by Lori Drake
“What can we do?” Her eyes were wide again, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Not we. Me. Do you—”
“Yes, we. I’m the one who got possessed. I’m going to see this through.” She straightened up, lifting her chin.
I knew that look. God save me from strong-willed women.
17
I dropped Amber off at Cat’s place before heading back to Whenever Fitness. Amber fought me on it all the way to Cat’s. Not about being left behind—I wasn’t stupid enough to tell her what I planned to do after I dropped her off—but about going to Cat’s instead of home. I convinced her she was better off staying behind Cat’s anti-spirit wards until she had an anti-possession charm. I just hoped that teaching Amber to make said charm wasn’t too taxing for Cat, given that she was still fighting off that bug. My only consolation was that she did seem a little better than she had the day before.
I arrived at Whenever Fitness with barely a few minutes to spare and swung into a parking spot, adjusting my rearview mirror so that I could see the front door without getting out. When Kyle didn’t appear right at nine, I worried that he might have taken off early. But no, he sauntered out the front door about ten minutes later, in street clothes, with a gym bag thrown over his shoulder. I tracked him as he crossed to the far reaches of the parking lot and got into a car, then tailed him as he left the parking lot, hoping he was heading straight home.
He wasn’t. I followed him to a dingy pool hall on the edge of downtown, where he parked his ass on a barstool and didn’t get up for the better part of an hour. By then, my post-banishing headache was in full swing, but I sat a few stools down and listened in while he chatted it up with the bartender and hit on a few different women. I got the sense that most of the women were regulars, and immune to his charms. Good for them.
I was a little concerned Kyle might recognize me from our encounter at the gym that afternoon, but the three stools between us might as well have been a thousand-foot chasm for all the attention he paid me. He was much more interested in the women that came within flirting range and the ball game on the TV above the bar.
Kyle was three beers in when he slid off his bar stool and headed for the restrooms at the back of the building. I counted to ten and followed, weaving my way between the tables but keeping my eyes on my target until he disappeared around a corner. I caught up with him in the bathroom. We appeared to be the only ones there, though I didn’t do a stall check. He didn’t glance my way until I stepped up to the urinal beside him. I nodded casually at him—like I wasn’t breaking the bro code by not giving him the socially agreeable one urinal buffer—and he went back to his business… briefly, anyway. Maybe he was just buzzed enough that it took a few seconds for recognition to kick in, and when it did, he did a quick double-take.
I hadn’t really decided until that moment how I wanted to approach him. I’m usually a talk things out kind of guy, so my only excuse for what came next was the headache and lingering disgust for men like him. I definitely had a few choice words in mind, but first I needed to get his attention…
So I palmed the back of his head and slammed it against the wall.
Kyle was a big guy. He had thirty pounds of muscle on me, easily. I had sobriety, the element of surprise, and a can-do attitude on my side. I fisted my hand in his shaggy hair before he could recover and yanked his head back to throw him off balance. Dazed, he stumbled backward, struggling to keep his feet under him.
“What the fuck, man?” Blood streamed from his nose. He’d hit the wall face first. Mea culpa. His sneakers scrambled for purchase on the grimy tile, and I had little warning when they slid out from under him and he crashed to the floor.
I lost my grip on his hair when he went down, though a few strands of it remained tangled between my fingers. I shook them out while Kyle scrambled to his feet.
“You broke my fucking nose!”
I eyed him. “Sorry-not-sorry?”
He roared and took a swing at me, but I saw it coming and weaved accordingly. I’m no karate master or MMA fighter, but I do have boxing training and I’m pretty light on my feet. Kyle swung again, but this time my foot slipped on the tile and his fist clipped my jaw. Okay, maybe starting a brawl in a bathroom wasn’t my best move. Kyle charged and knocked me back against the wall. My back collided painfully with the paper towel holder, which must’ve been anchored to the wall with some industrial grade shit to not move at all. It dug into my back instead, but thanks to my leather jacket it wasn’t too bad.
Kyle and I traded a few punches before I pushed him off of me. My jaw ached where he’d tagged me, and he’d gotten a couple of good body blows in too, but I was still riding an angry high. His nose continued to stream, and some blood had gotten into his mouth, staining his teeth red.
He spat blood on the floor. “What’s your fucking problem, bro?”
“Thought you might like to pick on someone your own size for a change.” It was, granted, a rather broad interpretation of “your own size.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I looked him dead in the eye, ignoring the stitch in my side as I advanced on him once more. “Kim Lee.”
He backed off, face going pale. “Kimmy’s dead.”
I grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him against the wall between two urinals. “No thanks to you.”
“I didn’t kill her! I loved her!”
I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “From what I hear, you had a funny way of showing it.”
I should’ve seen the head-butt coming, but he got me good. I staggered away, pain exploding behind my eyes as the room tilted. As if I hadn’t started out with a headache. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground with Kyle sitting on my chest, and considering what he’d been doing when this whole thing started… let’s just say that I wasn’t appreciating the view. Kyle’s fists rained down on me, and all I could do was put my arms up in defense. I was on the wrestling team in high school, but Christ… that’d been over a decade ago.
I bucked beneath him, doing my best to unseat him, but he was a heavy guy. Some inkling of past training finally rose up, and I planted my feet on the floor, pushing my hips up, then jerked a knee at him, knocking him forward. We rolled around on the floor until I had him pinned with an arm across his throat. I held it there until his face started to turn red, then backed off enough for him to take a gasping breath.
“You ready to talk?” I asked.
He glared daggers at me but nodded.
“Tell me everything you know about Kim’s murder.”
“Nothing, man! I wasn’t even in the state when it happened. I was in Texas, helping out with a new location opening.”
I leaned on his windpipe again. “That’s not what I asked.”
His lips parted, but all that escaped was a croak until I let up again. “Someone cut on her, that’s all I know. Never would’ve happened if I’d been there. I would’ve protected her. I should’ve protected her.” Tears leaked from his eyes, but I wasn’t sure if they were from lack of oxygen or genuine emotion.
I stared down at him long and hard, considering his story. If he’d been out of town on business, that would definitely explain why the cops hadn’t pursued him. It was a pretty tight alibi. “You’re not holding out on me, are you amigo?”
He spat in my face. “I ain’t your amigo. But no, that’s all I fucking know.”
“But you can’t deny being a bit rough with her, can you? There was a reason for that restraining order.”
“A man has to keep his woman in her place. You know how it is, bro.”
Anger flared inside me, and I leaned into that choke again. My head throbbed with every furious beat of my heart as I glared down at him.
“Dean! What the fuck are you doing?” Trish’s alarmed voice echoed off the tile walls, barely penetrating the fog of rage that had descended. “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!”
A voice in my head whispered that he didn
’t deserve mercy, that he may not have killed Kim, but he’d made her tragically short life a living hell. But with Trish at my back, tugging at my shoulders, I forced myself to release him.
Kyle coughed and scrambled away, fetching up against the wall between two urinals to stare at me wide-eyed. I pushed to my feet and fought the urge to press a hand to my ribs, not wanting him to know he’d gotten me that good.
“I’ll be watching you, Kyle. You lay hands on a woman like that again, and I’ll be back. And next time, no more mister nice guy.”
“You psychotic fuck! I’ll call the cops!”
“Right. Sure you will.” I smirked. We both knew it was a lie, because men like Kyle don’t like to drop the tough guy façade. No, this was going to be one of those “you should see the other guy” sort of stories for him.
I walked to the paper towel holder—the imprint of which I swear I could still feel on my back—and pulled a few out, tossing them at Kyle. “Clean yourself up, man. And for God’s sake, tuck in. There’s a lady present.”
He looked at me like I was crazy, and I suppose I must’ve seemed like it. When I turned for the door, Trish was staring at me like she’d never seen me before. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what’d gotten into me. I’d like to say all that was necessary—a means to an end.
But all I felt was the satisfaction of a job well done.
18
Trish rounded on me the moment we stepped outside the pool hall, launching into a rapid-fire tirade in Spanish punctuated with finger jabs to my chest. My Spanish is decent, but I still couldn’t follow the whole thing. I got the gist of it, anyway. She was pissed, and all she had on hand to throw at me—thankfully—were words.
Maybe it was lingering testosterone from the dust-up in the bathroom, or maybe it was just that I was so damn glad she’d returned, but I yielded to the first impulse that grabbed me. I kissed her.
It did shut her up rather effectively, and while my throbbing head enjoyed the silence, the rest of me—even the achy, bruised bits—enjoyed the press of her body as she leaned into me, tilting her head to slant her lips across mine. It wasn’t quite like it had been that first time. There was pressure but no heat against my mouth, not even when her lips parted to trace mine with the tip of her tongue. A phantom whiff of the rose-scented fragrance she’d worn the night she died tickled my nostrils, though. That awakened sixth sense of mine was aware of her spectral energy, concentrated in my arms, making my body tingle wherever it touched.
I forgot I was standing on the sidewalk on a public street until a car horn blared, shattering the moment. I jerked back and opened my eyes, suddenly self-conscious. The light of a nearby street lamp shone in Trish’s dark eyes as she looked up at me, confused and uncharacteristically vulnerable until her expression shuttered and the walls went back up.
“Who was that man?” she demanded with renewed anger. But it seemed to be turned down a few degrees, at least.
I glanced over my shoulder at the pool hall, then headed across the parking lot toward my Jeep. “First victim’s asshole ex.”
I could almost hear the gears grinding as she reconciled that information with what she’d witnessed in the bathroom. “Abusive ex?”
“Yeah.”
She muttered a curse. “But not the killer.”
I slid a hand into my pants pocket to retrieve my keys, wincing as my bruised knuckles rubbed against the denim. “Nope.”
She smacked the back of my head. “Idiot.”
“Ow! Watch it.” I looked over in time to see her lift her hand again and dodged the second blow. “Trish, please. I’ve got a headache.”
She frowned. “Banishing?”
I nodded and climbed into the Jeep, but dropped the keys into the cup holder rather than starting it up.
Trish reappeared in the passenger seat and studied me. “What happened?”
“Before we talk about that, can we talk about earlier?”
“Ugh, you’re such a girl. It was a kiss. Don’t overthink it.”
I smirked. “Earlier than that. I’m sorry I threatened to banish you. I was angry, and I just… I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that.” Her eyes lowered to her lap, where her fingers twisted together. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Trish, I—”
“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize. It would’ve been better than I deserve if you had.”
“Are you ready to talk about why you didn’t tell me about Madrigal?”
“No.” She peeled her fingers apart and stuffed them under her arms. “But I will anyway.”
The play of emotion across her face as she sat there staring at her lap was fascinating to watch. Why was it suddenly so hard for her to say what was on her mind? That’d never been a problem I’d known her to have. When her eyes met mine, there was such sadness in them that I could practically taste it, cold and bitter on my tongue.
I reached for her instinctively, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Okay?”
Silver flashed between her lips as she moistened them, reluctant despite my reassurance. “When they took you into that room, I lost my shit. We knew that Madrigal was using mind control magic to bolster his brainwashing, and I was so terrified I couldn’t think straight. I beat myself against that wall, over and over, but it didn’t do me a damn bit of good, and every time I did it sucked some of my energy away.
“I couldn’t do it indefinitely. It was stupid of me to try. Before I knew it, I barely had enough strength left to manifest, and by the time they led you back out I was hanging on by a thread. I got one glimpse of your hollow eyes before the thread snapped and I fell back into the in-between.”
She closed her eyes and fell silent. The pain marring her features kept my anger at bay, and I squeezed her shoulder but remained quiet, sensing she wasn’t finished.
“I’m not sure how long I was gone.” She opened her eyes, but didn’t meet mine. “An hour, maybe. As soon as I had enough strength to return, I did. I found you in that room they locked you in, sitting on the bed. You seemed… fine. Better than fine. They’d healed your wounds, and there wasn’t any trace of that vacant look in your eyes anymore. But when I asked you what’d happened while I was gone, it was obvious they’d done more than heal you. You told me all about a tour they’d given you, how they’d healed your arm… everything but the meeting with Madrigal. Like it’d never happened.”
“I remember that conversation. Why didn’t you ask about the meeting?”
Trish’s eyes met mine, a hint of frustration in their dark depths. “I did.”
“You did?” I frowned, thinking back.
She sighed. “I did. You went still and got that vacant look again for a minute. Then you blinked, and it was like your brain rebooted. The whole conversation started over again, like I’d just gotten there. It was unnerving as fuck.”
Even knowing that Madrigal had mucked around in my brain with his magic, what she’d described was difficult to comprehend. “Yeah, I can imagine. Did you ever try again?”
“Not since that day, I was afraid you’d reset again, that this time you’d lose hours or days instead of a few minutes.” She gripped my hand where it remained on her shoulder, and her eyes sought mine again. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“Trish, you didn’t fail me.”
“I did. If I hadn’t used myself up trying to break through that wall, I don’t know. I could’ve done something else. Tried possessing someone, or something.”
I sucked in a breath and shook my head. “No, it’s good that you didn’t. You know what will happen if you start doing that.” I’d seen it before, again and again. Possession is like crack for ghosts. Once they start doing it, once they get that tantalizing reminder of what it’s like to be alive, it’s difficult for them to resist going back for another taste. And while the “first hit” might be free, repeated possession only brought their madness on faster. It was one of the reasons I was so concerned about
Amber’s roommate. She’d been pretty far gone to start with.
“I know.” She looked away and sighed, folding her arms again.
I rubbed her shoulder, taking advantage of the fact that she was still nice and solid for me. It had to be my growing power that made it possible. At least it wasn’t all bad. I could get used to this being able to touch Trish thing—I shouldn’t, but I could. “Don’t beat yourself up, okay? What’s done is done.”
“If I’d known it wouldn’t reset you, I would’ve told you sooner. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Forgive me?” She turned pleading eyes on me and tipped her head when I moved my hand from her shoulder to her cheek.
“There’s nothing to forgive. Let’s go home.”
“Okay. But tell me what I missed on the way.”
I grimaced and started the car. “Right. Not home. Cat’s place.”
19
I don’t know what time I passed out on Cat’s couch, but I woke the next morning to find myself covered by a knitted blanket. I squinted at the grandfather clock by the front door. It was nearly ten o’clock. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept in that late, but I distinctly remembered 3 a.m. coming and going. Cat and Amber must’ve been up even later.
I stretched and immediately regretted it when my tender ribs protested. The dust-up I’d had with Kyle had left me sore in a variety of places, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. I stood and padded for the front window, then pulled back the lacy curtains to peek outside. The ghosts that’d been drawn to me overnight milled about on the lawn. I’d sensed them the moment I woke, all six of them, but I counted them to confirm it before letting the curtain fall back into place. They wouldn’t bother me out there, and Cat’s wards prevented them from entering the house. Unfortunately, they also prevented Trish from coming inside.