by Devon Monk
“Yep. Stina wants her over for the petting zoo on Saturday, but otherwise her calendar is open.”
“When did Stina get involved?”
“When Xtelle stole her ‘mediocre’ chocolate and ate it.”
“Ooooh. Old pals?”
“So close.”
“I don’t have a yard to keep her in.”
“I was thinking maybe Hogan’s place? The fenced-in side yard?”
“I’ll ask. Myra won’t take her?”
“After last time, I’m surprised Myra didn’t shoot her on sight.”
“And she’s not staying with you, because you and Ryder are fighting.”
Were we? She said it so casually, I almost glossed it over without a thought. Didn’t someone have to be present in some way to actually be fighting?
“We’re not fighting. She’s not staying with me because I have a dragon pig and its pet dog/brother/worshiper—whatever Spud is to it—in the house. That dragon pig and demon unicorn do not get along, and I don’t want Spud to become a casualty.”
“Right. And also you and Ryder are fighting.”
I tucked my fists into my jacket and gave her my cop’s glare. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t take anyone to tell me what I can see with my own eyes. Police officer.” She pointed at her face. “Keen observation skills.”
“And what can you observe?”
“He’s never home when you are. Scheduled a job that takes him out of town on the days you’re home. Only gets one day to sleep in his own bed. A day when you’re on duty.”
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?”
I didn’t know.
Yes, he’d taken the build out of town. Said he needed the extra money. Said the dragon pig was eating us out of house and home. Not strictly true, since it was eating us out of junkyard, and there were plenty of junkyards we could scavenge.
He’d been really focused on money, and quick to change the subject whenever I brought up how we were doing together, or when I tried to check in on our goals.
Maybe having my soul possessed by a demon for over a year was just too much. Maybe I’d changed. I knew I was having…blackouts? Some kind of foggy memory moments. I figured that would get better as my soul healed.
But there was no guarantee on that.
Maybe I was broken this way now.
Permanently.
“Wow. That is one long-ass pause.” Jean leaned away from the side of the building and wrapped her arms around me.
“Don’t.”
“It’s a hug. You can handle it.”
“I’m fine.”
She squeezed.
“Jean, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Her hair smelled like key lime pie.
“You’re confused about you and Ryder, but it’s okay. It’s a fight. After a fight you get to make up. Making up is the best.”
“I’m not confused.”
The squeeze again.
“Making up after a fight is awesome. You’ll see.”
“Get off me, you perv.”
She snorted a laugh into my shoulder and finally stepped back, one hand catching my fingers.
She’d done that ever since she was a little kid.
“Go away,” I said.
“I’ll take on the pony demon. You do some work facing your doubt demons, okay?”
I tugged my hand away. “We’re fine.”
“That’s what I said. It’s just a fight. He loves you. You know he’s crazy about you.”
“We’re not fighting.”
“Oh, you’re fighting, you’re just never in the same place long enough to realize it. What?” she searched my face, her eyes wide and worried. “Delaney?”
That was it, wasn’t it? He didn’t even want to put in the energy to fight me. Or he was hiding something. Something he didn’t want me to find out about. Maybe something unforgivable.
“Hey, I’m just shooting off my mouth,” she said, catching at my hand again. “You know how I am. Talk first, brain later. You and Ryder are good. You just said you’re good. He’s…he really loves you. Trust me, Delaney.”
I had to clear my throat before words could happen. “We are good.”
She squeezed my hand. “Sometimes work gets in the way. I bet he’s going to surprise you. Do some big romantic gesture, like a dinner or something. If he does, you just let me know and I’ll switch a shift so you can do that big romantic making up. Okay?”
“You just switched to days. I don’t want to throw a wrench in the gears until we get into a steady work flow.”
“We’re pretty close to steady. If you just had some time together to talk, I’m sure you’d see everything is okay. If you give me time for a quick nap, I can take your afternoon into evening shift.”
“I wasn’t going to work—”
“Yeah, you were.” She held my gaze until I looked away. Maybe Ryder wasn’t the only one avoiding at-home time.
“I’d have to see if he can get home for dinner tonight. Then order in something. Or cook.”
“Definitely order. You’ll try to make the perfect meal and burn something, then end up ordering five-dollar pizza from the gas station.”
“That was once.”
“Let’s not have it be twice. I’ll be on shift at four. Should give you plenty of time to sweet-talk your man into coming home.”
“This won’t get you out of watching Xtelle.”
“Cynical. If she gets out of hand, I’ll ask my half Jinn baker boyfriend to grant me a wish. Maybe turn her into a little pewter charm I can keep on my bracelet.”
“You only get what? Two actual wishes a year from him?
“One big wish and a few tiny ones.”
“You aren’t going to waste those to turn Xtelle into a charm.”
“Ha-ha, of course not. Ha-ha, see how much I was joking? I’ve never ever thought of something like that before. Taking advantage of my half Jinn boyfriend. Why just the idea. Heavens, no.”
“Jean.”
She strolled toward the Jeep, flour drifting off her in little wisps, the breeze teasing her bright hair. “You really need a day off. I was joking.”
“No, I mean, I know. But have you had any doom twinges?”
“I’d tell you. You know that, right?”
I nodded. It was a comfort I held onto tighter than she probably realized. As long as she didn’t feel like something massively wrong was about to happen, then the memory fades I’d been experiencing couldn’t be something deadly.
I’d told her about them. Told Myra, too, because I’d promised both of them I wasn’t going to do dumb things that might get me hurt without consulting them first.
Everyone we’d talked to in town, who might know about the aftereffects of having my soul in a demon’s possession for more than a year, was pretty sure we were in a wait-and-see kind of situation.
Wait and see if my soul could knit back together.
“No change with the memory thing?” she asked.
“I think the fog is happening less.” That was true. But still…
…a dream-like voice, telling me I had to find something, steal something…
“You’re noting when they happen still? So Myra and Bathin can make sure there’s nothing weird going on?”
“Yes, Mother. Now if you’re done babysitting me, how about you babysit her?”
I unlocked the door.
Xtelle stood on the floorboard her head hanging, her mane and tail drooping. She looked comically miserable.
Jean fought down a smile. “Hey, Xtelle. No one’s here so you can talk if you want.”
She just sniffled and sighed.
Jean made big eyes at me, and I shook my head and mouthed drama pony. Jean swung her fist around by her shoulder like she was working a lasso.
“Xtelle, are you okay?” Jean asked.
Xtelle raised her head, and the calculating look she gave me quickly turned into big, fat, fake tears. Oh, she w
as gonna give Jean the floorshow and encore.
“She’s been so mean to me!” Xtelle gave a hiccupping wail. Jean turned to punch me lightly in the shoulder, mostly so she could hide her choking laughter.
“I’ve been fair,” I said. “You’re not in jail.”
“I’m expected to do manual labor. Do you understand how hard that is…? Uh, which sister are you?”
“Jean.”
“Right. The boring, childish one.”
A blush slapped Jean’s cheeks, and I stepped in front of her to grab the rope before Xtelle tangled in it and broke a leg.
“Don’t listen to her,” I said to Jean. “She says that kind of thing to all of us. Xtelle, you are acutely aware of the differences between the three of us and each of our powers and gifts.”
Xtelle paused, then hopped out of the Jeep. “Yes, well. I find all of your differences and gifts boring.”
“No.” I slammed the door. “You don’t.” I handed Jean the rope.
The heat in Jean’s cheeks had cooled, and she nodded once, giving Xtelle a steely glare.
A lot of people saw Jean as the happy sister. The funny sister. The geeky fan-girl sister. And yes, she was all of those things. She was also smart as a whip. A sunny disposition was easy to interpret as naiveté.
How much strength did it take to keep a happy attitude and caring heart in a world full of as much darkness as ours? How much strength to know that disaster and death were always right around the corner?
The answer was: a Jean’s worth of strength.
“Hogan’s got a side yard with a door straight into the kitchen,” Jean said. “He’s still working, and I’m not on duty for a couple hours, so you can hang out here behind the bakery while I get things together, and you can meet him.”
“Hang out.” She glanced back at me. “There must be a better choice than this… Reed.”
“Nope.” Jean looped the rope over her shoulder and headed toward the front of the shop. “I’m the best Reed you’re gonna get. Let’s go find out if my boyfriend is down with you pooping up his side yard.”
“Poop?” Xtelle said. “Delaney. Delaney. Does she expect me to poop in public?”
I waved. “Bye, Xtelle. Be a good pony. Poop in all the right places.”
“Wait. Wait. Jean!” She trotted closer to Jean. “Surely, I can stay indoors when no one’s around. I won’t need much more than a king-size bed, full bathroom, spa, sauna, and three servants. What? Fine. Neigh, neigh, I will also require room service, neigh.”
Jean stuck her head in the door. “Hey, Hoges. Can I have a minute?”
She waved me off with one hand without even looking over at me.
With her choppy laugh and Hogan’s ridiculous giggle filling the air, I knew they were going to do just fine with our little problem demon.
I got behind the wheel and started the Jeep.
“This is so much better now that we’re alone.”
The voice was behind me. Right behind me. So close I should be able to feel the puff of each syllable on the back of my neck.
My breath hitched. I was frozen, staring straight ahead, hands clenched around the steering wheel, the world fogged at the edges, unnaturally still.
“It was difficult with her so close to you. I’ve been looking for her for a long time. Did you know that?” The voice sounded different, almost hungry or fond, though neither of those were quite right.
Longing was closer. Lonely.
I didn’t know how to process that.
“I suppose you couldn’t know. I’d had one glimpse, so brief all those months ago, and I knew. I knew how I could finally get to her, reach her. After all these years.”
My pulse hammered, sweat pricked at my hairline. How could I be sweating when I was so cold, frigid, arctic?
“Did you know I was looking for her?”
Words had power. My words had power. If I asked who he was talking about, if I guessed it was Jean he’d been trying to find, he’d have something.
Ownership. Leverage.
Power over me, or over my sister.
“Such muscular silence.” A strange thread of laughter stitched through his words. “Well, that will change soon. The last piece. Find it. Then the spell will be complete. Enjoy yourself until then.” He leaned forward, close, closer, until I felt the shivery brush of lips against my skin. “I do mean that, Delaney Reed. Because soon, you will be begging for your freedom.”
A horn blared out on the street as someone waited a second too long before gassing it through the green light.
I blinked and blinked, trying to remember what I’d been doing. Sweat trickled down my temple, prickled across the top of my lip, my breathing was hard, like I’d just been running. Like I’d just been crying.
Hadn’t I just left Jean laughing with Hogan? Hadn’t I just gotten into the Jeep? I turned and inspected the interior of the car. Nothing. No one to startle me. Just that horn.
The Jeep was still in park, the dragon pig sleeping on its back in the passenger seat, stubby legs stuck straight up. I peeled my fingers off the steering wheel, my knuckles aching and stiff.
I pushed back out into the open air and sucked down big lungfuls of fresh, salty air buttered and sweetened by the bakery.
Jean and Hogan were leading Xtelle around the other side of the shop where I’m sure they were going to stuff her into one of their vehicles.
I’d just lost a second or two. That was all.
“You’re working too hard, Delaney,” I muttered to myself. “Jean said a day off would be good. She’s right. Tonight is all about sitting at home and having a nice dinner with Ryder.”
I leaned against the Jeep, pulled out my phone and hit the icon. The call dumped into Ryder’s voice mail.
“Hey,” I said after the recording. “How about you and I take the evening off? Jean said she’ll pull my shift. I’ll order in or make something. I mean, cook. Cook dinner. Or we can get take out. Either’s good. Um… Call. Let me know.”
I thought about saying more. Telling him I missed him, asking if he was all right, or if he was hiding something.
But I’d rather ask those things when I could see his face.
“Love you.” The message beeped, cutting off the words. I wasn’t sure if he’d hear them, but it was too late to fix.
I opened the car again, dropped into the seat, and jiggled the dragon pig’s leg.
“Listen, buddy.”
The dragon pig opened one eye, peering up at me upside down.
“I need you to ride shotgun while I hit a couple more stops.”
The other eye slowly opened. Then both blinked independent of the other. The dragon pig huffed steam out its nostrils, warm where it brushed my wrists.
“I’m good. Just…distracted, I guess. Make sure I don’t miss a stop sign or something.”
It growl-oinked, then hopped up on the dashboard.
“Hey, you’re not quite small enough… Oh, okay then. I see you got that covered.”
There really wasn’t enough room for the dragon pig to perch comfortably on the dash, but it was a dragon. Once it had settled into the space, it just sort of…fit.
“Is it a magic thing?”
I got a snarl for that.
“Okay,” I chuckled, “dragon thing it is.”
Chapter Eight
Turned out grocery shopping was also a dragon thing.
“What do you think about lasagna?” I asked the dragon pig in the grocery cart. “Or maybe some pot stickers? I could try sushi? Can’t burn what you don’t cook.”
The dragon pig sat transfixed in the metal cart practically vibrating with joy.
“I think a pot pie. I can make pot pie without burning it.” I turned down the aisle then backtracked the way I’d come in. “Or maybe a sexy soup? What’s the sexiest soup?”
“Something with sausage, meatballs, and a good, heavy cream.”
My almost-uncle, Crow, dropped a loaf of rye in the basket hanging in the crook o
f his elbow and grinned at me.
He’d gone full Mohawk about a week ago. It looked great with his thick black hair and made the square of his jaw and cut of his cheeks stand out.
Myra had teased him about it not being traditional Siletz, and he’d pointed at Jean’s pink hair and said, “Traditional clown,” then at Myra’s bob cut and said, “traditional flapper.” She’d laughed, he’d flipped her off companionably, then done a few more runway struts so we could all thoroughly appreciate his new do.
“Hey, Crow.”
“Or a good chicken. Lots of breasts and thighs?”
“Never gonna talk sexy soup with you. I’ve changed my mind anyway. Definitely some kind of noodle dish.”
Crow was the god Raven. A trickster who mostly behaved himself while he was vacationing in Ordinary and running his glassblowing business in the Crow’s Nest.
“Special occasion?” He pointed at the bottle of wine I’d spent fifteen minutes trying to decide on, and which I’d finally chosen because the label was pretty. His fingernails had gray dust embedded at the cuticles. That was different. Glassblowing didn’t usually leave his fingers dirty like that. Like…dust? No, something else.
“The wine?” he asked, bringing me back to his question.
“Just dinner at home. Something simple.”
“Simple like hand-rolled sushi and homemade pot pie.”
“Or lasagna. Maybe I’ll just go with lasagna.”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned his basket on the edge of my shopping cart, effectively pinning us in place.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We’re blocking the aisle.”
He didn’t move.
“You’re in my way, Crow.”
He leaned harder. Hard enough I heard the plastic of his basket crack.
“It’s just dinner.”
He stuffed his boot under the edge of the wheel.
“I think Ryder’s mad at me. There. Happy?” I yanked the cart. He’d been expecting it, and let go. That thing really moved.
It careened into a display of cheese puff balls, sending gallon barrels of safety-orange snack food clattering across the linoleum clear to the apple cases.
A few people looked up, including the checker at the closest stand, Mr. Manly. He’d been my third-grade teacher and had never forgiven me for spreading mayonnaise on the blackboard in an attempt to make it shiny clean.
