by R. C. Murphy
This was the sort of humanity Deryck wanted to find.
The inside of Shayla’s Mazda felt about as roomy as a sardine can. She couldn’t fit inside, what with her neurotic luggage joining her in the front seat and all. The air was gone. She tried to breathe, and all it did was trigger another round of, “I shouldn’t be doing this.” For once, she wished she wasn’t a complete basket case because of her past.
Usually Shayla applauded herself for her discretion when it came to dating. After Cyrus, she’d been too traumatized to even consider being alone in a room with a man, let alone trusting one enough to not hurt her. But Deryck slipped through her armor somehow. She liked him, as well as someone could like a man she hardly knew.
What if he said something and triggered her memories? Or worse, after a couple glasses of wine, she poured out her soul about everything she’d been through? On the flip-side, he could find her so boring he’d never call again. That’d do a number on her ego, not that she had one.
“Oh my fucking God. Shut up, Shayla.”
Shayla sat behind the wheel of her car, one hand reaching for the ignition, the other going for her cell phone. If she called and cancelled, claimed to be sick, it wouldn’t be too horrible. She could reschedule. Yeah, reschedule after a six-month stay at the insane asylum.
Her cell phone rang. Shayla’s heartbeat kicked into overdrive. Maybe it was Deryck calling to cancel for her.
“Hello?”
“You’re sitting in your driveway having a panic attack, aren’t you?”
Shayla sighed at Faye and dropped her head against the headrest. “No.”
“You’re an awful liar.”
“How did you know what I’m doing?” Shayla sat up and looked out into the street.
“I’m not spying, I just know you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” Actually, everything was wrong. She shouldn’t be going out on dates. Ever. The kind of emotional baggage she carried—aside from the neurotic mess she currently struggled with—was enough to send any serious suitor straight out the door. Shayla wasn’t a catch, she was a disaster wrapped in a pretty package.
Too bad the dress would go to waste.
“Stop thinking.”
“What?”
“Just stop, Shayla. You do this to yourself anytime something good comes your way. The self-doubt, the dredging up your past; all it does is hurt you. I’m seriously worried about you. Is this what your life will end up being because of one asshole?”
Shayla rubbed the back of her neck, hoping to loosen up some of the tension. “No. But what if Deryck thinks I’m a waste of time and takes off with the waitress at the end of our date?”
Faye sighed. “Jesus, you’re really over thinking this. Go to the restaurant. Have a nice, normal night out. You’ve earned it. The mourning and healing period lapsed a long time ago. If you won’t go out and have a good time for yourself, do it for me. I worry about you so much.”
“I’m fine on my own, really.”
“How fine will you be in eight months?”
Shayla frowned. “That is a really specific time frame. I guess I’ll be okay.”
“You better be. I don’t want my baby’s godmother stressed out.”
The news took a few seconds to sink in. “Oh my God. How did that happen? You just started dating whatshisname.”
“Jeremy, and we’ve been together for two months.”
“That’s still a little soon.”
Faye let out an agitated breath, breaking up the phone’s sound. “Maybe he has super sperm. I don’t know. My point is, how will you feel seeing me with a family while you’re on your own?”
The reminder of what she’d lost hurt. “I have Mom.”
“She’s in a nursing home four hours away. Stop punishing yourself, Shayla. Take a night off from the past and focus on the future for once. Enjoy your life.”
“I hate when you’re right.”
“You should be used to it by now.” Faye laughed.
“Congratulations, by the way. A baby, even an unplanned one, is a blessing.”
“You’re going to be in the room with me. There’s no way I’m going through this alone.”
“Sure. I’ll sit at the foot of the bed with a bowl of ice cream and a video camera.”
“You’re a seriously twisted woman.”
“I learned from you.” Shayla laughed. “I’ll call with a date report later.”
“Don’t call if he goes home with you. I’ll understand.”
Before Shayla could defend her honor, Faye laughed and hung up.
Shayla pitched the phone into her purse. She stared at it, hoping Deryck would still call and give her the out she wanted. Faye was right, though. She’d been punishing herself for too long. So long, in fact, she forgot how to live and enjoy little things in life, like getting to know someone new.
“I really hate when she’s right.”
Reluctantly, Shayla started the car and backed out of her driveway. She turned left at the stop sign and drove toward downtown using surface streets. The longer drive time would give her a chance to get her head on straight. Deryck deserved a good, honest chance to stand on his own, not be marred in her past. Shayla reminded herself just that several times on the drive to The Midnight Grill.
* * * * *
A myriad of male voices echoed through the vast space of the Roman-esque bathing house that doubled as a locker room for the incubi compound. The other incubi joked and soaked in the large heated pool situated in the middle of the space. Along each wall were rows of stone cubbies to store clothes in during workouts. They provided the illusion of privacy, despite the numerous bodies sharing the same large, mostly open space.
Deryck’s fists ached from one too many rounds with a punching bag. He felt frazzled, even after taking a quick rinse off in the pool. Three-thousand years old and I’m more nervous than a virgin on her wedding night.
He whipped the towel over his hair to dry it and draped the cloth around his hips. Deryck planted his ass on the wood bench in front of his makeshift locker. Cradling his head in his hands, he focused on just breathing. Too much rode on this one date. If he screwed up, Shayla would never agree to release him. Not only that, he genuinely liked her. Wanted to spend more time in her company. He wanted a chance at a future with her. None of which would happen if his nerves got the best of him.
Deryck dropped his head and reached into his locker to grab the clothes he’d brought—jeans and a t-shirt. He’d have to buy date-worthy clothes in the human realm. It wasn’t like he kept a wardrobe in the barracks. His clothes just . . . appeared.
His fingers closed in on soft fabric, far different than the shirt he knew was in there. Deryck looked up at the French blue dress shirt hanging from his fingertips. The hanger bounced off the stone wall of his locker; beside it hung a pair of charcoal grey dress slacks. In the bottom of the locker was a pair of black leather shoes.
Deryck’s blood ran cold. Someone or something knew what he planned to do.
He dropped the dress shirt onto the bench and stared at it. If he had a sane thought in his head, he would get dressed and head down to the human realm. He kept a safe box inside a storage facility with the necessary materials for his human identity, including a cell phone. Deryck would call Shayla and cancel the date. If someone knew his plans, she could be in danger. Would she be able to free any of the others? How many other incubi would kill to be free of their bonds?
What about the gods? If they knew he’d found a loophole to their laws, surely both his life and Shayla’s would be forfeit. They didn’t like anyone getting an upper-hand on them, least of all half-breed offspring the gods only kept close to home to control their power.
First and foremost, he needed to protect Shayla. Then he’d worry about saving his own hide.
“Don’t you dare.” Wolfrik stepped around the bank of lockers.
“Dare, what?” Deryck pulled on the shirt and buttoned it.
“
Back out of your date tonight.”
“Why would I do that?”
Wolfrik swiped a finger over Deryck’s forehead. It came away glistening wet with sweat. “You’re freaking out and doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. Act like you are going to the Inbetween and no one will know what you’re doing.”
“You act like you’ve done this before.” Deryck slid into the pants.
A look crossed over Wolfrik’s face. Deryck couldn’t decipher it. “Don’t lose your only chance to be free.”
Wolfrik left Deryck to finish dressing. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to figure out his mentor’s strange behavior, but the guy had a point.
If Deryck transported himself to the human realm, he’d have enough time to collect his things from the safe box and meet Shayla at the restaurant.
The males in the bathing pool collected their towels and left through the main entrance of the room. A couple of them tossed a goodbye over their shoulders. Garik rushed to catch up with them and grinned Deryck’s direction. Just another normal day in their little slice of the God’s Lands.
The outer doors opened and closed again. Deryck leaned forward on the bench, tying his shoe.
Herryk stepped into the aisle of lockers and snorted. “High-class pussy calling?”
“Jealously is an emotion for the gods, Herryk. Despite your efforts, you will never become one.”
“I am sick and tired of your high and mighty attitude, Egyptian.” Herryk stepped closer. His dark eyes narrowed on Deryck. “I know you have something up your sleeve. Let me in on it and I’ll help.”
Deryck laughed, hard and brash. “You only help yourself. The only plan up my sleeve is doing my duty to our kind, as I was born to do. As you were born to do.”
“Well, then, let’s make sure you aren’t late.”
Green light flared in the depths of Herryk’s irises. It filled his entire eye and poured down his cheeks. Strange symbols flowed through the green streams running across his face. Herryk mumbled phrases in Babylonian under his breath—a spell. Deryck caught on too late.
The green light leapt off Herryk and engulfed Deryck. It blocked out everything around him, swallowed sound and scent.
Deryck rubbed his eyes to banish the light. When he opened them again, he stood in the low-lying mist of the Inbetween.
“Gods damn you, Herryk.”
Many of his brethren possessed secondary powers aside from their incubi abilities—all inherited from the gods who fathered them. Deryck was one of few unaware of their secondary power, nor did he wish to know. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be nearly as handy as Wolfrik’s healing abilities. Or as destructive as Herryk’s skill with verbal spells.
Deryck tapped into his powers and envisioned the quiet neighborhood where the storage facility was. His incubi brands burned red-hot and shifted, but he didn’t transport to the human realm.
“Oh, it worked.”
A slender figure stepped through the fog. The world around them morphed into a lavish Victorian bedroom. With each step the blonde woman took, her eyes roamed over Deryck’s body possessively. His gut tightened. He didn’t want to be sized up like a bowl of ice cream on a hot summer day. He wanted to be with Shayla on their date.
Herryk screwed him over in ways Deryck would never forgive.
The blonde’s small hand grabbed Deryck’s groin. “This is going to be a lot of fun.”
The Midnight Grill and Steak House was the nicest place Shayla ever set foot in. That wasn’t saying much considering her idea of “fancy” included a chocolate milkshake and waitresses wearing poodle skirts.
Waiters and waitresses, dressed in stark black and white uniforms, flitted back and forth between the tables like excited moths drawn to the candlelight reflecting off of the necklaces and earrings of the women sitting in their sections.
Noise filled the large, open space. Not an overwhelming noise like a crowd at a baseball game. The soft murmur of voices and the constant movement of the staff almost succeeded in distracting Shayla. Almost.
She swirled the wine in her glass and took a sip. For the hundredth time, Shayla craned her neck toward the front of the restaurant. Still no Deryck. She checked the time on her phone. He was twenty minutes late and counting.
Shayla hit Deryck’s phone number and did her best to conceal the phone pressed against her ear. Each ring sent her stomach toward the floor.
Deryck’s voicemail kicked in. She did her best not to sound as betrayed as she felt. “Hey, just wondering where you are. I’m here, waiting at a table. See you soon.”
Hanging up, she shoved the phone back in her purse. Shayla grabbed the glass of wine and polished the last half off in one unladylike gulp. The wine hit her empty stomach. Warm-fuzzies spread through her limbs.
The waiter passed and doubled back. He indicated her empty glass. “Would you like another? And perhaps some food to go with your wine this time?”
Shayla bit back the urge to pour out her frustrations about being stood up. She straightened her shoulders and looked through the menu.
“I don’t know what to order.”
The waiter smiled and flipped her menu open to the next page. “A nice Caesar salad followed up by our triple-layer chocolate cake takes the sting off an absent date.” He held up a hand. “Not passing judgment. I’ve been in your shoes. Men suck.”
Feeling like a charity case, Shayla nodded and handed him her menu. “I’ll do that, then.”
“And more wine?”
She waved a hand at the glass. “Do you even need to ask?”
“I’ll be right back with the wine.”
Shayla slumped in her chair. Impulsively, she fished her phone out of her purse and checked to see if Deryck called back. Nothing. Not even a text message with some lame excuse like, “My dog ate my car keys.”
“You better be dying in a ditch,” she whispered and shoved her phone into her purse with more force than necessary.
Her wine and salad tasted about as thrilling as rice cakes. Realizing she’d been stood up stole her appetite, but she forced herself to eat in order to absorb the over half a bottle of white wine accompanying her nice, expensive, lonely dinner. The only saving grace of the evening was the chocolate cake.
“I’ll date you instead, chocolate-y goodness. You won’t ditch me, abuse me, or belittle me. Sure, my ass will be huge as soon as the honeymoon is over, but that is a sacrifice I’m willing to make for true happiness.”
The waiter stopped at the table and cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to break up such a lovely, romantic moment.” He set the black folder with her bill on the table.
Shayla didn’t even bother reading how much she spent on wine and food she hardly tasted. She shoved her credit card in the folder and handed it back to the waiter. “Thank you for not mocking me.”
He tapped the bill folder on the table. “You aren’t the first to be stood up and you won’t be the last.”
“I guess.” Shayla sighed.
The waiter disappeared into the crowd of staff. Shayla polished off her last glass of wine and made a valiant attempt to eat the entire slice of chocolate cake, but it was too big and too sweet. If she ate any more, she’d pop a seam on her dress.
When the waiter brought her credit card back, she handed him a twenty-dollar bill. His eyes went wide and he thanked her.
Shayla stood. The world wobbled and she caught her balance on the back of the chair.
“Please tell me you aren’t driving tonight.” The waiter watched her carefully.
Shayla waved him off. “I’m going to walk it off before going anywhere near a car. Don’t worry.”
“This late at night? I can call a cab for you.”
“You’re sweet. It’s a nice night. I might as well enjoy it. A little walk won’t kill me.”
The waiter nodded. “Be safe. If you change your mind, come back and we’ll get you that cab, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Shayla smiled for the first time that nig
ht. “Thank you, again.”
Carefully, she made her way out the door. Shayla said thanks to God for allowing her enough grace to make it outside without stumbling over her high heels or running into a wall. She paused to get her bearings.
The street housed several nice restaurants, an art gallery, and the entrance to a really gated community, established around a hundred years ago. Running alongside the houses down the street was a quaint park. It followed a creek around the gated community and gave a great view of the old houses inside.
Deciding the park was her best and safest bet; Shayla walked down to the stoplight and crossed the street. The second she stepped onto the grass, her heels sank into the damp earth. Cursing, she struggled to bend over and undo the straps on her shoes without face planting.
Finally free of her shoes, Shayla ventured deeper into the park. The trickling sound of the creek called to her. It was so calm, quiet. Vastly different than the torrent of words in her mind—all of which informed her she wasn’t important enough to get so much as a phone call with a lame excuse to break the date.
Shayla stopped. “Get your shit together. He isn’t worth this sort of angst. Just another stupid mistake in a long history of stupid mistakes.”
At least this mistake didn’t almost kill her.
Deryck watched Shayla from a small stand of trees down the path. The moonlight reflecting off the water cast over her, accenting the anguish on her face. He wanted so desperately to smooth his thumb over her brows and banish the harsh lines drawn across her forehead. No woman that beautiful should ever look this way.
Shayla dropped her head to watch the passing water. Her shoes dangled from her fingertips and dropped to the grass with a soft whoosh. She crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging herself.
She looks so miserable and it’s my fault.
He scrubbed the back of his neck and fixed the collar of his new shirt. He’d been forced to purchase clothes from a late-night boutique nearby. The clothes he’d been given at the compound reeked of perfume, sex, and his shame. Deryck wished he’d had time to shower properly before seeking Shayla out. He felt unworthy of her presence.