by Selena Scott
Arturo turned, threat flashing in his eyes and energy flashing at his fingertips. He saw the non-aggressive stance of Jean Luc’s and sheathed his energy. “Sorry,” Arturo said. “Old habit.”
“That’s fine. Why are you asking about engagement rings?”
Arturo’s eyebrows lifted. As a big, quiet athlete, Jean Luc often gave the mistaken impression that he wasn’t exactly the fastest cheetah on the savannah. But Arturo happened to know that the big guy was actually very astute. Which was why Arturo was taken aback by the question he’d just been asked.
“Because I want to buy one,” Arturo replied, very slowly.
“For Martine.” Jean Luc was speaking very slowly as well, as if he were trying to piece together some sort of word scramble that was almost solved but not quite.
“Jean Luc, you think I want to buy one for myself? I know I’m fancy, but diamonds aren’t really my style.”
Tre jogged over from where he and Jack had been sparring. “What’s up?”
Arturo barely restrained his groan and eye roll. There was a reason that Jean Luc was the person he’d chosen to talk to and not Tre or Jack.
“Nothing,” Jean Luc said in perhaps the most unconvincing tone any of them had ever heard another person use. Say what you would about him, the man was not a good liar.
Tre looked back and forth between the two of them. “Come on, tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Jack asked, as he, too, jogged up, his T-shirt sticking to the sweat on his chest and a gallon of water under his arm. He passed the water around the circle and all four men swigged from it, emptying the jug.
“Jean Luc and Arturo are conspiring about something.”
“We’re not conspiring!” Jean Luc insisted, but he pursed his lips and didn’t say more.
Arturo was actually kind of touched that Jean Luc was apparently insisting on keeping this secret for him. He let out a chuff of impatient air at the other two and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was asking him about jewelry stores.”
“You looking to buy yourself a tiara for your collection, your highness?” Tre asked.
Arturo ignored him. “I want to buy a ring for Martine.”
That wiped the smile off Tre’s face. And Jack’s, too. Actually, the two of them were suddenly wearing extremely thoughtful expressions.
“Yup,” Jack nodded. “Thinking about doing that myself, actually. For Thea, not Martine.” He grinned a lazy smile.
“Yeah.” Tre cleared his throat somewhat nervously. “Me, too.”
“Hold on,” Jean Luc asked. “All three of you are wanting to propose? What brought this on?”
“It’s now or never, son,” Jack replied, with a sort of somber note to his voice. “This thing with the demon, it’s circling in on us pretty fast. And I’ll be damned if Thea doesn’t know how I feel about her before it happens.”
“You only live once, you know?” Tre agreed, nodding his head at Jack’s assessment. “I’m getting out of my own way. I want Caroline to be happy. And I want to really let myself be happy. What I want is her. I’m already this far, might as well go the whole hog and keep her forever.”
Arturo gaped at the two men. Never in his life would he have thought that all of their reasons would have been so dang similar. He added in his own specific thoughts as well. “Because I want her to have everything. Anything. And my time to be able to give that to her is running out fast.”
“Wow.” Jean Luc looked at all three of them. “Okay. So. Ring shopping, then?”
Tre whooshed out a tense breath, ran in place for three furious seconds and then sagged forward, his hands on his knees. He stood up, a look of determination on his face. “Hell, yeah.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack drawled.
“We’re all going together?” Arturo asked, droll skepticism in his tone. “This bonding thing is getting ridiculous.”
Jean Luc ignored him. “You all go get showered. I’ll do some googling.”
An hour later, they were pulling down the driveway in the van, claiming they were headed off to do the grocery shopping together, leaving a group of mystified women behind.
“You better not be headed off to the bar and leaving us here to cook dinner!” Thea called, a little good-natured venom in her expression.
“Groceries! Cross my heart!” Tre called back, sliding into the car and slamming the door shut. “Go, go, go!” he hissed to Jean Luc, who kicked up a cloud of dust as he gunned it down the driveway.
Arturo was quiet, with his window down and the dry, baking heat whipping past his face. The other men laughed and joked. He could feel their camaraderie with one another. He could feel Tre’s nervous excitement, Jean Luc’s curiosity, and Jack’s calm contentment. And… Arturo and Jack’s eyes clashed in the rearview mirror.
Arturo sensed, for just a moment, something coming off of Jack. There was a very strange feeling. It was almost like fear and nostalgia mixed into one. No, it was a childhood fear, bubbling up, Arturo was certain of it. Jack’s eyes flicked away and the feeling was pushed away.
Arturo kept looking at him until they pulled into the parking lot of the jewelry store and his attention got turned back to the task at hand.
The door jingled four times, after each man jostled his way through to the quiet, air-conditioned, pristinely clean jewelry store. Arturo had never been in one before and he found it profoundly strange. Wasn’t jewelry supposed to inspire great passion? But he found the store as cool and clinical as a hospital room. Even the sparkles off the jewelry seemed to be manufactured. There was none of the personal magic that he’d witnessed in the ring Jean Luc had chosen for Celia.
“Gentlemen!” A rather portly sales associate filed out of a back room, a set of glasses on his nose and another up at the top of his head, his suit perhaps a size too small. “What can I help you with today?”
“We’d like to see your collection of engagement rings,” Jean Luc told the man.
“Is this the same sort of store where you bought Celia’s ring?” Arturo asked Jean Luc quietly.
“Yes,” Jean Luc replied. “Why?”
“It seems so…”
“Sterile?” Jean Luc asked, chuckling. “Yeah, well. Either you find one you like here or you don’t and we go somewhere else. Quit chickening out.”
“I’m not—” But Arturo didn’t finish his sentence because Jean Luc was striding away, going to peer at the trays of rings that the dazzle-eyed salesman was setting out in front of Tre and Jack.
“All three of you are looking to buy?” the man asked, obviously trying to stop himself from clicking his heels in the air.
“Pretty sure his pupils just turned into dollar signs,” Tre muttered under his breath.
Jack wandered away from the glittery trays and turned to start looking in other parts of the shop, his ball cap low over his eyes.
“I’m not exactly sure what Caroline would like,” Tre said, his hands jammed in his pockets and his eyes feverishly scanning over all the different cuts of diamonds. It was unclear exactly who he was talking to. “Maybe I should have asked her. All of these look exactly the same to me but I’m sure she would have a preference and—”
In a move that surprised both of them, Arturo clamped a hand over Tre’s shoulder. “You would know what she likes. It’s not a matter of taste. It’s a matter of knowing her.”
Tre looked up and nodded. For once, there was no joke on his tongue, no skepticism in his eyes.
“He’s right,” Jean Luc said. “Just find the one that reminds you of her. That’s what I did with Celia.”
The salesman bit his tongue. He’d been in this business long enough to know when it was time for guiding a sale and when it was time to shut up and let nature take its course.
Tre turned his attention back toward the trays and trays of rings, slowly looking over each one, his manic energy calmed. And then he laughed. He stared at one ring in particular, took a step back, squinted at it, and dragged a hand down over his f
ace. He laughed again.
“What?” Jean Luc asked.
“I found it. You were right. It’s pretty simple if you just wait for the one that reminds you of her.”
“Which one, sir?” the salesman asked.
Tre pointed and the salesman masked his surprise. He deftly handed over a thin gold ring with a bright, heart-shaped ruby set on top.
Tre peered down at it and laughed again. It was a relieved sound. He could clearly picture Caroline’s delight at receiving this. Maybe heart-shaped jewelry was cheesy, but who cared? She would be thrilled with the daily reminder that he loved her. She’d love how bright it was. How clear of a message it sent. He loved her. Give her a bright red heart. Made sense to him.
He handed it back to the salesman. “I’ll take it.”
Next, Jack called the salesman down to the far end of the store. Arturo followed as well. It was a bit dimmer in this section of the store and there was less sparkling lighting and black velvet beds of jewels.
“This is our estate sale section, sir,” the salesman told Jack carefully, as if he were hoping to gently lead Jack back to the engagement ring section.
“Yup. Figured that,” Jack replied. As easy-going as he was, he was not an easily swayed man. “I’d like to see that.”
Jean Luc squinted and leaned forward. “That jackknife? Why? You doing some shopping for yourself?”
“Nawl,” Jack replied with a smile on his face. “You said I should get the thing that reminded me of Thea.” Jack took the knife from the salesman and grinned. “And this thing was most likely Thea in another life.”
It was an antique jackknife. Perhaps three inches long. There was a complicated pattern of turquoise and copper inlaid over the hand. Jack flicked it open. It was obviously well taken care of, though there was a little rust on the blade. Jack was glad to see that, because it was fixed easily enough, but it also meant that he had a little leverage to not get completely fleeced on the price by this stooge with the tight suit and two pairs of glasses.
“I’m sorry,” Jean Luc said slowly. “You’re going to buy her a knife instead of an engagement ring?”
“She carries a jackknife in her pocket every day,” Jack said easily, his eyes on the knife. “And honestly, can you picture Thea wearing jewelry?”
Arturo thought that was a good point. Thea was quite beautiful, but in a carved, flawless, ancient sort of way. She dressed in a simple, utilitarian style, and she was one of the most hard-working, self-sufficient women any of them had ever met. Yeah. She wasn’t going to want some shiny bauble on her finger. She’d want something she could use.
“Fair enough,” Jean Luc mumbled.
“Now,” Jack said, leaning one deceptively casual elbow on the counter and eyeing the salesman. “Let’s talk turkey. Because you and I both know this knife has seen better days.”
Arturo wandered away, his eyes slipping from case to case. He settled for a moment on a case of black diamond rings. Because she liked black so much, always wore it. But even as he had the thought, he understood more fully. She didn’t wear black because it was an expression of who she really was. She wore black because it allowed her to blend in. She never drew attention to herself in her black, simple clothing. It allowed her to stay on the outskirts of everyone’s life, including her own. No. He wouldn’t buy her an engagement ring that would represent her separation from a life well lived. He wanted her ring to be a symbol of her inclusion in life. He wanted her to look at it and know that, even if it had only been a few weeks, she’d led a full life. She’d been a part of something.
He moved on past the black diamonds and paused for a moment at a tray of yellow diamond rings. He almost asked to see one that had a large gold band underneath the glittery golden diamond. It was almost the exact assortment of golden hues that she was when she was fracturing into light. He loved that. Maybe that was the right one?
But no, just a bit further down in the case his eyes snagged on something and he knew for certain that he was seeing the ring that she would wear for him. There it was. Simple as that.
“You having a moment?” Tre asked from behind Arturo. Arturo simply pointed at the ring he was staring at. Tre peered in through the glass.
“Oh. Wow, man. Yeah. I get it. Makes sense for the two of you.”
The salesman came over, a slight sweat on his brow from having just been completely swindled by Jack, but he was gathering his wits again. He let Arturo inspect the ring while Tre paid for his. Though Tre was no stranger to haggling over prices himself, part of him didn’t think it was good karma to squabble his way into an engagement ring. Call him old school, but he just wanted to hand over his debit card and then have that little velvet box in his nervous, sweaty hand.
“You’re sure that’s the one?” Jean Luc asked, peering over Arturo’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Arturo answered immediately, confidently. There was no question to him that this was exactly right. Not only was this the perfect representation of what he wanted Martine to think of and feel, it also hummed with some sort of good vibes that Arturo would have been a fool to ignore.
“All right, then.” Jean Luc plucked the ring from Arturo’s hand and walked it over to the salesman. “We’ll need a box for this one, too.”
It was then Arturo realized that, of course, he had no money. He’d been a demon’s right-hand man for the last four centuries. It wasn’t exactly a high-paying gig. “Ah—”
He came up behind Jean Luc in time to see him hand over his credit card. “It’s fine,” Jean Luc muttered. “If we live through this, you can pay me back.”
The salesman’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he read the name on the credit card in his hand. “I’m sorry… are you the football player?”
“You couldn’t tell from the size of his neck?” Tre asked glibly. “At night he snaps leather belts with the strength of his throat muscles like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast.”
“Shaddap.” Jean Luc cuffed his redheaded friend over the head and pulled him into a boisterous headlock.
The salesman hurried to ring up the sale as the scuffle got a little more heated.
The men’s restrained, galloping energy when they’d entered the jewelry store had been let out of the paddock and into the field. They were laughing too loud, shoving each other too hard, relieved and giddy over their purchases. The salesman handed them their rings (and knife) in fancy boxes, filed their receipts, waved goodbye to them, then sagged against the door of the store. He flipped the sign from open to closed, badly needing a lunch break and a glass of wine.
***
“I swear they’re up to something,” Thea muttered as she watched the men return to the field after lunch. They’d skipped morning shifter practice with their impromptu grocery trip so they were trudging out to practice during the hottest part of the day. It didn’t make sense. Not at all.
And not only that, there was a pointed, relaxed ease running through them that she’d never seen before.
“They do seem pretty… boyish right now,” Celia eventually agreed.
“Totally!” Caroline chimed in. “Like a bunch of kids heading off into the woods for a campout or something.”
Martine smiled, watching them along with the rest of the women. Normally, she’d be out there with the men, but something told her to hang back today, to give them the day just by themselves.
All four of the women laughed as Tre danced around Jean Luc, obviously teasing, and Jean Luc lunged forward, an angry papa bear, and tackled Tre to the ground. The two of them shifted on the fly, and then Jack went too, bounding after them. Arturo, his hands in his pockets, watched for a minute before heaving a great sigh. He carefully stripped off his new clothes, one by one, and then shifted, following after the men.
“Gotta admit, Arturo sure is handsome,” Celia said, looking just the slightest bit dazed from watching Arturo strip down to the altogether.
“There’s no point in denying it,” Thea agreed, though she soun
ded rather like she wished she could deny it.
“He’s like one of those fancy flowers down in South America that are so intricately beautiful, you know?” Caroline said.
“Sometimes when he’s naked my mouth goes so dry I have to chug water,” Martine added in.
All three of the other women jumped.
“Martine!” Celia breathed, one hand over her heart. “How do you do that? I swear, your feet must be made of feathers.”
“I thought you knew I was here!” She threw up her hands helplessly, but couldn’t help but laugh at the startled expressions she saw on all their faces.
“You know,” Thea said. “On second thought, you and Arturo are perfect for one another. You’re both beautiful and spooky.”
“Wait a second,” Caroline cut in. “Were you dishing about Arturo when you just startled the crap out of us? You were, weren’t you?! Oh my gosh! Start over!”
“Dishing?” Martine asked faintly when she found herself shoved into a kitchen chair and a glass of iced tea somehow jammed into her hand.
“Iced tea, Caroline?” Celia asked. “Don’t we have anything more festive?”
“You’re right.” Caroline snatched back the glass of iced tea and poked around in the fridge for a minute. She came back a few minutes later with a pitcher of something suspiciously pink.
“I’d like to live to see the morning,” Thea said, one eyebrow raised at the pitcher.
“It’s mostly fruit juice,” Caroline insisted.
Celia coughed her way through her first sip.
“And a bunch of vodka,” Caroline added ruefully.
“Wowzers,” Celia gasped as she fought for air. “Martine, if this doesn’t get you gossiping about your boyfriend, nothing will.”
“My boyfriend?” Martine asked delightedly as she slugged back a giant gulp of her drink. It was strong, but she was made of tougher stuff than these mortals were—she barely blinked at the flavor. “I’ve never thought of Arturo as my boyfriend before.”
“He isn’t your typical boyfriend type,” Celia agreed. “You say ‘boyfriend’ and you think varsity jacket and swapping spit by the lockers.”
