by Devon Monk
“It’s a stray. It’s straying. Shoo,” he said to the cat. “Be gone.”
The cat wasn’t paying any attention to him, rubbing on his other calf before becoming interested in a patch of sun in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Just a stray,” Bathin shrugged. There was something more he wasn’t saying, but my arms were getting tired of balancing the carriers and I wanted tea. I strode forward.
“Excuse me.”
“Let me get the door.” He was closer to the building and my hands were full of breakfast goodies so I didn’t try to stop him.
He waited until I was right up next to him and then just stood there, arm across the doorway, hand on the latch so he could open the door. But he was not opening the door.
He was tall, this demon, and exactly as dreamy and tempting as he had been in my dream, kissing me, touching me.
Bathin watched me, silent, waiting. I was close enough to smell his cologne, the scent of his skin warmer than cinnamon, almost bourbon, almost fire.
I wanted to draw in to him. Like a moth to flame. My heart wanted that, wanted the light, the heat, the wild spark. To ignore any tug of pre-ordained gifts. To just let go and be free.
Nope. No way I’d fall for that.
Demons tempted. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just how they were made. People like me, logical people, reasonable people, always, always remembered that.
“What do we do now?” he practically crooned.
“You open the door. Or I barge through it without you.” I stepped forward, ready to shoulder the door, but he twisted the handle. The door swung inward just before I hit it.
I miscalculated the size of his unnecessarily huge foot and tripped over his unnecessarily huge boot.
The floor rushed toward my face. I swung my hands forward to stop my fall, sending my travel mug of tea clattering to the ground.
I angled so I’d hit hip first, aiming to keep the carriers intact.
Two strong hands, one tight against my stomach, the other flat against my chest, caught me.
“Easy,” Bathin breathed near my ear. “Easy now.”
His body was pressed behind me, legs straddling mine. Just like in the dream, he was heat and strength, hard and demanding. And so, so fine.
I closed my eyes for a second, my heart racing from the almost fall and from more—from his touch, from his voice, from his presence.
Someone cleared their throat.
I looked up.
Everyone, and I mean everyone in the station was staring at us.
“Myra?” Delaney’s long brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail, except for the little stray tendrils she couldn’t ever tame. She had on jeans and her short-sleeve uniform shirt that looked good on her lean frame, the badge visible on her pocket. She held a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, a maple bar in the other, but she still looked like she was half a second from pulling her gun. “Everything okay there?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” Bathin said. “Tip-top shape.”
“Let. Go.” I got my feet under me and levered backward.
Bathin snatched his hands away like I’d just turned to ice. Good choice, because I wasn’t above accidentally-on-purpose mule-kicking him if needed.
Over at her desk, Jean, who had pink hair this week, handed Hogan, her baker boyfriend, her donut. He slid off the edge of her desk to get out of her way.
Jean was taller than me, but not as tall as Delaney. She had a way of being friendly and non-confrontational that made people think she never got angry.
They were dead wrong.
“My intent was pure,” Bathin lied like a liar-McDemon-face.
Both sisters walked toward me, eyes flicking over my shoulder from the demon to me, gauging my anger.
I shook my head. “I tripped over his stupid foot.”
“Did he push you?” Delaney asked.
“No.”
“You okay?” Jean asked.
“I’m fine.”
She nodded, her loose, rose-colored hair shifting with the movement. “Do I smell cinnamon? Homemade, Myra? Really?”
“Made them last night. Dad’s recipe.”
“I was just thinking about these yesterday. It’s been forever.” She plucked the carrier out of my hand and set it down on the table in the middle of the room where other goodies were piling up. “Hogan, you gotta taste these.”
He rambled over, all smooth grace and easy attitude. He was human and Jinn, which gave him the ability to see past a person’s physical self to what they really were inside. It was a handy thing, especially when we had new creatures stroll into town who might not want to reveal their true nature.
“Better than mine?” he asked.
“Way.” She held a soft, gooey bun up to his mouth.
“Bring it.” He opened wide, and she shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
He made appreciative noises while he chewed and gave me two thumbs up. “Think I can get that recipe off of you for the bakery, Myra?” I loved how his Jamaican accent kind of swooped through my name.
“I think you could.”
“You sure Bathin’s not bothering you?” Delaney asked.
“Bathin’s standing right here,” he rumbled.
“It was just a little trip. I’ll get the mop.”
“I got it,” Jean said.
I handed the other carrier to Delaney. “Cheesecake strawberries.”
Her pale blue eyes widened and she smiled. It transformed her from athletic and confident to little-girl-delighted. “You always know exactly what to bring.” She leaned in and gave me a one-armed hug. “It’s like a gift or something.”
It was a gift. We all had one.
Jean’s family gift was knowing when something bad—really bad—was going to happen. She tried to joke it off, but I knew it was a heavy burden.
Delaney’s gift was being the only person who could allow the gods to vacation here. She was the bridge, the way in which they could put down their god power and try their hand at ordinary, mortal living.
“You doing okay?” I asked as we hugged.
“Same as always,” she replied.
Which wasn’t the same as good.
I didn’t know how she put up with Bathin possessing her soul. If it had been me, I would have forced him to give it back, no matter the cost. But Delaney was patient and steady. She’d traded her soul so that Bathin would let go of Dad’s. She wasn’t complaining about the deal.
I was. I was doing everything I could to find a way to get her soul away from him.
Bathin was a ticking bomb. As soon as he got whatever he wanted out of owning Delaney’s soul, I knew he’d explode. Then Ordinary, and all the people in it, would pay the price.
“Myra Reed,” Roy called out. “Come on over here and sign my going-away cube.”
Roy was a bear of a man, his hair tight and curly against his scalp, his cheeks wide, his eyes the softest brown in the world. He wore casual clothes today, a sweater vest over a button-down in a nice coral that made his darker complexion look almost rosy.
“Where’s your wife?” I asked as the big man gave me a hug.
“She’s packing for the trip. We leave tomorrow morning. Up to Portland to catch our flight. She decided to buy five new pairs of shoes, and none of them have heels or cover her toes.”
“Perks of retirement, right?”
He chuckled. “Still doesn’t feel real. I’m going to miss this place. Miss you girls.”
“Just the girls?” Ryder asked without looking up from the files he was scanning through.
Roy smiled. “Oh, I’ll miss you too, Bailey. And those two chuckleheads.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
The chuckleheads in question were Hatter and Shoe. Hatter was tall, lanky, and liked to act like a laid-back cowboy. Shoe was built like a fireplug, terminally grumpy, and stole my secret stash of good chocolate on the regular.
I adored them both.
Roy wagged a pen at me then hande
d over his going-away card: a Rubik’s Cube printed with all of our faces.
I turned it to the side with me in uniform, smiling. I was on the beach, it was a sunny day. I had Mrs. Yates’s penguin in my hands. The little concrete statue was dressed up in swim trunks, sunglasses, and a flowing wig. It was a good memory, a beach picnic that had turned into a bonfire where friends and families gathered and mingled. I’d found the kidnapped penguin out on a rock before Mrs. Yates even called it in. I’d nabbed it up and out of danger of the big wave that would have washed it out to sea.
Right place. Right time.
Roy had taken the picture.
My stomach twisted. Things were changing. I didn’t like change. I didn’t like the mess it left behind, didn’t like what it did to people, what it did to me.
Not that I would tell Roy he had to stay. He’d been waiting to retire until we Reed sisters got our feet back under us after Dad’s death.
It had been two years now. We’d healed, maybe not smoothly or quickly or fully, but slowly and surely. And we had handled every challenge on the way.
Now was the best time, the right time for him to go.
“So much spice in your buns, Myra.” Bathin strolled over, a stolen cinnamon roll in his hand.
Bathin was a challenge I still hadn’t gotten a handle on.
Bad? Certainly. But he’d done good things too. He’d even helped us save people: Ryder from an accident in a snow storm, and Ben—a vampire—who’d been kidnapped and nearly killed.
He’d exchanged my father’s soul for my sister’s. And…well, the jury was still out on if that was good or bad. On the one hand, he’d let my dad go peacefully into death. But he’d taken Delaney in exchange.
“I didn’t make them for you.”
“And yet.” He took another big bite and chewed. Nothing else, just that smirk, those eyes that told me he knew how much it bothered me to see him enjoying something I had made for others.
“Why are you even here?” I asked. “Roy’s going-away party isn’t until tonight. And last I checked, you’re not part of the force.”
“Technically.”
“Yes, technically. And in every other way.”
He nodded toward Delaney. “Her soul. My hands are tied…”
His head jerked up toward the door, as if he expected someone to blast through it with a gun.
“Uh…Delaney,” he said, gaze still riveted on the door.
Delaney was laughing with Hatter, something about the last retirement-party-gone-wrong on the Tillamook police force. It involved live octopus, whipped cream, and a vat of Gummy Bears.
“What?” I asked.
“Hold on,” Bathin said. “Hold on…it’s—”
Delaney staggered and almost fell to her knees, but Hatter’s quick reflexes eased her fall.
“Delaney?” Ryder rushed to her side.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She pushed away Hatter’s hands and got back on her feet, though she was pale as a sheet and had to lean against the desk.
Shoe, closest to the door, faced it, looking for an exterior threat that was not materializing.
Jean pushed Hogan behind her desk where the concrete wall would give him shelter. Roy put away his precious Rubik’s Cube and pulled a nightstick out of his drawer.
Only seconds had passed.
I looked at Jean. Was this a bad thing? A very bad thing? She shook her head slightly, her eyes on the door.
Then I glanced back at Bathin.
He stood frozen in place as if his feet had been glued to the floor. Perfectly, perfectly still.
He wasn’t even breathing.
“I’m fine,” Delaney insisted. “Ryder, just. Let’s figure out what happened.” She gripped his hands and leaned on him instead of the desk.
“What the hell?” I asked Bathin. “What’s happening?”
He didn’t answer, although he finally breathed. The intensity on his face fell slowly into a frown. “That isn’t…shouldn’t…I don’t know how…”
“How what?” Jean was trying to keep Hogan in place by holding her palm up like a traffic cop, but he rolled his eyes and came around her desk so he could take a drink of coffee.
“Go back there and stand by that wall,” she ordered. “I don’t know if it’s safe yet.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Babe, it’s Ordinary. It’s always safe here, ya?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he must have anticipated her move. With a flick of his wrist, he stuffed a donut hole between her lips.
She pointed at the desk and scowled.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll stay here until the coast is clear.”
“What’s happening?” I asked Bathin again.
Delaney pulled out a chair and sat. Her pupils were pinpricks, and red smudged each cheek like she’d been slapped.
Ryder gave her a look then crossed his arms over his chest. “Start from the top,” he instructed.
“I was just standing there and then, it was pain. But I don’t think it was physical? It didn’t feel like a god or god power.”
“Where did you feel the pain?” he asked.
It wasn’t Delaney who answered, it was Bathin.
“Solar plexus. Hot and sharp. Flash of light, red light. Laughter and bells. Butterscotch.”
Delaney narrowed her eyes at him. “It was like burned rum, not butterscotch, but yeah,” she said. “Yes. All of that. How did you know what I felt?”
Bathin finally thawed, his unfocused gaze sharpening, bringing with it the smirk, the confidence, the ego, but his pupils were pinpricks too.
“I do have a special connection to your soul.”
“Stolen connection,” I said.
“Old news,” Delaney said, cutting the impending argument short. “What was that? What just happened?”
“I think…”
The door burst open, and Bertie, the town Valkyrie, strode into the station.
She was short, trim, and looked to be in her eighties. Her white hair was cropped close to her head, with jagged bangs. Her eyes and mind were as sharp as her gold-tipped nails. Today’s outfit was a goldenrod tailored jacket and skirt, with a sparkly scarf wrapped around her throat.
“Delaney?” she called out, her voice commanding the room. “I will talk to you about two things. One of those things is the Slammin’ Salmon Serenade.”
I bit back a groan. So far, I’d gotten out of being conscripted into service for this month’s community event. I’d done my time at the Skate and Cake, just like Delaney had done her time at the Rhubarb Rally. And Jean had…that’s when it hit me.
Jean had not gotten roped into any of Bertie’s schemes.
The little sneak.
“You little sneak,” I said.
Jean blinked hard. “What? Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“No, you didn’t, did you?”
“Myra,” Delaney said in her boss voice.
“Jean’s skipped out on all of Bertie’s schemes.”
“Schemes?” Bertie had a good set of lungs on her for a woman who looked like she was in her delicate years.
“Are you implying, Myra Reed, that the events tying our community together, events bringing in tourists and therefore tourist dollars to support our community, are schemes I inflict upon you for my pleasure and entertainment?”
“No, Bertie,” I said. Never argue with a Valkyrie. Never.
“Do you think I go through all of this trouble, all of this work to force people to do my bidding as if I were a queen?”
“Actually…” Jean started.
“No, Bertie.” Delaney gave Jean a shut-up look. “What you do is important. And it’s for the betterment of the town. It brings us all together, human, god, and supernatural. We know that. What did you want to talk about?”
Bertie paused, her head tilted slightly to the side as if testing the wind for the scent of rotten insincerity so she could swoop in for the kill.
We all held still. Even the demon. He
might be a lying, cheating creature of the Underworld, but even he knew better than to talk back to a Valkyrie with ruffled feathers.
“I’ll expect full participation from Ordinary’s police department during the Serenade,” she intoned.
“Of course,” Delaney said. “We’ve already extended our hours to deal with all the tourists coming into town, and we’ll be hiring on more reserve officers.
Jean was giving me big eyes while she mouthed, “please don’t.”
“Jean wants to help,” I said. “She missed out on most of the events.”
“No, I…” Jean said, but Bertie’s attention swiveled to my cotton-candy-haired sister.
“You usually work the night shift, do you not?”
Darn it.
“Yes,” Jean breathed. “I’m so busy. At night. Working. At night.”
“Good news,” Delaney said. “Jean’s switching to days.” Delaney sent me a wink.
Yes!
“Oh?” Bertie asked, scenting blood.
“Since Roy’s retiring, we need someone on the early shift,” Delaney said. “Jean volunteered.”
“You did?” I asked at the same moment Hogan asked, “You did?”
Jean went from annoyed to kind of shy in an instant. Hogan pulled the early shift at his bakery, and Jean worked nights. I knew it took a lot for them to find time to see each other. Jean didn’t look at me, but when Hogan hooked her pinky with his, she grinned. “Worth a try, right?” she said. “Unless you’d like to open a nocturnal bakery?”
He shook his head. “People need carbs to face the day. But are you sure? You know we’ll see a lot more of each other.”
“I’m counting on it.” And the sly little wink she gave him told me she and Hogan were doing just fine together.
“Excellent.” Bertie clapped, snapping our attention back to her. “Since you’ll no longer be working nights, I’ll expect you to be a strong participant in all the activities.”
Jean scrunched up her nose, but Delaney nodded. “Yes, Bertie. We can make that happen. Happy to help. Right, Jean?” Delaney nodded at Jean.
“Yes, Bertie,” Jean finally said.
Bertie laced her hands together, her gold nails flashing. “Very well. Jean, I’ll meet with you on Wednesday to assess exactly how you can assist. It will require quite a bit of your time. I hope you’re prepared to give me your best effort.”
