by Jes Battis
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a centaur threw me against a steel counter.”
“Well, that’s pretty accurate.”
“How long was I out for?”
“Close to eight hours.”
He winced. “I hurt in a lot of different places. I think even my hair hurts.”
“You’ve got a broken arm, two broken ribs, and you’re recovering from a concussion. You’ve also got some serious floor-rash on your face. You hit the ground pretty hard back there.”
“Yeah.” He licked his lips. “I can feel the stitches. And my head is killing me. It’s like an atomic hangover or something.”
“I’m not surprised. You dove into the mind of an unfamiliar demon, and he was none too happy about it. You might as well have bashed your head against solid concrete. They’re going to run some tests once you’re feeling better, just to make sure there isn’t any internal damage.”
“You mean to make sure I’m not crazy.”
“Essentially.”
He gave me a long look. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Do you think I’m going to need time off?”
“Of course. Your body needs to recover.”
“It’s not my body I’m worried about.”
“Derrick. I’m sure your brain is fine. Aside from the concussion.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re sitting here talking to me, aren’t you? Totally lucid and normal. No ranting and raving, no aphasia, no psychosis.”
“At least not yet.”
“Are you worried? Do you feel different?”
“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I can’t tell. I just feel thin. Like someone shaved away the top layer of me, and everything’s just a bit more intense—light, sound, smells, everything. It’s overwhelming.”
“Do you want more Demerol?”
“No. I don’t want to be high. I just want to feel better.”
“That’s going to take time.”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Hey.” I squeezed his hand. “You tangled with a pureblood and survived. It could have been a lot worse. And things are already starting to look up. We rescued one demon, captured another, and nobody died. So buck up.”
“Really? ‘Buck up’?”
“Stiff upper lip?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Not doing it for me.”
“What would you like to hear?”
“I’m not sure. Ask me again once they do the brain scan.”
I rubbed my thumb across his knuckles. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you? Is it something that you saw in the demon’s head?”
“No. That was barely comprehensible. I don’t even know how I’m going to fill out the report about it. Blood and ashes and a pile of bones.”
“That’s what you saw?”
“More or less.”
“Well, nobody expects you to publish a paper on the imagery. Just tell Selena everything you can remember.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“So what is it that’s actually freaking you out?”
“You mean besides the fact I’m wearing a dress that buttons up in the back? Because that’s already stirring up all sorts of drag memories.”
I smiled. “Yes. Fashion crimes aside, what is it?”
“Miles.”
“Don’t worry. The nurses checked him out, and he’s fine. Just a couple of scratches and a bruised neck. He’ll be back later today.”
“It’s not his health I’m worried about. It’s us.”
I blinked. “Call me crazy, but I’d think that surviving a demon attack would actually strengthen your relationship. I can’t see that you have anything to worry about. He didn’t leave your side all night.”
“I know that he loves me. He’s not the problem. I am.”
“You cheated on him. God, where did you find the time?”
“No.” He rolled his eyes. “And thanks so much for leaping to that conclusion first. It makes me feel like a real saint.”
“Sorry. It’s all I could think of.”
“There’s been no cheating, at least not to my knowledge. And I don’t plan on changing that. I’m just worried about . . .” He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure I can explain it. But I’m scared. Every day, whether I wake up in bed next to him, or I know I’m going to see him at work, or he sends me a sweet text—all I can feel is this unholy terror. Like it’s all going to dissolve at any moment.”
“Fear of the fuckup.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve got fear of the fuckup. You think you’re going to screw everything up, it’ll be totally your fault, and you’ll never forgive yourself.”
“Well. Yes. Basically.”
“Don’t worry about it. I feel the same way. Every time Lucian says something nice to me, all I can hear is this voice in the back of my head screaming, You are an asshole; you will totally destroy this.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Sometimes I get so paranoid about it, I’ll be afraid to say anything. So I’ll just keep nodding like some kind of passive-aggressive bobblehead. Why do you think I agreed to get digital cable? Why do I continue to let him wear cargo shorts? I’m afraid to say no.”
“But you guys are doing fine. He’s crazy about you.”
“And I could say the same thing about Miles.”
He chuckled. “Maybe there really is something wrong with us.”
“Yeah. It’s called being damaged.”
“But when did that happen?”
“If we knew that, things would be a lot simpler. We could fix it, or at least apply a patch. But it’s all just a hazy memory. It’s like someone anesthetized us when we were young, and when we woke up, there was suddenly this neurotic voice in our head. And the voice is a bastard.”
“It is.” He leaned back against the pillows. “It just feels like he’s too good, you know? Too good to be true, too good for me—just too good in general. And my mind is a snake pit. I don’t want him to see the worst parts.”
“I think he already has. And he’s still here. That must count for something.”
“Maybe he just feels sorry for me.”
“Man, this pity train has a lot of stops, doesn’t it?”
He laughed. “Fine, fine. I get it. But you understand where I’m coming from, right? Our job is dark and messed up, and it has a high mortality rate. It’s pretty much impossible for us to sustain a relationship with someone. And Miles isn’t normate, but he isn’t quite the same as us, either. He can’t read minds. He can’t dodge bullets.”
“Would you rather he could? If you’re only willing to date people with a yen for materia, you’re seriously whittling down your choices.”
“It’s not that. I don’t need him to be psychic, either. I’m just scared that something could go wrong. With me. Something inside. And he won’t be able to understand, because it doesn’t touch him the same way.” He sighed. “I guess I feel like he could still be normal, you know? He could still date a normal guy. He could have a desk job and a nice condo and a real-estate agent for a boyfriend, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of this.”
“I’m pretty sure he wants to deal with all of it, hon. Especially if you come with it. Because, as far as I can tell, he’s a big fan of you and everything related to you. So he’s willing to take on the drama.”
“But maybe it would be more ethical to just give him an out, you know?”
I stared at him. “How hard did that demon hit you? Give him an ‘out’? Derrick, guys like Miles don’t come along very often. You don’t want to give him an exit strategy. If anything, you want to strap him to a chair so he doesn’t escape.”
“Maybe.”
I tried to smooth my hair for a moment. The effort was a failure. I looked back at Derrick and saw that he was avoiding my gaze by pretending to stare out the window.
“Just co
me out with it,” I said. “This is more than a neurotic blip. Something’s banging around in there, and I want to know what it is.”
He rubbed his swollen eye. “Ouch.”
“You want some ice?”
“No. I want a vacation.”
“Me, too. But it’s not coming. Unless you want to decorate the living room and pretend we’re in a Mexican hostel.”
“That could be fun.”
“Stop stalling. Just tell me, or I’ll never go away.”
“You promise?”
“Yep.”
He smiled slightly. Then the expression was gone. The fear returned to his eyes, and he held on tighter to my hand.
“I’m changing, Tess.”
I tried to keep my tone neutral. “Changing how?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve felt it ever since we fought the Iblis. Before that, even. Do you remember when Miles was profiling the crime scene, back at the hotel, and the materia that the Iblis had left behind took control of him?”
“It’s hard to forget. He called me a stupid fat bitch.”
“Wow. Did you ever tell him that?”
“No. I decided to keep that little piece of sunshine under wraps.”
“Do you remember what happened after that? To me?”
I nodded. “You channeled some fierce power. You traced a glowing sign in the air, and Miles obeyed you. It was kind of wild. I mean, I’ve felt your power before, but nothing like that.”
“Did it feel strange to you?”
“Strange how?”
“I don’t know. Just—off. Weird.”
“You’re going to have to give me a little more than that to go on.”
“It felt like—” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Like someone opened a door inside of me. I didn’t even know that it was there. But now it’s open, and all of this stuff keeps pouring out. And I don’t know how to close it.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know how to describe it. Pictures. Sounds. Memories. I’m not even sure if they’re my memories or not. I used to get déjà vu a lot, but now it’s like a daily occurrence. Like, as soon as I get to a new place, I feel like I’ve already been there. And my powers are changing.”
“Of course. The more you use them, the stronger they get. You’re becoming a better psychic, and that’s natural.”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m better trained now. But they’re changing in other ways. Sometimes I feel like I have even less control over them. Like I’m just a passenger in my own body.”
“Materia can feel that way sometimes. If I channel too much power, too fast, it’s like something’s racing through my body. I can’t control it, either.”
“But you can. You always do.” He stared at me strangely. “Tess, I’m afraid of losing control. There was one time—”
He bit the words off sharply. He couldn’t meet my gaze again.
“Sweetheart. You can tell me anything.”
Derrick exhaled. “It was a week ago. Miles and I got into a fight. Something really stupid about one of us forgetting to return a movie. I looked at him and said, I don’t give a shit. If you care so much about the fines, go return the movie yourself. And he got the weirdest look on his face. Then he left, got into the car, and returned the movie. He came back twenty minutes later, got into bed, and didn’t say a word about it the next day.”
“I think that’s called being a good boyfriend.”
He shook his head. “No. I know his face. I know his expressions. I can tell when he’s being sweet, or when he’s trying to stop an argument, or when he’s just humoring me. But this was different.” I could feel his hand trembling slightly under mine. “Tess, when I said Go return it yourself, it was like I gave him a command. One minute he was mad at me, and the next, his expression was just blank. It was like I watched the personality drain out of his eyes, and all that was left was obedience. He did it because I ordered him to.”
I frowned. “Were you using a control tone? I thought that only worked on normates and younger people. Miles would be less susceptible to it.”
“That’s the thing. I wasn’t. I didn’t channel any power. It was completely effortless. I told him to do something, and he did it. I feel like if I’d told him to smash his fist through the window, he would have done that, too.”
“But you didn’t. And I’m not sure you should get so worked up about convincing your boyfriend to return a movie. Even if you did slip in a bit of control tone, maybe it was by accident. Maybe he was already thinking of doing it, and you just kind of nudged him a little further. But I doubt it was coercion.”
“I’m not so sure.” He shook his head. “I don’t want it to happen again. I don’t ever want to control his mind, even for something so little and stupid.”
“You just have to be careful.”
“But I didn’t even know it was happening. How can I keep myself from doing it again? And who’s to say that the next time won’t be worse?”
“You can’t drive yourself crazy worrying about it. Just count to ten when you feel like you’re about to freak out.”
“It’s not enough.”
“There’s nothing else you can do. And if you break up with him just to save him from a future of possible mind control, you aren’t being ethical. You’re just being an idiot. The only difference between your mind control and mine is that I have to work harder at it. And usually mine involves a bribe. But couples have been doing the same thing for centuries.”
“You know it’s not the same.”
“Of course. But do you really want to beat yourself up every time the guy decides to do something nice for you? We can’t always blame the occult world for our relationship disasters.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“What—like you’re going to vaporize his brain while he’s sleeping? I don’t think your power works that way. You’re not a zombie or a neural parasite. The worst you could do is accidentally give him a migraine.”
“I don’t know.” He blinked. “I wish I could be so sure.”
“Do you honestly feel dangerous? Because I live with you, and no offense, but I think even Mia outweighs you.”
“I don’t feel dangerous. I just feel—”
“Strange?”
“Yeah. All the time. And it’s only getting worse.”
“I’m sorry to say this, babe. But that’s just who we are.”
“You don’t think we’ll ever feel normal?”
“Not unless we move to an asylum.”
“That might actually be nice.”
“Are you kidding? It would be great. Three square meals a day, no rent, and all the Jell-O you could ever want.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “Dream with me. No demons. No on-call shifts. No ectoplasm on our shoes.”
“No more broken bones.”
“No more bosses.”
“No more training exercises.”
“No more lying to the outside world.”
“No more outside world.”
“Yeah. We’d be totally sheltered.”
“We wouldn’t even have to read the paper or check our e-mail.”
“We could do puzzles. Make collages.”
“Mmm. With Elmer’s Glue.”
“Absolutely.”
“And listen to books on tape. I could finally read Proust.”
“I would only read Vanity Fair. But I’d cut out all the pictures of the skinny models, and then you could make papier-mâché effigies out of them.”
“That sounds nice.”
“And three times a week, Lucian and Miles would come visit us. They’d sneak in some alcohol, in a hidden flask maybe, and then read us the paper, but only the nice bits. Nothing about murders or lost animals.”
“Actually . . .” Derrick chuckled. “Speaking of the normate news, we should probably watch it. I’d like to see exactly how Selena was able to spin what happened at the morgue. Can you switch on the TV for a second?”
“
Sure. But only for a minute. Then we’re watching cartoons.”
“Don’t you have to be at work soon?”
“Meh. I’ve got time for an episode of Dora, especially if it’s fast-paced.”
I grabbed the remote and flipped to the local news channel. A VPD officer was being interviewed by the media. He looked exhausted.
“This is an ongoing investigation,” he was saying. “All we can disclose at the moment is that, last night, at approximately four a.m., a group of individuals broke into the Chief Coroner’s Office. Once inside, they did significant damage to the autopsy suite and stole a cadaver.”
My breath caught.
“Were there any witnesses?” a reporter asked.
“The forensic pathologist on duty last night is currently being held for questioning. We’re not certain of his involvement in the commission of this crime, but we’ve not yet eliminated him as a suspect.”
“Can you tell us the identity of the body that was stolen?”
“Not at this time, no.”
“And is there any possible motive for stealing this particular body?”
“None that we know of yet. But we’re investigating this closely.”
I stared at Derrick, my mouth still open.
“Let’s hide,” he said.
6
Sometime during the night, the Kentauros demon had been moved to our special interrogation unit in the basement. I wasn’t sure how Selena had done it, but something told me that I didn’t want to know. There wasn’t an opioid on the planet strong enough to knock out a pureblood. Pure heroin only made them more efficient.
I met Selena at the elevator doors. She looked drawn. Her expression barely changed when I produced a second coffee. She just took the cup numbly.
“You’ve been up all night.”
“Can you tell? My head feels like a broken toaster.”
“What broke the toaster? Was it Texas Toast? I always burn it.”
She drank some of the coffee. “You saw the news?”
“Derrick and I watched it from the clinic.”
“This is a first-rate shit show.”
“I can only imagine. Where do you need me? Derrick’s going to be on his back for at least the next few days, but I gave him permission to Skype in from time to time. As long as it’s not during a knife fight.”
