“Half fully loaded—that’d be for me—and half girlie vegetables and ground beef for you.”
The kind they’d always split. He’d described it just as he used to. Mel lowered her eyes hastily and swallowed to clear her throat. “That sounds great.”
He tugged the tape gently out of her hands. “Car’s unlocked. The food’s in the backseat.”
“Okay. I’ll leave the front door cracked.”
“You do plan to keep it bolted otherwise, though.”
His tone walked the line between a question and an order. Mel started to snap back at him but caught worry in his eyes before he hid it with a bland look.
“Of course I will. I know all about crimes of opportunity, Stefan.”
“Right,” he agreed. “What should I to do with this when I finish?”
“Pitch it in the trash. They won’t reuse it, even on a tight county budget.”
She snagged the pizza and a six-pack of bottled beer from his car. The pizza box lid read THE BAR, 75 CALHOUN STREET, WAYFARER, GA. GOOD FOOD FOR GOOD TIMES. The beer carton bore a picture of a tumbledown, wooden building by a creek and the words BAR BREW. JUST PLAIN GOOD. Interesting. And the pizza smelled great.
Setting her burdens down in the kitchen, she spotted a cake carrier. The shadowy shape visible through the frosted plastic dome lid looked like an entire cake. Reluctantly, she unsnapped the latches and lifted the lid.
The rich scent of chocolate filled the air. The cake hadn’t been cut. Cinda must’ve made it for Mel’s visit.
Sudden tears stung her eyes, and her throat burned. Behind the cake, hidden from view until now, sat two dessert plates and demitasse cups with matching saucers. The dusty rose pattern was familiar, the one Cinda had always used when Mel visited her.
Mel’s hands shook. Drawing a rough breath, she clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t break down. Not with Stefan here.
“Mel, I put—what’s wrong?”
His footsteps came closer, into the kitchen. “Mel?”
He was standing at her side. If she looked at him, she would disintegrate, and she had no right to do that to him.
Mel gulped air. “I—You know, the pizza was…thoughtful, but I…I’m not good company.”
“I don’t mind,” he said quietly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands clench and slide into his pockets. To keep from touching her, no doubt. She longed to lean on him, but that wouldn’t be right.
“You should…probably go,” she managed, though her throat was closing.
“I can’t leave you alone when you’re upset.” He paused, and his tone softened. “Unless you’d really rather be alone.”
Mute, she nodded. Her lips quivered. A tear squeezed from behind her eyelids, the first drop of a flood she couldn’t hold back much longer. She angled her head to keep him from seeing.
He had to go before the tiny shreds of control she still possessed fractured and she embarrassed them both by collapsing into him.
“Mel, look at me.” When she shook her head, he added, “Please.”
She’d always had a hard time resisting him. She glanced up into his tender eyes. As she’d feared, a sob broke free. Tears spilled over.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Stefan reached for her.
The endearment jolted her, warming her, but somewhere deep inside, Mel found the grit to step back. “I can’t,” she choked. “Not fair…to you.”
“I’ll decide what’s fair to me.” Gently, he tipped up her chin. When his arm slid around her waist, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him, taking the warmth and support he offered. “We said it was mostly good, right? So I’m offering you a shoulder.”
When he put it like that…With a gasp, she locked her arms around his waist. The tears overflowed, and the sobs broke loose.
He said nothing, merely tightened his grip and stroked her back. While she wept into his shirt collar, he pressed his cheek against her hair.
Mel hated crying in front of people, despised letting her emotions show. But in Stefan’s arms, she felt safe, as though his embrace were a barrier guarding her from the rest of the world.
* * *
After several minutes, Mel’s sobs quieted, but that didn’t make them any less painful for Stefan to hear. She’d probably been pushing her feelings down to focus on the job. Seeing the inside of Cinda’s tidy little house must’ve been more than she could stand.
Walking away, leaving her in such distress, was not an option. Her trusting him this way was no small thing. She’d always tried to be Ms. Perfect, always in control. A childhood of being bullied by her peers and pushed by her parents had left its mark. Now that he thought about it, she’d seemed to think she had to prove herself to be accepted.
The sobs had stopped, but small tremors ran through her. Beyond Mel stood an intact chocolate cake, uncovered, probably made for her visit. That must’ve set this off.
Pressing a kiss into her sleek hair, he fought the longing to do more. If things were different, he’d pull her onto his lap on the sofa, find some old movie she liked on TV, and offer her comfort and consolation along with her pizza. Unless she wanted a different kind of distraction.
But things weren’t different, and he had no reason to think she would welcome his arms around her, even for comfort, when this storm of grief passed.
Yet he longed to have her turn to him for more than momentary support.
So be it, then. He had to lie too often to the rest of the world, so he made a point of being honest with himself. No matter how bad the odds were, no matter how big the obstacles, no matter how long it took to go through the Revelation Protocols, he wanted another chance with Mel.
Chapter 11
Heading back to Cinda’s from the grocery store after supper, Mel glanced over at Stefan. He drove the same way he did everything else, with competence and no showboating. Other men she’d known would’ve demonstrated a Beamer’s speed and their ability to handle it. Stefan didn’t seem to see the need.
Maybe because he’d never cared about being the best at everything as long as he was good at the things that mattered to him. He’d consistently ranked at the top of his med school class but had never made a big deal out of that, at least when they were together.
The police radio temporarily set up in his car crackled. Deena, the second shift dispatcher, said, “All units. We have a ten fourteen at 2301 Folkston Road.”
“Unit four responding,” said a man’s voice. That’d be Deputy Walt Thompson.
“That’s about a mile north of here,” Stefan said. His relaxed posture shifted to alert mode, his eyes narrowing.
Adrenaline pumped in Mel’s veins. “This prowler could be our guy. I should back Thompson up.”
“Roger that, four,” Deena’s voice interrupted. “Unit six will back you up.”
“They’ve got it covered.” Stefan spoke firmly, but he looked uneasy. “It might be nothing, and you’re not on duty.”
“If this is one of those purple-eyed, PCP-crazed lunatics, the deputies need all the help they can get.”
Stefan’s lips tightened. “Shit,” he muttered, pressing the gas. “Okay.”
Seconds ticked by. Then, “Shots fired at 2301 Folkston. Prowler is fleeing south. Matches the description of suspect wanted for murder and assault. All units, be on alert.”
Mel drew her Glock and racked the slide halfway, checking for the glint of brass that signaled a chambered round. She shoved the weapon back into her shoulder holster but left the retention strap undone to allow a faster draw. “Odd that gunshots would chase him off when they didn’t before.”
“Maybe it’s a copycat.”
The headlights struck the green sign for Folkston Road, and Stefan turned left.
“Dispatch, this is six. Sonofa—suspect ran into the road. My unit struck him. Suspect fled west on foot, but my vehicle’s damaged. Cannot pursue.”
Mel frowned. “Somebody can get hit by a speedi
ng patrol car, damage the vehicle enough to stop it, and then run away?”
“Dunno,” Stefan said. “We’re almost there.”
Why was she getting that off vibe from him again?
“Fuck!” He slammed on the brakes. Thrown forward against the shoulder harness, Mel whipped her gaze back to the road.
Instead of the deer she expected, a man ran onto the road, his gait unsteady but still fast.
Stefan reached into the backseat. “Stay here.”
Like hell. Mel jumped from the car. Leveling her weapon, she shouted, “FBI! Freeze!”
The man in the road roared, fists clenched. The headlights glinted on purple eyes shot with red, and a chill of déjà vu rocked Mel. She pushed it back. No time. “On the ground! Now.”
“Damn it, Mel.” Stefan was out of the car, coming around the front. Was that a sword in his hand? What the—
Purple Eyes charged. Drawing back his sword, Stefan stepped forward, into the line of fire.
Jolted by fear for him, Mel leaped to the side for a clear shot and fired twice. The bullets connected, rocked the guy back. He staggered, reeling away.
With the sword drawn back as though for a swing, Stefan had almost reached him.
“Stefan, no!” Visions of this hopped-up assailant knocking the blade aside and smashing Stefan’s head had Mel’s heart surging into her throat. She sidestepped again.
Before Stefan reached him, the man fell to his knees, then collapsed on his face.
“Stay back,” Stefan snapped.
“This is my job.” Keeping her weapon trained on the fallen suspect, Mel advanced on him. “What’s that stink?”
“Ammonia.” Stefan glared at her. “Stay back while I check him.”
“I’ll check him. You radio for backup and EMTs.”
In the headlights’ glare, the man’s skin seemed to be turning green. How was that possible? It must’ve been green already, the color not obvious until the light struck his face directly.
Stefan knelt and checked for a carotid pulse. Mel’s lips tightened. She would’ve yanked him back but didn’t want to pull his focus away from the possible threat.
“Dead,” he told her.
“A heart shot’ll do that. But it should’ve dropped him faster. Now can you please call for backup?”
Stefan rose, towering over her. “I told you to stay in the car.”
“I’m the one with the badge. You had no business endangering yourself. You were in my line of fire, you idiot.” Despite her best efforts, her voice shook and her lips trembled. “You could have been killed.”
He raised an eyebrow, and his face softened. “That bothers you.”
“Of course it does.” Their gazes locked, his warm and pleased. Heat rose in Mel’s cheeks, but her heart still hammered.
She drew a shaky breath. “You charged a dangerous suspect with a sword? What the hell were you thinking?”
“That your bullets would be ineffective.” His stern tone startled her. Stefan continued, “The last time we faced one of these guys, your bullets bounced off of him, remember?”
“And you thought a sword wouldn’t?” At least she sounded calm though she was still shaking, her heart still hammering with residual fear for him.
Stefan shrugged. “Cut the guy in half, and he goes down, no matter what he’s on. I wouldn’t pull a weapon I didn’t know how to use. Do you actually think I’m that reckless?”
When he put it that way…“No, but there wasn’t a lot of time to analyze that.”
“It would be nice if you assumed my competence, but I guess the sword is a bit unusual.”
“Why do you have one, anyway? Are you a reenactor?”
“No, I’ve trained in broadsword fighting.” His mouth pulled in a crooked grin. “I like it, and I’m good with it, I promise.”
Instead of using the car radio, he pulled the phone off his belt and made the call for backup.
Listening to him, Mel kept an eye on the suspect. The guy resembled the descriptions of Cinda’s assailant and Boone’s. He looked…familiar. A memory hovered at the fringe of her mind.
Where had Stefan gotten that sword, anyway? She hadn’t noticed it when they put the groceries in the backseat of the car and he hadn’t had time to open the trunk. Surely she would have seen it. And had it been…glowing?
Or had that odd shimmer merely been the reflection of the headlights?
Mel shivered. Swords didn’t glow.
Stefan stood with his feet spread, the phone in one hand and the long, heavy sword in his other hand with the blade’s flat side resting against his shoulder. She’d never thought of him as anything but a future, or actual, doctor, but his stance gave her a weird flash of another image, that of a warrior in his element.
The sword looked ordinary now. Maybe she’d imagined that glow?
Or maybe she should listen to what her gut was telling her, that there was more to Stefan’s energy manipulation than she wanted to admit.
* * *
Stefan didn’t like the way Mel was eying his sword. He’d had no choice but to grab it. He couldn’t let her charge that thing. But now she was curious. Maybe he should’ve given her some story about being a reenactor, but he’d already opened the subject of energy manipulation. It was surprising what could be explained away as Reiki to the uninitiated. And all else aside, he was sick of lying to her.
With the ambulance on its way, he also had a decision to make. An autopsy would reveal the ghoul was not human. Then Burton and his deputies would take a closer look at other odd events. Mages didn’t need their secrecy endangered right now, in the middle of an escalating war with superpowered ghouls and possibly Void demons.
He could let the EMTs take the body or he could blank Mel’s memory and say the guy escaped. Blanking her was the smart move, the simplest move.
Yet he couldn’t do that. Not to her, not unless her life was in danger. A short-term memory blank was safer than the selective memory destruction that had ruined Mack’s future, but any tinkering with the brain was dangerous.
Besides, he would have to leave her alone here, unconscious, while he translocated with that thing. He couldn’t do that, either, especially not with other such ghouls roaming the area.
But if Milledge autopsied a ghoul, he’d see the key differences between ghoul and Mundane physiology. Even someone as logical as the medical examiner might reluctantly conclude the thing was an alien. The Department of Defense would get involved. So would Homeland Security and probably a lot of other alphabet agencies. Wayfarer would become a UFO hot spot.
Stefan needed to dispose of the body, and the easiest way was to have it stolen from the hospital before Milledge arrived.
“I see three bullet wounds,” Mel noted. “I fired twice.”
“Maybe Deputy Thompson or the homeowner hit him. The dispatcher reported shots fired.”
“That’s probably it. Does his skin look green to you?” She started toward the ghoul.
Stefan thrust his arm out to keep her at bay. “Let’s leave that to Milledge.”
“I know better than to touch,” she reminded him. “But I want a closer look.”
Stefan shook his head. “MEs like to be the ones making discoveries. Let Milledge have his fun, Mel.”
She sighed. “Okay. It’s not like knowing tonight changes anything.” But she continued to frown at the ghoul, probably taking note of its appearance.
Why would bullets work on this superghoul when they didn’t on the other one? The thing looked to be about six four, with far more bulk than the average for its kind. It wasn’t the one he and Mel had fought at Wiley Boone’s, but it was the same type. Therefore, it should’ve been just as powerful.
Once he autopsied it, he would know more.
Mel turned to Stefan but didn’t take her eyes off the ghoul for more than a second. “So do you do a lot of sword fighting?”
“Some. This is a good blade, if you’d like to try it sometime.” Forged by mages in Toled
o, Spain, it was actually a top-grade weapon.
She frowned at him. “You stepped into my line of fire. I could’ve shot you, Stefan. You scared me half out of my mind.”
“You’re a crack shot and a good officer. I had faith in your skill and your reflexes.” And in his shields, but he couldn’t go there, not yet. But…Stefan narrowed his eyes at her. If he was considering another try with her, he had to move to the next step in the protocols, actual use of magic. Maybe a small test wouldn’t hurt. “Since you know about my energy manipulation, you might be interested to know I used it here. I gathered energy in the blade. It had more cutting power—”
Mel pinched the bridge of her nose. “This again?”
“It’s the truth.” He made the words firm, even forceful. “Again, not something I’d like spread around, but you might as well know.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
“I told you energy healing was like Reiki but more advanced. This is the same.” Out here, in the middle of nowhere, might not be a bad place to demonstrate.
Mel frowned, looking at the sword.
“I can prove it,” Stefan said.
Shaking her head, she turned to the fallen ghoul.
Damn it. But he’d known better than to think she would listen. He had to text Will, arrange to have Milledge delayed en route to the hospital and the body stolen. Will could snag Deke, the shire reeve, who would then summon deputy reeves to help grab the body. Considering the distance from the Collegium, they needed to start now to intercept Milledge before his arrival at the hospital. A mage could give him a flat tire or down a tree to block the road while others screened themselves to sneak into the hospital and steal the corpse.
Blue lights cut the darkness. A patrol car pulled up on the other side of the road, headlights illuminating the ghoul in stark detail.
Deputy Bill Willis stepped out of the cruiser. Eyes squinting in his wrinkled face, he walked up to the ghoul. Willis pushed his brown, deputy sheriff ball cap back on his head and whistled. “Well, damn, y’all. Looks like we got us a alien.”
“Don’t say that,” Mel ordered, “especially not where those National Investigator people can hear you. Besides, that’s not an alien. It’s just a weird guy in freaky makeup.”
Guardian (The Protectors Series) Page 14
