He was the only one who never nagged or begged me to talk. He understood, maybe more than anyone, that sometimes the only way you could deal with things was to keep them locked inside, to turn them over again and again, and hope that, at some point, they’d become less monstrous.
“Ada’s excited about putting up the tree today,” he said. “Christmas was always really her thing. Once she came to live here, we never had a year where the loft wasn’t decked out.” He watched me. “Are you going to join us?”
I shrugged, met his eyes. Don’t beg me. Don’t guilt me. Please….
“Okay. Do you want anything to eat?”
I shook my head, and we sat in silence for a while longer.
“Nain actually really liked Christmas. Did he ever tell you that?”
I shook my head.
“He did. I think a lot of it is because this area was French when he spawned, so he grew up with a lot of French Catholic traditions. And then there were the Irish and the Poles. He liked the churches.” I gave him a look, and he smiled. “I know. What are the odds? That’s actually how he met Father Balester. He was checking out Assumption Grotto, and they started talking.”
I watched him, and he seemed to read the question I didn’t ask. “That was back in the 1880s, from what they’ve said.”
I nodded, reminded again how strange my life had become. My husband had been a 300 year old demon who hung out with Catholic priests who turned into trees, and my best friend was man who could turn into any animal on earth. It was enough to make me wonder if I wasn’t completely insane.
Brennan seemed to be thinking about something, then got up and walked over to one of Nain’s overstuffed book cases. He grabbed a big black photo album.
“Have you seen this?” he asked, and I shook my head. I got up and sat on the floor near the bookcases, and he sat down next to me. He opened it, set it down so it laid across both our laps.
“A lot of this stuff is before my time,” he said. “This stuff on the first page was all from the 20s. I don’t think he had any photos before then. If he did, he never showed them to me.”
I nodded, looked over the photos. I could barely breathe. Nain, looking the way I’d always known him, yet….not. Dressed in 1920s style suits, with men and women dressed similarly. I glanced up at Brennan. “A lot of these people were his first team. He was a loner until the early 1900s.” I looked over the photos, and we turned a page. More of the same. He pointed out the people he’d been told about, and we flipped through the photos, into the 1930s, then the 40s. One of the original members of the 1920s team was in several of these photos as well, I realized, and I flipped back through. Brennan hadn’t said much about him, so I pointed at a photo of him and Nain and looked at him questioningly. To me, he looked quite a bit like Brennan.
“That’s my dad,” he said quietly, looking back down at the pictures. He flipped forward a few pages, to a photo of the man and a tall, thin blond. “My mom,” he said, pointing at the photo. I watched him for a moment. He was sad, but sad in the way people are over a long-lost friend or loved one. There is still pain, but there are also enough good memories to make it bittersweet. Would I ever feel that way? Would I be able to look back on my time with Nain and remember the good times, and not just those last awful moments?
I turned my attention back to the photo album. He flipped through the photos, had a chuckle at a few photos of greaser Nain, and I even had to smile. The sixties saw Nain looking very un-hippie-like; straight-laced and fierce. I noticed photo after photo of a voluptuous brunette on his arm, and I glanced up at Brennan.
“They dated for a while in the sixties and seventies. She was a witch,” he said. “In more ways than one.” His parents were still showing up in photos, straight through into the late seventies. They didn’t look like they’d aged at all.
I pointed to a seventies picture, then back to a twenties picture. He understood what I meant.
“Yeah. Shifters have really long lifespans, compared to humans. We don’t age as quickly. And my parents were both really strong,” he said.
Somehow, that made his parents’ deaths even worse to me. I knew they’d been killed working with Nain, both of them, on the same night, and Brennan had gone to live with Nain afterward. I watched him. He glanced up and met my eyes. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “They died saving a house full of innocent Normals from a bunch of demons who were on a rampage. They lived as badasses, and they died the same way. I miss them, but I’m proud of them, too.”
I nodded, went back to looking at the album. On the next page were photos of scrawny, nine year old Brennan, and he laughed. There were pages of him and Nain, Ada and Stone. Birthday photos. Christmas photos. Ada and her husband, who’d also been lost in the line of duty. It was funny watching Brennan grow through the years, from a skinny little kid to a tall, powerful man. The nineties showed a redhead on Nain’s arm. (“She was a jerk, too,” Brennan murmured, and I shook my head.) Then photos of George and Veronica, sometimes with Brennan, the three of them sitting on the roof or on the sofa on Christmas morning. The last photos in the book had been taken right after I joined the team. A photo of Nain and I on the roof, arguing, our eyes glowing in the fading daylight. Brennan and me, sitting with our feet dangling off the roof. He closed it, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.
It could have all gone so differently. I’d been attracted to Brennan first. He’d become a friend immediately, someone I trusted, relied on. What if I’d fallen for Brennan instead?
Nain would probably still be alive, for one.
I gave his hand a quick squeeze of thanks, then stood up, feeling awkward sitting next to him. He stood up and put the photo album back, then turned to look at me. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head, and he smiled.
“But you will be. You don’t believe it. But you will,” he said. Then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Later, I showered and dressed and made my way out of my room. A glance out the loft windows showed that it was still snowing heavily, our second day in a row. The city was pretty much shut down, which was good for us. Even demons and vampires seemed to hate going out in snowstorms.
As I walked into the kitchen, I watched Ada and Stone stringing white lights onto an absolutely enormous tree. They both said hi to me, and I waved, forced a small smile. I poured another cup of coffee and went into the living room. Brennan was sitting on the sofa, testing lights in another string. I put my coffee down and took the other end of the strand in my hands, trying to tighten bulbs. About twenty in, I twisted one and the string lit up.
“Thank you,” Brennan murmured in relief.
“Oh, you love testing the lights, you little brat,” Stone said.
“It’s been his job since he was ten,” Ada said, laughing a little. She took the strand from Brennan and started stringing it onto the tree. Brennan leaned over an pulled a large cardboard box over, placing it on the floor in front of us. He reached in and pulled out a box of ornaments.
“I’m always amazed they’re never broken to bits every year, the way Stone and Nain put them away,” Ada said, and then she sobered, realizing what she’d said.
“Yeah. We were usually careful though,” Stone said, trying to break the solemnity. “We knew you’d be mad if we broke them all.”
Ada smiled, continued with the lights. After a while, she was done, and she, Stone, and Brennan started placing ornaments on the tree. I sat and watched.
My imps, Dahael and Bash, came into the room to watch, and both crouched on the floor near where I was. I looked at them, and they both thumped a fist to their chest in greeting.
Brennan was watching us as he placed an ornament on the tree. “Want to do some of these, Molly?” he asked, and I shook my head.
I sat and watched them decorate the rest of the tree. And it struck me how beautiful they all were. Ada, with her deep laugh and honeyed voice, strong arms that had held me when I was lost in g
rief. Stone with his snow-white handlebar mustache and kind eyes. Brennan. Brennan and his everything. I could barely breathe around the responsibility weighing on me, the fear that I’d lose them, the knowledge that I’d do anything to keep them safe. This was my family, as crazy as we were. I would rip the world apart if it meant keeping them from being hurt.
I wouldn’t lose any more.
They finished with the tree and Ada and Stone moved into the kitchen to work on dinner. Ada had insisted on a full Christmas Eve dinner: turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls and a crazy number of side dishes. I could smell the ham and turkey already. Ada and Stone talked quietly as they worked together in the kitchen. Brennan turned the living room lights off and sat next to me. We both sat in silence for a while, looking at the tree glowing warmly in the darkness.
“She’s going to make us brave midnight mass,” Brennan said, shaking his head.
I raised my eyebrows and glanced at the snow falling outside.
“We never miss it.”
There were so many things I wanted to ask. I knew it was stupid that I wasn’t talking. In some ways, I felt childish and stupid. But I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I’d just scream and cry and release all of the insanity I was feeling. I needed to feel some sense of control, and right now, keeping my soul-crushing grief mostly to myself was it.
Brennan took my hand in his. I looked up at him, and his eyes searched mine.
“I wish I could read your mind sometimes, the way he did,” he said softly. “Not to replace him, not to take his place or any shit like that. Just because, then you wouldn’t have that look on your face like the one you have right now.”
I raised my eyebrows at him, questioning.
He smiled a little. “That look that says you feel guilty and embarrassed for not speaking. And you shouldn’t feel that way. No one gets to tell you how to grieve or how to figure out how to do things now that he’s gone. And I know you well enough to know you’re figuring it’s frustrating or annoying that you’re not talking. It’s not to me, and it’s not to them,” he said, glancing toward the kitchen. “We love you. When you feel damn good and ready, you’ll talk again. Or, you won’t and we’ll love you just the same.” He squeezed my hand gently and then released it.
I turned away. Nervous around him, unsure how to respond to the way he took care of me, often without even knowing he was doing it. I was saved a few minutes later when Ada called us into the dining room to eat. I hadn’t been eating, other than the saltines I sometimes shoved down my throat to keep Brennan and Ada happy. I would eat tonight, whether I wanted to or not, because this was one small thing I could give to Ada.
We sat around the dining room table that had once been full. The three empty chairs were a silent testament to all we’d lost. The four of us sat around one end of the long rectangular table. Ada held her hands out to her sides, and Stone, beside her, took one, and Brennan reached across the table and took the other. I glanced up, took Stone’s other hand, Brennan’s.
I was expecting her to say a few words, or give thanks, or something. Instead, she bowed her head and closed her eyes, and Brennan and Stone followed suit. After a moment, I did the same. Remembering. Veronica’s easy laugh and beauty. George’s heartbreaking betrayal. Nain. Too many memories, and not enough.
After a few silent moments, Brennan and Stone squeezed my hands, and I opened my eyes, looked up. I met Ada’s gaze across the table. Her eyes were spilling over with tears, as I knew mine were. She stood up, walked around the table, and I stood up. She folded me into her arms, and we stood there, weeping.
I hate crying. I hate anyone seeing me in those moments I do cry. It’s a testament to how much I love the three people in that room that I allowed myself to cry in front of them.
“It’s okay,” Ada said softly. “You will go on, baby girl. And he wanted you to,” she whispered. “You know this.”
I just held her tighter, and we stood, both of us sniffling, trying to pull ourselves together. “He was one of my best friends. Like a brother. He would not want you to live in misery now. Do you hear me?” she asked, her voice regaining some of its strength.
I nodded, met her eyes.
“Good,” she said, hugging me once more. We released each other, sat back down. I glanced over at Brennan as I sat down.
“Christmas Eve dinner was always a big deal,” Stone said as I watched Brennan. He was a mixture of sadness, loss, grief, anger…his feelings were as mixed up and crazy as mine were.
“Let’s eat,” Ada said. Stone gave an “amen!” and everyone started passing dishes and platters around. We ate, and I mostly listened to Ada and Stone joking back and forth, the way only old friends could. I ate in silence, and ended up eating much more than I thought I would. Brennan pushed his food around on his plate, taking occasional bites. He seemed nervous, on top of everything else. He looked up and caught me watching him. I nudged his knee with mine under the table, tilted my head as if to ask if he was all right.
He just gave a tiny nod, held my gaze for another moment or two. He looked away and started eating.
“Molly are you coming to midnight mass, honey?” Ada asked.
I found myself nodding before I realized it, and Brennan glanced at me in surprise.
“Good girl,” Stone said, getting up and carrying dishes into the kitchen, along with Ada. Just then, Brennan’s phone rang, and he grimaced before answering it.
“Yeah?”
He listened for a few minutes.
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. By now, Stone and Ada had come back into the room, and were watching him. He hung up and looked around.
“There’s some weirdness going on in Eastern Market,” Brennan said. “I can go check it out, and then I’ll meet you at church after.”
I glanced at the clock. It was just after eleven. He headed toward his room to change, and I reached out and put a hand on his arm.
“I can take care of it, Molly.”
I glared at him, and he laughed. “Fine. Let’s go, then.”
I went to Nain’s room, pulled on my heavy boots, the leather jacket Ada had bought for me, my gloves. I left my room just as Brennan was coming out of his. “Okay. We’ll see you guys there,” he said to Ada and Stone.
“We’ll save you a seat,” Stone said. “Be careful.”
We left, taking the elevator down to the loft, then we got into Nain’s truck. I tried not to think about riding in this truck with him, or about the night I’d met him, when he’d been driving it, following me through the city. Brennan and I had been using it when we went out on patrol, and I was getting over some of the emotion I had every time I looked at it, but I still got a little jolt ever time I sat down on the seat.
We drove in silence for a while, the Christmas radio station playing low. My imps sat in the bed of the truck, and I could just see them out the window. The cold didn’t seem to bother them, just as it didn’t bother me.
“I hope this isn’t too stupid. I really don’t feel like fighting tonight,” Brennan murmured after a while. I nodded. “Dawson…you know him, that shifter from the Eastern Market neighborhood?”
I nodded again.
“He said there were demons skulking around, and it seemed like they were up to something. He was going to keep an eye on things, but Dawson’s not really a fighter.”
I glared at Brennan.
“What?”
I glared at him some more.
“Oh come on, Molly. I can fight demons. I was freaking raised by one.”
I raised my finger, illustrating “one.” Then I glared at him again and crossed my arms over my chest. What the hell was he thinking? Even considering going into a possible group of demons by himself?
“I wouldn’t have gone in if there had been too many of them,” he said.
I just stared straight ahead.
“Okay. Fine. I know you don’t want any of us going anywhere without back up.” Damn right he did. I’d w
ritten them all a long letter, as soon as I’d been able to get myself out of bed after Nain had died, telling them how we were doing things from now on. No one went out on patrol alone, ever. No one went out on calls alone, ever. They’d done it before. Not anymore. “I wanted you all to be able to enjoy tonight. We don’t get many nights without bullshit.”
I gave him another look, and he laughed a little. “You can tell me off without words better than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s probably a good thing for me you’re not talking.”
I rolled my eyes, and he laughed again. We were in the Eastern Market area now. “Dawson said they were near shed 5,” he said as he put the truck into park. We got out, walking through snowdrifts that came nearly up to our knees. “Can you feel anything?” he asked me.
I focused, nodded after a moment. I held four fingers up. I could feel at least four demons, not too far away.
“Okay,” he said. We kept walking toward where I felt the demons. Soon we could hear muted, growling voices under the sound of the wind, and we glanced at each other.
We came around the side of the building to find four large demons, wearing their true skins, not the enchantment that made them look human. They ranged from around five feet tall to a little over six. My skin prickled. Too dark. Too quiet. Nobody around, due to the snow. This was an excellent place for demons to do something stupid.
It almost sounded like they were chanting.
And, as one stepped aside, I saw what they were up to. They had a young woman, blindfolded, gagged. She stood with her hands tied behind her back in the middle of the circle of demons. She had no coat on, just a thin pair of pajamas and some flimsy slippers. She stood with her head slumped forward, tears coursing down her face. Trembling, partially from the cold, mostly from terror. She looked mostly unharmed.
The demons continued to chant.
I glanced at Brennan.
“All right. Have your fun. I got your back,” he whispered, and I nodded. I took off the dark sunglasses I wore now when I went out at night (stupid glowing eyes….) and stalked toward the demons, making no effort to disguise the sound of my feet in the snow. Almost as one, they looked up at me.
Demons of Christmas Past: A Hidden Novella Page 11
