by Allie Gail
I smile gratefully.
“Think I'm gonna go see if I can find Sky. Knowing her, she's wandering around lost on the wrong floor.”
“Better catch her before she finds the maternity ward,” Max warns him, pointing to the bridal magazine left behind in her chair. “She might start getting ideas.”
“Shit, that's all I need!” Bending over me, Russ drops a quick kiss on my cheek. “Love you, turd face. I'm glad you're back.”
“Love you too, monkey butt.”
He disappears out into the hallway, the heavy door closing behind him with a ca-chunk. For a while, the only sound in the room is the soft beeping of the heart monitor. I shift positions beneath the warming blanket, trying to get comfortable. My muscles feel like they've been through an extreme workout.
“You sure you're okay?” Max asks quietly.
He's more perceptive than my brother. I wonder if he can sense my despondence. It isn't that I'm not happy to be back. I am, of course I am. And I'm thankful to be safe and warm. There's just this enduring part of me that actually – God help me – is worried about Loc. Wondering if his father did something terrible to him. I know it's absurd. After what he almost did, I shouldn't care what happens to him.
He used manipulation to gain possession of my soul.
And then, in a strange show of compassion, he saved it.
“I'm fine,” I murmur. Physically, it's true. Mentally, however, I'm exhausted. Tired of having my emotions slammed back and forth like waves on a beach.
“You scared the hell out of me. Out of all of us.”
“I'm sorry,” I automatically reply.
“What are you apologizing for? I should be the one apologizing to you. Me and Russ. We never should've brought that thing into your house. This was our fault. Every damn bit of it. I'm so sorry, Jude.”
“It wasn't your fault. He was playing us, right from the start.”
“What do you mean?”
I gaze into Max's eyes, and for a moment I teeter on the edge of bursting into tears. How can I ever tell him what I did? What will he think of me? Will he understand?
No, I decide. I can't do this now. I'm tired. I'm just so tired.
“It's a long story,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “How about we save it for later?”
“Sure. No rush. Whenever you're ready.” Lacing his hands together in his lap, he stares down at them. “Price burned my contract? Really?”
“Really. I watched him do it.”
“Can I ask...” He hesitates. “When did that happen? Was it just before midnight?”
“Yeah, I think so. Why?”
“I felt it.” He turns his head to the dark windowpanes, deep in thought. “Or I felt...something. I can't really explain it. But it was out of nowhere. It was like this sudden calm just came over me. Strong, almost like I'd been hit with a tranquilizer. And it didn't make a lick of sense because I was stressing like crazy, worrying whether Price was really going to let you go, panicking over...other things. And then out of the blue, this calm. I've never felt anything like it. It was...” His voice tapers off into silence.
He doesn't have to spell out what the 'other things' are. You've heard of buyer's remorse? I can only imagine the anguish he must have felt after being railroaded into making that deal. It's not like he got scammed on a lemon car or a house with a bad foundation. He gave away everything. Everything.
He gave it all.
For me.
I watch the lines dashing up and down on the monitor while I wait for him to continue. I don't know what they mean. I think the top number is my heart rate. It's at 77 right now. Perfectly normal.
“It was indescribable,” he says softly. “It was like all the worries and fears I've ever had were washed away, like they didn't even matter. Or never even existed. And I knew...I knew everything was going to be okay.”
“Everything is going to be okay.”
He smiles, and just seeing that smile lifts my spirits more than anything else could.
“Why'd you do it, Max?” I can't help asking. “Why would you give up your soul so easily?”
He shrugs it off. “I couldn't just leave you there with him, could I?”
“'Thank you' just doesn't seem to cover it. What you did.”
“But you got it back for me.” Apprehension clouds his expression. “I'm still wondering how you managed that.”
“Easy. I told him I'd sic Skylar on him,” I joke.
“I'm serious.” He furrows his brow worriedly. “Swear to me, Jude. Swear to me that you didn't make a deal with him just to get my soul back.”
Turning my face to the ceiling, I close my eyes with a drowsy sigh. “Don't worry, Max. I owe him nothing. All debts have been paid in full.”
First thing in the morning, as I'm sitting up in bed trying to decide whether the pancakes on my tray are going to be edible or not, one of the gift shop employees brings in a gorgeous spray of white roses and lilies in a crystal vase. There is a little pink card attached.
You're safe now. Don't come looking for me.
You won't find me.
L.P.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chapter Thirty-One
November skies.
Is there anything more depressing?
Curled up in the window seat, a fleece blanket wrapped around my flannel pajamas, I watch the slushy drizzle of sleet while listening to Guns N' Roses. The song November Rain is playing on Pandora, and it couldn't be a more fitting ode to the mottled gray skies that stretch on and on like a stormy sea.
There isn't even the promise of snow as an excuse. Nothing is falling but freezing rain, and it's been this way since yesterday. According to the local radio station, a lot of roads have been closed due to icing over. It's wet and cold and miserable out there.
In here isn't much better.
There must be a power line down somewhere, because the electricity's been off for hours. Which doesn't leave much to occupy the mind. I could go downstairs where it's warmer, maybe read a book by the fireplace, but Skylar and Russ are snuggled up on the couch doing who-knows-what down there and I'm not keen on being the awkward third wheel.
In the five days since I've been home, Skylar's been here more often than not. Or at least it seems that way. She does leave occasionally to go to work – she has a new part-time job at some bridal boutique – and there were a couple of times when she and Russ went out on a burger run. But that's pretty much it. Apparently she lives here now.
And it wouldn't be so bad, if only she'd stop cornering me and trying to persuade me to 'express my feelings' about what happened. Like we're meant to bond over this shared experience or something. She knows the truth now, or at least that she was never really abducted by aliens. After the whole incident with Loc, where she bashed him over the head with a lamp (ha ha, still can't believe she did that), my brother decided it was pointless to keep up the charade. So while I was gone, he and Max had a heart-to-heart with Owen and Skylar and basically filled them in.
Owen didn't want to hear it. He concluded that the two had been brainwashed and absolutely refused to listen. He ended up walking out, yelling that he didn't want to discuss it anymore. Guess for him, little green space men were easier to accept than the concept of demons. He hasn't been around since. At least I got my phone back.
Skylar, for her part, came up with the idea of hypnotherapy in an effort to unlock her repressed memories. So far Russ has managed to talk her out of it. Sometimes, he warned her, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. I know, I know, that doesn't sound like my brother, does it? I think the real issue is, he's afraid of what horrors they'll dredge up. It seems clear to me that whatever happened, he'd rather not know.
He's right. And I told Skylar as much. I think she'll take his advice, if only because he can do no wrong as far as she's concerned. The girl's so starry-eyed in love, she'd run naked through rush hour traffic with streamers coming out of her butt if she thought it would result in a ring on her finger.
A month ago, I'd have said no way. No way Russ would ever tie himself down to one girl. Now? I don't know, I could see it happening.
I perk up when I see Max's red truck pulling in. He jumps out and makes a dash for the porch, his jacket pulled up over his head as he sort of hop-skips, trying to dodge the rain without slipping on the icy ground. I didn't expect to see him here today. Not in this weather.
Curious, I pull out my earbuds and try to hear what's going on downstairs. Not much. The slam of the front door, a few muffled greetings, then the thump of footsteps coming up the creaky wooden stairs. He's here to see me again, it would appear.
Cool.
“It's open,” I reply to the tap on my door.
He enters, all tall and blonde and handsome, and I smile to think of how thirteen-year-old me would react to such a windfall. To the elusive Max Fallon, coming here specifically to see me. In my bedroom, no less. I probably would've passed out from hyperventilating.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.” I see his eyes dart to the wall above my bed, to the fresh paint where I covered up what was left of the pentacle. A little project I tackled during last night's bout of sleeplessness.
He doesn't mention it, though.
“How're you doing?” Shrugging out of his weatherproof jacket, he drapes it across the chest at the foot of my bed. He's still in his uniform, so he must have come straight here from the EMS station.
“I'm okay. How was your night?”
“Busy. Lotta traffic accidents. No fatalities so far, but not for lack of trying. I don't know why people can't just keep their dumb asses at home in weather like this. It's not like anything's open.”
I know what he means. Almost all the local businesses are closed due to the ice storm. What are people doing out on the roads? Where do they think they're going?
For that matter, what is Max doing here? He should be at home. Sleeping. He just pulled a double shift and it shows in his red-rimmed eyes.
“No power here either, huh?” He drops down beside me, sitting with his back against the wall so we're facing one another.
“Is it out in town, too?”
“In a couple of areas. There's a power line down on Sheridan.”
“Ah. That would explain it.” Sheridan Avenue isn't that far from here.
“I gotta start knocking,” he adds with a grimace. “I'm pretty sure I almost walked in on something heinous just now.”
I can only imagine. “Ugh, those two are like rabbits! You should have to sleep in the room next to theirs. There aren't enough earplugs in the world. I'm thinking of moving to the bedroom down the hall.”
Giving me a weary smile, he rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes. “I have to be back on call in twelve hours. Gonna have to get home pretty soon, get some sleep. I just wanted to come by and check on you.”
He's been by every day since my return. Worried, I guess, that I might disappear again. Or that Loc will turn up. We've all been a bit on edge, not knowing what to expect. Whether we've put ourselves on some demon's hit list. There are so many questions that remain unanswered. It's like running blindfolded through a maze, never knowing what might be just around the corner.
We're not completely in the dark. The day after I was released from the hospital, I told my brother and Max everything. Well, almost everything. I conveniently left out the venue. That, and one tiny sordid detail – the matter of Loc's lewd proposition. The bargain between us. If I have my way, Russ will never know. I can't afford to replace the roof when he catapults through it.
I'm still trying to work up the courage to bring it up to Max.
I feel that he, at least, should know. I don't know why. I guess it's because I'm always holding out hope that there could one day be something between us. Wishful thinking, maybe. But he seemed kind of interested, just before all this craziness happened. And he keeps coming by to see me. There's that. I can't imagine he feels this protective of me just because I'm his best friend's sister.
“You know, there's a spare bedroom at my place if you ever want to get away from those two,” he offers unexpectedly.
I'm so surprised, I don't know how to respond. “Um...okay. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”
“No strings attached.”
I chew on my lip, reflecting. With Loc, there were always strings. Twisting, binding, tangling strings. It's weird. In a way I miss him, but in a way it's a relief to be free from his intensity. His unpredictability. It's like I could never fully let my guard down around him. With Max, it's different.
So different.
Loc was fire and brimstone. Something beautiful, enticing, yet dangerous enough to leave behind scars that never heal.
Max is something else entirely. He's sunshine and sand. Blue skies and beaches. Starry nights in the summertime. The warm, sweet comfort of hearth and home.
I find myself actually considering his offer. How serious is he? What would it be like to have him for a roommate? But almost immediately I push the idea aside, surmising that it isn't a good one. If this is a platonic arrangement, and I assume it must be, then how am I going to feel when he brings one of his dates home with him?
No, he was probably just making conversation. I sincerely doubt he wants me around underfoot.
“I have a job interview next week,” I tell him, changing the subject.
“Yeah? Who with?”
“This new tax and accounting firm that's opening up downtown. The lady I talked to seemed really nice. She's moving here from Oklahoma City to be closer to her grandkids.”
“Sounds promising. So does that mean you've decided to stay in Grainfield then?”
“For now, yes.”
“Good. I'm glad.”
I'm glad you're glad, I think to myself. I look down at the text message that just popped up on my phone. More pictures from Gabby. She's off on an Alaskan cruise, and really seems to be enjoying it.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Still scrolling through the photos, I absently tell him, “I got a box in the mail today. Had all my clothes and stuff in it.” All laundered and neatly pressed, no less.
“The stuff you took with you?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Any return address?”
“What do you think?” I'm still playing the ignorance card as far as location goes. Not that it matters – Loc's probably long gone by now. But until I know that for a fact, I can't risk it. Max has better sense than to take off after him, but with Russ, who knows? I'm starting to think he gets off on conflict.
“Where was it postmarked?”
“Silver City, New Mexico.” Believe me, the irony doesn't escape me. I almost wonder if he did it as some kind of inside joke.
“Think that's where you were?”
“No way. I checked, it's a twelve hour drive. We weren't traveling anywhere near that long.”
“Mm, I figured. Doubt he's dumb enough to have sent it from his actual location.”
“That's what I told Russ. I saw him getting that look in his eye.”
“I know that look. Got me into trouble more times than I can remember.”
“You think you're the only one? Everyone used to think I was this bright kid because I learned to talk at such a young age. Wrong – I did it out of necessity! He kept blaming me for the stupid crap he did!”
The scalp job he gave my mom's vintage 1960 Barbie, for example. When Russ heard our dad coming up the stairs, he put the scissors in my hand and took off like a bolt of lightning. He didn't get away with it, of course, considering I was barely a year old and lacking the motor skills necessary to implicate me. Sure as heck didn't stop him from trying, though.
Daddy used to love to tell us that story.
“Can't imagine what it must have been like, growing up with that one,” Max drawls through a tired smile. His eyes are still closed; have been this whole time. Poor guy must be exhausted.
“Let's put it this way. My first word was Wussell. I learned to say it while pointing.
”
“Sounds about right. He's never been afraid to throw someone else under the bus.” Stifling a yawn with his hand, he casually asks, “Get any correspondence with that package?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
“That's weird.”
“What's weird about it?”
“I don't know. That he'd go to all the trouble of sending your things back to you and not say anything.”
“What was he supposed to say?”
“Beats me. Something cryptic and sarcastic, knowing him.”
“Nah. I told you. He's done with us.”
“I hope you're right.”
I gaze out the window, watching the freezing rain as it steadily continues to fall. The forecast calls for it to stop later this afternoon. You wouldn't think it to look at the sky now. It doesn't show any signs of clearing.
“Been getting any sleep?” Max murmurs. He sounds as if he's on the verge of falling asleep himself.
“Enough.” Just barely. My insomnia is back. I can't get my mind to shut off long enough to relax.
For the most part I've been spending the sleepless nights hiding out in my room. Thinking. Worrying. Waiting. Haunting the window, half expecting to see Leraje come striding out of the darkness, brandishing that sword of his. Cutting through the mist as his massive arms swing the huge blade like a staff.
But so far, nothing's happened. Maybe Loc was right when he said that I was safe now. Maybe it really is all over.
The sky continues to weep cold, frosty tears. Shivering, I pull the blanket tighter around myself. I want to put all this behind me. I want it to be over.
But it isn't, is it? It isn't over. Not yet. Not for me.
Not until I come clean. Until I unburden myself to the one person who might understand. The person whose opinion matters so much to me.
“I slept with him,” I say softly, before I have a chance to change my mind.
For a long minute the only sound is the wet tink-tink-tink of ice pellets hitting the windowpanes. I look over at Max, and his eyes are no longer closed.
He's wide awake now.
