by Devon Monk
Ryder was starting to sound an awful lot like a cop instead of a freelance monster negotiator or whatever his job description was. A bloom of pride warmed my chest. He really was trying to approach the murder with sympathy and problem solving.
He had good cop instincts, which in this case were also good survival instincts. For the first time since he’d been suspected in this killing, I got the feeling that he might actually be innocent and might get out of this alive.
I didn’t know what I’d expected out of this confrontation. Well, yes, I knew. I expected a fight between Rossi and Ryder. But maybe Ryder had a chance of getting Rossi to listen to his side of the story.
Of course, Rossi had been known to “accidentally” drop people off cliffs after hearing them out. If he wanted Ryder dead, it would take a hell of a lot of interference on our part to keep that from happening.
Rossi did want Ryder dead, but Ryder was still here, breathing. This meeting was going a lot better than I’d expected.
“I am going to taste you, Ryder Bailey,” Rossi’s voice sent shivers down my neck. “And,
when I do, I will know the truth of you.”
Ryder was stock still. Finally his gaze drifted to mine. “Is that something that happens here?”
“No,” I said, recovering my wits. “Of course not. No. Rossi, what the hell? You know there is no feeding in Ordinary.”
“I said taste, not feed.”
“Whatever. No fang-on-vein. That’s the rule. It’s why we hold blood drives every other month, remember?”
“You...right, of course, you do.” The words seemed to come out of Ryder without his permission and he firmly shut his mouth. He was probably wondering if Mr. Tudor, a sweet balding man who ran the community blood drives was a vampire.
He wasn’t. He was a bloodthirsty little redcap.
“It only breaks the rules if the mortal is unwilling. If they are willing, well, it’s a free country, baby.”
“The country might be free but the blood isn’t. No.”
“What will it do if you taste me?” Ryder asked.
“It will break rules set in place long before you got here,” I said. “No.”
“I will know the truth of you,” Rossi told him over my head.
Rude.
“You said that. What does it mean?”
“I will know your truths. I will know your deceptions. Perhaps I will know your soul.”
That sounded like hippy-dippy stuff, or maybe vampy-wampy stuff. Or maybe it was the truth. Maybe a vampire, a very old prime vampire like Rossi could know the what and why of a person with one little sip.
Myra was scowling. She shrugged.
Jean’s eyes were twice as wide as they should be. “Oh, shitballs. Are you going to do it, Ryder? Are you going to let a vampire bite you?”
“No. But I’ll give him a taste if it means he’ll believe I didn’t kill Sven.” He slipped two fingers into his front pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. He flicked open the short blade and held it over the tip of his ring finger.
“This really isn’t necessary,” I said.
“Oh, let the man make up his own mind. You’re not his mom.” Rossi strolled—no, more like glided—across the room to stand in front of Ryder.
I’d never seen Rossi drink blood. It just wasn’t something he ever did in public. As a matter of fact, all the vamps in town kept their blood habits quietly to themselves.
So I could admit there was a tiny bit of utter fascination on my part.
Would Rossi really know all those things about Ryder? Was drinking his blood like reading tea leaves? Would he know everything Ryder wanted to hide, all the good, all the bad?
Was I ready for the truth to come out, no matter what that truth might be?
No.
But then, this had never been my choice. I’d mostly been stalling this moment of truth, wanting to decide for myself on Ryder’s innocence or guilt. Wanting a chance to stand between him and Rossi when the truth—Ryder’s guilt—was confirmed.
I’d been harboring a very real fear of Ryder being guilty.
“I didn’t kill Sven,” Ryder said. “I don’t know who did.” He flicked the blade against his fingertip, just a tiny slice. Blood welled there in a rich, thick drop.
Rossi didn’t even look down at Ryder’s finger. He was watching Ryder’s eyes. Then he bent just enough to lower his face so close, if either of them exhaled too far, Rossi’s lips would touch Ryder’s finger.
But neither of them exhaled. I didn’t think they were breathing.
Which was normal for Rossi. But not for Ryder.
Rossi’s hand moved so fast, I didn’t even see the motion. One moment he was bent over Ryder’s hand like a supplicant bowing to a king. Then his fingers were caught around Ryder’s wrist, holding his hand tight. Hard.
Ryder’s breathing went a little crooked before he evened it out.
Yeah, it was one thing to know Rossi was a vampire. It was quite another to see him display a tiny percentage of what being a vampire really entailed.
Rossi pressed the pinky of his free hand over Ryder’s finger, just enough to hook the barest drop of blood off Ryder’s finger. Then, staring straight into Ryder’s eyes, he licked that drop into his mouth.
I had no idea what Rossi could actually discern from Ryder’s blood. I wanted to look over at Myra and see if she knew. But I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the old west stare down going on in my living room.
“You disappoint me, Mr. Bailey.” Rossi’s words were cool, smooth and sent chills down my spine again.
I was starting to regret not having my gun on me. Not that a simple bullet wound would slow Rossi down.
“I had hoped you were a liar.”
Then, just like that, Rossi let go of Ryder’s wrist.
I could breathe again, and took in a huge lungful of air.
“He didn’t kill Sven?” I asked.
Ryder threw me an exasperated look. “I’ve told you that,” he muttered.
“He did not.”
“It was his blood on Sven, though,” I said.
“Yes.” Rossi strolled back over to the chair and sat with his tea. He looked tired. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look tired. “Also, he doesn’t know who killed him.”
“Which is what I’ve also been saying.” Ryder pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket—seriously, who carries a handkerchief these days—and pressed his finger into it to stop the bleeding.
“It would have been easier if you were guilty,” Rossi said. “Or if I could kill you. Both. Both would have been easier. We should do something about making this easier for me, Delaney.”
That was the Rossi I knew. Annoying. Pain in the butt. Not above a little whining.
“I don’t care about easy, I care about justice. You should want to catch the person who killed Sven, not go around randomly killing people hoping you hit pay dirt.”
Rossi shrugged. “Potato, Potah-to.”
Myra sighed. “Okay, so what we know is that Ryder is innocent in Sven’s death. He is also a freelance agent for the Department of Paranormal Protection and wants to contact the vampires in town.”
“You just bled for him,” Jean said. “I think you can check ‘Send fruit basket to the bloodsuckers’ off your to-do list, Ryder.”
“Good to know.” He sat back down and took a drink of his coffee. His hand was steady, and he had that easy sort of body language about him that might be a lie, but was also good enough I bet it would calm nervous dogs.
And apparently blood-hungry vampires.
“Did you join the police force to try to uncover the secrets of Ordinary?” Rossi asked.
“I joined the force because I was asked.” He grinned. “But since I was there, I thought a little digging was in order.”
“What did you find?” he asked.
“Nothing. Not really. The records are clean. The evidence room is so normal as to be boring. I was thinking I’d made a mistake. But then..
.”
“Sven died,” I said.
“Are all the Rossis vampires?” Ryder asked.
We all looked over at Old Rossi. This was his call, his choice to out everyone in the town, to pull another agency into Ordinary and make some kind of tolerance deal with them.
“No,” he lied smoothly.
I guess that was the answer as to how well Rossi trusted the agency Ryder worked for.
My front door swung open and Crow sauntered in with a box of donuts from the Puffin Muffin. “I’m back! What did I miss? Did we tell Ryder there are gods in town yet?”
Silence.
Then Jean burst out laughing.
Ryder didn’t react to any of it. He just sipped coffee and watched each of us in turn. Finally, his gaze rested on me.
I could see the question there.
I rolled my eyes to tell him Crow was just joking. And crazy. Or both joking and crazy. And possibly dead after I got my hands on him. Crazy dead. No joke.
He narrowed his eyes, didn’t believe me.
Holy crap.
I looked over at Myra since Jean’s hooting was winding down.
Myra seemed to be weighing the consequences of telling Ryder the truth.
Mithra wanted Ryder there when I negotiated for the return of the god powers. Crow had just paved the way for me to tell him that yes, gods were real and he’d known dozens of them for most of his life and oh, hey, would he like to go with me to talk to one who had a beef with our town, and my family in particular, before those gods got really mad at me for letting their powers be burgled by a waitress?
“I can make him forget,” Rossi said as if he were offering to order pizza without olives.
“No.” Ryder didn’t deserve to have a vampire messing with his memories. He was innocent in Sven’s death and not the bad guy here. Sure, he’d lied about working for the secret government agency, but he claimed his agency was part of the good guys.
Right now all I wanted was to get rid of the bad guys. To do that, I’d have to find them.
Or let the old and very crafty vampire bend some of the town’s laws so he could find them.
No. It was never a good idea to break Ordinary’s rules.
“Ryder, would you do me a favor and step outside for a couple minutes? I need to discuss a few things with my sisters, Crow, and Rossi.”
The man knew when he was outnumbered. “All right. Let me know when you’ve taken the vote on whether you should just tell me everything or not.” He took his cup with him, palmed two donuts from the box Crow was holding open, then stepped outside.
“What. The. Hell. Crow?” I wanted to hit him, but he was wisely standing on the other side of the couch beyond my reach.
Jean hit him for me instead.
What were sisters for?
“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut?” Myra rubbed at her temples. She didn’t sound angry so much as just mildly disappointed. Yeah, we’d all grown up with Crow as more-or-less our uncle. If there was a pot to be stirred or trouble to start, Crow was for it one-billion percent. We expected that.
But, damn he had bad timing.
“Just because I’m Native I should be seen and not heard? Way to marginalize the Native voices.” He tried to sound offended but the huge grin was sort of a give away.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did you do that?”
“If Ryder’s going to know about the creatures in town, he might as well know about the gods. No one wants to have the Band-Aid ripped off twice. Donut?” He pushed the box out toward Jean who plucked up a maple bar.
“Really?” I asked her.
“What?” She took a huge bite. “All these secrets and sexual tension are making me hungry.”
“Sexual tension?” My voice might have come out a little high.
Myra coughed over a chuckle, and Rossi sighed.
Only very old vampires could put that much suffering into a sigh. “It’s not a secret how much you and Ryder want each other. Honestly, I thought the Reed pragmatism would have kicked in by now and you’d have realized that it will never work between you.”
Both Jean and Myra stood and faced him.
I turned toward him too, so all three Reed girls had squared off, shoulder-to-shoulder.
“Want to try that again?” Myra asked.
“Don’t be a dick, Rossi,” Jean said.
And yes, it made my heart feel all glowy. I knew neither of my sisters were big fans of Ryder at the moment. Not since he’d broken up with me.
But they knew how I felt about him. Because apparently everyone knew how I felt about him. Even old vampires.
Okay, that part was a little weird, but knowing my sisters had my back still made me feel loved.
“Did they have cupcakes?” I asked Crow.
He held up a big, soft red velvet cupcake. “One.” Then he took a huge bite out of it.
“Hey! That was my cupcake, you jerk.”
“And it’s delicious,” he said.
Myra hit him again.
“Whatever I am or am not with Ryder isn’t any of your business, Rossi.” I thought I sounded rather calm. Relaxed. In charge.
But Rossi crossed his arms over his chest and made a rude sound.
“Right?” Crow pushed the rest of my cupcake into his big, fat mouth. “There isn’t any way to unknot those tangled life threads you two have going.”
“What threads?”
“Ryder life threads with Reed life threads.” Crow rubbed icing off his lips with his palm, then wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans. Something on my face must have clued him in that I wasn’t following his logic, and was also hating him for eating my cupcake.
“All the places where your paths have connected: his blood on the corpse you’re investigating,” he started around a bite of the donut he was now eating, “him part of a secret government creature outreach agency, freelance on top of it. You working for the government of your own free will. Monster hunters he knows who you might want to get rid of. And the fact that he probably loves you and you definitely love him. Childhood sweethearts.”
“We were never sweethearts.”
“You should have been,” Crow said, not unkindly. Then he walked into the kitchen and put the box with the remaining donuts on the table. “So. How do we do this? Come clean, or wipe his brain clean?”
Everyone looked to me.
No pressure.
I opened my mouth.
There was the rap of knuckles on the unlocked front door. The door that pushed open, Ryder leaning into the wedge of space.
“Uh, Delaney?” he said.
“Yeah?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “You have a mob here to see you.”
Chapter 14
“Delaney,” Death said as if we hadn’t seen each other for months and months and were just now bumping into each other unexpectedly in the fresh flower aisle of the market over a bouquet of limp carnations.
“Than.” I scanned the gods, all of them shoved into my living room, taking up so much space, we’d left the door open with the hope oxygen could squeeze in between us all.
I had ended up in the middle of the god mob, the coffee table pressed into the back of my calves. “What brings you all by?”
“You know why we’re here.” Odin leaned against the door frame, his untamed hair haloed by the grey light of our not-summer.
“Our powers?” Aaron, the god of war, said. “Our lost powers. That Crow lost. They are no longer in town as of yesterday afternoon. Outside of Ordinary, Delaney. You said you’d find them.”
Ryder was half in and half out of the bathroom watching all of us. He seemed to be taking this pretty well. The influx of gods in my house. The idea of gods in our town. The reality of vampires.
His eyes, hazel, calm, caught me. That slight smile, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real, but maybe he really wanted to, hooked deep in my chest and made me want to see it all the time. Want to see him smile. Want to be the one and only he
shared these kinds of secrets with.
Maybe Rossi was right, maybe Crow was right. Ryder and I were tangled in knots, the threads of this town, of our days and years and lives, tied together in ways I’d never be able to untangle.
I could cut the threads, but that was the only way Ryder wouldn’t be a part of this town, these creatures, deities, and my life.
Holy crap I was going to tell Ryder gods were real.
He was going to know Ordinary, the real Ordinary.
He was going to know these people, the real people.
He was going to know me.
Everything went hot and the rushing thrum of blood in my ears drowned out the argument Myra and Jean were having with the gods. It was something about giving us more time to secure the powers. It was about being calm and letting the professionals handle the case.
I thought someone, maybe Frigg touched my arm, maybe tried to ask me if I was okay, but I didn’t answer.
I squeezed my way between bodies, my eyes on Ryder and only Ryder. He saw me coming, saw I wasn’t stopping, and opened the bathroom door behind him without question, stepping backwards while I stepped in.
He shut the door behind us, my back to it, him leaning over me.
My house is small. My bathroom is tiny. The shower bathtub is tucked on one wall, the sink on the other wall and the toilet on the third. You could touch all three by standing in the middle of the room.
There is a window about the size of a cereal box on the shower wall, and through it the wooly grey light unraveled into the room.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” I whispered.
Ryder shifted closer, lowering his head beside mine so he could hear me.
I had pressed back up against the door, my hands on the doorknob as if my grip could keep anyone on the other side from opening it.
“Delaney,” Ryder said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what you need. I’ll do it. Anything.”
A shiver ran uncontrolled down my body. Everything in me ached to reach out, to pull the heat of him, the strength of him, the weight of him against me until the world, the heat of it, the strength of it, the weight of it were erased by him.
