by Julie Kenner
From the front of the house, we heard Stuart’s car pull into the driveway. “Are you going to tell him?”
I shook my head. Laura’s lips pursed together in disapproval, but she had the good grace not to say anything. Instead, she passed me my son, who clung like a monkey, giggling and laughing. Then she headed inside, returning a moment later with her purse and Stuart at her heels.
“So, anyway,” she said, sounding almost bored. “Come over after you patrol tonight and you can borrow those knitting needles.” As I gaped in confusion, she waved a hand. “Hi and bye, Stuart,” she said. “I’m out of here.”
“Knitting needles?” Stuart asked, heading back inside. I followed him, even as I fished madly for an explanation to Laura’s completely unexplainable excuse to get me to her house later for a full debriefing. Considering we saw each other regularly for absolutely no reason at all, saddling me with such a lame lie was really bad form. It would, of course, cost her.
“Laura used to knit,” I explained lamely.
“And you’re going to start?”
“Weapons,” I blurted. Then I thought about it, and since that wasn’t such a bad idea, I repeated myself. “Weapons,” I said firmly.
“Uh-huh,” said my clever husband, not in the least convinced. “I’ve seen the armory you keep in the attic. You want to explain why we’re adding knitting needles to the arsenal?”
“We’re hunting with knitting needles?” Allie asked, coming down the stairs with a yellow pad covered with scribbled notes. “Why?”
Stuart pointed at her, as if she’d justified his very existence. “Thank you. See?”
“What do you mean ‘see?’ I never denied they were an unusual weapon. And I also never said they were for here.”
Allie and Stuart exchanged glances, and I used that few seconds to rack my brain for a more detailed lie and curse my best friend, not necessarily in that order.
“Not for here. For the mansion.”
“We’re going to knit at the mansion?” Allie asked. “What? In front of the fire?”
“Very funny. We’ll keep them there. In a basket or something. With yarn. And other knitting accoutrements.”
“Because?” Stuart prompted.
“Because a basket full of stilettos and daggers and holy water might make Bernie curious.”
That clicked with him, and I saw when understanding filled his eyes, followed by a slight curve to his lips I didn’t quite understand. “What?”
“I’m just wondering what you’re going to do when Lila asks you what you’re knitting.”
“Lila?”
“Bernie’s wife. I’m sure she’ll come over once or twice. And Kate, darling,” he added, “I’ve seen the afghans she knits.”
I frowned, but Allie collapsed on the couch in peals of laughter. “No worries,” I said. “I’ll tell her it’s Allie’s hobby.” A neat little trick that not only saved me from learning a new skill, but had my daughter remembering just who was the mom in this family.
“No fair!”
“Nope,” I agreed. “Not fair at all. And speaking of not fair,” I added with a nod to her little brother, “could you go give him a bath before dinner?”
“You’re gonna bathe him before dinner?” she asked.
“No,” I said calmly. “You are.”
She shot a glance toward Stuart and—thankfully—cut off further argument. Most likely, she assumed I was going to tell Stuart about the demon in the backyard. But the truth was I wanted to talk about much more mundane things. Grown-up things. Normal family things.
And I wanted the time alone with my husband.
As she headed up the stairs I made a mental note to catch her before she came down again. I needed her to stay mum on the backyard demon. For now, at least, I was tangling my daughter in my web of lies. And the truth? I’d been living with lies for so many years that that indiscretion caused me no guilt, only the slight twinge of fear that one day Allie, too, would be able to lie like a pro. Even to me.
I closed my eyes against the image, simultaneously proud of my daughter for what she was taking on, and horrified by what I was getting her into.
Stuart tapped my elbow, and I opened my eyes to find a glass of red wine in front of me. “Life saver,” I said.
“Rough day?”
“Class,” I said. “The women. Some of them just get to me.”
“Too dainty?”
I couldn’t help the laugh. “No. Nothing like that.” I saw the curiosity on his face, and knew he was about to ask the details of my day. I waved it away. “I don’t even want to talk about it. Tell me about your day. You’re the one who probably really needs the wine.”
“The parting was surprisingly amicable,” Stuart said, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
I took a sip of wine. “Really?”
“Amicable, but unavoidable.”
I searched his face, looking for regrets and second thoughts. I found none, but still wasn’t soothed. There was no doubt he’d done this for me—for us—and I loved him all the more for it. The guilt, however, weighed on me. “You’re okay?” I asked.
He nodded, then reached out his hand for me and settled me on his lap. “I’m fine. I wanted this, remember?”
“You wanted the county attorney job,” I reminded him.
He nodded. “Do you remember why?”
“So you could be a big-shot political lawyer dude?”
He chuckled. “That was my primary goal, yes. After that, I wanted to help. To make a difference.” He stroked the pad of his thumb down my cheek. “I think I can make a difference helping you, too.”
“All right,” I said, still not completely convinced he was cool with this change in circumstances. “But you’re sure you’re okay?”
This time, he outright laughed. “I’m good, Kate. Really. And now I have more time for the things that are really important to me.” With a low growl, he bent me back and started nibbling on my neck. “Like remodeling the mansion,” he murmured.
I sat up and smacked him. “Thanks a lot. I know where I rank.”
“At the top, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes seeing only me. “Always.”
I started to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and it wasn’t because of the wine. I shifted on his lap, sighed when his arms tightened around me, and leaned in close. “Does the top include health benefits?” I asked, my sexy murmur mimicking his earlier one.
As I’d hoped, he laughed. But he also nodded, which surprised me. I sat up straighter and stared him down. “Really?”
“It’s me, Kate. I’m not going to do something stupid that leaves my family unprotected.”
“Oh.” I frowned, trying to figure this out. “So what did you do?”
“I’m of counsel for Pete Tomlinson’s firm. Real estate transactions, handling enough hours to ensure benefits, but not so many I can’t work with Bernie. And fight a few demons.”
“You’ve been busy.” Apparently I wasn’t the only one in the family who kept secrets. First the house speculation, which I’d known was out there as a vague “maybe someday” kind of thing, but had never imagined that he’d been working to bring “someday” into this year, much less this month. Now I find out he’s been wheeling and dealing to land soft at a new job. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered he was so meticulous about not upsetting our household bottom line, or frustrated because he hadn’t let me in on his plans.
In the interest of self-preservation and fairness, I went with flattered.
“Pete knows it may be a temporary position, too. So if the development company takes off, there won’t be any hard feelings when I quit to jump in with Bernie full-time.”
“I’m really impressed.”
“It gets better. He’s actually thinking of investing.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Not kidding, but it’s not definitive. He knows real estate’s a tricky investment in this market, and although he knows me, he doesn’t know Bernie.”
“Bernie’s a great guy,” I said, thinking of the teddy bear of a man who’d been friends with Stuart for years. “Take the two of them out to dinner, serve margaritas, and then sit back and let the investment checks roll in.”
He leaned forward and kissed me on the nose. “I’m so glad you said that.”
I looked at him, not sure I liked his tone of voice. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” he said, but he said it a little too casually, and he appeared to be examining the ceiling closely instead of looking at my face.
I slid off his lap and stood facing him, my legs about shoulder distance apart, my hands loose and ready. I was, I realized, in fighting stance.
Flustered, I stepped back and tried to relax. “What?” I demanded. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I told you.” He got up and went to the counter to pour himself a fresh glass of wine. “I just invited Bernie and Pete over tomorrow night.”
That did sound like nothing, which meant I was missing something, or Stuart was holding out on me. “And?”
“And their wives,” he said, almost sheepishly. “Nothing fancy, though. Just cocktails. Snacks. That kind of thing.”
“Are you completely insane?” I asked, my left arm going immediately out to my side to point toward the living room. “Have you seen the state of our house? And I haven’t cleaned the guest bathroom in over a week, and Timmy’s been using it regularly, so if you think—”
“I’ll clean the bathroom,” he said, far too reasonably.
“Damn right you will,” I muttered.
“And the rest of the house,” he added. “I’ve got tonight and tomorrow. It’s no big deal. Really.”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking about demons lurking in the bushes. “It is.”
“Why?”
“Because . . .” I sucked in a breath, frustrated that I’d walked into that one. “Because you don’t just go and foist cocktail parties on people. I mean, it made sense when you were running for office, but you’re not anymore, and you didn’t even think to call? Maybe I have plans tomorrow night.”
“Do you?”
“That’s not the point!” His lips quivered, which really wasn’t the way to get on my good side. I poked him in the chest to accent my ill temper. “And why do we have to have this shindig here? What’s wrong with Bernie’s house?”
“I’m the connection between Pete and Bernie,” he said reasonably. “But if you don’t want to have guests over, I’ll work something out.”
I closed my eyes, wallowing in guilt.
“Dammit, Kate. What’s wrong?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Honest. Bad day. Grumpy mood. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” Chances were good the demon wouldn’t come back, right? And I could always make sure Allie and Eddie were paying attention while I socialized.
“Be fine?” he repeated, his voice rising with speculation. “And you don’t want guests? What aren’t you telling me, Kate?”
I started to deny it, but didn’t. My husband wasn’t an attorney for nothing. “This just isn’t the best time to have people over, okay?”
“Not okay,” he said. “Not until you tell me why.”
“Fine. All right. Okay. A demon showed up. Yesterday, before you got here. And today. At Cutter’s.” I cringed a little and waited for the explosion. Instead, I got icy calm.
“And you were going to tell me this when?”
“I was,” I promised. “I swear. But yesterday we were so focused on David that I honestly didn’t think about it, and when I realized I hadn’t told you, I wanted to wait until I had some answers.”
“You didn’t think I might want to help you find those answers?” Still flat. Still ice.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing I deserved the dressing down and wishing he’d raise his voice. Anger, I could battle. This calm unnerved me. “I didn’t think.”
“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”
He drew in a long breath, then put his wine down so that he could rub his temples. “I stayed, Kate. I stayed because I love you. Because I want to make our life work, no matter how surreal it might be.” He met my eyes, his firm and demanding. “You shut me out once. Now that I know the truth, don’t think you can do it again.”
I swallowed and nodded. As dressing downs went, that one was relatively painless.
He kissed my cheek. “We’ll make blintzes,” he said. “We’ll do it together tomorrow afternoon. It’ll be fun.”
I looked up at him, this man who was using the words “blintz” and “fun” in the same sentence, and all I could think was that even after all my deep confessions, he still didn’t know me at all.
“You should have called me, Kate,” Eric said, his tone harsh and clipped, anger hiding hurt. “A woman and a demon child approach you, practically befriend you, and then try to kill you? I think that warrants a call.”
“Eric—”
“Don’t even say it. I’m at your side until this goes down, and right now, I’m still me. And I intend to do whatever the hell is necessary to stay that way.” He turned and met me dead-on. “I’m not losing, Katie. I fought for this body, and I’m damn well staying.”
I nodded, though his words sent ripples of worry down my spine. He’d fought for the body. Because the body wasn’t his. And someone else wanted to take control now. Someone who just might end up having a hell of a lot more strength than Eric. Literally.
“Goddamn it,” he said, to no one in particular.
“I wasn’t trying to shield you,” I said. “And you’re the one who said you weren’t my partner. Remember?”
A hint of a frown touched his lips. He’d come back from a debriefing at Forza without having signed back on as a Hunter. At the time, I’d wondered why. Now, of course, I knew the reason. Equal Opportunity Employer or not, Forza wasn’t inclined to have a demon on the payroll. Even a dormant one.
“They had you on before,” I murmured, opening the door for Eric to tell me the full story. The story he’d kept from me during our years as partners, our years as lovers.
He said nothing though, just picked up the pace, his eyes searching the dark.
I cursed under my breath and sped up. This night wasn’t ending until we’d talked, he and I. But I could wait. I didn’t like it, but I daily counseled my little boy on the virtue of patience. Far be it for me to make a hypocrite of myself.
We were a few blocks away from the Old Town shopping area, just off Main Street, on a street lined with wooden-frame bungalows with cheerful gardens and brightly painted front porches. We both knew the neighborhood well, as we were only one street over from the house we’d moved into a few months before Allie was born. We’d spent countless hours walking these streets, pushing a stroller and talking about nothing. Nothing and everything. And never—well hardly ever—talking about demons. Instead we’d planned Allie’s future. We’d pondered the possibility of getting a dog. And we’d had long, involved discussions about what color we should paint the living room.
I’d thought we were so normal, like we’d climbed over some wall and left it all behind.
Obviously, I’d been wrong.
But we weren’t here tonight to reminisce. Instead, we were looking for a mother and her son. Two demons that I wanted to have a few words with. And then, yes, I wanted to drive stakes through their eyeballs.
Sometimes, it’s the simple things in life . . .
Stuart had wanted to come, had wanted to confront the woman and child who’d attacked his wife and baby. But as he hadn’t yet joined me on regular patrols, there was no way I would agree to walk him into what I truly hoped would turn into a combat situation. He wasn’t happy, but he’d agreed, and I had to wonder how many such arguments we’d have in the future, and if I’d ever be comfortable hunting with him the way I’d always been comfortable hunting with Eric.
“This is it,” Eric said, nodding at a pale blue house with a six-foot privacy fence. We were in the alley behind the house, and
I climbed up onto a recycle bin to peer inside.
“Dark,” I said. “Probably rabbited.”
“They’re probably crashed in a motel somewhere. We can check the flops along the highway after we patrol here.”
I nodded vaguely, then hopped off the bin and tried the back gate. Open.
“Come on,” I said as I pushed inside and moved slowly to the back door. It wasn’t locked either, and we went in carefully, falling easily back into old rhythms as we checked the house, covering each other as we made sure the structure was secure.
“They’re not here,” he said when we’d circled back to the living room. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I said. I wanted to take a look around. If they’d been living in the house for two weeks, it was possible they’d left something behind that could help us. Information about the She-Demon, or possibly even a forwarding address. You never knew. Demons, like humans, got sloppy. And the longer a demon lived in a human shell, the more human it became.
Without warning, I thought of Eric, wondering if the demon inside him had been humanized. And, too, wondering if Eric’s humanity would come through should the worst happen.
But no. The worst wasn’t going to happen. Not on my watch. Not if there was anything that I could do to prevent it.
“What are you thinking?” he said, his eyes fixed on me.
I considered dodging the question, but that wouldn’t help either of us. Instead, I faced it head on. “I need to know, Eric,” I said. “Everything that happened to you. I deserve the whole story. I can’t help you—not really—unless I know everything.”
“What do you know?” he asked, so calmly that I had to clench my hands into fists to keep from lashing out at him. Because what little I did know hadn’t come from him. I’d had to hunt it down on my own, pry it from other people, while the man I’d once loved with all my heart and soul stayed as quiet on the subject as he’d always been.
“I know what Father Corletti’s told me,” I said. “About how it’s been inside you all along. And about how the Cardinal Fire unbound it. The later stuff, mostly. The early stuff—like how the demon came to be inside you—he said that’s for you alone to tell me.” I drew in a breath. “It’s time, Eric. Tell me what I need to know to help you.”
