I felt too uncomfortable to remain in my mother's room, and although I doubted the incubus would return for me with only a few hours until dawn, I made my way down into the living room and propped myself on the couch with a pillow and a blanket. Sarah slept in the chair and Gramp muttered something about not being able to sleep and rattled about in the kitchen for endless hours until I heard him slam his way out the back door.
I have no idea how I managed to fall asleep, but I must have. The next I knew, the sun was glaring in at me through the window. I stretched the kinks out of my back and peered over at the chair, hoping Sarah was still there. She wasn't. I found both of them standing on the porch step, staring out at the back yard. Each of them held onto a mug that steamed in the air.
While Sarah also clung to a fistful of bacon, Gramp's both hands were wrapped around his mug. I could feel my shoulders sag as I looked at him. He looked so earnest standing there. So sad. Exhaustion weighed his shoulders down and his hands trembled as they held onto his mug. I pushed through the back door, letting the screen squeak behind me as it bounced closed. He spun around to see me and let a thready smile crossed his face.
"I already called him," he said.
"Called who?" I asked.
"Callum. He's on his way."
At first I froze in my tracks, thinking I might have moaned the name in my sleep or that I had somehow let escape the fact that the incubus had been feeding me images of the broad-shouldered fireman while it drained whatever it wanted to from me. Then I told myself I most certainly had not. I had to believe that.
I heaved myself down on the step and looked out at the back yard. A few holes already peppered the back yard with no rhyme or reason. Gramp had obviously been out in the early hours of the morning digging. Guilt tingled down the back of my spine. Not only was his fear for me exhausting him, but he'd been out there working at hard labour for god knew how many hours.
"How much does Callum know?" I said, looking up at Sarah.
"Apparently, quite a bit," she said. "You told him everything?" she asked Gramp and he nodded.
"Good," I said. In truth I was relieved that I wouldn't have to explain it all to him because I didn't think I could look into that green-eyed gaze and admit what was going on, knowing it was his face the supernatural pervert wore each time it happened.
I reached up to tug Gramp's pant leg. "What's with the holes, old man," I said, looking at the half dozen sites in the yard that sported piles of dirt.
"He had an epiphany," Sarah said, and she didn't sound pleased. "Tell him he shouldn't be out there doing that."
Gramp took a noisy sip from his mug and then set it on the railing. "Tell her," he said with a note of authority in his voice. "That I know what I'm doing."
"Well whatever you have in mind," I said. "She's right about you not digging holes. You're still recovering."
He shrugged. "Maybe there's a better way."
"A better way for what?" I said.
"Over the years ,I've been all over this property, up and down, back and forth. I've dug in this soil for a generation. There's no way that container you found has been there for long. Someone wanted us to find it."
"But on its own," Sarah said. "It means nothing. There have to be more."
She crossed her arms over her chest and almost spilled her coffee trying to keep from dropping the bacon. I plucked a slice from her fist.
I popped the slice into my mouth and chewed reflectively. We had been down this road already. At least, I'd thought so.
"We already know the incubus has nothing to do with those containers," I said, looking out at all the holes. Five if I counted correctly, all various sizes. "Why bother?"
"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I needed a reminder that there are no such things as coincidences," Gramp said, lifting his index finger.
I surveyed the back yard corner to corner. Searching for something that may not even exist in the yard that size would be a monumental task. Not one for an old man and certainly not one I relished taking on myself in the least. The garden was large enough to feed us in the summer and pickle some preserves for the winter months. Gramp was old enough that he still did that even though many of his neighbourhood didn't have a garden anymore. The other end had that gnarled oak and a bunch of trees that didn't seem to match together. There was no rhyme or reason in his yard. It was a mishmash of things as though they'd grown there on their own, but I suspected that the druid in Gramp liked things to look all nice and natural and that each placement was specific and purposeful.
I'd have to have more evidence that the two were connected before I decided to sweat it out with a shovel.
"Maybe a grid," Sarah said. "If we go with the canopic jars theory, then they should be grouped together. So I suggest we dig around where the first one was found."
I sliced my finger across my neck, trying to indicate to her that this wasn't a line of thought we should be following.
"Don't encourage him," I said.
It wasn't encouraging either to notice that when Callum arrived he pulled three shovels from the trunk of his GTI. He carried two in one hand and one in the other. He had a black T-shirt on and sweat pants. His work boots must've come from the fire station. They were heavy looking and made loud thudding sounds on the porch as he climbed the steps. His jacket had that tartan lumberjack look. I almost smirked at him and cracked a joke until I caught sight of him staring at me. I squirmed beneath that gaze, because I thought he could read into exactly how much a part he played in those steamy dreams in the middle of the night. The best I could do was stare at the shovel in his left hand.
"Tell me more about what happened last night," he said.
Sarah made a beeline for the back door and disappeared into the back of the house. I presumed she was going for snacks because she knew she would have a hard time not making a crack about the dreams. I was grateful for that small mercy.
"I wish I could," I said trying to recall how things had happened. "One minute I was sleeping, and the next minute I woke up with something in the room with me."
I carefully left out the specifics of the dream. I couldn't look him in the eye just giving him the most important piece of the puzzle: that something otherworldly had invaded my home. All I could think of was the way his body had felt next to mine, the way my skin tingled when he touched it with his lips, and I couldn't bear for him to see the longing that was still making my throat ache every time I looked at him.
"Did it hurt you?" Callum said and his voice went tight. I heard something more sinister beneath the simple words. And I didn't think he meant just doing physical harm. I knew he was asking me if it had gone any further than invading my subconscious.
"Do you mean did it get past first base?" I asked and I felt Gramp's hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him.
"Spare an old man the details," he said.
I gave him a feeble smile. "There are no more details than I already gave you," I said to him. While it was far from the truth, I certainly didn't want to admit how the incubus made me feel, because that was something even I couldn't work out yet.
Sarah came through the back door with a piece of toast in one hand and a leftover piece of chocolate cake in the other. She seemed to be juggling which one she wanted to pass to me, but in the end she gave me the cake. I knew it was a message of unspoken sympathy.
"Those things can be pretty compelling," she said. "Not that I've ever met one," she added with a smile. "But from what I've heard, they really do a number on ya. Once they get hold of you, they don't like to let go."
I watched as Gramp nodded. He had a strange look on his face, thoughtful but determined, one I'd seen before plenty of times. He'd come to some decision, I realized, and I wasn't going to like it.
"What are you thinking, old man?" I said.
"I'm thinking that it's not likely to hurt you," Gramp said. "Not all at once, anyway." He tried to smile at me, but he didn't look convincing. "And we have to prepare ourselves for the po
ssibility that it might come back tonight."
I shuddered. "So do something. Find a way to stop it."
"I'm an old man," he said. "Any magics I have that might help require preparation. Sarah, too, I'd guess." He looked at her for confirmation and she nodded.
"I can raise the dead," she said, "but even that needs... a few things." She let the thought trail off and I immediately thought of the cooler in the crypt filled with god knew what type of bloody thing.
My eyes went to narrowed slits as I looked at him. He was trying to get at something that was obviously causing him a bit of angst.
"Great," I said. "So I'm on my own with that thing." I tried to imagine sleeping in the living room again and wondered if it would find me no matter where I was.
"Not necessarily," he said. "Someone should be in case you need to be physically yanked out of harm's way." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm not strong enough for that. And it might not be enough to have another girl in the way."
"What are you saying?"
He pulled in a long breath as though to fuel a leap into troubled waters.
"I'm saying that I think Callum should stay over tonight. Just to keep you safe until Sarah and I have time to work out something that might help."
"All right," I said warily. I couldn't imagine what had him so angst--ridden about a simple thing like Callum staying over. "That's not so bad. There's a blanket and pillow still on the couch."
Gramp plopped his mug onto the step then pushed himself out of his chair and crossed to the end of the porch so he was standing right next to me.
"With you. In your room," he said as though it was something he had forgotten to tack on.
I heard Sarah snort and whatever sound Callum made was lost on me because I immediately put my hands over my ears. Not hearing this. I could not let Callum into my room and trust myself that I would not do something ridiculously unnerving. I sucked the back of my teeth, knowing exactly what my body would do if Callum was in the same room with me, sleeping and breathing and being all vulnerable right next to me. I couldn't afford to let that happen.
I even thought about blurting out everything I knew about Callum that Azrael had told me, that he was a nice little battery booster for the supernatural, but he didn't know that and besides, the incubus fed on the energy it created by giving its victims dreams of fevered desire and apparently didn't like to change victims once it found the one it liked..
The panic and near verbal vomit must have shown in my face because Gramp immediately piped up.
"Not in bed with you, of course," he protested and my heart both rose and sank in the same instant. "I have an old air mattress he can sleep on."
"Sounds lovely," Callum said, but he didn't sound pleased. Another reason I couldn't look at him. So the thought repulsed him. He wanted to do anything but be alone with me, and after that botched kiss in the hospital, I couldn't say I blamed him. I felt my fists clench. At least the incubus wanted me. I didn't want to think about what that said about me.
Callum shoved his hands into his pockets. "Aren't you worried about her virtue or something?"
Mortified. That's what I was. There was no other word for it.
"What's to be worried about?" Gramp said. "Incubi are pretty jealous. Once they have a target, they don't want anyone else near it." He swung his gaze to Callum. "My guess is that if you try to touch my granddaughter, that incubus is going to knock you into the next world."
Callum's face went distinctly pale.
"Peachy," he said.
CHAPTER 8
For now, Callum as a stopgap measure, would have to be enough. We eventually found the old air mattress beneath the load of dried and punky wood in the basement. It smelled of mould and old earth and I held it away from me because I knew that even covered with sheets and blankets, I would still smell that stink in the close confines of the room.
"At least the upshot is that neither one of you will be sleeping," Sarah said. "So you won't end up dreaming. Oh wait a minute." She put her finger to her lips thoughtfully. "That might mean you have to find something else to do."
"Stop," I said.
"And then no doubt the incubus will be in a bit of a rage..."
"Just stop."
It was going to be hard enough going about my routine as though things were normal, with the guy I was crushing on staying in the same room as me. Sounded like a recipe for disaster, if I was being honest. I secretly wondered if maybe Gramp was trying to get back at me for all of those horrible things I'd done when he's first taken me in.
I intended to go to bed fully clothed. I carried a pair flannel pyjamas and a T-shirt into the bathroom with me to change and brush my teeth. I left my bra on under the T-shirt. I stood in the bathroom, looking into the mirror and adjusting my hair. I tucked it behind one ear and then I pulled it out and braided it. Fluffed my bangs. I considered putting on a little makeup, but scrubbed my face clean instead. There. The very model of virtue.
When I pushed open the door to my bedroom, Callum was already gripping the corners of the air mattress in his fists and was blowing into the air nozzle. I don't know how he managed it, but the smell of old basement was gone. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to be grateful or angry about that. As hard as this was going to be for me, I wanted him to suffer a little bit too.
He paused for a moment, pinching off the nozzle and jerking his chin toward the wall.
"I didn't know you were into old bands," he said.
I expected him to be as dressed as I was, but somehow he had managed to find some ratty old T-shirt that looked sexy as hell because it stretched taut across his chest and showed bits of muscled stomach in the little holes that had worn through. I told myself I would not look below that T-shirt to find out what sort of underwear he was wearing underneath the air mattress. I prayed they were flannel pants the same as mine.
"Not my room," I said shortly. "This was my mom's."
A look of comprehension passed across his face. "She had good taste," he said. Then he jerked his chin at me. "I thought you were going to bed?"
"I am," I said looking down at myself. "These are my pyjamas."
"I guess I imagined something different," he said. And then a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I always figured girls slept in little pink things."
He yanked at the edge of the bag of air mattress to find the nozzle and cast a look at me from the side. "I guess you're not a little pink thing kind of girl."
It was a jab at me and I knew it. I stomped across the room and jumped onto my bed. I jammed my feet beneath the blankets and pulled them up over my waist.
"If you snore," I said, "I'm going to throw my phone at you."
"No problem," he said with a grin. "I'll just lunge at you. That'll set you off on a tear."
Another dig. I refused to rise to the bait again. Instead, I set my phone on the dresser and plugged it in so it would charge. I noticed no matter how much air he was putting into the mattress, it was staying flat.
Apparently, it was frustrating him as well. He kept flipping it over as though he thought there was some sort of blockage preventing it from inflating.
"How old is this thing anyway?" he said with a touch of frustration in his voice.
"I would think the canvas material might be your first clue," I said dryly. I made a big show of lifting the blankets on my bed and showing him the warm looking flannel sheets.
He eyed the bed as I climbed in and I caught him testing the mattress again for air.
"Sweet dreams," I said sweetly.
I clicked off the lamp. He muttered something about nice guys always finishing last and I distinctly heard him punching his pillow into shape. I chuckled to myself. No doubt Gramp had offered him that air mattress on purpose. If he couldn't sleep, he'd be diligently waiting for the incubus. That meant I could fall into an exhausted coma with a sense of happy safety. Crafty old gent. Except it wasn't working. I could hear Callum tossing and turning on the flat air mattress. Eve
ry movement sounded like a shriek in the room.
"Stop moving so much," I complained. "You're keeping me awake."
The lamp flicked on. Light flooded the room and made me blink. As my vision adjusted, I realized he was standing right next to my bed.
I blinked twice, trying to see past the stars of light. "What are you doing?"
"Move over," he said.
I warbled out a nervous laugh as my skin prickled with anticipation and anxiety.
"Think again," I said. I pulled the blankets around my chin. I noted he was wearing pyjama pants at least. The sweat at the back of my neck trickled down my spine.
He gripped the corner of the deflated air mattress in his fist and shook it at me.
"I can't sleep on this," he said. "I might as well be sleeping on the floor."
I cast a glance at the carpet, noting how worn it was. No cushion at all. I did feel sort of bad for him, then I remembered he didn't seem so thrilled to be there in the first place, and I managed to fuel my words with a bit of sarcasm to hide the hurt.
"Maybe you're not supposed to be sleeping at all."
"Maybe not," he agreed. "But do you see anywhere for me to sit in the room? Do you expect me to stand here like a horse all night waiting for something to show?"
I felt my lips twitch and wanted to say if he'd shown a little more enthusiasm, he might have got an extra pillow or two. Maybe a comfy chair. I didn't. It was hard enough not to open my mouth for fear I'd beg him to pile in next to me. I had to admit, thought of him lying so close and intimate both excited and terrified me.
He sat on the edge of my bed and pulled the deflated air mattress onto his lap. I could smell his soap and just exactly how much warmth came off his skin.
"Have a heart, Ayla," he said. "Move over."
I had to bite my lip to keep from giving in to the temptation.
"I promise not to snore," he said, all purry like a kitten and so damn sexy that when he cocked his head at me, I very nearly bolted into the bathroom from sheer nerves.
"You look a little fidgety."
"Wouldn't you feel fidgety?" I said. "I'm under threat of an incubus attack and I have some hot fireman trying to get into my bed."
Dire (Reaper's Redemption Book 2) Page 7
