“What the hell have you done to your house?” Ryan demanded.
I stared at him then burst out laughing. This, at least, was the same old Ryan. Moody, mercurial, and charming. “Having some trouble?”
He glowered at me, but a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t get to your damn house! Did you do something to the wards? I have this overpowering urge to go run some errands first.” He peered at the house, and I had a feeling he was using his own othersight to check out the protections. Ryan had the ability to see and sense arcane power, though as far as he was aware he simply had limited skills that he’d inherited from his grandmother. Of course I knew his true skills were anything but limited, though I had to wonder why he’d been left with any power at all when his memories and abilities had been stripped from him. Maybe it’s impossible to completely shut it down, I mused. Maybe throttling his power down to idle was the only option.
“Yep, Eilahn tightened everything up and tweaked the aversions,” I said. Aversions were specialized protections that simply reduced or altered a person’s desire to cross a particular boundary. They could be overcome if a person had a stronger-than-usual will to get past them, but they effectively deterred most intruders. “Just keep your eyes on me as you drive up and don’t think about the house,” I told him.
He gave a curt nod then smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I said, probably more fervently than I meant to. Our eyes met, and for an instant I forgot about the cold and the drifting flakes.
Only for an instant, though, because another breeze swirled snow into my eyes. “Arggh! Yes, good to see you, but I’m freezing my ass off in this fucking snow. Just keep your eyes on me!” I retreated to the porch without waiting for a response, though his laugh followed me. He got back into his car and slowly drove toward me as I motioned him forward, feeling a little like the people who direct planes on runways.
As I watched, the tension in his face gradually cleared, and a few seconds later he stopped in front of the house and got out of his car.
“It won’t be so hard next time,” I told him. “The wards will figure out that you’re welcome here and should adjust.”
He trotted up the stairs to me. “Nice to know I’m welcome.”
“Well, how are you supposed to stalk me if you can’t get to the house?” I said with a wink. I yanked the door open and ducked inside, closing it as soon as he was all the way in. “Oh, and by the way, this weather sucks ass.”
He laughed. “I’ve been seeing far too much of this up north. I was really hoping to avoid snow down here.”
“So it’s your fault,” I retorted.
“Apparently so. By the way, that coat looks great on you.” He swept an approving gaze over me. “Is it new?”
“Bought it today,” I said, giving a spin to show it off before slipping said coat off. “Wearing it is the only thing that makes this weather even remotely worthwhile.”
“You look tough in it,” he said. “I figured you’d be wearing that god-awful Members Only jacket of yours.”
“Don’t make me regret letting you through the wards!” I warned. “That jacket has a special place in my heart.”
“It belongs in a special place in the eighties!” He laughed and pulled me into a hug, and I let myself relax into it. We were already back to our usual banter, the old patterns of behavior.
This can work if I just don’t think too much about it. Right? Because I couldn’t tell Ryan what I knew about him. Zack had made that clear. Ryan’s memories and abilities had been blocked for a reason and what little I’d been able to pry out of Zack had been enough to convince me that Ryan was safer not knowing.
But that didn’t mean I had to stop looking for the truth.
I pulled back, then punched him hard in the chest. “Why didn’t you call? Or text? Or email? Or anything?” I demanded.
He grimaced and made a show of rubbing his chest, but I knew that the flicker of pain I saw flash across his face had nothing to do with my punch. “I’m sorry. I’m a dick. I just.…” He faltered.
“Don’t do it again,” I said, relenting. “Okay?”
Relief shimmered in his eyes. “Okay. I promise.”
On impulse I gave him another hug, and this time I could feel that some of the tension had left him.
“Come on,” I said, turning to head down the hallway. “Eilahn said something earlier about a very late breakfast.”
“Do I dare eat her cooking?” he replied as he followed me. He knew Eilahn was a demon. He also knew the demons didn’t like him, though he said he had no idea why. For that matter, neither did I, other than that they called him a kiraknikahl, or oathbreaker. Though it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it probably had something to do with my theory that he was an exiled demonic lord.
“She knows you’re a friend and off-limits as far as any sort of permanent damage is concerned. I think the worst she might do is hock a loogie into your omelet,” I said as seriously as I could manage.
I snickered as I heard him groan. “You’re evil,” he muttered.
Eilahn was already at the kitchen counter and pouring batter onto a waffle iron. I had no doubt that she’d been completely aware of Ryan’s presence in the driveway and of our conversation in the foyer. I wasn’t at all surprised that she hadn’t allowed him inside the protections. She kept her hostility in check at my request, but it was definitely still there. And what the hell could a demonic lord do to deserve exile? I wondered for the millionth time. What oath did he break?
And how much of a fool was I being by continuing to associate with him? The lords were dangerous, and Ryan clearly had enemies. But I can’t simply abandon him, I thought with a touch of defiance. He’s still my friend, damn it. At least until I have a damn good reason to feel otherwise.
The syraza gave Ryan a slight nod as he entered the kitchen. “Good afternoon, Ryan,” she said, tone not quite chilly. “Will you be joining us for a late breakfast?”
He smiled broadly and plopped down at the table. “Why yes, I believe I shall, and thank you for the invite!”
“I did not invite you,” she replied before returning her attention to the waffle iron. I winced at the reply, but Ryan merely smiled wider. Great, it was going to be like this.
I headed toward the coffeemaker. Thankfully, she had also made coffee. “I didn’t know I had a waffle iron.”
“You did,” Eilahn replied with a slight smile. “It was at the back of one of your cabinets. Still in the box.”
I wasn’t terribly surprised. I went through phases where I was convinced I was going to learn how to cook, or at least learn how to make cool things like waffles or margaritas. Those phases usually passed quickly, and the related appliance ended up forgotten somewhere. In contrast, in the relatively short time she had been living with me, I’d discovered that Eilahn was an enthusiastic and skilled gourmet. I had no idea if she’d already possessed these skills, or if she picked them up while here, but I wasn’t about to complain. I’d never eaten so well in my life.
I need to figure out some way to give her an allowance or something. I almost asked her if she needed funds then stopped myself. This wasn’t something I wanted to get into with Ryan around.
I busied myself with getting my coffee the way I liked it and poured a mug for Ryan as well. Ryan knew who and what Eilahn was and knew about her role here as my protector. But I felt strangely protective toward her—which wasn’t logical in many ways, since she was the badass demon.
But the demons hate him for a reason. And even if he doesn’t remember or realize it, he’s pretty damn powerful. I couldn’t…wouldn’t risk Eilahn if I could at all help it. No matter how much I cared about Ryan.
I do care about Ryan, I told myself as I handed him his mug. He met my eyes and smiled as he took it from me, his fingers briefly brushing mine. I returned the smile but I couldn’t fight back the uncertainty. I care about Ryan…the Ryan I knew. Who the fuck i
s this?
I set my own coffee down on the table, then pulled the chair that faced the hallway out and around to exchange it with the chair across from Ryan. He gave me a puzzled look at my antics. “This chair wobbles,” I explained with a lift of my chin toward the one I’d just switched out.
“So, why don’t you sit somewhere else?” he asked with a lift of one eyebrow.
I plopped my butt down in the replacement chair. “Because I don’t like sitting with my back to the hallway. It gives me the willies.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “The willies?”
“The willies,” I confirmed, with an accompanying sticking out of tongue. “Eilahn does not get the willies sitting there, so that is her usual seat. And you are actually in my usual seat, but I am being nice and not telling you to move.” I smiled sweetly at him and took a sip of my coffee.
Ryan gave a chuckle. “Gotcha. It all makes perfect sense now.”
Eilahn placed a waffle-laden plate in front of me, then removed a second large waffle from the iron, placed it on a plate and took her seat. She paused for a heartbeat, then looked to Ryan with a guileless expression. “I left the waffle iron on for you. There is more batter in the pitcher beside it.”
“I think I need to complain to the management about the service here,” he said as he pushed back his chair, but he gave me a wink as he headed to the counter.
He’s back less than an hour, and I can already see where the dynamic between them is going. Demons or not, I was going to nip this shit in the bud.
“Just so the two of you know,” I said, stabbing my fork into my waffle. “I’m really not into the whole passive-aggressive teasing back and forth bullshit that masks real antipathy, and that the parties involved think is oh-so amusing. Yeah, it’s funny sometimes, but it kind of fucking stresses me out. So, Ryan, stop antagonizing Eilahn. And Eilahn, I don’t expect you to serve him, me, or anyone else, but by human standards telling a guest in your house to cook their own meal is considered rude.” I lifted my head to smile sweetly at them. “And now I’m going to eat my waffle.”
Ryan had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Kara.”
Eilahn inclined her head. “I apologize as well.”
“I have no problem making my own waffle,” Ryan said. “Please go ahead and eat, Eilahn.”
I didn’t detect any trace of sarcasm and apparently neither did Eilahn, for she murmured thanks. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and dug into my comfort food.
* * *
After we finished eating I told Eilahn I’d take care of cleaning up. She didn’t put up an argument. She retreated outside, leaving Ryan and me alone in the kitchen. An awkward silence fell as I ran the water and waited for it to turn hot.
“Any new and interesting cases?” Ryan asked after a moment.
“Sort of,” I said, dabbling my fingers under the running water. “Not a murder but something kind of strange.” I quickly explained about the deaths of Barry Landrieu and Evelyn Stark and how I knew them. I wasn’t about to share the details of my connection to the two victims with the entire Beaulac police department, but I trusted Ryan.
He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned. “Coincidences make me twitchy.”
“You and me both,” I said. The water was still cold, so I shut it off. Grabbing a towel, I dried my hands as I walked down the hall to a utility closet. “My water heater’s ancient,” I explained as he followed me. “Sometimes I have to relight the pilot manually.”
He wrinkled his nose in sympathy as I crouched and stuck the long lighter into the appropriate hole in the bottom of the tank. “It looks like you’ve done this a few times,” he said.
I listened for the sound of the gas firing up, then stood and nodded. “It’s on my list of things to replace when I can afford it,” I said with a sigh, closing the closet door. I didn’t bother returning to the kitchen, since I knew it would take a while for the water to warm up, and instead headed to the living room.
“There’s more,” I said as I plopped down into the armchair instead of my customary spot on the couch. Yes, I was a chickenshit, because what if he sat next to me? Then I might have to actually think about how I felt about him and whether his sitting next to me meant anything or nothing as far as his own feelings. And then I’d have to consider the fact that I suspected stuff about Ryan that I didn’t dare share with him, as well as consider the possibility that this whole “Ryan” that I knew was a total sham anyway.
No, much better to sit in the armchair and give myself more time to try and figure all of this crap out.
He didn’t seem to notice my hesitation over the seating arrangements and simply sat on the end of the couch closer to the chair. “More?” he frowned. “Tell me.”
I did so, giving him a rundown of the graa attack as well as the summoning attempt.
“Fucking hell,” he breathed after I finished. “So there’s another summoner involved, there are two deaths that seem to be connected, and someone in the demon realm is still trying to summon you.”
I nodded.
“Are any of these related to each other?” he asked.
I spread my hands and shrugged. “I have no fucking idea.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “Is your life ever dull?”
I could only laugh. “Not in the ways that count!”
He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I have your back,” he said. “In any way I can. You know that, right?”
The memory of the being who’d blasted the golem with arcane power rose up. I could barely reconcile that creature and Ryan as the same person.
“I know that,” I said. He released my hand and gave me a warm smile.
A quiet fell, undercut by the muted rush of the water heater. “Where’d you grow up?” I asked, feeling as if I was taking a hammer to the smooth glass of the silence. It sounded more abrupt than I’d intended. “I mean, you’re not from the South, are you?”
A slight smile creased his mouth. “Depends. Are you going to call me a damn Yankee if I admit I was born in upstate New York?”
“Nothing so nice,” I replied with a small laugh.
He folded one leg over the other, resting his ankle across his knee. “I guess I’ll have to brave the insults then. Saratoga, New York. Went to high school at Saratoga Springs High then left for the bustle of the big city.”
“New York City?”
He grinned. “Cleveland.”
This time my laugh was genuine. “Oh, my. Culture shock!”
“In more ways than one.”
I tucked my feet underneath me. “What about your folks. Do they still live in Saratoga?” I knew what the answer would be. Or rather, I knew what he needed to tell me.
He shook his head, a shadow flickering across his face. “My mother passed away right before I started college. My dad about five years later.”
I made the appropriate sympathetic expression. He believed it. Surely nobody was that good an actor. “Any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. I have some cousins I never see, but that’s about it.”
Hunh. I’d expected him to say that both his parents had been only children or some such thing. But maybe whatever caused him to have these fake memories also made him have no desire to seek out the rest of his mythical family.
His memories are fake. They have to be. Is his personality fake as well? Is this the real Ryan? If he ever remembers who he is, will this person go away? Will he still regard me in the same way?
I already knew the answer to that. There was no possible way he’d see me in the same light. Except…somehow he’d acted with the instincts and abilities of his former self when I was hurt and the golems were threatening. Were those instincts always running in the background? Or was that a one-time chink in the armor that held him? I could keep on grilling him about his past, but what was the point? I had zero doubt that if—no, when—I verified this info it would all check out. Whoever had taken the effort to insert
this nuanced memory and background would have surely taken steps to make sure the paper trail jived as well.
Fuzzykins chose that moment to stalk into the room. She leaped nimbly onto the end of the couch and stared balefully at Ryan.
“When did you get a cat?” he asked. He reached out a hand to give the cat a scratch, then yanked it back as Fuzzykins snarled and swiped at it with a claws extended.
“It’s Eilahn’s.” I quickly explained the circumstances surrounding the acquisition of the cat. “Don’t feel bad. She hates me too. But she completely adores Eilahn.”
“That’s pretty funny,” he admitted. Then, “Are you summoning tonight?”
I blinked, surprised both at the abruptness of the question and that he would want to know at all. He didn’t like Rhyzkahl—okay, “hated” was probably a better word—and he didn’t usually want any reminder that I had any sort of contact or relationship with the demonic lord.
My surprise must have been evident because he gave a little shrug of apology. “It’s a full moon,” he said. “I figured it’d be tonight—unless you already did for this month?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. I was planning to tonight.” I eyed him, mentally bracing myself for his usual gritted-teeth tolerance that barely masked his dislike of the arrangement. I frowned when it didn’t come. “You seem oddly cool with this.”
He placed both feet on the floor and exhaled. “I did a lot of thinking while I was up at Quantico. I didn’t like some of the things I realized.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that you’re one of my best friends, the fact that I care about you considerably, and the fact that you’re in a situation that I have no right to judge, and that I need to grow the fuck up and actually be supportive.” He gave me a wry smile. “I realized that it’s not enough for me to simply not be vocal about the fact that I hated what was going on, because you’re not stupid, and you can certainly tell I disapprove whether I say it or not. But instead, I needed to change my damn outlook and accept what is and look for the positive in it. In other words, I need to stop being so much of a dick. That was kind of the reason I didn’t call. I was trying to process everything.”
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