by Julie Kenner
I tilted my head, suddenly realizing what he meant. “The demon’s gone,” I said slowly, working to keep the fear out of my voice. “We beat it.”
“It’s gone,” he agreed. “But I have to figure this out. What I am. What I did.” He looked at me hard. “Kate, I’m leaving.”
His words hit me with the force of a slap. And though I opened my mouth to speak, he held up a hand to cut me off. “I did this. Me. Do you think I can look at you, knowing what I did to you? What I did to Allie? Do you think I can live every day knowing that I almost killed both of you?” His voice, soft but harsh, slid over the room on an undercurrent of rage. “Or that Stuart saved you. And not from a distant threat, but from me. Do you think I can live with that?”
“Do you think I can?” I spat back. “But you’re her father, and you can’t just run away from this.”
“I’m not running. Don’t you see? Don’t you see what I’d become? If it was only the demon, I’d have handed over the dagger to Nadia. Let her destroy it. But it was me in there, too, Kate, with enough control to keep my own secrets, even from a bastard who was living inside my head.”
“And in the end, you used that control to save us. You told me where you’d hidden the dagger.”
“That’s not enough,” he said. “It doesn’t make up for anything.”
No, I thought, it didn’t. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I can live with it,” I said. “I can deal. For Allie’s sake, we both have to.”
“Maybe you can,” he said. “But I can’t.”
“She loves you,” I whispered. And so did I, I thought. Despite everything that had happened, I loved him still. And I mourned the loss of what had once been between us.
He closed his eyes, and I felt a twinge of guilt, as if I’d been playing dirty. “I’m sorry, Katie,” he said, and I knew then that it was over.
I’d lost him.
And Allie was the one who’d pay the dearest price.
I dropped Allie at home, expecting to find Stuart there, holding tight to Timmy as had been his habit in these days since the battle. He was gone, though, and so I left my daughter with Eddie and her brother, then hurried to the mansion.
I had no way of knowing that he’d be there—he hadn’t told Eddie where he was going—yet I was certain I was right. And when I walked in, I found him sitting on the bottom step of the battered staircase, surveying the destruction.
There was a lot to survey. Deep gouges marred the beautiful wood flooring. Wallpaper hung in strips from the walls. Scorch marks marred the ceiling. And spiderweb cracks danced across what little glass was left in the doors to the balcony.
The entire wall between the entrance and the front parlor had crumbled to the ground, and now lay in a pile of wooden splinters and plaster rubble.
“Stuart,” I said, and then stopped. There really weren’t words.
“I’d been staying away,” he said, his attention on the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but me. “Staying home with you. With Allie. With Timmy. Watching television. Drinking beer. Pretending there was one thing—just one thing—in our life that didn’t kill or maim or hurt.”
“Stuart, please.” I tried, but I’m not sure the words came out. My throat was too thick, too clogged with unshed tears.
He stood and moved toward me, kicking debris out of his way as he did. “I was going to buy this place for us,” he said. “I’d worked it out with Bernie and everything. It seemed like the perfect house for our crazy family, especially once I learned about the safe room.”
I swallowed, unreasonably touched by the gesture. And feeling horribly guilty for all the years I’d kept my own secrets—building between Stuart and me a wall as impenetrable as the one Eric had built, and which I despised.
I realized now my mistake. I’d clung to a past I didn’t even fully understand so hard that I’d risked my future with Stuart. A good man, who loved me.
The second man in my life who I loved with all my heart.
“I could picture Timmy in here with his trains,” he continued, “getting underfoot even though we’d tell him to keep them upstairs. And Allie would turn the attic into a workout room. I figured that much was inevitable. And you’d be that much closer to the beach and Old Town and the cemetery for patrols. Not that demons roam cemeteries very often,” he said, holding up a hand as though I were about to interrupt him. “But there was something so very Demon Hunterish about having a house that overlooked a graveyard.” He turned once, taking in the room with a sigh. “We worked so hard to make this place special. And all of it was destroyed in less than ten minutes.”
I realized then that I was crying. “It still is special,” I said, hearing the desperation in my voice. “And all of this is fixable.”
“The house, maybe,” he said, and the first jolt of fear shot through me, that wall I’d built taking on form and substance. My mistakes and secrets crying out to me. Mocking me.
I shoved the fears away, forcing myself not to cry. “What are you saying, Stuart?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he said, as I felt the world fall out from underneath my feet. “I thought being together was enough. I thought I could stomach it. Out there, in the world, and us standing together to keep it at bay. But it came in, Kate. It touched our family. It touched our lives, and that’s not something I can live with. It’s not something I want Timmy to live with.”
“I’m his mother no matter what,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm as fear sparked through me. “Nothing can change that. Not ever.”
“No,” Stuart agreed. “Nothing can.” He met my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
I shook my head, as if the force of my will could change his direction. “You told me once you were going to fight for me. For us. But you’re not fighting, Stuart. You’re running away. And you’re punishing me for being the woman I am.” I wanted to fight him. Wanted to get a rise out of him, have this out, and have our life get back to normal.
Stuart, however, was having none of that. Instead he simply looked at me with that calm, media-ready face. “I love you, Kate. Nothing will ever change that.”
My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest and rocking. “Then stay,” I said, resorting to begging. “Please, please stay.”
“I can’t,” he said simply. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
I sat on the mansion’s broken and battered flagstone balcony, looking out over the cemetery toward the ocean and the setting sun.
Days had passed since Stuart had moved out of our house, since Eric had packed his car and driven south toward Los Angeles.
In my whole life, I’d loved only two men, and now they were gone.
Stuart wasn’t ass enough to deny me access to Timmy, so I was still seeing my little boy every day, thanks to Laura’s willingness to play intermediary. I hated putting her in that position, but she swore she didn’t mind. It was, she said, only temporary, and I desperately hoped she was right. The thought of divorce and custody arrangements and shuttling my baby back and forth for years and years overwhelmed me. And every time I let my mind go there, I began to cry all over again.
“Mom?”
I closed my eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing, needing to be strong for my daughter. But I couldn’t manage it. I’d been fighting for too damn long, and the strength I tried to compel eluded me.
I pressed my forehead to my knees, then felt Allie’s soft hand press against my back.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, and her voice was so calm, so full of strength, that it compelled me to turn my head and look at my daughter through the haze of tears.
“You grew up,” I said. “Sometime when I wasn’t looking, you managed to grow up.”
“Maybe a little,” she said modestly, but I could see the pleasure in her eyes. “And I had really excellent help.”
She sank down on the balcon
y beside me, mimicking my pose, arms around her knees, toes pointed out toward the ocean. “He’s not gone forever, you know,” she said. And before I could ask which of our men she was referring to, she amended the statement. “They’ll be back. Both of them. I know a little bit about how they feel,” she said. “And I’m certain they’re not gone for good.”
She took her gaze off the Pacific long enough to meet my eyes, her steady gaze unblinking and sure, filled with far more maturity than I gave her credit for. My heart stuttered in my chest, and I put my arm around her, sighing as she leaned her head against me.
I sighed, too, overcome suddenly by a need to be parented. To have firm, sure arms hold me tight and rock me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. An image of Father Corletti filled my head, and the tears threatened again. My breath hitched as I fought them back, but not soon enough to escape Allie’s notice.
“Mom?”
“Rome,” I said. “It’s not a lazy beach vacation, but we can go for a couple of weeks. Let you meet Father. Try out some formal training. See the sights.” I managed a smile. “Will that do?”
Her eyes widened as she nodded, and I watched the melancholy vanish from her face, her sad memories undoubtedly shoved aside by fantasies of swordplay on the Forza training floor.
As for me, I settled comfortably into the idea of going home. I needed the visit. I needed to get centered again. To go back to my roots. And I needed to get past what had become my new habit—jumping when the phone rang or the doorbell chimed, expecting it to be Eric or Stuart.
The real truth was that I didn’t really know what I’d do if the two men I loved walked back into my life. Things had changed, and there was no going back. But hopefully, with time, we’d move slowly forward.
And as the horizon burst into a cacophony of orange and red, one emotion fought its way upstream through the pain to settle quietly around my heart.
Hope.
Right then, that was enough.
“Mom! Have you seen my passport?”
I took a deep breath, carefully slid our plane tickets back into my purse, and aimed the evil eye at my daughter, who’d come careening into the kitchen, ponytail bouncing, her mouth pursed in frustration.
“Alison Elizabeth Crowe, the shuttle is supposed to be here in less than fifteen minutes, and now you tell me you can’t find your passport?”
“Did you check your desk drawer?” Laura asked, stifling a yawn. Despite the fact that we were heading out even before the sun, Laura and Mindy had come over to see us off.
“Want me to help you look?” Mindy asked. “Under the bed, maybe? God! I’m so jealous. I want to go to Rome.”
I shot Laura a quick look, but she gave me the slightest shake of her head. We’d talked about her and Mindy joining us for a few days, but as we hadn’t yet made specific plans, Laura didn’t want to say anything and get Mindy’s hopes up.
Eddie rattled the newspaper and snorted. “You check the purse, girlie?”
Allie rolled her eyes, then held up her leather backpack. “I’m not taking a purse, Gramps.”
He tapped his chest, and I watched Allie’s cheeks go pink. “Oh. Right.” She reached beneath her shirt and tugged out a black traveler’s wallet. She unzipped it, rifled through it, and smiled sheepishly at everyone in the room. “Got it.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” I said, as Laura hid her smile behind the rim of her coffee cup.
I drew in a breath and looked around the kitchen, wondering what I was forgetting. “I’ll call you when we get settled. You don’t mind playing Internet liaison?”
“I told you I didn’t,” Laura said. Stuart had temporarily settled himself and Timmy in Bernie’s beach cottage, and the lure of tidal pools and the nearby Playscape was keeping my little boy occupied. I’d gone over there last night to say good-bye, and Stuart had conveniently remembered urgent business at the office. But since I had no intention of not seeing Timmy during our Roman holiday, Laura had set up my laptop with video chatting. That alone would have qualified her for sainthood, but the fact that she had offered to watch Timmy during Stuart’s working hours meant that I could see my little boy across the miles each and every day.
The arrangement eased some of my guilt about leaving. Guilt or no, I knew I had to go. Timmy would survive Mommy’s long vacation, and Allie needed this. For that matter, so did I.
“You taking that knife?” Eddie said. “The one demon boy gave you?” That earned him a scowl from everyone in the room, and he tossed his hands up and harumphed. “What? It’s true, ain’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking of the double-action blade that Eric had once given me. “Of course. It’s in my suitcase.”
“Won’t be there when you get to Italy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back.
“Excuse me?”
His caterpillar-like eyebrows twitched. “They search. They search, then they take what they want. It’s a whole big conspiracy.”
I stared him down. “No it’s not.”
“Eh, do what you want then, but mark my words,” he added, pointing a bony finger at me. “You’re gonna get to your hotel, unpack, and that knife’s gonna be gone.”
“We’re staying at a hotel?” Allie asked, her voice suddenly frantic. “I thought were were gonna stay in the Forza dorms. Mom!”
“We are,” I told her. To Eddie, I added, “You’ve been watching too many movies.”
“Your loss,” he said, which had me rolling my eyes again.
“I’m going to go make sure we’ve got luggage tags on everything,” I said, then moved to the hallway. Which is where I was when Laura found me, rummaging in my suitcase for the knife I’d decided to leave behind.
“Sucker,” she said.
“He might be right. Besides, I can get another knife in Rome.”
Her brows rose slightly. “Are you going to need one? You’re going to see Father Corletti and let Allie get a taste of real training, right? Maybe do some sightseeing? It’s not like you’re going to be sliding into the catacombs hunting demons.”
She had a point, but I only shrugged, noncommittal. If I’d learned one thing for certain, it was to never take a demon for granted.
The sharp toot of a horn sounded outside, and my eyes darted to Laura’s, even as a surge of excitement mixed with grief swept through me, making me more than a little unsteady. “We’re really going. I can’t believe we’re really going.” Part of me wished we were already gone, both so that I could see the place I’d once known as home, and also so that I could escape the sadness that clung to me as I walked the halls of this house. Another part of me didn’t ever want to leave, wanted instead to cling to that sadness. Because the longer I held on to it, the longer it was real. And if it was real, there was a possibility I’d have that life again. A happy, suburban life with my husband, my kids, and my cat.
Those days, I knew, were behind me.
I just didn’t want to accept reality.
“You okay?” Laura asked, looking so hard at me I was certain she could read my mind.
“I will be. Ten hours in coach will set me right.” I gave her a hug, then hauled my carry-on bag to my shoulder as Allie and Mindy bounded into the room.
“The shuttle’s here! Come on, Mom! Let’s go!” She jumped in front of me, yanked open the door, then froze, emitting a tiny puff of air that formed into a single word: “Oh.”
Alarmed, I rushed to her side, expecting a demonic horde. Instead, I saw Stuart.
The Infiniti was parked in the drive, and my husband stood beside it, my sleepy son curled in his arms. At his feet were a suitcase, a briefcase, and a Thomas the Tank backpack.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
“Oh my God!” Allie hooted, then ran to give him a hug. She stared down at the suitcases. “You’re coming? You’re coming, too?”
Stuart put a hand on her head, then looked at me. He said nothing, but reached into his briefcase and held
up two plane tickets and two passports. “It was easier to run than to fight,” he said. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve come to the rather astounding conclusion that life isn’t always easy.”
“No,” I said, managing to talk through the tears that had begun to silently stream down my face. “No, it really isn’t.”
A pair of headlights cut through the night, and the airport shuttle slid to a halt in front of the house. Stuart looked over his shoulder at it, then looked at me. “What do you say? You ready for the next adventure?”
The band that had been constricting my heart for so many days loosened, and I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, taking a step toward him. Toward my family. “Yeah, I really am.”