by Dannika Dark
Gem suddenly flashed by, nothing visible but a blur of purple hair and a kimono. She didn’t float in the swimming pool every evening, but the drizzle from earlier had let up, and the night air must have called to her. The heated pool made it comfortable to swim after sundown, regardless of the weather. Heating the pool alone was probably six hundred a month, no doubt one reason Viktor disallowed electricity through most of the house. Only Gem swam in the winter. She had few outlets to indulge in. Didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, wasn’t into working out, and spent long hours holed up somewhere doing research for Viktor. Sometimes it was as if she’d completely disappear, so Shepherd suspected she had a hidden room somewhere in the mansion where no one could disturb her. She probably hoarded stacks of top-secret books or antiques from the pawnshops they occasionally raided.
Wyatt emerged from the hall to the dining room. Hunter rode his shoulders while pulling Wyatt’s hat off and putting it back on again. Wyatt’s head was forced down, but he was also distracted by the bag of french fries in his hand.
He sat down next to Shepherd. “Want some?”
“That shit’ll kill you.”
Wyatt held the bag up, and Hunter plunged his arm into the sack and came out with a fistful of fries. “Live a little, Shep.”
Shepherd reached in and grabbed a fry. Then he waved it at Hunter. “This isn’t a vegetable.”
“Kid, you’re killing my neck.”
Hunter slid off Wyatt’s shoulders and then squeezed between them so he could sit with the men.
Wyatt rubbed his neck, stretching it to either side.
Shepherd liked to see Hunter wearing the Sensor gloves. They let him pick out his own clothes each morning to give him a sense of identity. Some days he wore his shirt backward, but it was part of the deprogramming process Shepherd had put in place to reverse the damage Patrick had inflicted.
Wyatt licked salt from his fingers. “Do you think Raven’s coming back?”
“What makes you think she won’t?” Shepherd stamped out his cigarette beneath his boot and pinched the filter between his fingers.
“She found out her dad’s a trusted human and went back home. I’m willing to bet she’s done with vigilante work.”
“Doesn’t sound like Raven.”
“Care to make it interesting?”
“Keep your money. It’s bad mojo to bet on someone’s future with Keystone.”
Wyatt pulled off his hat and raked his hand through his tousled hair a few times to get it out of his eyes. Most women considered him handsome until he opened his mouth. Wyatt was flirtatious, but he also had an offbeat sense of humor that turned a lot of people off. His personality was more youthful than his age.
Hunter stole the hat and put it on his own head, pulling it all the way down to his chin before peering up at Shepherd through the tiny holes in the fabric.
Shepherd tossed the butt of his cigarette in Wyatt’s bag. “Maybe you should stay out of everyone’s business.”
“What else have I got to do?” Wyatt reached in the bag and kept eating his fries. “I don’t like having all this time off. I spent two hours this morning watching videos on the internet of people eating. Do you know how much money they get paid for that? I could make a small fortune.”
“Maybe you should call your show Dining with Spooks.”
Wyatt nudged Hunter. “Your dad has a real sense of humor.”
Shepherd couldn’t get used to that word.
Dad.
He felt undeserving of the title, especially since he was having difficulty bonding with Hunter. Shepherd didn’t want to force anything, and he wasn’t an affectionate guy. It was hard to tell what the kid thought about him. He didn’t say much, and it didn’t feel right reading his emotions. Hunter was family, and he deserved to have emotional privacy whether he asked for it or not.
He looked down at Hunter. “Is it bedtime?”
Hunter shook his hat-covered head.
Shepherd peeled the hat up past his nose. “You need some oxygen, little man.”
“Want another fry?” Wyatt offered Hunter the bag.
Shepherd scowled. “Don’t give him that. I put my cigarette butt in there.”
“Oh, but it’s okay for me to eat it?”
“You’re half dead anyway.”
“Grease is good for the body,” Wyatt argued. “It oils the joints.” He flexed his arm and then his bicep, sending Hunter into a fit of giggles. “Don’t listen to your old man. He smokes like a chimney. Now that’s a bad habit.”
Shepherd gave him an icy stare. “Zip it.”
Wyatt snapped his beanie off Hunter’s head and pointed at the statue. “Why don’t you go over there and climb that thing.”
Hunter dashed off.
Wyatt rolled up his sack of fries and lowered his voice. “Did you pick out his room yet?”
“I’m waiting on them to deliver the bed.”
“Doesn’t it already come with a bed? If not, Viktor probably has a few spares lying around.”
“No. And he shouldn’t have to sleep on a dusty old mattress. It was one of Viktor’s storage rooms. I spent all day yesterday moving shit out.”
“Which one?”
“My hall. The last door at the end.”
Wyatt looked upward, probably recalling the house’s layout. “I don’t think I’ve been in that one. Come to think of it, I haven’t been in half the rooms in this house. We had so many spooks wandering around for a while that I was afraid I’d bump into a new one, so I just got used to minding my business.”
They both sat there watching Hunter as he anchored his foot on the statue’s knee and grabbed one of his wings, using it to pull himself up.
“Maybe you should take him to the rock-climbing room,” Wyatt suggested. “Boys that age have a lot of energy to burn.”
“Viktor doesn’t like him on the statues, but look at him.” Shepherd chuckled when his son held the edge of the sword to climb onto the statue’s shoulders. “He’s a natural climber.”
“Do you think he’ll ever talk?”
Shepherd’s smile withered. “What do you mean?”
Wyatt leaned back with his elbows on a higher step. “He just whispers in your ear, but he doesn’t talk. That’s not normal.”
Shepherd cracked his knuckles one at a time. “Patrick had a rule about not speaking unless spoken to. I have a feeling he didn’t like the kid making noise. Kids are loud. They laugh, squeal, make animal sounds—it’s what they do. Guess it didn’t fit in with his perfect world. Plus it was just another way to control him.”
“Don’t give him toys, don’t give him an imagination, don’t give him a voice. Guess who never won the Dad of the Year Award? Asshole. Too bad I wasn’t there when he died. Maybe it would’ve been worth seeing the freshy just so I could tell him what a no-good scumbag he was. And to think Patrick was the fastest swimmer.”
“Huh?”
Wyatt stood up with his sack in hand. “You know. Semen. That’s why we’re all here.”
“Don’t say that shit around my kid,” Shepherd hissed.
Wyatt scrunched his face. “You said ‘fuckhole’ at dinner. But you’re worried about a little semen? What do you have against semen? It’s biology.”
“If you don’t pipe down, I’m gonna knock you out.”
Kira appeared, carrying a wicker basket filled with fresh candles. She was doing her usual nightly rounds, replacing candles in the main halls. Shepherd had once suggested oil lanterns since they were safer than kerosene, but Viktor liked his candles. He thought they were cleaner, cheaper, and didn’t cause carbon monoxide poisoning.
Wyatt leaned against the railing and stared at the tattoos on his fingers. He didn’t seem interested, let alone curious, about their new tenant.
A blue kerchief covered Kira’s head, her fiery hair visible in the back. In her dowdy dress, she looked like a demure Cinderella covered in streaks of soot. Shepherd pondered how the hell she had time to do it all. Sweep and mop f
loors, clean ash from the fireplaces, cook, do laundry, wash dishes, change and put out candles, and all the other monotonous tasks that had once filled their days. He’d even seen her pruning the rosebushes and other plants in the garden, getting them ready for spring.
“I think he’s losing a tooth,” Wyatt remarked.
Shepherd swung his gaze up. “Huh?”
“I noticed him wiggling it. Or have you forgotten that kids lose all their teeth? That’s a freaky thing when you think about it. And then they stuff the tooth beneath their pillow in exchange for money. Humans and their twisted fairy tales. And what exactly does the Tooth Fairy do with all those teeth? Nobody ever thinks of that. But it’s all magical.” Wyatt made air quotes. “I bet the real magic is the Tooth Fairy uses those teeth to build her castle.”
Kira reached up to coax Hunter down, but Hunter wasn’t listening. He was having too much fun. As much as he wanted the kid to keep climbing, Shepherd also didn’t want Hunter to think it was okay to disrespect people who were just looking out for him. This was the part where he had to be careful with disciplinary actions.
Shepherd got up and walked over, hands on his hips. “Come on, little man. If you’re not tired, you can play in Kira’s room. The house is too big to be wandering around in late at night. You might run into a ghost.”
Kira watched the two with interest, but the way she looked at Shepherd made him self-conscious.
“He has to meet Viktor’s wolf,” Wyatt called out.
Shepherd turned on his heel. “What?”
“Blue’s falcon too. They don’t want any accidents in the house. Hunter’s new, and you know the drill.” Wyatt walked up a few steps. “I think they said tomorrow, but nobody tells me anything. Do me a solid and call me when it happens. There’s nothing exciting going on around here, and I’d hate to miss out on all the action.”
Shepherd looked up at Hunter and realized the kid wasn’t coming down. So he reached up and touched his ankle, sending a flurry of tickles his way. They were the tickles he’d saved up from Maggie—all her laughter and emotions. He had never let them go after all these years, and it was the only emotion he’d freely given to others in the house. Storing her laughter was his way of keeping her memory alive.
Hunter giggled and giggled, as if the funniest thing in the world had taken hold of him. He squirmed and tried jerking his leg away, but Shepherd had a firm grip.
“Stop!” the boy shouted, still laughing.
Shepherd let go.
Hunter’s voice hadn’t been timid or even childlike in that moment. They’d marveled over his naivety and innocence for weeks, but it wasn’t until that moment that Shepherd realized a part of Hunter’s innocence was gone. He might never know the cruelties his son had endured when he misbehaved, got too loud, or even spilled a glass of water. Shepherd’s eyes stung with tears, and he turned, realizing there was nowhere to look without someone seeing his weakness.
Without his realizing it, Hunter had climbed down from the statue and was standing in front of him. Shepherd pinched the tears out of his eyes and looked down at his son.
The boy’s touch was so featherlight and discreet that Shepherd hadn’t noticed it at all. Hunter’s blue eyes widened, brimming with uncertainty as Shepherd’s emotions poured into his hand. Had he ever experienced someone else’s pain or sorrow? Could he distinguish the difference between grief and empathy?
The catch in his throat left him speechless, so he mussed up the kid’s hair and jerked his head toward the back of the house, signaling it was time for bed.
As long as someone could keep an eye on Hunter, Shepherd didn’t care how long he stayed up. But for now, the boy needed to learn that running through the house alone wasn’t an option. There were too many halls, too many rooms, and too many chances to lose him. He might accidentally lock himself in some secret closet, never to be heard from again. Aside from that, Shepherd wanted to teach him respect, and the only way to do that was to set boundaries.
When Kira approached Hunter to take him to bed, she handed Shepherd a fresh candle before walking off. It was the first time he’d felt a glimmer of any emotion besides fear. She hadn’t touched the candle but a moment, and her curiosity was so fleeting that it felt like a bird escaping from Shepherd’s grasp.
He retrieved a matchbook from his pocket and used it to light the wick. The candle illuminated his immediate surroundings, most of the room alight from sconces affixed to the walls.
Wyatt had split, so Shepherd sat down on the stairs, cupping the candle in both hands. He stared at the flame for countless minutes until he lost himself in the light. Hunter probably thought he had a big weirdo for a father—some chain-smoking lug who was always drinking. A guy who came off as too abrasive one minute and too quiet the next. Was Shepherd fooling himself into thinking this was the best situation for his son?
Maybe Hunter would be better off with real parents. Shepherd could see the pros and cons of each. How the hell was he supposed to know which choice was the right one? His worst fear was Hunter not having the very best life that he deserved.
“Give me a sign,” he asked quietly. “Just one sign so I’ll know what to do.”
CHAPTER 16
“Daddy, sit up and take your pills.”
“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he grumbled.
I held out my hand. “These aren’t painkillers; they’re vitamins. You need your strength. Today I want you to stay away from the heavy stuff and take aspirin. I don’t need you getting yourself addicted to those horse tranquilizers. Where the hell did you get all those pills?”
He palmed the vitamins and chewed on them before chugging down his orange juice. “Never you mind.”
“How did you sleep?” I propped another pillow behind his back so he could sit up comfortably.
“I should ask you the same question.”
I collected the empty breakfast plate from his chest and put the glass on top. “Are you still hungry? I can bring you more sausages. We’ve also got eggs if you’d rather I scramble up a few.”
Annoyance bled from his expression as he opened a car magazine and thumbed through it. Crush didn’t mind my bossing him around—verbal sparring was what we did best. But he didn’t like the babying part. I didn’t care if it bruised his ego or made him feel feeble; someone had to nurse him back to health. And if that meant barricading his bedroom door so he wouldn’t wander into the kitchen to make his own meals, so be it.
I looked at his foot propped on the pillow and made sure the bag of ice wasn’t leaking. I’d wrapped a thin kitchen towel around it after he complained the ice was burning his skin. “If you need anything else, just yell.” I shut the door and headed to the kitchen.
What a night. I’d checked on Crush numerous times, helping him to the bathroom and then giving him a painkiller around three in the morning. Cleaning the trailer kept my mind occupied since I had a stressful day ahead of me, what with getting the cash and paying off General. Crush looked like a truck had run over him, the extent of his injuries more visible in the light of day. Bruises covered his body, and he couldn’t sit up without help. I guessed that after a day or two, he’d be able to move around more. But for the moment, he needed to lie down and rest so he didn’t exacerbate his injuries by pushing himself too hard.
In a zombielike state of mind, I washed the dishes and put them back in the cabinets. Wizard and his boys showed up early that morning to work on the trailer, but Crush made me promise not to say a word about what had happened. He wanted privacy, so the bedroom door remained closed.
Wizard lightly knocked before stepping inside the trailer. “I’m shutting off the power for a little while. You’ve had some varmints chewing on things down below. We set traps down there and plan to exterminate before sealing it off with new skirting. This place has become a pet project, so I’ll have it like new in no time. We just need to look at all the switches and outlets.”
“Do you know how to do all that?”
“I’ve been an electrician for eighty years. My boys and I can repair a house from foundation to roof. Anyhow, I’ve got a thermal-imaging gun to look for hot spots. After we work on the electricity, I’ve got a few other things on my list to check out. If I have to pull back paneling for any reason, I’ll replace it.”
“Just don’t go in the bedroom. It’s off-limits.”
He wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. “I’m gonna have to get in there eventually.”
“Another time. Are you thirsty? The kitchen’s all yours. There’s orange soda or water. Pick your poison.”
“Water’s fine.” Wizard groomed his long mustache while I grabbed a few bottles out of the fridge. “We’re gonna be loud all day, so you might want to find some earplugs.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I handed him the bottles. “I’m on my way out to pick up lunch. How does barbecue sound?”
His eyes lit up. “That’d be real nice. I’ll just be outside, passing out water. Oh, and I’ll clean the dirty floor before we leave.”
I looked at the entryway and shrugged it off. I had more pressing matters than mopping the floor to a shine. After Wizard went outside, I put on my jacket and made sure my spare wallet was in the lining. Everyone had an alias in case human police pulled us over, so I never left home without ID.
Thank God for guys like Wizard. His generosity couldn’t have come at a better time. At least now I wouldn’t have to worry about Crush’s house sparking a fire or flooding out. As I stood there by the door, I overheard them talking about roof repairs.
I headed to the bedroom, and after knocking twice, I poked my head in. “I’m going to pick up lunch for the guys, and I’ll bring you back something. Does brisket sound okay?”
He nodded.
“Are you going to be all right by yourself?”
He flung the magazine down beside him. “Stop treating me like an invalid.”
I quirked a smile. “Do you need to pee before I go?”
He stroked his beard in frustration but held his tongue.
