WeirdNights

by Rebecca Royce

  “Mindy.”

  She rubbed at her forehead. It throbbed on and off. “I miss him. What can I say? I worry I made a mistake. I expected to hear from him by now. I guess I thought he’d at least try to get me back. Don’t get me wrong. I said what I said because it needed to be out there and I stand by it. But my stupid heart…”

  Dodie took her hand. “If it means anything, Christian says Jonah is still deep into learning to control his own headspace with the Shaman. They’re sending energy every night. It’s still pretty intense.”

  “It’s been five weeks.” It had never dawned on Mindy that Jonah would still be working on things. “Why is it taking so long?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure Christian would be happy to talk to you about it. I know he’d really like to…”

  “No.” Mindy held up her hand and Dodie stopped her train of thought, at least verbally. “I do not want to stick you and Christian in the middle of this. I know that we’re both important to you guys.”

  A cold wind blew through the restaurant and Mindy shivered. Maybe she should have brought a sweater. But she didn’t normally bring sweaters with her in Austin. It had been one of the benefits of living there as opposed to freezing her butt off in Chicago.

  Her stomach clenched. She couldn’t think about Chicago because it brought up Jonah memories. The one subject she needed to avoid. And Dodie’s bringing it up didn’t help anything.

  Dodie sat back in her seat. “Is it cold in here?”

  Mindy rubbed her arms. “I thought it was just me. I’m not used to the air-conditioning or something.”

  “No. The temperature in here just dropped significantly.” Dodie pushed her plate away. “I don’t mean to be a downer about this. I just get really worked up when the temperature changes. It’s left over from six months ago.”

  “Well that would make sense.” Mindy had her own issues left from six months earlier. She rubbed at her face. A growl sounded behind her and goose bumps jumped up on her skin.

  “Dodie.” Mindy deliberately looked down at her plate. “Tell me there is a big dog behind me in the restaurant. A big, mean, snarling regular old dog.”

  Gasps sounded in the restaurant. One woman screamed.

  “It’s a hellhound.” Dodie spoke in barely a whisper. Mindy raised her head to stare at her friend. The other woman had destroyed a demonic clown after it had, temporarily, killed Christian. Her pale face and shaking hands told Mindy that Dodie was not at all prepared to deal with another monster. At least not at the current moment.

  Resolve formed in Mindy’s stomach. Her own hands were steady and she didn’t even feel fear radiating through her veins. She was…steady.

  “Listen to me.” She smiled and put her hands on Dodie’s. “Text Christian. Get him out here. We have a hellhound in a restaurant in the middle of the day. I cannot believe the fact that you and I are sitting here with it is a coincidence. Seems too easy to me. I think the thing has been waiting for me to come back. Or something. Then get these people out of here.” Mindy stood up. “I’m killing the dog.”

  “What?” Dodie’s eyes were huge. “Mindy. You have to run.”

  “No. I don’t do that anymore.” She paused. “Or maybe I do, but not from hellhounds. There are lots of more frightening things out there. This is going to be a nuisance.”

  Mindy didn’t turn to look at the creature but stormed into the kitchen. The staff looked up at her. They must not know what was about to happen out in the café.

  “Something very bad is occurring in the next room. Real weird tidings. I’d suggest you go ahead and run.”

  She didn’t want to see if they listened, but instead grabbed the two items she’d hoped to find. Grabbing the mop that leaned against the wall, she broke it in half over her leg. Her skin burned beneath her pants and she was sure it had left a large red welt. There would be time to worry about it later. For now pain didn’t matter.

  Pain could be controlled.

  She blinked. Maybe Foy’s classes had paid off after all.

  Grabbing the butcher knife in her other hand, she made it back out into the main part of the café just in time to see Dodie hustling the patrons out the front. She was glad her friend had been able to do that and hadn’t frozen. Not that there was really much chance of that. Dodie had faced down BoBo. Alone.

  The dog growled toward the kitchen. It really had been looking for her. Had it been waiting in Austin all this time? Or was it more complex than that? The dogs had been sent to kill all of them and not succeeded. Did it have to keep going until it completed the task?

  Hellhounds looked like the ugliest, biggest mutts she’d ever seen. Nothing that made dogs cute presented on their faces. And the red beady eyes that glared at her did nothing to ease the tension forming in her spine.

  What had Foy said about fighting during his combat class? Tension was good. It meant you adequately appreciated your opponent’s strengths. There was no question of that. She wore the scar on her face from one of its brother’s bites. Or maybe it was a sister. Either way, it sucked.

  She charged forward. “I banish you.”

  The books she read suggested she start with that phrase. But she had no special magical abilities and, as she suspected, the dog did not immediately return to hell or wherever it was that it belonged. Instead, it charged forward.

  She ducked out of the way, spinning around until it came up behind her. “Don’t like me trying to send you back, do you?”

  It growled, red-tinged drool leaking from its mouth, and charged at her again.

  Once again, she moved out of its way. Foy had told them to judge the speed and agility of the person they wanted to fight. In this case, it wasn’t a person but the same rules seemed to apply.

  “You’re an ugly thing. Not even pretty as far as hellhounds go. Were you the last picked to play fetch with the demons?”

  As it snarled, the creature charged at her. This time she didn’t try to move but struck out at it with her right hand, using the butcher knife.

  She caught it on the side and it yelped before jumping back. The wound she created seeped blood and she got a good look at the inside of the thing’s skin. Puss-filled and yellow. She’d never seen anything like it before and hoped to never see it again.

  “Gross.”

  She forced her gag reflex to stay down. The last thing she needed to do was to give it any kind of edge over her. She could puke later. In the comfort of Dodie’s second bathroom.

  After the monster was dead.

  It lunged and this time she struck it with the mop handle. Right on the head. “Bad, bad doggie.” She whacked it again, feeling the vibration on her hands with each bang she made.

  Now all she needed was for it to open its mouth again. Wide open. It shouldn’t be a problem once she did what she needed to do.

  Sweat broke out on the back of her neck at the thought but nothing ever got done by giving in to that kind of fear. Instead, she backed up and dropped her weapon to her side.

  The dog launched, mouth open, right at her.

  Mindy raised her stick.

  * * * * *

  Jonah took a deep cleansing breath and maintained the centered feeling he’d had since leaving the Shaman’s class earlier in the morning. Foy had told him he thought he was ready to handle these things himself.

  And for the first time in over a month he finally felt like himself again. He grimaced looking at himself in the mirror. Jonah really needed a shave. Four o’clock shadows might work for other guys but on him it came across as just unkempt, as if he hadn’t showered in days.

  Jonah paused. Had it been days? Time moved in a fluid, unclear manner when the Shaman was involved. Days could feel like hours and minutes feel like weeks.

  Whatever time it was now, he had to get his girl back.

  If she’d have him.

  She might not and he wouldn’t blame her. Who needed to put up with this crap? She’d figured out what he needed even after he made her leave. Mi
ndy had made her needs very clear.

  He could give her what she needed, to a point. She was going to have to agree that he had to protect her. Include her, fine. Tell her what was going on, yes he could do that. Stand back and watch while she got hurt? Not going to happen.

  There had to be a middle ground between what they both wanted.

  But in the meantime there was still something he needed to do before he could go seek her out. One more task to complete.

  Braxton knocked on his door. “You ready to go?”

  He raised an eyebrow, staring at his friend. “You coming?”

  “Did you think we would let you do this alone?”

  No. He’d not considered it at all but if he had, he’d have known either Braxton or Foy would make the trek with him. “Thanks, man.”

  “Yep.” Braxton shrugged. “Foy went to get the car.”

  “You’re both coming?” They either really wanted to support him or they thought he might suddenly send cars flying on the freeway.

  “Your cup runneth over, I know.”

  Jonah ran a quick hand through his hair. “It does. I just didn’t know it before.” He patted Braxton on the arm. “After I go find Mindy and beg, if I have to, for another chance, do you want me to come back to San Francisco with you?”

  “No.” Braxton walked beside him as they exited the room. “When Foy says it’s time to go back, it’ll be something I need to do alone.”

  Jonah could appreciate that. Some tasks needed friends, others had to be seen to in a singular fashion. Whatever had happened to Braxton in California, the other man needed to handle by himself. Jonah would let him do just that.

  But he’d have his back if he needed it.

  * * * * *

  Jonah sat back in his chair and waited for the person he had to see to be escorted out. He sipped his coffee and looked at the artwork on the wall. He imagined they’d all been selected to keep people calm and happy. Mostly they depicted scenes of families visiting and stern but pleasant-looking law enforcement officials.

  But that was to be expected inside a maximum-security prison.

  Jonah hadn’t laid eyes on his father since the night the police had come and taken him away. But he knew him instantly. Hell, in some ways it was like looking in the mirror. They shared the same dark hair, the same skin tone, the same shape of their chins.

  Genetics had basically given him his father’s face.

  He gritted his teeth and picked up the phone that separated him from his dad. For a second the other man stared at him without moving. His dark eyes staring at him as if he didn’t know who he was.

  Jonah picked up the phone and waved it in front of him indicating that his father should do the same.

  Finally, the older version of himself lifted the receiver to his ear. “Jonah?”

  His voice sounded raspy, as if he smoked too many cigarettes. Still, Jonah could remember the intonations from his childhood, the way his father elevated his voice in the last syllable of his name. Jo-Naaa.

  “Yes, Father. It’s me.” His hands tingled and he longed to rub them together to make the sensation stop. The Shaman had helped him see that he did those things to make his power surges stop. It was better to just let the psychic abilities move through him and stop trying to jam them back inside him where he had no choice but to let them eventually explode out of him, destroying whatever got in his way.

  He breathed deeply.

  His father spoke again. “I’ve waited for you to come for years.”

  “Why?”

  His father drummed his fingers on the table in front of him and Jonah watched the motion. Nicotine or something like that had turned the inside of his dad’s digits yellow. The smoking must have come in prison. Jonah had no memory of him doing it during Jonah’s childhood.

  Of course it could have been hidden from him. Like the devil worshiping.

  “Because you’re my son and we had much to discuss about what should have been your legacy.”

  Jonah shook his head. “I basically blocked you out for years. Probably from the trauma of being the one who turned you in.”

  He watched his father jolt in his seat. Jonah had wanted closure with the man, not to come here and stir up old drama best left dead in the past. Still, the part of him that could be petty didn’t mind seeing the shock on the old man’s face.

  Deciding to put it all out there, he kept talking. “I work against what you are now. I took an oath and I live up to it. I fight evil, demons and people like you who prey on the weak to do disgusting deeds. I came here today because I wanted you to know that.”

  His father shook his head. “You have a legacy, powers that will make it impossible for you. Embrace who you are or it will drive you mad. You belong with the demons. We made sure you’d be psychic when you were born. The demons promised us.”

  Jonah shrugged. Now at least he knew where his particular set of “gifts” came from. It made goose bumps travel up and down his back but he had no intention of letting his father know that.

  “Sorry, guess I’m just a normal human. The demons must have lied to you. Hope it was worth it, all the pain you caused everyone, because you know you’re never getting out of here. And my mother is apparently languishing in a mental institution, tormented by visions of dark things. Good luck with the rest of your life.”

  He’d made his own destiny and the demons must just hate it that they’d wasted their gifts on someone who was going to spend the rest of his life working to destroy them.

  He hung up the phone and left his father sitting on the other side of the window, looking old and used up. Jonah would never make another visit to this place. What would be the point? He’d acknowledged his past so he could finally have a future and that was all that mattered.

  When he closed the door behind him, exiting the prison, it felt as if the world had gotten brighter while he’d been inside the walls. Seeing his father had finally released him from the jail where he’d imprisoned himself. Sweet freedom had never tasted so good.

  Braxton and Foy both leaned against the car while he approached. Foy shook his head and Brax grinned at him. It was the smile that got to him. Foy was always shaking his head about something but Braxton grinning like a fool? Something was going on.

  “Tell me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “No.” Foy got back into the car.

  Jonah turned to Braxton. “Spit it out.”

  “We just got off the phone with Christian.”

  “I’m assuming that your grin means he’s not dead or injured.” Braxton was many things but elated over a blood-oathed brother’s misfortunes wouldn’t be in his character.

  Braxton shook his head. “If Christian was hurt both you and I would be rolling around on the ground in agony while he sucked our life out of our body through the blood bond.”

  “That’s true. All right, continue.”

  Braxton laughed, a long, hard sound. “Your girlfriend just took the head off a hellhound with the handle of a mop.”

  Jonah’s stomach turned. “What?”

  His hands itched and his heart rate kicked up. How quickly could he get on a plane? How badly was she hurt?

  “Jonah.” Braxton shook his arm. “She killed it. She’s not hurt. She kicked ass. Okay? I’d never have told you like this if it was otherwise.”

  He nodded. Yes, Braxton’s words made sense and slowly they penetrated the haze that formed around his brain when he’d heard about Mindy.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mindy had expected that when she saw Jonah again he would be holding roses and asking for forgiveness. So the anger pouring from his gaze as he stared at her from the threshold of Dodie’s apartment door took her by surprise.

  He motioned to the living room. “Can I come in?”

  “Do you need permission? Did the Shaman turn you into a vampire?”

  Jonah’s nostrils flared. “That’s just a myth. Vampires don’
t need permission to break down your door and suck you dry. I’m asking because it’s polite.”

  “Right. Well, I’m not sure I want you in here if you’re going to be yelling or something.”

  “Mindy.” He placed his hands on the sides of the door and leaned in. She could smell his aftershave and it made her insides go soft. It had been five weeks since she’d seen Jonah. Angry or not, his form was a welcome sight for her. He looked…healthy. Color had returned to his cheeks and the hollowed, exhausted look that she’d last seen on him was nowhere to be found.

  Jonah looked full of life. And pissed as hell.

  “Yes?” She swallowed, her mouth gone dry. Had he come here to tell her to go to Hades over the ultimatum she’d levied at him in a low moment? Even she would admit her timing could have been better. He’d been a little down at the time. Guilt had been making it hard for her to sleep at night.

  Guilt and not having him next to her, feeling warm and solid.

  “You can let me in or I can bellow in the hall for all the building to hear. They might not even be shocked. This place was assaulted by a demonic clown earlier this year.”

  Mindy swung open the door. These people had all had enough. Most of them, according to Dodie, didn’t even seem to remember what had really went on at the time. Selective amnesia or something like that.

  Jonah stepped into the room and immediately seemed to dominate all the space in it. She pushed back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. How could she be so relieved to see him when he was so angry with her?

  “Let me look at you.” He pulled her against him and his hands roamed her body, feeling her arms and back, over her stomach.

  “Look implies eyes. Touch is what you’re doing.” Not that she wanted to complain. He’d not made any sexual moves and yet even the slightest stroke of his fingers against her clothes made her core come alive. Any second now she might be drenched and have to change her panties.

  “I have to be sure you’re okay.”

  Oh. Realization dawned on her. Someone must have told him about the hellhound. She squirmed out of his embrace. “I’m fine, as you can see. I handled it. The thing was dead before Christian even got there. Because I’m capable of kicking butt when I have to.”