by Ann Denton
“Nah, my eyesight’s shit. But it smelled awful.”
“What happened?”
“Dude was on an IV. Chatted with me. Then just trailed off. I thought he’d fallen asleep. Then I thought he mighta’ farted and faked the sleep. Smelled like frickin’ cabbage. Rank. Other than that, looked like he was just sleeping. But guess he was dead. Total bummer.”
Yeah, dude. Death’s a bummer. Understatement of the year, Man-pig.
“Well, I gotta go check on my friends.”
I drag my chair next to JR.
But sitting there is awkward. After my apology to Danny, there’s not much for me to say.
I’m almost relieved when my phone rings.
Until I look down and realize the caller is my mother.
"Crud!"
JR leans over and presses the green button before I can stop her.
"Demon spawn!"
"Lyon, is that any way to speak to me?" My mother's prim voice chastises me.
"Sorry. I was talking to JR."
"I'm sure I raised you better than that. But that's neither here nor there at this point. You seem to revel in defiance." I can almost hear my mother's eyes roll in their sockets.
I can’t help myself. I have to poke the bear. "Did you know I've learned to curse in Persian?"
"Of course, you did. Have you done anything more productive with your life since we last spoke?"
"You mean like joining the police force? Or the two murder cases I've solved?"
"I don't have time for your silly stories, Lyon."
"They're not–-"
"I called to let you know that Rain and I will be staying with you for the high holiday. Your sister's boyfriend is also coming, but he’s made arrangements to stay elsewhere as your place is so … quaint."
I grit my teeth. Every single year, I cross my fingers and hope I do not get this call. Every single year, I'm wrong.
Halloween is a big deal to the fae. And my mother is the penultimate fae.
They might not want anything to do with humans on a regular basis. But the night The Veil comes down? Oh, that’s when they’re down to fuck with the village people. Scare the beejezus out of them and call it a holiday. Mock them and dress up like them. Have some stupid family dinner by the ley lines to ‘power up’ for the year. I think it’s all just an excuse to eat too much and get drunk as fu—
"Lyon, did you hear me?"
My stomach drops. I hate the holidays. Why is family time mandatory? Why?
I want to kick whoever came up with this tradition crap. I just poisoned a friend. Just broke up with Bennett, the smoking hot dragon-shifter. Again. And I just found out Luke might be a crazy-ass psycho. Or something.
I don’t have time to fend off my mother’s superiority. Her jibes. Her constant little finger-licking-fix-my-hair gestures that make me feel like a naughty five-year-old. "Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable at a hotel? I know this cozy little B&B called Hearts and Powers—"
"I cannot believe you would suggest that your sister and I stay at that vampire hovel. You wouldn't refuse your family on high holiday, would you?" Her magic pulses through the phone.
I close my eyes and fight a sigh. "No mother. You are always welcome."
Catholics think they're good at guilt. They should try fairy mothers. Imagine being smacked by a guilt spell instead of a spatula.
Parental guilt blockers are illegal. Because the City Council believes, and I quote, "Parents have a right to discipline their children." Since fae adolescence lasts until age one hundred, I can't get a waiver. Emancipation? Ha! Doesn't matter that I'm twenty-four or part human. Live on my own. Have a job. (I have researched this extensively.) She can still guilt spell me on a whim.
"We will be there near dawn and leave November 1st."
I glare at JR and shake my head. Three whole nights? I'm supposed to survive with my mother and my sister in my apartment for three whole nights?
"Lyon, don't bother to decorate. Rain's better at it anyway. But do clean up, please. I don't want to walk into a disaster like last time."
"Excited to see you too." I hit end on the call. Sometimes I miss land lines. Slamming the receiver down after a phone call was cathartic. Jabbing my finger at the little red end button does not have the same effect.
I turn to JR, "Thanks for throwing me under the bus."
"Thanks for poisoning my boyfriend."
"Accidentally."
"Well, I accidentally hit answer."
I narrow my eyes and shake my head. "You know what? You're kinda being mean right now."
"You think?" Her eyes are hard.
Ouch. Not that I don’t deserve some anger. But JR’s anger really frickin’ hurts. I can’t remember the last time we fought.
I don’t want to cry again. So, I’m just gonna leave. "I have to go clean my apartment."
"Hope you don't stumble across anything else poisonous in there."
"Yeah. Okay. Sorry again, Danny.”
He just moans.
I walk away. If my mother and sister are coming to town and JR’s mad at me, I won’t have any escape. I’m stuck between a sucky and a sucky place. Self-pity, commence.
I see Bennett stroll by, talking to another senior investigator, Darrell. I’m after them like a shot.
“Please make me write every report for this entire murder investigation. I’ll even label every sticker on every evidence baggy. Please. Please!”
Darrell grins. At least, I think he does. He’s a mummy. So, it’s hard to tell. “What are you trying to get out of?”
Bennett grins knowingly. “Mom coming to town?”
“With my perfect sister.”
Bennett doesn’t answer. He turns to Darrell instead. “Want to go get the séance started to see if the ghost stuck around?”
Darrell nods. “Sure.” He pats my shoulder before he walks down the hall. "I'll let you write my reports any time, Fox. Bandages make that stuff a bitch!"
I clasp my hands and jut out my lower lip. "Please."
"This favor's gonna cost you."
"Yes. Anything."
"We're putting up harm charms at your apartment. And you owe me dinner."
I roll my eyes. "Harm charms are for tinfoil hat loonies."
"This is the second time in a month that someone's tried to kill you at home."
I freeze. My heart flies as fast as a bullet. "Kill me? But, it’s not deadly poison, whatever it is. They said Danny's gonna recover."
Bennett rolls his eyes and grabs me by the shoulder. His eyes are grim and his voice is gruff as he says, "Satyrs are constantly getting drunk. AKA, constantly poisoning their own systems. I'm pretty sure Danny's tolerance to poison is a lot stronger than yours would be."
I take a step back. Not to get away from him, but because I'm in shock. "You think Luke was trying to kill me? That this wasn't some kind of crazy accident? Like, I didn’t get sent the wrong cookies?"
I mean, accident wasn’t my first thought either. But it could happen, right?
"Ly-ly, do you really think it's just a coincidence that the name of the head of the Crypts is Cookie Gonzalez?"
My hand flies to my mouth. "No."
“What do you think she uses to send a message?”
My legs feel like jelly. “No.”
"Why did Luke come to bail you out after you were accused of murdering his ex?”
My stomach falls, but I give a last-ditch attempt, “’Cause I was innocent?”
“You didn't find that suspicious? This whole thing has been suspicious. I think Cookie’s been watching you. Through Luke. What her end-game is, I dunno."
I sink into a chair at the nurse's station. I don't even really register the dirty looks I get. My head is spinning. This time not from alcohol. Was I a pawn? Was this all some set up? Why? What's the master plan? Why would Luke do this to me?
"What could the Crypts possibly want from me? I have nothing. I am nothing."
"That's not true." Ben
nett reaches for my shoulder again.
I push him away and stand up. I feel too vulnerable. Too cut open. I don’t want him to poke the wound any further. "You have your deal. Just help keep my mom away from me." I shoulder past him and run out of the hospital.
I run home. In socks. It feels like a sledgehammer has smashed in my chest anyway. So, the running doesn’t even really hurt. That much.
But I don’t cry. I won’t cry. Over someone who might have just totally played me. I spew out the longest strings of curses I can. Which isn’t much, considering my awful mother put a cursing curse on me. Out loud, I sound like a seven-year-old.
“That bunghole, hairy anus-faced lying liar!”
“That sweet-pickle-sized penis head!”
“That booger-nutted, egg sucker can kiss my grits.”
When I get to my apartment building, I don't even go to my door. I knock on Mrs. Snow's.
My elderly neighbor opens before the third knock. I swear sometimes I think she's clairvoyant. Her outfit tonight definitely fits that theory. She’s wearing a head scarf and a colorful patterned skirt. She takes one look at my face and her southern hospitality takes over.
"Sugar, what's wrong? Come on in here let me take care of you. I've got tea and cookies—"
I start to ugly cry. As if I don’t have enough to deal with right now. Cookies have been ruined for me.
Chapter 3
I stay at Sarah Snow's until nightfall. She slathers my feet with homemade foot repair cream and plies me with tea and sympathy.
She’s convinced the cookie thing is all a big mistake. (Of course, she’s biased since she’s been team Luke from the day he gave her a bouquet of flowers.) She doesn’t believe Luke would do something like that.
I don’t know what to think.
I just hurt.
When I’m finally tired enough to try to sleep, I leave.
I feel dazed as I trudge up the stairs of our sixties style apartment complex, still wearing Flower's sweats. Finding Bennett on my stoop shocks me so much I almost fall backward down the steps.
He grabs me and hauls me back up.
"Where have you been?" He’s still in uniform pants, though he’s lost the button up, and is just wearing a white tee.
"My neighbor's."
"Well, open up. I want to get these harm charms up. Then I've got stuff to do. I do have a murder case pending, you know." He points at a grocery bag with a drill gun peeking out the top.
“Yeah? Was that why you were at the hospital?”
“Yup.”
“Anything exciting?”
“Don’t know yet. Looks like the fae just dropped dead. But he was pretty healthy going in. Maybe poisoned at a party.”
I make a face. “Eek.”
“Yeah.”
I sigh. "I forgot to grab my keys. Just a sec. I'll go get them from Mrs. Snow."
Bennett stops me. "Do you have powers or not?"
"What?"
"Just say 'I lost my keys on my front porch.'"
"Oh. Yeah. I guess I could try that." Even though I’m part fae, the only power I’ve got is losing things. Yup. That’s right. I’m a loser. Haha. My co-worker, Seena, delights in this fact.
I take a step closer to the door and close my eyes. “I lost my keys on my front porch.” My right leg starts to burn. I think I might have pulled something on that run home. At least my keys pop up on the ground in front of me. That’s the first thing that’s gone right tonight. When I bend to grab my keys, the pain shoots up my leg. I fall forward and scrape my elbows on the cement porch.
“Ducking heck!”
Ben offers me a hand. I grab the keys and he pulls me up.
"You okay?"
"Yup." I don't expand because I don't want a lecture on the perils of sock marathons. I'll just ice my leg later.
We go inside.
He pulls out some hideous looking wind-chime dealio made of bones. Seriously, it looks like a kindergartner deconstructed a skeleton and made it into a mobile.
“Really? Those ones?”
“I thought they’d fit in with any Hallow’s Eve decorations.”
“Charming.”
He shrugs. “They were half off.”
I roll my eyes. “What do I owe you?”
“I got this.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you doing?” He’s not allowed to pay for things for me anymore. That’s what boyfriends do.
He puts on an innocent face, “Protecting one of my best investigative protégées because she has a habit of attracting dangerous men.”
“You consider yourself dangerous?”
“I could burn you to a crisp in two seconds flat.”
“Two? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you take five minutes on a lamb.”
“That’s roasting. I’m going for flavor. Not the same,” he defends his dragon-shifter skills.
“Oh. Okay. Well then, if you do ever decide to flame me, I’ll take the fast version, please.”
“Sure thing. Where do you want this?” Ben holds up the harm charm. “It needs to be near an entrance or exit.”
I wave my hand, disinterested. “Wherever I won’t have to walk directly under it. It’s creepy.”
“Just wait ‘til you hear it go off. Anyone who gets near with the intent to harm you will fall to their knees, incapacitated until you say, ‘Harm charm, release.’ The alarm’s bone-chilling. At least, that’s what the package promises.”
“God. That’s a terrible pun.” I smile, just a little. Even after a hellish afternoon, I still love a good pun.
Ben grabs a chair and his drill gun and heads toward my front door.
“Do you need help?”
“Nah.”
Darn. Standing right at his navel while he reaches up to the ceiling and his shirt rides up—yeah, that would have been the highlight of my sad little evening. (What? A girl’s still allowed to look.) “Guess I’ll go pack up then.”
“Pack?”
“I’m moving my ‘written porn’ collection downstairs to Sarah’s so it doesn’t offend my mother’s sensibilities. Again.” I roll my eyes.
“I could offend her sensibilities for you if you like,” Ben lifts his brows.
“That sounds too much like flirting, French,” I call out as I walk to the guest bedroom.
“That’s because it was!” he calls after me.
“Boss!” I remind him why this is not a good idea.
“Nope. Boss’s boss,” he yells back.
“Stalker!”
“Eternal optimist!”
I laugh. My first real laugh since I’ve woken up.
I trudge down the steps with my ninth box of books. I try not to trip on the hem of Flower’s rolled up pants when I reach the bottom. I really should have changed, but I felt like that would have set a dangerous precedent with Ben in my place. He’s being so sweet, and I’m so ripped apart. But sending mixed signals wouldn’t be fair to him.
I set the box down near Mrs. Snow’s door when I hear Ben call my name.
“Hey!”
I turn. “Yeah?”
He comes down the steps, bag in hand. “I’m done installing the charms. Now, we need to talk dinner.”
“Now? I’ve really gotta finish cleaning—”
“Not this second. How about in the morning? It’ll give you an excuse to leave. You can say you have a work thing.”
“This work thing needs a title or she’s totally gonna think I’m lying—”
“The title is: Seduction.”
I fold my arms, even though the spark in his eyes makes my heart jump. Stupid heart. You make bad choices. I’m ignoring you. You liked Luke. “Nope. You know the deal. Not gonna be the boss’s favorite who just gets handed everything on a platter.”
“Excuse me? What about all the report-writing I’m giving you?”
“That is not a platter. That’s suckage. Which is better than dealing with my mother.”
“No one’s gonna think I just ha
nd everything to you Ly. I’ll make sure they think Flower’s does,” he winks.
He’s trying so hard to cheer me up. I can’t help cracking a smile even though I say, “Not funny. I already have enough haters. Hence the harm charms.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Then I’m going to bring a stack of profiles for hospital personnel to dinner. I’ll teach you about profiling.”
I nod. “Sounds good, sir.”
He growls and leans down. “Say that again.”
My eyes catch a flicker of movement behind him. I lean sideways. There, on the sidewalk, twenty feet away, is Luke—a Viking, vampire-god of a man. His long blond hair trails along the collar of his white shirt. My heart twists painfully at the sight of him. He looks out of place in my quaint apartment complex. Too hot and heavenly to be real. And of course, that’s the truth.
He’s too good to be real.
I’d thought that I’d lucked out. Found one in a million.
But it looks like it was all an act.
My feet run before my mind catches up. But when it does, I’m spewing insults. “You flunking, turd-brained, lying, poisoning dastard!” I say everything I’m feeling because I’ve got a dragon at my back who can burn this motha’ down.
Luke’s livid. I don’t even think he hears my cursing. His blue eyes are burning holes into Ben’s. “What the hell is he doing here? And why are you wearing his clothes?”
“These aren’t his!” I shove Luke. “Thanks to you, I just spent all afternoon at the frickin’ hospital.”
“What?” He looks at me for the first time.
“Why did you send me poisoned cookies?”
“What?” he raises his brows, innocent confusion coloring his face.
“Oh, you’re a good actor.”
“I ordered cookies from Wendel’s.”
“So, you’re saying Cherry Jones, baker extraordinaire, poisoned those cookies herself? Wanted to get her shop shut down? Is that what you’re saying?”
“What? No. What are you talking about?”
Bennett comes to stand next to me. He puts his arms on my shoulders possessively. I try to shrug him off, but his fingers dig in.
“Hawkins. We need to have a conversation. Down at the station.”
Luke’s eyes flick back to mine. His look is unreadable. “Of course.”