by Stacia Kane
"It was a yaksas—a Nepalese mountain demon—by the way. I suppose we could tell him the truth."
"I don't think we have much choice."
"There are always choices."
"Not for me."
He shook his head. “How cynical of you. Faced with what you've seen in the last few days, you still refuse to accept possibilities.” His fingers cradled her jaw for a moment, as if tilting her face up to kiss.
"And you refuse to stop patronizing me and listen,” she said, but she couldn't put any sting in the words. “I'm having a hard enough time keeping all of this from Brian as it is, what with the whole Harlan Trooper thing, and—"
"What? Who?” He let go of her.
"Harlan Trooper. He was a homeless man who lived in my town when I was in high school. It's a long story."
She expected him to change the subject back to Brian, but he didn't. “Tell me."
"He died. They thought I'd killed him."
"He didn't just die, he was murdered. You saw it?"
"I ... I think so. I don't remember much. Can we get back to the subject at hand, please?"
"When did he die?"
"I was sixteen. Please, can we not discuss it? We need to decide what to do about Brian, not rehash some old personal stuff of mine."
"Hmmm? Oh, Brian. I thought we'd decided."
"Okay, then. So, we'll just start at the beginning? Do we tell him about you?"
"Do you remember anything about that guy dying? Or what your life was like at the time?"
Megan shook her head. “The oven timer's about to go off, Greyson, so I need to get back in the kitchen. Why don't I decide exactly what to tell Brian and you follow my lead?"
"Why don't I decide and you follow my lead?"
Megan bit her lip to hide her smile. She knew that would get him. “Fine,” she said. “You decide. I have to go roll pastry."
It wasn't until she got in the kitchen that she realized he hadn't tried to kiss her or flirt with her once after she'd mentioned Harlan Trooper.
* * * *
"Did you make that from scratch?” Tera stood next to her and poked at the pastry with one long red fingernail.
"No. I buy it pre-made. And get your germy hands out of it, please."
Tera pulled her hand back. “My hand isn't germy. And you're going to bake it anyway, right?"
Megan glared at her.
Tera glared right back. “I don't know why you're being rude to me. I'm on your side. I haven't done anything to you."
"I don't mean to be rude, I'm just not used to—"
Tera ignored her and popped a raw baby carrot into her mouth. “My sister slept with him, you know,” she said between crunches. “A year or so ago. She said it was pretty memorable. And that's saying a lot, because she's slept with everybody."
Megan opened a beer.
"It wasn't much more than a one-night stand, really.” Crunch, crunch, crunch. “I mean, they tried to date, but Lexie isn't exactly the relationship type and Greyson isn't the relationship type at all, so—"
"I can hear you.” Dante's voice floated in from the living room, where Megan told him to stay.
"I know,” Tera said. “Anyway, they had some weird kind of fight and Lexie hexed his car. I think it almost killed him.” She grinned and took another carrot. “It was pretty funny."
Megan stared at her.
"Eh?” Crunch, crunch, crunch. “It was funny."
"If you say so.” She couldn't help smiling back, though. Standing here in her kitchen, cooking an enormous meal, listening to Tera's rather macabre gossip, felt normal. It felt good. It struck Megan then, as it hadn't before, that Tera was trying, in her own way, to be her friend.
She cleared her throat. “Hey, Tera, I appreciate your help with everything."
Tera smiled. “No problem. You're doing better than I thought you would."
Megan finished fitting the pastry into the pie plates and put them in the oven to bake. “It doesn't feel like I—"
Someone was pounding on her front door. She had a sickening feeling she knew who that someone was.
Greyson appeared in the hall. “Do you want me to answer it?"
"Who is it?” Tera asked. “Is it one of the bad guys?"
"Yes,” Greyson said at the same time Megan said, “No."
Megan sighed. “It's a reporter named Brian Stone. He's been doing an article on me and he witnessed the attack in the park today—"
"What attack?"
"We'll tell you later, Tera. I think Brian's about to break the door down."
Tera sniffed. “I don't know why he doesn't just open it. It's not locked."
Megan headed for the door as Greyson said, “Some people don't just wander into other people's homes."
"You always have to say something, don't you, Grey."
The door vibrated and bounced with the force of Brian's fists. Megan hesitated for a minute, taking a deep breath, then jumped back as she flung the door open ... just as Malleus, Maleficarum, and Spud roared out of her spare room and leapt through the doorway and onto Brian.
It only took her a second to realize what the boys, in their zeal, had forgotten.
They weren't wearing their hats.
Chapter Sixteen
"I'm fine, damn it.” Brian swatted her hand away she tried to give him a fresh ice pack. “Just give me a minute and I'll leave."
"You don't have to go. You can stay and have dinner."
He made a sound almost like a laugh. “You think I want to stay here and eat with you? After what you and your—pet demons, or whatever—did to me today?"
Megan's “be honest” plan had not worked out well. As soon as Brian heard the word “demons” he'd jumped to the absolute worst conclusion possible. Megan guessed she didn't blame him. If she'd met someone, then learned they'd been accused of an occult murder, then been attacked by invisible beasts before getting an explanation, she'd probably have thought they were lying about their innocence, too.
"Brian, I know it's hard to accept, but if you'd just let me finish—"
"Let you finish? Why, so you can set me up again?"
"I didn't set you up."
"Oh? If something's after you—and that's a big if—and you made me meet you in the park today, that sounds like a set up to me. You set me up and had your demon friends there put on a little show. You know, Megan, I thought there had to be a reasonable explanation for the whole Harlan Trooper thing. Now I see there was. You're insane. And whatever evil you've gotten yourself involved in, keep it away from me. I know I have the same abilities you have, but that doesn't mean I've gone down the same road."
"Brian, I—what the hell is that supposed to mean? What evil road have I gone down?"
"Calling demons? Blood sacrifice? You think I don't know about that stuff? I saw Harlan Trooper's autopsy reports, Megan, I know about the carvings left on his skin and the organs missing."
"I think that's enough.” Greyson spoke up from the corner. Megan jumped. She'd forgotten he was there, he was so still and silent. “Megan, can I talk to you privately?"
"Go ahead,” Brian said when she glanced at him. “I'm sure your demon master has some tasks for you to do. I warn you, though, I'm well protected."
Greyson's eyebrows raised. Megan, torn between yelling at him for not contradicting Brian, at Brian for saying such a thing to begin with, and at herself for thinking honesty was the best policy, stood up with a sigh. “I'll be right back, Brian. Because maybe you could use a minute alone, not because my—nobody is my master."
She swept past Greyson into the living room, hoping he wouldn't try to touch her. All Brian needed was to see that.
He didn't, but when she saw the look on Tera's face she almost wished he had.
"What are you two doing? You're not allowed to do any of this. You need to cover it up, now."
"Tera,” Megan said, “I'm sure you—"
"There's no ‘you're sure’ about any of this, Megan. You don't know
our rules. Your situation is unique; you need to know things to stay alive. That guy in the kitchen doesn't.” She turned to Greyson. “Why wasn't I notified immediately of what happened today? Can you imagine the trouble I'll be in when the rest of Vergadering hears that not only was there a yaksas attack, and not only did a regular witness it, but that a demon then decided to tell that regular everything about us?"
"Tera, listen.” Greyson took a step forward. “Just let me explain a couple of things, and I think you'll see—"
"No. No more explaining. I've gone along with all of this because I thought you were right. And despite what you think, not all of us are prejudiced against demons. But to tell that guy in there what you've told him, without even clearing it with me ... no. He needs to forget it all and he needs to forget it now."
"What?” Megan glanced from Tera to Greyson and back. “Tera, you're not going to do something to him, are you?"
Tera was already walking into the kitchen. “Somebody has to."
"Greyson, does she know Brian is psychic?"
"No."
"You have to stop her. Won't it be a lot harder for her to—"
Amusement glittered in his eyes. “Oh, yes. Probably won't work at all, with him being so emotionally wrought at the moment."
From the kitchen came the low hum of Tera's voice. Megan turned to go, but Greyson grabbed her back.
"Let her go. Might be fun to see."
"But Brian's going to have a fit."
"And our Miss Tera will take the brunt of it.” Greyson lowered himself to the couch and pulled her down with him so she sat cuddled into his side. “While we wait and let her."
For once, his body next to hers didn't distract Megan. Her nerves were ready to snap.
"Stop fidgeting,” he said. “She wouldn't listen to us—ah."
"What the fuck are you doing?” Brian's roar brought the demons running from the spare room again.
"No, boys, stay here.” The brothers stopped at the sound of Greyson's voice, but they wore identical expressions of unease as the yelling in the kitchen continued.
"Are you trying to brainwash me? Who do you think you are?"
Something fell with a clatter, and Brian appeared in the entrance to the living room. “Did you ask her to do that?"
Megan struggled off the couch. “No, Brian, no. Just please listen to me. I can explain everything."
"Yeah, I bet you can."
Greyson remained seated. “Come on, Brian, the least you can do is give Megan a chance."
"No. The least I can do is get the hell out of here before you people decide to get really nasty with me. Megan, I have to keep speaking to you, because it's my job. But I don't have to keep speaking to you now."
The oven timer went off. The pies were done.
"Please stay and eat, Brian.” Even as she asked she knew how lame it sounded. He'd refused once already. Now he'd probably rather pluck out his own eyeballs with a fork than sit at the table with Megan, four demons, and a witch who'd just tried to magically alter his memory.
He stared at her. “I'll call you tomorrow. I'd rather not—I don't want to be stuck with you any longer—but somebody has to expose you, and I don't trust you, any of you, not to bewitch one of my colleagues."
They stood and watched him leave.
"Where are we going?” she asked again.
"It's a surprise."
"I don't like surprises."
"Everybody likes surprises.” Greyson made another turn, this time onto a narrow dirt road. Signs posted at the entrance warned that Trespassers Would Be Prosecuted. “You just don't like the anticipation of the surprise. Besides, we're here."
"This is the surprise? Being shot at for trespassing?"
"That would be fun, but no.” He braked in front of a heavy stone wall topped with barbed-wire spirals. Dante got out of the car without another word.
The headlights bleached color from his skin as he waved his hand over the gate. His lips moved. The gate opened.
"I don't think this is a good idea,” she said as he got back in the car.
"Okay.” He drove through the gate. Megan twisted in her seat to watch it close behind them, then disappear as the taillights left it behind.
Trees stood in twisted columns along the sides of the leaf-strewn path as they rolled forward, the car rumbling and jostling over bumps and dips. Megan thought of the town they'd just left. Even closed and dark, it was evidence of civilization. Here none could be seen, like Greyson had somehow driven them back in time. She generally avoided the woods for that reason. Her blood pumped a little faster.
"Here we go,” he said, bringing their rolling, shaking progress to a halt.
Megan looked around. They were in a clearing. That was it. She saw nothing special about this particular clearing. It looked like her back yard. She could have gone to her back yard anytime.
Outside the warmth of the car, she shivered. She'd only worn a light jacket and it was after midnight. The wind whistled through the trees and stirred up leaves on the ground. With the car headlights off, the moon and stars provided the only illumination.
It was spectacular. This far out of the city the sky was a tapestry of sparkles, with the moon glowing at its zenith in the south. Her breath caught.
"Pretty, isn't it?” His voice was low and soft in her ear as he stood behind her, wrapping his coat around her so she was pressed against him.
She nodded, feeling very small. The immensity of the glittering sky was unimaginable. How long had it been since she'd even looked at it, really paid attention? She noticed the moon if it was full and she was out at night, most of the time. Every once in a while she'd see the Big Dipper or Orion's Belt and be proud she could find them. But she hadn't looked at the sky, focused on it, in years. The thought made her vaguely ashamed.
"Look,” he said, in the same quiet voice, turning them both to the left. The lights of the city glimmered and shone across the dark expanse between its limits and where they stood. It looked like gold spread across the hills. So many people, so many lives being lived all on top of each other. And here she stood with Greyson, alone in the woods, not part of any of it. It was so beautiful, but standing in the middle of it all meant she couldn't see.
Heat radiated from his body through her thin jacket to her back. “Puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"
She wiped her wet cheeks. “Is this why you brought me here?"
"Partly."
She tensed. The memory of his lips on hers flooded back. They were alone, in the woods ... no. She didn't doubt for a minute he would have been game if she'd suggested it, but she did doubt that he'd planned to seduce her in the backseat of his car. It simply wasn't his style.
"What's the rest of it, then?” Her voice came out as a whisper.
His chest moved against her back as he shrugged. “I wanted to get out for a while. I thought you might enjoy this. I like it here."
"And that's all?"
He stepped away from her. “Have a seat,” he said, lighting a fire on the ground and sitting in front of it, tilted so he could look at the city.
She sat. “Greyson?"
"Hmm?"
"Is it hard to do that?"
"What? Oh, the fires? No. It takes a little energy, but it's just the same as your abilities. It just happens, like making a fist."
"Do you think it's because of ... I mean, do you think if I wasn't psychic, this wouldn't be happening to me? Like maybe I don't have a personal demon because of my abilities? Or would it happen no matter what, because of the show?"
He sat perfectly still for a minute, his profile glowing with reflected fire. The intensity of the light made his eyes look like pure shadow with gleaming gold irises, flaming holes set in the fine bones of his face. “I think everything we do in life has an influence on what happens next,” he said. “The decisions we make have ramifications beyond what we see, but we make them anyway, without thinking of it, because we have to make them."
He
glanced at her. “Our gifts and talents are part of that. You can't blame yourself or your gift any more than you can blame yourself for breathing. We are who and what we are, Meg, and there's no point wasting time wondering how it might be if things were different."
"That's easy for you to say. You were raised with demons. You were never different from everyone around you."
"Don't make assumptions. You should know better."
"Sorry.” He was right, and worse, Megan hadn't even thought of it. Without being able to read him, she didn't know anything about what went on under his skin other than what he told her and what she learned by observation. “You're so self-assured. Most people with your confidence had very nurturing upbringings. Overcompensators read more like arrogance. But you—"
"I'm not one of your patients. Please don't analyze me."
"I'm sorry,” she said again. His withdrawal upset her more than she would have thought. Sometimes it was hard to remember that just because she couldn't read someone didn't mean they didn't have depths, or secrets to keep.
He was silent for so long she wondered if he heard her. “Greyson, I—"
"It's forgotten.” He leaned back on his hands and stretched his long legs out in front of him. His white shirt gaped open at the neck. “Why do you do it?"
"What?"
He jerked his chin towards the city. “Help them. Use your energy and power to make them feel good, when all they want is to make others feel bad. Are they worth it?"
It took her a moment to find her voice. “Of course they are."
"After everything they've done to you, everything they do to each other?"
"I—I don't think they're bad, Greyson. They're just human, I'm just human. We can't help being the way we are."
"But you don't admit it, either. The things people want, the things they think. You know. You hear those thoughts and you still want to help."
Something odd laced his voice, almost like vulnerability or loneliness. It echoed in her chest.
