by Devon Monk
The front door flew open. Ryder strode into the room.
His hair was styled back, and he was freshly showered. He wore a button-down, silver-gray shirt and the black slacks I loved that made his ass look amazing. The scent of fresh air and sawdust and the cologne he only wore when he was dressing up for fancy events swirled around him as he made his way to me with laser focus.
He looked like he was about to shovel his way into hell to kick some ass.
He stopped. Right there in front of me, but not touching. His gaze was everywhere on me, searching, frantic.
“I’m okay,” I said.
He let out a breath—choppy and fast— as if a yell had been building, steam, anger, pressure—
—fear—
—that had had no other release.
“Laney,” he whispered.
I was in his arms. My body pressed against his, and his arms locked behind me and pulled me just that slight bit closer as if he were afraid I’d fall away, as if he were afraid I was already too far out on the edge of a cliff.
He anchored me, grounded me, solid and steady, his heartbeat fast under the softness of his dress shirt, my ear and cheek pressed against his chest, the heat of him, the scent of him soaking into me.
“I missed our dinner,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Another demon thinks he can push me around.”
Ryder grunted. It sounded good there, so close to my ear, so close to my own heart. “He obviously doesn’t know you.”
He held me a second more, then his hands went flat against my back and his arms loosened. He drew back enough he could see me. “How bad?”
“He cast a spell binding us together. We’re working on how to break it.”
He glanced over my shoulder, looking at my sisters. “How bad?”
I pinched his side. “Hey. I’m telling you the truth.”
“She is,” Myra said, “but what she’s leaving out is we don’t have the scope of what we’re up against. At this point, it’s a pretty tight spell. We don’t know the consequences of breaking it.”
“Of course we don’t,” he said. “So what’s our move?” That was directed at me.
“You,” Myra said, “take Delaney home and keep an eye on her. She left the dragon pig with Amy at the other jail.”
“Amy?” Ryder frowned. “She our demon?”
“Avnas. Bathin’s uncle,” I said.
“Brother to the King of the Underworld?”
“Yeah, I don’t like it either,” I said. “Jean, you and I are going to go—”
“Nope,” Jean said. “You missed your very special dinner. I can’t believe I didn’t know about it, Ryder. You promised.”
His expression didn’t change. Really, if everyone in the room hadn’t gone completely silent, I wouldn’t have even noticed anything weird about that comment. My sisters were always butting into my business.
“Oh-kay,” I said, studying Ryder’s non-reaction. “Why was dinner something Jean needs to know about?”
“It wasn’t.”
“Ha-ha,” Jean fake laughed. “You know me. I love it when you two go on dates and stuff. I even write it in my diary. If you two are going out for something fancy enough for your man to smell so good, I need to be in the know.”
Ryder just gave me a long-suffering look. “She’s your sister,” he said.
I smiled, because it was cute how much he was pretending she annoyed him.
“I like Myra’s idea,” Jean said. “Go home with Ryder. I’ll deal with the pony demon. Make sure she stays where she’s supposed to stay so Bathin can help Myra with her research. Do you even know what was in the spell?”
Suddenly I remembered Jean hadn’t heard all this, nor did she know what I’d locked inside the safe.
I stepped all the way out of Ryder’s arms and faced my sisters, who were both standing.
“Yes. Bertie’s Feather and the Wolfe’s Heartwood.”
No one moved. Well, Myra blinked.
“Really,” Jean said. “Were they destroyed?”
“No.” Time to fess up. I’d committed a crime: theft. If Bertie or the Wolfes wanted to press charges, it was within their rights to do so.
“I stole them.”
“You stole them.” Jean tugged on one of her ponytails. “Want to run that back around the track again?”
“I don’t remember stealing them, just flashes that add up to me knowing I was the one who took them. The components for the spell were a Valkyrie’s Feather, the Heartwood of a werewolf clan, the sweat of Death’s brow.”
“You stole something from Death?” Jean’s eyes were huge.
“Yes? Than has a cold. I touched his forehead to see if he was running a fever and wiped my hand on a tissue. Sweat. Brow. I guess it was enough.”
“Wait,” Jean said, holding up one finger. “This is important. I want to see the pictures of the inside of Than’s house.”
I blinked, having forgotten I hadn’t told her about it yet. “I didn’t get pictures.”
“What? No! You promised.”
“It’s modern,” Myra said. “Clean and no weird stuff, or so she told me. Okay? Let’s stay on track here. Where are the Feather and the Heartwood?” Myra asked.
“In the gun safe in my room.”
“On it.” Jean jogged to my bedroom.
“So, this is a little awkward,” Myra said. “I should bring you in. Find out if the injured parties want to press charges.”
“I know. But I’d rather you go to the library.”
“You weren’t going to make Jean arrest you, were you?” she asked.
“No. Jean’s going to return the items and explain the situation. She’ll get statements, and bring people to the station to fill out paperwork if need be.”
“I’m what now?” she asked coming back into the room.
“Returning the stolen items to the owners.”
“Uh—”
“Which means,” I said, turning to Ryder, “you need to arrest me. I’m turning myself in, Reserve Officer Bailey.”
He blinked. “You know this is serious?”
“Absolutely.” I held up my hands, wrists together, and waggled my eyebrows. “Cuff me, Danno.”
“I’m not going to cuff you.”
“Not even in a sexy way?”
“No. This— Delaney. How did you let another demon do this to you?”
That was when I realized my man wasn’t worried, he was furious. Furious at me for getting snookered again.
But I had nothing to be ashamed of. Avnas had found a vulnerability in me, in Ordinary, and abused it. My job was to keep him locked down until I could undo his damage.
I was doing my job.
But apparently Ryder thought I was stupid enough to hand my soul to any demon who happened by.
“How did I let him?” I dropped my hands, my stomach clenching with the familiar mix of anger, sorrow, and disappointment.
He was pushing away. From us. From me. I didn’t know where he was trying to escape to—
—what was he hiding—
—but I was tired of walking the extra miles he put between us to try and stay close to him.
“Forget it. I’ll go to the station myself. Hatter or Shoe can process my statement.”
I walked to the door, hurt stewing in my gut.
“That’s not—” He sounded exasperated. “You don’t understand. Okay, you do, but not what I’m saying.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I asked. “Something out of town? Might as well get back at it. I’ll see you tomorrow morning while you’re running out of the house before I get up.”
That was a petty jab, and I knew I was off my footing. But dammit, how could he just assume I wasn’t fighting with every scrap of my being to keep Ordinary—and myself—safe?
“Delaney,” Ryder said. Warning and frustration. Neither would do him any good.
I grabbed the doorknob, but before I could take another step, a whistle
pierced the air.
“Hold it,” Jean said. “We have a problem to solve.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from yelling at my sister. She did not get to armchair coach my relationship. “What problem, Jean?” I snapped.
“I can’t pick up the Feather.”
My head was so full of anger and hurt, it took me several seconds to figure out what she was saying.
“The Valkyrie Feather,” she said slowly. “It’s stuck in the safe.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. Then another. I wanted to yell, I wanted to cry, but no matter what I wanted, I had a job to do. “All right. Okay. We got this. Here’s what we’re going to do. Myra, you’re still on the library.”
“I agree,” she said.
“Ryder, if we’re in close quarters, I’m just going to fight with you. So I’d like you to go home, or to work, or go find Bathin and make sure he’s not doing anything he shouldn’t with his mother. Xtelle signed the contract and is here legitimately now.”
“I still think you should let me go over the contract again,” he said. “Demons always find a loophole. Let me look through it one more time.”
“With your buddy, Mithra?” He knew how I felt about that god who hated my family. He knew how I felt about Mithra trying to mess around with anything in Ordinary, including my boyfriend.
He just pressed his lips together and shook his head. Disappointed.
“Jean,” I said, “you and I will return the items. I’ll apologize, I’ll explain, and if they want me arrested, you can take me in.”
I made eye contact which each of them in turn, lastly Ryder, who dropped his gaze after a very short stare down.
“Understood?” I asked.
Myra was already walking my way. “Understood, Chief. Come on, Ryder. Let’s do our part.” She touched his arm as she walked past him, but didn’t drag him with her.
Ryder walked toward me. He took his time, stretching out that small space into what felt like hours.
“We need to talk,” he said, quietly, his head bent so he was sure not to lose eye contact with me. “After you get done with Jean, we need to talk. I’ll go check on Bathin and make sure things are fine on that level, then I’ll be home. I’d like you to be home too. Let me know if you can make it.”
Then he stepped forward and dropped his arms around me again. I didn’t lean as hard into him this time, but I didn’t pull away. He shifted so he was just a little closer, one last gentle squeeze, and then he let go, not fast, not angry, every inch of his body transmitting he might be angry, but he wasn’t done with this yet. Wasn’t done with us.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”
Then he was past me and out the door.
I closed my eyes and counted my heartbeats, trying to steady the ache in my chest.
“I think you’re reading too much into everything,” Jean said. “He’s worried. That’s all, Delaney. We’re all worried. And his worry came out a little angry. And condescending. I’m worried too.”
“I know,” I said. “But it’s not like I was going around looking for another jerk who wants to use me as a bargaining chip.”
She made a rude noise. “I’m not worried about that. Demons are old news. We’ve taken them on and defeated them. I’m worried about what Bertie is going to do to you when she finds out you stole her Feather.” She gave me a wide grin. “You are so doomed.”
“Well you’re about to have a front and center seat for that delightful event. Let’s get the Feather.”
She did a short bow, her hand toward my room, and I strolled back to the bedroom to retrieve the Feather of my doom.
Chapter Eighteen
The werewolves were not amused. I carried the Heartwood carefully out in front of me, having decided that my scent was already on it, so putting it in a cloth or other carrying case wouldn’t make any difference.
Plus, I didn’t want it harmed. If I kept it in my tight grip, I could get it back to the Wolfes safely.
Before Jean and I even reached the front door of Granny Wolfe’s house, half a dozen family members had silently joined us. They walked beside us, walked behind us, men and women caging us in with their bodies.
It wasn’t threatening, but the message was clear. They knew we had the Heartwood, and they weren’t going to let it, or us, out of their sight.
The door opened before I could raise my hand to knock, and Jame filled the entrance. His eyebrows were drawn down, his gaze hard as stone.
“Delaney,” he said.
“Jame. We have the Heartwood.”
“I know.” He stared at Jean, who just wiggled her fingers at him in a little wave.
Jame was breathing hard, inhaling the scent of us, the scent of the Heartwood. All the Wolfes were doing it, had been doing it since we first showed up.
I didn’t know what they smelled, but if it was death, demons, and one Valkyrie Feather, then they were pretty much putting the puzzle together without having to see the box top.
Finally, Jame stepped aside. “This way.”
We were ushered—bodies beside us, bodies behind us, Jame ahead of us—into the house through the main entry, then through the wide open entry into the living room.
Granny herself sat in the padded loveseat, two little boys, maybe about three years old, sitting on either side of her, their furry bare feet stuck out straight in front of them. They each were gnawing on a bone with a thick knot on the end like they were lollipops. Sam and Dean were twins and the youngest of the Wolfe clan. They obviously knew it was okay to wolf-out a little here at Granny’s.
Jean and I were corralled to the overstuffed, patchwork-covered, velvet sofa. Wolfes dropped down on either side of us, stood behind the couch, and crowded into the other chairs and floor space. All of them breathing, sniffing, scenting.
I leaned forward and very carefully placed the Heartwood on the table in front of us.
Jame moved to stand behind Granny, his hands resting on the back of the loveseat on either side of her head, while he stared at me.
Granny ignored me, Jean, the family around her, and just sipped her tea. Jean and I were not offered any hospitality other than a seat and being allowed to remain breathing.
Once her tea was done, she set the cup on the table between us, sat back, and folded her hands in her lap. “You tell me, now,” she ordered evenly. “All of it. True.”
“I took the Heartwood that night when I came to check on the office. I did not take it willingly. I was being controlled by a demon, who has now bound me to him by using the Heartwood in a spell. He is demanding my services before he will free me. After he used the Heartwood for the spell, I took it away from him, locked it in my safe, and am now bringing it back to you.”
“And your sister there?” she asked.
“I’m here as an officer of the law,” Jean said. “I need to know if you want to press charges against Delaney for stealing your property and using it to invoke unsanctioned magic.”
“Uh-huh.” Granny lifted her hands and stroked those short, strong fingers over the twins’ heads, a loving pet they leaned into.
The ticking of a clock in another room—maybe the kitchen—drummed through the silence, broken by the quiet snarls and the clicking of Sam and Dean’s teeth as they punctured the bones.
Jean and I waited. More family appeared and lounged against walls. One man sat at the bottom of a staircase that led to the upstairs communal sleeping space and smaller private bedrooms.
Then, at a signal I could not sense, a man and two women near the wall shifted into wolf form.
I wondered what order they’d been given.
“Take it home,” Granny said.
All three came around her loveseat and a woman still in human form—Tiffany—picked up the Heartwood from the low table.
The three wolves followed Tiffany up the stairs. The two youngsters stood on the loveseat and peeked over the top of it. All Wolfe eyes followed the Heartwood until it was gone from sight.
“The Wolfes and the Reeds go back way a’ways.” Granny had not watched the Heartwood being taken from the room. She had kept her gaze on me. “Ain’t that the right of it, Delaney, daughter of Robert?”
“Yes, Granny Wolfe.”
“And there are rules all those within these borders must follow. No matter who we be. No matter what we be. No matter what we are to this land.”
“Yes, Granny Wolfe,” I repeated.
“So, you say I can send you to jail for taking the Heartwood of our clan from my people, my blood?”
“Yes, Granny Wolfe.”
I maintained eye contact, because I knew better than to look away. It wasn’t so much that either of us needed to bow to the other, but the authority each of us wielded created an uncertain power dynamic. She recognized my place upholding the law for all. I recognized her place upholding the law within her clan. It had been this way for years. I didn’t want it to change.
“It stink of demon,” she said.
Took me a minute to follow her line of thought. She was talking about the Heartwood.
I nodded. “He didn’t touch it, but the spell did. Smoke touched it.”
“It stink of death.”
I nodded again.
“And Valkyrie.”
My head was still bobbing. Yes, yes, yes. All those things.
“And it stink of you. You fighting against all those things. Especially fighting against that demon.”
I stopped nodding because I did not know that was something a werewolf could smell. An action? An emotion? An intention?
“I didn’t agree to the spell. I didn’t agree to steal the Heartwood either, but my hands picked it up. My hands carried it away from you.”
She blew air through her teeth, disparaging my words. “Can tell it wasn’t your will behind it, Delaney Reed. You don’t have to tell this old wolf things she can see with her own eyes and smell with her own nose.” She was still staring at me, and it was uncomfortable to hold her gaze this time.
I felt like a little kid who had just admitted to eating all the cookie dough.
“If you want to press charges, you’d be right to do so,” I said. “You can get me on burglary and damage, both mental and emotional, and illegal magic use. I won’t fight you on any of it. I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry I was the one who put your family through this violation.”
