“It was a … memorable date,” Wade said.
“It was that.” I smiled, surprised, even almost laughed. “Totally memorable.”
Wade also smiled.
Pickles rubbed his forehead on my chin, purring and smirking the way cats do.
“You … uh … have blood on your shirt,” Wade said.
“Fox claws,” I said.
His mouth tightened. “Rotten all around, wasn’t it? That fox had it in for us. But I still kind of feel bad for him. The way the vampire treated him? When he thought they were pals?” Shaking his head. “I’m glad you helped, Ripley. I should have said something also. You were brave standing up to them.”
“Not really. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Kind of like … blowing up heads?”
Wade grinned and looked away. “So, yeah…” He stepped forward, releasing the door, touching my arm instead.
His lips on mine were gentle. A perfectly normal good-night kiss after a date.
The cat’s purr rippled between us. He also rubbed his head on Wade’s chin.
One more buzz to the evening. One more flicker of flame.
My pulse was too fast when Wade stepped back, stroking the cat while his eyes were locked on mine.
“You have cool eyes.” God, that was a stupid thing to say. I swallowed.
Wade laughed a little, ducking his chin, color rising in his pale face. “And you have beautiful eyes. Matching the rest of you.” He looked at me.
We stood there. I didn’t even pet the cat, just holding on. I couldn’t remember the color of my eyes, or dye in my hair, or what makeup I’d put on after that speed-shower.
Scratches across my back and shoulders stung. Probably ruined the blouse. It didn’t matter about the top but … maybe I should dab on antibiotic cream? Wade could reach all the spots for me. Or even just be around. There, in the doorway, with darkness beyond, with the night almost behind us, another looming ahead, I so, so did not want him to leave. At least Gideon and Adam were staying.
When I was a kid and we’d lived in North Carolina, we’d had a hurricane warning that summer. Not close enough to the coast to evacuate, the three of us had spent the night together in the downstairs living room, afraid of trees falling and windows being blasted out. I couldn’t even remember the weather. Strong winds, I guess; no worse. But I remembered us being together. Mom and Dad and me, on the couch and floor and loveseat, all bundled up, furniture rearranged, pulled away from windows, eating Twinkies and Fritos and watching movies on the laptop and laughing while the cats tried to find comfortable spots among us. Best sleepover ever. We were supposed to be facing disaster. Yet I’d never felt so safe.
I looked at Wade and swallowed. “Thanks for coming along. You’ll be there tomorrow night?”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t totally upfront with you.”
Something crashed in the kitchen. The shifters muttered. Were they pillaging the place? I didn’t look around. Wade also didn’t comment.
“Me too,” he said. “I mean, I wasn’t upfront with you.”
“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?”
“No.”
“Why did you answer the ad?”
“Spellcasters’ conference.” His cheeks grew even pinker. “Ever been to the one in Atlanta?”
I shook my head. There were a few big conferences around the country, but I’d never attended. My parents used to go when they could.
“Well,” he went on. “There was a workshop about lingering spirits, how casters can detect and help them finish crossing over. It was really interesting. I’d never even heard of such a thing in real life. Only ghost stories, you know? I didn’t realize that was a thing casters did. The mage teaching it said that’s a common misconception. I guess most casters are like me and don’t even know that floundering spirits or, in rare cases, malevolent and dangerous spirits, can be an issue. He called those demons, but they’re just old spirits that have become vicious. He said it’s super rare to find spirits like that and only skilled casters trained to deal with them should try it. He also said there was this one place, Midway City, and we were lucky that two of the best cleansers in the nation had moved to the area and were gradually cleaning it up, making it safe for mundanes and putting the dead to rest.”
“You knew who I was?”
“I had no idea. I saw the ad the other day and thought… Well…” He cleared his throat. “There was a chance to ‘see’ the Midway City ghosts. So I called and… When I saw you… How crazy was that? That we’d just met? That we’d actually been on a date? And that was you? You were their daughter? But you said your parents were dead. So I realized you were carrying on the business and I felt bad and…” He gulped a breath, having been talking fast.
“You’re a tourist,” I said flatly.
“It sounds bad when you say it that way. I didn’t know there would be vampires and foxes and corporeal shit like that.”
“This is a messed-up area.”
“Right, yeah. That’s the thing, isn’t it?”
“That’s what makes it a tourist attraction?” I raised my eyebrows.
Wade cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m not as experienced as … I could be. I guess you’re not either, eh?”
I sighed. “I know some stuff. But…”
“It’s great, what you’re doing. I want to help if you’ll let me. I’ll learn. We both will.”
“Great?”
“Looking after the town? Putting tormented souls to rest? It’s a great calling.”
Oh. Sure. That was why I was doing this. I nodded. “Be careful around the vampire, okay? Maybe he’ll help, but don’t turn your back on him.”
“Is it true one bite can kill?”
“For humans. They have a sort of venom. You’re not guaranteed dead, and they have to do more than just bite you to turn you into one of them. There’s a ritual for spawning and their own brand of magic. But don’t get bitten.”
Wade nodded. “You too. So that one, Fulco, he was a young one, right?”
“That was what they call a newborn. They’re dead bodies, obviously, no matter how enchanted, they don’t hold up. That guy was fresh as they come, and ten times as dangerous as your typical vampire who’s been around the block.”
Wade let out a breath, looking away. “We shouldn’t be working with him.”
“Gideon and Adam will look out for us. I know you don’t like them but they’re tough. You know not to look him in the eye, right? That’s how he was getting stuff from me. They get into your head. They can make you do things if you really let them have a tight hold. You felt it, a little bit, in the house. Even when he couldn’t meet our eyes he’d found some traction, using what was already in our heads to shape and add more layers, manipulate us to do his bidding, heighten or deaden certain feelings, impulses, senses, or inhibitions.”
“Yeah. Sorry about being so … pushy.”
Pickles was still enjoying his rubs but he was so much shedding weight and I set him down. “What happened to you? After the room? You and Gideon and Adam were all gone when I got back out into the hall.”
“I can’t remember.” He frowned. “I felt like I went for a walk. Like I could see the way out, so I’d better go, maybe get help, but I just walked and walked.”
“You wanted to believe you were walking out. So that was what he showed you.”
“Then I heard your voice and remembered to bring you with me. I turned around and was right back in the hall. I’d just been standing there the whole time.” He shivered and shook his head, looking at the floor.
I wanted to hold his hand, remembering my own dark, being trapped in the room, coming to the hall and still being totally alone. Don’t leave. I swallowed but didn’t say it.
We’d do better the next night. We were alive. No one had even asked about getting paid. A good start.
So why did I feel shaken and breathless, wishing we had the furniture close in a circle, eat
ing Twinkies and drinking beer, watching movies, sharing warmth, leaving the lights on?
“Well,” Wade said again. “It’s been interesting. I’ll see you soon, Ripley.”
Nod. “How far’s your drive?”
“About an hour.”
Nod. He’d told me that already.
His hand on the door, that he’d pushed to, but still remained poised, sideways to me.
“Stay safe,” I said and bit my tongue, sounding like my dad.
“You too.” He glanced at me, released the knob to step close. His lips touched mine. Just a bit, then more. He pulled away. “Okay. Good night.”
I nodded again, swallowing.
He yanked open the door, stepped out, and turned. “Are you sure you’re okay here?” Dropping his voice. “With them? You can look after yourself, I know. I just … would you want?” He pushed a hand into his hair, letting out a breath.
“Do you want to stay?” I asked.
Wade blinked, dropping his hand.
I bit my lip, feeling my own face heat, unable to admit how much I wanted, needed, his help in things like feeling safe and looking after the cuts on my back. Heart hammering, I looked away. I could have asked him to stay so easily if it was for any other reason. Admitting the truth now was worse than admitting I’d never cleaned a house. It would have been admitting such things as loneliness and fear. I felt my throat burn with it, tightening like an elastic band.
“It’s a long way to drive back at this hour,” I said.
Wade nodded quickly, stepping back inside. “It is. If you don’t mind? I can sleep wherever. My mom used to call me Dorothy. She’d say I could sleep going around a cyclone.”
The tight laugh popping from my throat stunned me by nearly turning into a sob. I swallowed quickly. “Okay, Dorothy. Make yourself at home. Wherever you want. I’m going to bed.”
30
The shifters didn’t bother with the upstairs bedroom. They seemed happy camping in the family room with the TV, oversized couch, and Gideon going to “change” and sleep on the floor since his hands were cut up. They could heal modest wounds by transforming. Neat trick. I had to go with the cream and time for scratches on elbows and hands, plus fox claw cuts.
I gave the cats a snack and left them to take their chances with wolves in the house.
Too hot for more, I sat on the edge of my bed in only panties and old T-shirt after getting ready for bed. Just nicks off the skin. I wouldn’t notice in a day or two. It was the claws that had done damage. A gash on my shoulder that I covered with cream and a fabric bandage, plus another on my back that I couldn’t reach.
Wade was still poking around, though I’d thought he’d settled on the futon. I could ask him. If not for what had happened earlier in this very room with Vel, I would have. As it was, I was too embarrassed.
Not like I’d ever been Marcia Brady, thank God, but this night had left such a trail of … confusion might be the right word. A freaky night capping off nearly two weeks of the sorts of soul-crushing realizations that stand on your throat at 3:00 a.m. had not left me at my best. Realizations about being an orphan at twenty, with limited extended family, none nearby, few friends even in Atlanta, none in Midway City, dropping school, a detached drifter; lonely in the worst possible ways.
The scariest moment all night had been the one when I’d stepped out into the dark hall and found myself alone.
The bathroom door opened, giving me a start. Wade walked tentatively down the hall, like a visitor to a museum, happening to come upon my wide-open bedroom door.
He glanced in, smiling at the heap of clothes on my dresser, the bright purple lampshade by the bed, me still dabbing at my elbows.
“Hey? Uh … I used your toothpaste. Hope you don’t mind. Not the brush. Just rinsed my mouth with paste and water. It’s an interesting place you’ve got here. So … good night. Do you need anything, or … I don’t know?” Shaking his head. “Night.”
Don’t go. I bit my tongue—furious at the burning in my eyes. Come on, Ripley, pull yourself together. Another stranger in one night? Please stay, Wade. Please.
Couldn’t do it. Too ashamed to admit the weakness of such a plea, while too helpless to force in the tears that sprang to my eyes for not speaking up.
He was already gone from the doorway but returned, quickly this time, leaning one hand into the frame, head cocked, smile rakish. “I’m not one of those guys who’s, you know, a douchebag who doesn’t respect you. Yes or no answer is one hundred percent cool and honored from me. Okay? You said go anywhere I wanted so I’ll just ask…” Waving a hand to take in the little bedroom. “Here? I mean … would sharing be anything you’re … you know?” Watching my face from the doorway. “No? Sure, I get it. I’ll leave you alone. Just a—Ripley?”
Clenching my teeth and digging my nails into my arm and thinking of other things wasn’t enough. While shutting my eyes only meant pushing out the tears to drop along my cheeks and fall on bare thighs.
“Hey… Ripley? What is it? Are you hurt?” His tone totally changed, dropped almost to a whisper, moving closer.
I shook my head.
“It’s okay. We’re out of there.” He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, motions as slow as his voice was hushed.
I flinched at the unexpected touch of his hand on my back. Again, I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” His hand was light, resting between my shoulder blades, sitting close but not touching at my side.
Another one of those stupid questions. What did he think I was sorry for? Getting the answer wrong on an algebra question or mortifying myself in front of him by bursting into tears while he’d politely hit on me?
I clenched my jaw again, eyes still shut, working to breathe and think of something else and just stop. Couple tears and gone and whatever. It had been a long night. Magic and dead people in our heads and brain fragments. Plenty of reason to freak out a bit and maybe a couple tears and move on.
I had to somehow make that clear. Explain that was the reason. Otherwise he might start to suspect the truth.
“Just… Long night. I’m fine.” Quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand and looking away to my charging phone on the bedside table.
Wade didn’t move.
What now? Wait for him to go? If I didn’t say anything else he would keep worrying. I couldn’t just lie to him, though. I would have to. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. How much could I actually say about the spider web of fear and grief and loneliness before we hit the ugly cry? Like three words?
“You don’t have to get into this right away, you know?” Wade said just as softly. “After what happened to your parents? Take a break. Find more help. No need to take this all on your own shoulders either.” It was amazing how different he sounded, like doing an impression of someone else’s voice. All aplomb, or nervousness, as the case may be, gone. He sounded calm, totally present, as if at a sickbed.
“I can’t put it off. It will only get worse. The faster we act, the easier to clean up the mess.” I still looked away, but my own voice was steady. This was safe ground. I could talk about the mission. “I’m trying to go through some of my mom’s records. Maybe you could help? If you’re free to hang out tomorrow? We’ll have help at this next place also.”
“I’d love to. Another workshop on spirits.” A smile returned to his voice.
I let out a breath. Fine. Move on, don’t dwell, nod, wipe my face. “We need to go to sleep.” I sighed. “Thanks. I’m fine. Really tired, I guess.”
I would have been. Fine and bed and back into the nightmares, the eleventh night of consecutive nightmares, the eleventh night of waking alone with no one to call because the only people I knew involved in the world of hauntings were the two who had been killed by them. Totally fine. Alone.
Wade He kissed my ear through scarlet hair falling past it. The gentlest kiss, like a parent putting a child to bed. The opposite of strangers: intimacy without sex, kindne
ss without demands.
“You don’t have to stay in here alone,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb back and forth on my spine. The second time he’d used that word. “But my mother did not raise a douchebag. Do you want me to leave?”
Sucking in a breath, shutting my eyes, I cursed him in my head as my shoulders shuddered and my jaw clenched and I wanted to pound him.
“Ripley?” A breath in my ear.
I worked my locked jaw, tension making my teeth ache. It didn’t help. The tears ran from under my lids. Not a couple. A storm.
Wade inched closer to wrap his arms around me.
I pressed my face into his shoulder, shaking, still fighting, but answering him with, “Stay.”
It was as much information as he was getting out of me tonight. Maybe ever. Need-to-know basis. He needed to know he could stay. He didn’t need to know why.
31
Waking, I felt a prickle down my neck. Something wrong, something distorted about the darkness. A faint light, yes, but that wasn’t it. I blinked.
Warm and closely connected with Wade at my back, arm on my waist, asleep. The AC had finally stopped rumbling and the room was quiet and warm. He hadn’t done anything “inappropriate.” He’d put a Band-Aid on the cut at the top of my back and we hadn’t even kissed on the lips.
He wasn’t the one who’d disturbed me. It was that partly covered light.
I raised my head with a thrill of terror. The blurred figure in darkness became a real person on his knees on the floor, going through my phone.
I screamed, rearing back at the same time, flinging out my caterpillar light in pure force magic like a punch, sending him toppling with a crash on the hardwood and clatter of the phone.
A cat I hadn’t noticed rocketed off the foot of the bed and away. That would be Blue.
Wade jumped, yelled, scrambled to sit up. The man on the floor swore. I yelled something that didn’t make sense. The words “no” and “out” came up a lot. Wade cast out a golden light like many candle flames.
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