by Julie Kenner
I thought about that, and hoped he was right.
“What about the safe-deposit box?“ he asked.
“What about it? There was only the one piece of paper in it.”
“Are you sure Eric didn’t have another one?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. The fact that he had one at all was enough of a shock.”
“You were named on it, right?”
“Right. I don’t remember signing for it, but I must have.”
“So maybe he also had one all by his little lonesome.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That Eric had a secret bank box that we both could access was one thing. That he’d had one entirely separate from me—a box that existed essentially outside our marriage, meant to hold his secrets—well, that was another thing altogether.
I thought about what Laura had said about cheating, about how she could never forgive Paul. Eric hadn’t done that, at least not that I knew. But I hated this feeling—as if I’d lost a level of intimacy with my husband.
Even more, I hated the fact that a year ago I would have vehemently defended Eric against any claim that he was cheating on me. Now, my protests would still come but without quite the same amount of vigor.
“Why don’t I poke around for you?“ Cutter said.
I realized I was looking at my hands, and now I looked up, grateful for the support. I didn’t relish the idea of traipsing around town looking for a mysterious secret box that might or might not exist. If Cutter was willing to inquire for me, I was more than happy to let him.
“Thanks,“ I said, expecting him to tease me that payment for services rendered would be the revelation of my secrets. He didn’t, though, and I appreciated that. All in all, the man was a good friend. “Thanks,“ I repeated, this time going up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek.
“Oh, no you don’t,“ he said. “I can stand your tears once because your husband was killed. Tears because I did a nice thing? No way. You’ll completely burn me out on good deeds.”
I laughed, then sniffed. “No tears,“ I said. “Totally dry here.”
“Glad to hear it,“ he said. I started walking to the door, and he followed. “How’s Allie doing?”
“She’s good,“ I said. “I mean, after what happened ...”
I trailed off. Everyone in town knew what had happened at the museum. Cutter had called me the day the story hit the papers, then called Allie and sent her flowers and a stuffed bear dressed in a karate outfit.
“I was only—“ He cut himself off with a wave of his hand.
“What?“ I demanded, hearing more than just curiosity in his tone. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Cutter ...”
He sighed. “Dammit, Kate. I’m probably breaking a confidence here.”
“She’s my daughter and she’s fourteen. Screw confidence.”
“It’s just that she was already so ramped up about learning to defend herself. Before what happened, I mean. Private lessons. Extra sessions. The works.”
“And?“ I prompted. That much, at least, was old news.
“So Christmas Eve, she calls me. Tells me that this semester she wants to step it up even more. Get in more practice, really kick it up a notch.”
I nodded, trying to look unconcerned, but with a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. “Did she say why?”
“Not specifically,“ he said.
I tried to shrug it off. “Well, it makes sense that she wants to be more prepared. After what happened, I mean.”
“True, but this seemed to be more than that.”
“What do you mean?“ I asked warily.
He shook his head. “Almost like she had an agenda. I don’t know. I’m not really sure. Honestly, that’s why I wasn’t even sure I should mention it to you.”
I sighed. It didn’t matter if Cutter was sure or not. I was.
My daughter was training to kick demon butt. And she was doing it without me.
Six
“Stone,“ David said, leaning against his desk and tapping a finger against his lower lip. “I don’t have a clue.“
“Damn,“ I said, leaning back against a giant periodic table of elements that had been affixed to an entire wall of David’s classroom. “I’d hoped—”
“That since the demons attacked me first that maybe the mention of a stone would jog my memory? Make me suddenly recall that I’d tangled with a badass demon named Andramelech?”
“Something like that,“ I admitted sheepishly.
He laughed. “Sorry, Katie. I don’t think this one’s going to be that easy.”
“No,“ I said dryly, “I’m beginning to get that impression.“
“I don’t like that a demon came to your house,“ he said, taking a step closer to me. He looked down at Timmy, who’d made himself comfortable on the floor. “The kids.”
I nodded, touched by his concern. “I know. I called the alarm company from the car. I’m going to have them come in and add a few more motion detectors and some of those automatic lights for the front and back yards. And I called the cops, too.”
“Really?”
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m hoping regular patrols by the cops will keep the demon population on edge.“ After the museum incident, the police knew us, and were happy to help keep my already traumatized daughter safe. Plus it didn’t hurt that my husband was running for county attorney, and happened to have garnered the law-enforcement vote.
“Katie ...“ His voice was soft, his eyes piercing, as if he could read every thought in my head.
There was an intimacy in the way he looked at me, in the way he called me Katie. And while I knew that I should run from it, I couldn’t. “What? What is it?”
He shook his head, and the expression faded, leaving me to wonder if I’d seen it in the first place.
On the floor in front of us, Timmy banged on the floor, then laughed wildly. He was using one of David’s red pencils to scribble a masterpiece on a sheet of lined notebook paper. “Look, Mommy!”
I bent down, happy for the distraction, then seriously contemplated his project. “Looks good, buddy,“ I said. “Is it a horsie?”
“Mom-my,“ he wailed. “It’s Thomas!”
“Thomas?“ David repeated.
“His train,“ I explained. Then I looked at the paper again, shifting a little so that I was coming at it from a different angle. ”Oh,“ I said enthusiastically. “Off to the side I couldn’t see it clearly. But now I can totally tell it’s a train. A really excellent train.”
He grinned, then held the paper out to me. “For you, Mommy.”
“Aww, thanks, sweetie. I love it.“ I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “And I love you, too. You’re being such a good boy.”
He was, too. I’d retrieved him from Fran’s apartment after leaving Cutter’s studio, and we’d come straight to the school. I’d come early on purpose, knowing that Allie would still be on the field for cheerleader practice. I felt a bit guilty, but I wanted to talk to David about this sudden flurry of demon activity. And I wanted to do it when Allie wasn’t around.
“Three demons,“ I said, getting back to business. “And no clear idea what they want. A stone, but what stone? And where is Andramelech being held? And why did the demon in your apartment let you live? For that matter, why go after me at all? I don’t have any stone.”
“True,“ he said. “Maybe Andramelech is trapped in a cathedral cornerstone or something.”
“Maybe even our cathedral,“ I added, liking the fact that we were at least exploring a few ideas. “Or maybe the stone is part of a ritual.”
“Like a rune, you mean? A bloodstone that has to be placed perfectly when the moon is high.”
“And then the demons dance naked around it and sacrifice a virgin?“ I added.
“Something like that,“ he said. “It’s a good theory.”
“But it’s only a theory. And unless we k
now what kind of stone we’re talking about, it’s a useless theory.”
“A relic of some sort?”
“Possibly,“ I said. There was certainly precedent for that. Relics—like the bones of saints—are often desecrated by demons as part of some malevolent ritual.
“Father Ben’s probably thought of it, but you should mention it again, just in case.”
“I will,“ I said. “And as much as I hate the idea, I’ll take a look through the donation inventory the committee’s been putting together. I should put in a few hours this week anyway.“ The donation boxes were musty and smelly and I’d run across more than one determined bug, so this wasn’t a project I was looking forward to.
I pressed my fingers to my temples and closed my eyes, wishing there were an easy answer. “The problem is that we have too many possibilities and no way to know which one is right,“ I said. “What we really need is Nadia Aiken.”
“Who?”
“A Hunter Father Ben told me about,“ I said.
“And her name was Aiken?”
“Right. Why?“ His forehead was lined with concentration. ”David? What is it?”
“There’s something familiar about that name,“ he said. ”But I can’t place it. Damn.“ He shook his head, like a dog shaking off fleas. “Go on. What about her?”
“Is it related?“ I asked, latching onto the Aiken thing. ”Something to do with a stone? With Andramelech?”
“I told you I don’t remember,“ he said. “But I can’t imagine that it would be. I’ve never heard of Andramelech, and I can’t recall any mission I’ve worked on that involved a stone.”
“The Hunter herself? Father Ben said she was hunting Andramelech, then disappeared about five years ago. Have you met her?”
He shook his head slowly. “I suppose I could have, but ... No,“ he finally decided. “That doesn’t feel right.”
“Damn.”
“It’ll come to me.”
“Maybe she went rogue, too, and your paths crossed?”
“Dammit, Kate, I already told you I don’t remember.”
“Fine,“ I said, holding my hands up in surrender. I knew I’d been pushing, but David’s vague memory was the only lead we had. Which, considering it wasn’t a lead at all, was pretty pathetic.
Near my feet, Timmy started banging his red pencil on the ground, gleefully shouting, “Dammit, Kate! Dammit, Mommy!”
David sighed. “I’m sorry.”
I shot him a frown, then bent down to distract Timmy. That was the key in these situations. Telling him no would only burn the forbidden words into his brain.
“Okay,“ I said, sitting cross-legged by my son, who immediately started rolling the red pencil over the floor. “So the Aiken connection isn’t going anywhere ...”
“That’s because there is no Aiken connection.”
“—so that leaves Father Ben,“ I finished. Beside me, Timmy had climbed to his feet and was chasing the pencil, then kicking it when he got close. The game was proving most entertaining, and he was belly laughing as he scrambled after his exciting new toy.
“And patrols,“ David added. “As determined as these demons are, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few more of the freshly made critters running around San Diablo.”
“Tonight,“ I said, agreeing. “We’ll watch the news and go tonight.”
“Allie, Mommy!“ Tim hollered. I turned to find him halfway in the hallway, the red pencil at his feet.
“Come on back in the room, sweetie,“ I said, looking at my watch. “And I haven’t forgotten about your sister. She’s not due for another twenty minutes.”
“She’s early,“ my daughter said, sidling in to the doorway. She aimed a hard look at both me and David, then leaned against the frame, her arms crossed over her chest. ”So, like, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”
My heart skipped a beat, and I glanced over at David.
He held his hands up. “I think that’s my cue to exit,“ he said.
“Chicken,“ I countered.
His smile reached all the way to his eyes. “You’re the parent here.”
That I was.
“Come on, Tim,“ David said. “We can play race in the hallway.”
That got my little boy’s attention, and he toddled after David, giving his sister a happy wave, which she completely ignored.
“Well?“ she demanded, her tone an exact duplicate of the one I use when trying to cajole my daughter into explaining some particular bit of misbehavior.
“Shut the door,“ I said. “We should talk.”
From her expression, I expected a snarky response. But apparently my fourteen-year-old was growing up, because she reined it in, then gently shut the door. It was the gently part that really impressed me.
“So, what’s the deal?“ she asked. “You told me the thing at the museum was a onetime thing, and that—”
“David was attacked at the beach Saturday night and then again at his apartment. And I was attacked this morning. In our backyard.”
“Holy shit!“ She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I mean, no kidding?”
“No kidding,“ I said.
“So, like, you guys are going to go out tonight and try to find who did it? Is that the deal?”
I almost said yes. It would be so easy. I could simply say that this was another unusual, off-the-cuff, never-gonna-be-repeated incident.
But while the words might come easily, the lie itself wouldn’t. Not anymore.
It was time to tell Allie the truth, consequences be damned.
“That’s the deal,“ I said. “But it’s not the entire deal.”
Her brow furrowed, and I could see the wheels turning. ”You never really stopped, did you? You and Daddy had a whole secret thing going, and I never even knew! God, Mom!”
“No!“ I said, wanting to stop her tirade before it got started. “No.”
She stood there sullenly, waiting for me to go on.
“We did retire. And I was happily retired for years. I loved my life with your dad. No demons. Just us. The three of us. And no monsters sneaking in around the edges to shake things up. Even after Daddy died,“ I added. ”Even then, we were just living our life, you and me. Remember?”
“I remember. But?“ She still sounded surly, but the curiosity was winning.
“But then something happened last summer. And, yeah, I kind of came out of retirement.”
“Last summer?“ she repeated. And I knew she was thinking back to what had happened one summer day. Danger to her and her brother, and my own terrifying fear.
That day had to make more sense to her now. If demons ever really made sense, that is.
“So, like, you’ve been doing this demon-hunting thing for four months?”
“About that,“ I said.
“You lied to me.“ Her voice was small, the hurt unmistakable.
“Parents have to make decisions every day, Allie. I’m not sure if I made the right one, keeping it from you back then. And I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing now by telling you. All I can do is stumble through, and hope you know that no matter what, I love you more than anything.”
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she slid into one of the student chairs and put her head down on the little desk.
“Al?”
Nothing.
“Al?”
“What?“ came the muffled reply.
“Do you understand?”
She looked up at me. “I asked you point-blank, and you lied.”
I moved closer and put my hand on her shoulder. She immediately jerked away. I grimaced and tried again. “You’re absolutely right,“ I said. “One hundred percent, on the nose right.”
That worked. Or, at least, it worked a little, because she lifted her head and peered at me suspiciously. “Go on.”
“You were so scared that day,“ I said, stumbling over my words. “I wanted to keep you safe, your body and your heart. I wanted you to feel safe, to forget
about what happened and not be haunted by it.”
“So you lied.”
I drew in a breath. “Yes, Allie, I did. And I’d probably do it again, too. I truly believed I was doing the right thing.”
She cocked her head. “But ...”
“But I knew I couldn’t keep the truth from you forever. For one thing, you have a right to know. And for another ...“ I trailed off, tilting my head back to look at the ceiling, as if drawing strength from above. “When I learned that your dad had rejoined Forza without telling me, it hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. And I realized how much it would hurt you to learn that I’d been keeping secrets, too.”
She shoved her tongue into the corner of her cheek, but didn’t say anything.
“That’s why I wanted to tell you, Al.”
“You didn’t tell me,“ she countered. “I walked in on you. Or had you forgotten?”
“Watch the tone, Allie,“ I said. “This may be an argument, but I’m still your mother.”
A beat, then she slumped down again. “Whatever.”
I almost called her on it, but the snide tone had disappeared. And, honestly, I could understand her irritation.
“I was going to tell you,“ I promised. “I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely sure when or how. But I really did have the intention. You just forced the issue.”
Another sullen stare.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,“ I said.
The blood seemed to drain from her face, and I realized too late that was the absolute worst thing I could have said.
“I’m not going to die,“ I said. “I promise.“ Which was a ridiculous pledge, but one I fully intended to keep. Thankfully, my daughter didn’t call me on it.
“So, like, what? You and Mr. Long are going to walk around town looking for creepy guys?”
“Something like that,“ I admitted. “Although simply being creepy won’t cut it. There are a lot of creepy folks who aren’t demons.”
She slid out of the chair and walked to the window, then stood there, staring out at the side of the building where the school buses were pulling in to pick up the kids from extracurricular activities. I watched her in silence, not wanting to press, knowing that I was doing the parental version of walking on glass.
