Kara sucked in a breath. Tray clenched his fists and turned toward the men. “I saw the whole thing. I can tell you what happened. At approximately—” he glanced at his watch, “—7:55 p.m., a fucking beam came loose and pole-axed a man—I’d say early twenties—and the girl he was walking with. Kara Reed was standing outside of the primary impact zone. She’s declining medical treatment. I’m off duty, and I’m going to walk her home now. Any other questions?”
The other man shrugged. “No. That works for me.”
“Let me drive her, buddy,” Johnson said. “She doesn’t look like she should be walking.”
Tray helped Kara from the car, tucked her under his arm and tightened his hold. “Thanks, but she’ll be fine.”
Johnson took hold of his arm. “Really.”
Tray pulled away, his jaw clenching. “I said no.”
Johnson shrugged and offered Kara an uncomfortable smile. “I’m sorry, Kara. You know, if you were hurt, you could sue the hell out of these assholes. Are you sure you don’t want the paramedics to look you over?”
“I’m sure. What are the firefighters planning to do for them?” She looked to the pile of rubble and the men there trying to heft the beam to the side.
“There’s nothing anyone can do for them now,” Johnson replied.
“Come on, Kara.” Tray pulled her along beside him with his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. “Do you think you can walk?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“I’ll get these blankets back to you, Johnson. Maybe I’ll drop them by your place tonight,” Tray said behind him, then mumbled to himself, “after I wash them.”
Kara frowned. Were bloody blankets really that important in the grand scheme of things? “I can buy him new blankets if it’s that big of a deal.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He adjusted his grip on her shoulders. “You’re shivering. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not so sure about that. We should probably call Abbey and have her meet us at my apartment.”
Kara glanced over at him. In light of what had just happened, she didn’t like the feeling that maybe Tray got a little thrill from needing to involve Abbey. “Not a chance. We don’t need more turmoil at home right now. And when did you get an apartment downtown?”
He straightened but still supported her weight as they walked. “A month ago. I was sick of the commute. I would have phoned to let Abbey know, but she isn’t taking my calls.”
“So where is this new apartment exactly? ’Cause, honestly, I’m ready to go home.”
Kara didn’t allow herself to be weak. She tried not to miss Julian or Gavin, but if she was being honest, in that moment, she wouldn’t have minded being supported by a broad chest, a sturdy pair of arms and shoulders that could carry some of her burden. Sometimes, being strong was a burden of its own.
“We’re almost there,” he answered.
They’d only headed south a few blocks when Tray stopped at the main entrance of a parking garage and punched in a code.
“No way,” Kara said as the metal grate lifted from the driveway. “This is your place? You get an apartment no more than a mile away from where Abbey is currently staying because you suddenly can’t handle the commute? You lived in North Park. How bad could it have been?”
“Jeez, Kara. Does getting hit over the head usually make you so cranky? I’m going to get you a hard hat for Christmas to go over that thick skull of yours.”
“Bite me,” she shot back.
“Hey—” he put his hands up, “—not in my job description. Don’t you have a sex slave for that?”
“I’m not that kind of mistress, smart-ass.”
She had to admit she was more comfortable with the old, snarky Tray than the shell of a man she’d had to deal with after Abbey had been attacked. Normal Tray was what she imagined an irritating big brother would be like—and she could handle that.
He led her to apartment number 713 and ushered her inside, then shut the door behind him. “Well, this is it. Make yourself at home.”
Kara took in the simple surroundings. White walls. Tan carpet. Same old furniture he’d always had. “You still have the brown sofa, huh?”
“Yep.”
She regarded it dubiously. “I’ve heard the stories of what happened on that couch.”
He stopped and stared, like he was remembering the times he and Abbey had shared. When his gaze roamed from the couch to the table to the chair by the window, Kara could have slapped herself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to go there.”
His shoulders hunched as if the marrow had been scraped from his bones. “It’s all right. Come on. Change your clothes, then you can sit on the floor.” He retrieved a box of Abbey’s clothes from his bedroom and handed it to Kara.
“Do you want me to give this to her?” she asked.
“Hell no. Take what you need and tell her some of her favorite jeans ar
e still at my place, waiting for her.”
Kara went to the bathroom to change. She inspected her sweater and decided it would do, then wedged herself into a pair of gray slacks that had been loose on Abbey. With Kara’s build, it looked as if she’d painted them on. She’d need surgery to remove them from her crevices, and they still brushed the floor when she walked. Kara could handle not being Abbey’s height, but if she split a seam, she was going to chain the refrigerator door closed.
She emerged from the bathroom with her tattered Levi’s over one arm. The witch decree slipped from the pocket of the jeans and fell to the ground. Kara grimaced. As if she needed to be reminded what a mess her life was right now.
To show Tray she’d only been joking about the sofa, she plopped down, tucked the envelope beside her thigh and placed her hands in her lap. “I folded the blankets and left them by the bathroom door. Sorry if they’re a little worse for the wear.”
“Worse for the wear? You mean sporting your bodily fluids?”
“Uh, yeah. That, too.”
Damn, she’d had a horrible night. Chasing down tourists, upsetting Abbey and being summoned to the witch council would have been enough, but witnessing such a horrific accident and not being able to do anything to help made her want to throw in the towel and just curl up in a ball.
Tray cocked his head, staring at the envelope beside Kara. “What’s that?”
“A letter.”
“From Abbey?”
“What?” He couldn’t possibly be obsessed enough that he’d think Abbey had sent him a letter, could he? Abbey hadn’t even known Kara was going to see him tonight. “No, it’s not from Abbey. As a matter of fact, if I have anything to say about it, Abbey isn’t ever going to know this letter exists.”
He came and sat down on the coffee table across from Kara. “Okay, you have my attention. What’s in the letter?”
“You’re such a cop,” Kara growled. “How come I feel like I’m the one being interrogated when you were the one who had something to say? So spill it. What’s up?”
He threaded his fingers together. “I never said I had something to say. I said I needed to talk with you.”
“About what?”
“Well, it seems kind of ridiculous now. I just wanted to find out how Abbey was doing since she won’t talk to me, but then a fucking beam fell out of the sky and almost compressed you into the sidewalk. I’d be an asshole to ask you about her now.”
Kara smiled. “Since when did being an asshole ever bother you?”
“Hey,” he began, looking like he was going to defend himself, but then he shrugged. “It doesn’t, really. How is she?”
Kara nestled deeper into the couch, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the envelope. “She’s hanging in there. The brand hasn’t healed…but she’s in good spirits.”
“How could it not have healed yet?”
“I’m not sure, but it may not be a coincidence that Gable’s first victim died of sepsis. Her wound never closed either.”
Tray shot to his feet. “Abbey’s gonna die?”
Kara rose and grabbed his hands. “No! That’s not what I meant. Don’t even think it, Tray. Abbey’s witch blood may not make her as strong as the Demiáre, but her immune system has helped her fight off any infection. She’s fine. I swear.” Except for the gaping tracks on her belly.
He turned and walked to the window. “Shit, Kara, you almost gave me a heart attack for the second time tonight.”
“Sorry. But you don’t need to worry. Just as soon as I clear up some stuff, Grammy D and her friends will be right back to trying to fix Abbey.”
“Why did they stop?”
“Well, there might be a little…injunction in the way. But I’m meeting with Abbey’s uncle to explain my role in her injury, and once he understands what’s going on, everything’ll be fine.”
“What does Abbey’s uncle have to do with it? I didn’t even know she had an uncle.”
Kara bit her lip. “I knew she had a few relatives, but since Grammy D is the only one she talks to, I never gave the others much thought.”
“And what does this have to do with an injunction?”
“Growing up,” Kara began, “I was never told much about organized witchcraft. I knew people belonged to local covens, I saw all the witches coming into Grammy D’s shop when I was older, but I never knew they answered to a higher governing board.”
She shrugged. “I suppose they would have shared that with me after I’d proven I could mix a spell and had been brought into the fold.” Or maybe not. “But apparently, Abbey’s dad was pretty high up, and now her uncle is in charge. He’s summoned me to the council and is taking it upon himself to make sure Abbey is avenged.”
Tray’s face screwed up in confusion. “You killed Gable. How much more avenged can she be?”
Kara shook her head. “That’s what I’m saying. After he talks with me, it’ll all be fine. They’ll take back the injunction, and we can start looking for new spells to help Abbey.”
“If her uncle cares about her, it seems like he should be looking for new spells right now, not wasting time with this crap.”
“Yeah, I can’t disagree with you on that one.”
“What does Dora think?”
“Uh…” Kara’s cheeks heated. “She’s not allowed to talk to me. After telling me about Abbey’s uncle tonight, she hung up on me.”
“Shit, Kare-bear. This doesn’t sound good. And I can’t imagine Abbey’s gonna be too happy with her uncle when she finds out. I think she’ll rip him a magical new one for calling you in.”
“No, she can’t find out. Dora thinks it would be too stressful for her, and I agree. Abbey and I sort of…got in an argument tonight about her wounds anyway. She wants the world to go on as if she’s not a walking billboard for Brakken. If I can resolve this without her knowing, that would be best.”
“She’s not going to like you keeping it from her.”
Kara shoved the summons in her pocket. “I’ll tell her after I fix it. If I tell her now, she’ll feel guilty for me being guilty…or something like that.”
The space between his brows furrowed. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” It made more sense when Abbey said it.
“So what now?”
“Now I go home and iron my interview suit. Tomorrow by this time, everything will be back to normal.”
Chapter Three
They went the long way, careful to avoid the scene of the accident, but Kara still spied the lights of the emergency vehicles in the distance. Jeans tucked under her arm, she shivered, remembering the sight of the bloody shoes and the teasing couple who’d worn them.
“You don’t have to walk me home, you know,” she said, but she didn’t really mind.
“You wouldn’t let me drive you. Plus, we still had more to talk about.”
“If Abbey sees you, Tray, we’ll have much more to talk about. I won’t be able to keep this quiet if she starts grilling me.”
Kara stepped past the entry of a shop for lease and saw a familiar face buried in a mound of dirty blankets. She sighed, unfolded her jeans and fished a five-dollar bill from the pocket. Ralph was mentally ill, but sober. He wouldn’t use the money for anything but food.
“Here you go, Ralph.” She handed him the money. “If you come by early on laundry day, I’ll wash those blankets for you, okay?”
“Thanks, Kara.” He smiled and ducked back under his covers.
“Anyway,” Tray continued, looking perturbed, “I wouldn’t worry about Abbey. I’ll say I ran into you on the street. I live here now. I have a right to go out in the Gaslamp when I feel like it.”
Kara bit her tongue and ran her thumb under the waist of the slacks, adjusting Abbey’s tight pants as they walked. “There’s still the problem of Jaxon knowing when I’m lying.”
“How would he know that?”
“He’s my warrior. He can sense certain things about how I’m feeling now.”
His mou
th dropped open. “Like read your thoughts?”
“No. Just catch glimpses of strong emotions. Anger, sadness, joy.”
“Damn, Kara. I didn’t know you two were…together. I can’t keep your love life straight.”
“We’re not together. Not even slightly. You’d have to know Jaxon and what he’s been through to understand it, but he’s probably the best thing that’s happened to me since this all started. After he taught me how to resist soothing, he started tutoring me in other resistance techniques that worked for him when things went downhill with his last mistress.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Just that I can actually be in the same room with another Demiáre now and not make a complete fool of myself.” She bit her lip and added, “For the most part.”
His mouth opened and closed again, as if he was going to ask more but then decided against it. “So, what’s your plan? Are you going to show up in front of the council?”
Kara looked at him as if he were crazy. “Yeah, I think I’ll go—they said they’d kill me if I didn’t. It pisses me off, though, that they gave me one whole day to respond.”
“Abbey’s your best friend. You really think they’d try to hurt you? I doubt it. And besides, I thought you were dating the lord of a clan of demons or something?”
Kara’s mouth pulled down at the corners, and her eyes suddenly filled. She’d had enough drama for one night. “I guess you didn’t know about Julian. He isn’t coming back. Ever.”
“Julian? I was talking about Gavin.”
Even Tray couldn’t miss Kara’s answering glare. “I was never dating Gavin. And besides, he took off. I haven’t heard from him in nine weeks—not that I’m counting. The week after we learned Julian wasn’t regenerating…that he’d…passed away—Gavin left. Left me. Left the clan. Left Aiden to handle everything by himself—and I don’t think Aiden’s cut out for running an island.”
Tray thrust his hands in his pockets. “Shit. I’m sorry, Kare-bear. You’re right, I didn’t know.”