by Devon Monk
I drove. I wanted to stop for coffee, but it was early enough that even the drive-thrus were still closed.
I didn’t know where Jake was staying, but Ryder would.
I knocked on his door, and the sound of footsteps reached me through the door. There was a pause, which I figured was him looking out through the peephole. Then the door opened.
“Hey, Delaney, come on in.” Ryder looked like he hadn’t slept all night, and from the spots of mud at his jeans’ hem, was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. “Coffee?”
“Gods, yes.”
He headed into the kitchen and I followed him. “You get any sleep last night?”
He shook his head and reached into the cupboard to get out a mug. “Jake’s missing.”
I sighed and sat on the barstool at the island. “How do you know?”
“His phone won’t pick up. I drove over to the Nordic, and he wasn’t there. Said he checked out yesterday morning.”
“Why were you looking for Jake?”
He poured coffee into the mug, then into another mug that was already on the counter. Turned with both in his hands, offered me one.
“After finding Jame in all that blood. Seeing him shifted...He’s a werewolf, right?”
I nodded, drank. The coffee was thick and hot. I wanted to crawl into the cup and pretend the world didn’t exist.
“I needed to update him. Tell him about Jame. About werewolves being in town.”
“Were you going to tell him about the gods?”
“I don’t know. No?” He shrugged at my look. “I’m still not sure I believe that they’re here, that they’re real. Until I know, really know, I probably won’t bring it up.”
“Being fetch-boy to a god isn’t enough?”
“That was...Yeah, that was weird. But what proof do I have that he’s really a god? He could just be something else.”
“Like what?”
“A wizard? A kobold? A siren?”
“That’s...there’s a lot of difference between those things.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t met any of them.” He gave me a hopeful look. “Have I?”
“Probably. But that doesn’t matter. Mithra is a god, and I’m sure he’ll make that plain to you when you least want him to. Don’t ever underestimate him, Ryder. Or Jake.”
“Jake?”
“Jame said Jake was there when he and Ben were attacked.”
Ryder paused with his mug halfway to his mouth, then placed it on the counter beside him. “Was he a prisoner?”
“No. Jame said he set up the meeting.”
“With whom?”
“Ben and Jame and a very old vampire.”
Ryder crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze shifted off to the wall behind me.
Spud, his mutt of a dog, trotted into the kitchen, then yawned and stretched as he wagged his tail. He gave me a sniff, I rubbed his head, then he nosed his way across the floor and folded down at Ryder’s feet with a groan.
Looked like nobody in the house had gotten any sleep last night.
“Did you know about the meeting?” I asked.
“No.”
“He’s your boss in the DoPP, right?”
“Yes. But Ordinary is my territory. He shouldn’t have done anything, made any agreements between citizens of Ordinary without contacting me.”
“He’s working with a killer, Ryder.”
“Or he was trying to broker a conversation, a meeting that went horribly out of his control.”
“I noticed his ring on his right hand. White gold or titanium?”
“Pure silver.” His gaze ticked back to me, eyebrows dipping down. “Why?”
“That ring in the picture? The man who put his hand over Sven’s mouth?”
Ryder exhaled. “You think it’s him. You think he is strong enough to kill a vampire? To beat up a werewolf?”
“No. But I think he’s working for a vampire, and maybe other creatures who are strong enough to do those things. Maybe they all wear matching rings. Maybe he’s the leader of his own splinter group.”
“Jake’s not like that.”
“Do you trust him? Trust him enough to bet Ben’s life on it?” When he didn’t answer, I went on. “I saw him on your porch a few nights ago. You were arguing. What were you fighting about?”
“He wanted me to get him inside Old Rossi’s house. Wanted to meet Old Rossi. He thought he was a vampire. Thought he was the prime.”
“Putting aside the question as to how he would have assumed that, why were you arguing with him? I thought it was your job to roll out the welcome wagon to the creatures in town.”
“I didn’t like his approach. I grew up here. I’ve known Rossi all my life. It just seemed...rude and unnecessary. Like he was some kind of criminal hiding something and we were banging down his door. Whether he was or wasn’t a vampire didn’t mean we shouldn’t treat him with basic courtesy and respect. Just like anyone else in town.”
My chest warmed and the rest of me went a little gooey. Thinking of Old Rossi as a vampire, but still a person with rights and feelings said a lot about what kind of man Ryder was.
“But you took him out there anyway.”
“No. It was weird. Right after I’d told Jake to shove off because I wasn’t going to rig up some false pretenses as to why we should get into Old Rossi’s house, Old Rossi called. Had a remodel he wanted done for his studio. That’s what he said, anyway. I’m not sure if that’s the truth, or if he just wanted to put eyes on me and Jake because he suspected we were from the agency.”
“He suspected. He might also want the remodel. Do you have any idea where Jake might be? Who he might check in with? A boss, a co-worker, family?”
“No. And if...if it turns out he was a part of Sven’s death and the kidnapping. What they did to Jame...”
I waited. Wondered what he would do if, or more like when, we proved that Jake wasn’t playing on the right side of justice.
“There are a couple people I could call,” he said. “Agents he might get in touch with who might know where he is.”
“Can you contact them?”
“Yeah. I can. How’s Jame doing?”
“He’ll heal. But if we don’t find Ben...I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes. “The vamps and weres have a pretty uncertain truce. If Ben dies, if Jame loses his mate, I just don’t know how we’re going to keep the situation under control.”
Ryder walked pretty quietly for a big guy. His hands pressed gently on my arms and stroked upward. “What can I do?”
“For what?” I muttered behind my hands.
“For you.”
I put my hands down and looked up at him. I was tired, broken-hearted over the visit with Jame. Worried. Very worried. Whatever wasn’t working between Ryder and me suddenly seemed inconsequential. “Just, maybe...hold me for a minute?”
He held his breath as if surprised at my answer, then shifted forward. I folded against his chest as his arms wrapped around my back, one wide hand cupping the back of my head.
And for a minute, maybe more, the world became only our heartbeats, our breathing, our warmth.
Chapter 20
Two hours of phone calls, no new leads, no news from either vampires or werewolves. The case for finding Ben or Jake was getting nowhere.
I’d already drunk a week’s worth of coffee and was on the way to the Cake and Skate. Yes, Ben was missing and we needed to find him. But the fundraiser was an immediate all-hands-on-deck situation. I had to be there for crowd control and general police presence, especially since Myra was participating instead of wearing a uniform.
The vampires and werewolves were some of the best hunters Ordinary had to offer and they were all out looking for Ben. If anyone could find him, it would be the Rossis or Wolfes.
The best thing I could do right now was get through the fundraiser, then get back to work.
An open lot next to the Puffin Muffin bakery was set up in bright Saturday Market s
tyle with tents and tables, streamers and balloons. The radio station was sheltered under a bright awning, playing tunes, giving out bumper stickers, and waiting for the big event.
For eight o’clock on a cloudy (but not rainy) morning, there were a lot of people gathered already, most of them walking, but a good portion were on bicycles too.
Dozens of umbrella hats bobbed along in the crowd, and I shook my head. I didn’t know if people were wearing them because they were comfortable and (wrongly) thought they were fashionable, or if Crow was right and had blazed a new Northwest fashion craze to go with our flannel, craft brews, and mushroom hunting.
I parked my Jeep and strolled over toward the bakery. I scanned faces, looking for kidnappers, looking for enemies. While I saw strangers, I didn’t see anyone who seemed out of place.
I also didn’t see any vampires or werewolves, which felt weird.
Death stood near the entrance to the open lot, wearing a bright yellow umbrella hat, a pink jacket with HAPPY KILLS scribbled across it, handing out balloons to children.
Okay, so that was weird plus one.
“You made it,” Jean fell into step beside me and handed me a cup.
I lifted it and took a sniff my coffee-sour stomach clenching. Cocoa, not coffee. Perfect.
“How’s Myra doing?”
“You have to see this for yourself.” Even though Jean hadn’t gotten much more sleep than I had, she was grinning, her pink and orange-streaked hair pulled back in two high ponytails over her ears, her step light.
I couldn’t help but smile. I envied her ability to see the humor in the world, to always find something to smile about even when things looked grim. Not for the first time I was happy my parents had tried one more time for a boy, and instead given me a baby sister.
She led me around the crowd to the bakery parking lot.
Two pickup trucks were parked side-by-side at what appeared to be an impromptu starting line. In front of each truck five people stretched and waited. They all wore helmets, roller skates, elbow and knee pads. Myra was easy to spot by the blue truck, the swing of her hair curved a dark slash beneath her helmet. BLUE OWLS was boldly written in grease paint down both of her arms. The whole team wore blue tank tops, shorts, and high blue socks, with owls on the socks. Looked like the diner was sponsoring the team. Piper and the three Furies were among the skaters.
We hadn’t brought Piper in on burglary charges. Since the powers being stolen was more a god-feud thing, it didn’t fall squarely under mortal laws. Piper had not only admitted to her part in the theft, but she had also ratted out Mithra, which allowed us to recover the powers. Without Crow or any of the other gods wanting to press charges, Piper was going to get off with a warning. A stern warning, and we’d be keeping a close eye on her from now on, but not jail time.
Plus, I still needed to do some research on what place a demigod had in this town. There was no reason to send her away, since she was following all the other rules of Ordinary that we require of the gods and creatures: mainly that she hold down a job and contribute to the community. And she didn’t have a power that needed to be stashed with the other god powers.
Maybe I’d make her take the volunteer hours Jean had promised I’d serve for Bertie for the rest of the year. That would be stern penance.
The other truck was red, the team decked out in gear, all red, with RED WEEDS scrawled down their arms. Took me a minute, but I finally saw the logo for Aaron’s garden center on the tank top.
Of course the god of war wanted a piece of this action.
Rebecca was on Team Red, slender and cool and sleek as a weasel. She sipped her designer water bottle without smudging her perfect scarlet lipstick, and stood just far enough apart from her team mates—a couple humans and two dryads—that it was clear they were not friends.
Myra had grease paint under her eyes, bruises on her arms, and corpse-blue lipstick that was probably borrowed from Jean’s makeup stash. She looked focused and determined.
“She’s going for blood,” I said.
“Myra? Yeah, she’s gonna to mop the street with Rebecca.”
“All the money goes to charity?”
“Elementary school and children’s hospital. Chunk goes to the food bank too.”
I briefly wondered why Rebecca was involved in those charities, and had a shocking moment of thinking the woman might actually have a heart under her belittling, judgmental exterior.
Naw, she probably got roped into it like everyone else. Conscription-via-Valkyrie.
“Are there rules?” I’d never heard of Cake and Skate until Bertie had decided to throw one. I hadn’t paid much attention to the details at the time. It was possible she had made this whole thing up.
“The teams load up the delivery orders into the backs of the trucks, then the truck takes them to the neighborhood drop points where skaters have to get the right breakfast bundles to the right people. Whoever delivers their bundles fastest and gets back to the bakery first, wins.”
“So we follow along?”
“We can, although there will be a judge in the front and back of each truck. Even better, there’s a live stream.”
She pointed at two motorcycles near the trucks, each with a driver and camera person, then over at a screen set at the far end of the lot.
The radio station crew took over, introducing the teams, breakdown of rules, and threw in enough jokes and jabs to get the crowd laughing.
I fell into the familiar mode of friendly vigilance that these kinds of events required.
There was a countdown, then an air horn blast got the games going. The lot was part asphalt, part gravel, and all of it still wet from recent rains.
The crowd cheered as the skaters scrambled to get to the side of the bakery where tables were set up with crisp white bags and boxes, all carrying the Puffin’s logo.
Shouting, shoving, laughing. One box tumbled to the ground, but landed without breaking open and was snatched up by Piper who seemed to know she’d need to catch it before a team mate accidentally ran it over.
A man on Red Weeds team stole a Blue Owl bag, and was hot-skating it back to the red truck. Myra dashed out after him and hip-checked him for his trouble. She took the blue bag quickly back to the correct truck while Red Weeds’ driver gestured and pointed to get the judges to call a foul.
“Wow,” I said. “That’s...intense.” This might be for charity, but it was no-holds-barred.
Jean hooted, then stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Go, Myra!”
Red Weeds got their truck loaded first and all the skaters hopped into the back of the bed. Two Blue Owls stood in front of the truck, blocking it and trying to keep it from pulling out of the lot. They got honked at, the engine revved, and the judge from the back of the Blue Owls’s truck yelled out a foul, at which the crowd laughed and booed.
That delay gave the Blue Owls just enough time to finish loading their deliveries. The two truck-blockers quickly got out of the way and hopped into the back of their own truck.
Red Weeds was the first out of the parking lot, with Team Blue right behind. One lane of the main road had been orange-coned off for the event, and both trucks rolled out at about five miles over speed limit, the motorcycles and bicycles following behind them like a school of bright, honking, bell-ringing fish.
“This is insane,” I said with a laugh.
Jean bumped her shoulder into mine. “It’s good to see you smile.”
“I smile.”
“Not since the Mithra thing you haven’t.”
We were walking with the crowd, watching for ordinary trouble in our ordinary town, and keeping an eye on the screen, which showed the trucks currently stopped at a red light. The skaters were either yelling insults, or laying down the most recent pop dance moves.
Bicyclists got into it, and it suddenly looked like the least coordinated flash mob in history, gyrating randomly and spastically throwing hands in the air.
Myra was laughing, her blue
eyes curved in crescents. She waved at one of the cameras and curled her arm to show off seriously impressive biceps.
It was good to see her having fun.
“I guess we’ve all had a pretty hard go of it lately. We’ll get through it.” I said.
Jean shrugged.
“Hey. We will. There’s nothing we Reeds can’t do.”
That made her smile. She sipped her cocoa. “Hogan wants to move in with me.”
“That’s great,” I said. Then at her silence: “That’s not great?”
“I’m not sure it makes sense. With my job.”
“Because you work late and he works early? We can get someone in to handle the switchboard. Or just forward calls. I’d be happy to swap a few days with you so you had evenings with him.”
“Thanks, but it’s not the hours.”
“Then what?” I didn’t think Jean wanted to quit the force. Though I hadn’t asked her. Ever since she was small she’d been putting on Dad’s shoes, wearing his hat and coat any time she got a chance. But maybe now that she was an officer, she had discovered she didn’t like the work.
If she wanted to change careers, I would support her wholeheartedly. But selfishly, I hoped she wouldn’t leave. One of the best things about my job was working with my sisters.
“I don’t know if I want to lie to him all the time.”
We stopped near the front of the line of tents where there was currently less traffic.
“About Ordinary?”
She nodded, the morning light softening her features so that for a moment, I could imagine she was painted in watercolor.
“You know if you want to tell him, that’s your call. I’ll back you up. Myra and I both will back you up.”
“I know. Thanks.” She fell silent for a minute. “Are you happy Ryder knows?”
“He doesn’t know. Not all of it.”
“But he will.”
“He’s on the force. He’s serving a god. He’s a part of a government agency that I’ve never heard of, which totally freaks me out. But yes. He will.”
“Good.” She bumped my shoulder again. “I’ve always thought he should know. I’m glad he’s a part of all this now.”
