by Linda Welch
“Well. Look who’s here, Tiffany and the Iron Chef,” came Jack’s mocking voice.
“Finally decided to come home, did you?” said Mel. “I suppose fun with Mister Hunky blew any thought of us right out of your mind.”
I ignored them; I had to with Royal in the room. I went to the pantry and got Mac’s kibble. He dipped his nose in the bowl before I finished filling it and I swear he inhaled the tiny nuggets.
Royal sniffed the air. “Can you smell something?”
“Yeah. See it too.” I eyed the puddle by the backdoor and the malodorous brown pile next to it.
“Disgusting little beast,” Jack sneered.
I got some old newspaper from the recycle bin under the sink, a bottle of pine disinfectant, a rag, paper towel, and went to the door, trying not to breathe through my nose. I spoke to Royal, but not for his benefit alone. “Not his fault. I wasn’t here to let him out.”
After dealing with Mac’s thoughtful gift and putting it in the bin out back, I sank in a kitchen chair and rubbed my brow with the back of my hand. “I don’t know why I’m so worn out. I slept heavy.”
“But not long enough,” Royal said as he took the chair opposite me.
“You found time to sleep?” Mel said.
Jack chimed in. “Bet she needed it after all the exercise.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep,” Royal said.
“Sounds good, but I need a shower.”
He gave me an intense look, a little something smoldering in his eyes. “I could do with one of those.”
I’m sure I went bright red. He gave me a toothy grin.
“And then I better go see Mike.”
He grunted, expression suddenly sober. “What will you tell him?”
“I’ll think of something,” I said unhappily. “What about you?”
He shrugged. “I gave up looking for you and went off duty.”
“You better report in before he gets suspicious.”
His mouth crooked. “I guess a shower will have to wait.”
But neither of us moved.
Then he pushed to his feet and came to me. I stood to meet him. When his arms came around my waist I clung to him. He ran his hand down my arm, brushing one of the tiny nicks on my shoulder. I sucked air through my teeth. He jerked back from me. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”
And I forgot my vow to not speak His name in vain. Je-sus Christ! “Oh poo!” I said elegantly. “I’m a tough girl. Now come here.”
“And you need rest.”
The man had way too much self-control. “Royal,” I whispered, “if you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll make you wish you never came to Clarion.”
If you wanted to see a visible definition of a demonic grin, Royal had it down pat. “We can’t have that,” he said hoarsely.
His mouth nibbled up my neck to my ear and I savored every touch of lips and teeth, until we were face to face, our lips a hair’s breadth apart. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine with desperation I had never known before, not with any man. Mike be damned. He could wait.
The phone rang. We ignored it. I no longer heard the insistent trill as Royal’s lips caressed mine.
It was everything I remembered, everything I could imagine, more than a kiss. Delectable warmth stole through me, eradicating my tension. My entire body relaxed. I felt loose and tingly, as if I would turn liquid and melt into a puddle.
Maybe a century later, my lips had been so thoroughly worked over, they burned, and I was having a little problem with breathing. He put his hands to my head and ran his fingers back through my hair, moved them to cup my face and looked in my eyes with intensity powerful enough to melt stone. I eased back a few inches as he pushed my shirt off one shoulder, allowing him access to my collarbone; a gentle nibble there, and his lips moved to my earlobe. Drowning in his touch, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.
“Tiff, if you’re there pick up the goddamn phone!” Mike said.
The Lieutenant’s voice went through my head like a saw-tooth blade, effectively destroying the mood. As Royal lifted his head and looked past me at the phone, I silently cursed Mike to hell and back.
“I can disconnect the phone,” I whispered, as if Mike could hear me.
Royal smiled in a pained way. “He’s furious. He’ll get worse the longer you leave it.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Royal took his arms from around me as if doing so were a major effort. I felt cold without his warmth cloaking me. I went to the counter and picked up the phone. “Hello, Mike. I suppose - “
He cut me off, but at least his voice gentled. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Now, I know you - “
“You’re fine. Nothing wrong? Nothing at all?”
“Yeah, really, Mike. I was - “
His voice erupted in my ear, making me wince. “In my office! Now!”
I made a face at Royal. Feeling contrary, I told Mike, “I can be there in an hour or two.”
“Wilson is two blocks away, he can swing over, pick you up.”
“No!” I looked at Royal with alarm. That’s all we needed: Officer Ken Wilson seeing Royal’s truck parked outside. “No need to pull Ken off his beat. I’ll be there in ten. Okay?”
“You do that.”
I replaced the phone and let my shoulders sag. “I better get it over with.”
“I’ll see you later,” Royal said.
“Royal,” I said as he neared the door, “those tights … you ever wear them?”
He paused in the doorway, swung to face me. A slow smile stretched his mouth. “Not as a habit. Would you like me to?”
Supporting myself with a hand on the back of a kitchen chair, I dipped my head as I nonchalantly swung one foot back and forth, “Well not, you know, where anyone else can see you.”
“But where you can see me?”
I managed a casual shrug.
“I’m sure I can… ,” he began slowly, followed by a pause, then, “Are you teasing me?”
I looked up to see his face alight with a delighted grin. “I learned from a pro,” I said, smirking.
His shook his head, his smile now tender. “You’re quite a woman. Do you know that?”
I didn’t know what brought that on, so I shrugged again.
He seemed to gather himself together. “I should be going, and so should you. Later, Tiff.”
“You can bet on it,” I replied huskily.
His gaze lingered on my lips, then he smiled wryly. “Keep those rope burns covered when you shower.”
“Rope burns!” Mel all but shrieked.
I’m proud I didn’t flinch, because I totally forgot my roommates were here. That never happened before. Mind you, they were untypically quiet while Royal and I were absorbed in each other. I could only stare at them, trying to emit displeasure without changing my expression.
Jack chortled, and you don’t know how peculiar it is to hear a person laugh when their expression does not change. “She’s into that stuff!”
Royal left the kitchen. I heard the front door close. I watched him walk down the path and get in his truck, and drive off.
Mel and Jack converged on me, their voices clattering in my ears.
I ran what I would tell Mike through my mind as I walked along the corridor. He would not like it, but I didn’t care.
Voices fell silent as I passed through the Squad Room. A phone rang unanswered. Nobody said a word to me as I maneuvered between desks, heading for Mike’s office. I didn’t see Royal.
Mike looked up as I came in and half rose to his feet, then sat down heavily. Then he got up and shut his door. I faced him, feeling awkward. Voices rose as a hum in the background. Someone answered the insistently ringing phone.
He took his seat. “Sit, Tiff.”
I did. As I put my hands in my lap, I checked the cuffs of my blue and white plaid shirt to make sure they covered the fresh bandages on my wrists. “I know you must have worried
,” I began.
He came half out of his chair again, fists balled. “Worried! I have two units on you and assigned Brad Spacer twenty-four-seven! And you waltz in here as if… .” He sat back down hard, reached for his phone and punched a button. A second later he said, “Brad, call off the APB.”
I heard Spacer’s voice, “Already done.”
Mike all but slammed the phone down. I inwardly cringed.
He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and the red of his face returned to near normal. “Talk.”
“I thought I had a lead on Lawrence. Didn’t pan out.”
The way he looked at me, I should have shriveled up like a dead leaf. “You knew how we’d react when you called and your phone went dead, what I would put in motion.”
“I figured. But … I was tired.”
His color rose again. “That’s it? You were tired? So you snuggled down in bed… .” Words obviously failed him.
He was furious, but I wasn’t exactly pleased with him, either. “I thought I had a lead, I thought about calling you, then I thought to hell with you.”
He took it better than I expected. In fact he calmed down. “What happened with Roy in Granby?”
“What didn’t happen with him afterward.”
He massaged his chin as he stared at me. I fiddled with a loose thread on the hem on my shirt.
He finally said, “What am I going to do about you, Tiff?”
I looked up and met his eyes. “Nothing. I quit.”
I had no choice. Law Enforcement agencies all over the world would continue to look for those little boys, and Mike would waste manpower and resources trying to find Lawrence, but I couldn’t do anything about that. I couldn’t tell Mike or the FBI Lawrence was alive and living in another dimension, the children were murdered by demons; that, hopefully, it was all over.
Mike and I were through. I expected too much from him. I thought he totally trusted me, but when it came to accusing one of his men, he didn’t even consider I could be right. He went through the motions in a desultory manner, but had no intention of investigating Royal. I don’t blame him; it was a tough call, and if he had investigated Royal he would have found nothing. But when I fingered Royal, Mike lost faith in me. When he didn’t believe me, I lost faith in him. We couldn’t discuss it, because after all, I was wrong about Royal, and how could I explain a dead child was mistaken? Yes, the dead see the face of their killer, and Charlie saw a demon who changed his appearance to look exactly like Royal.
I thought Mike and I had a bond formed by a good working relationship, yet when I accused a police officer he forgot the times I was right, when I brought killers to justice. Mike dismissed what I told him about Charlie and Royal, and that dented my ego.
Mike eyed me in a considering kind of way. Then he leaned back, clasped his hands over his belly and nodded.
And that was it. I rose and left his office without another word. I kept my head high as I went through the Squad Room. I didn’t look at anyone and kept my expression neutral. But a small sorrow in my chest rode with me as I left the building. I never felt the guys really accepted me, never felt one of the team, but we had a measure of camaraderie I’d not known since I worked for Bermans.
And what the heck would I do for money now?
I had a lot on my mind as I drove home. I needed a job, anything I could get. My work for Clarion PD paid well but infrequently, so I already lived on a shoestring budget. Had paid well. I would go back downtown and register with the Temp agencies later in the afternoon. In the meantime, I better scour the Help Wanted ads in the newspaper and online.
One minute a demon-ridden, Lord-saving super-heroine, the next unemployed. Life sucks sometimes.
I parked in the street, went indoors and to the kitchen. There are times when I wish I could redo the living room so I have someplace else to sit and relax. I wonder I haven’t worn grooves in the kitchen floor, as often as I’m in there.
I noticed the light on the answering machine blinking furiously and decided I should check messages, although they must be from Clarion PD and I had an idea what they said.
I hunched over the counter and hit the Play button.
“Tiff?” It’s Colin.”
For a second it was like, Colin, who’s he?
“I feel bad about leaving a message, but you don’t answer your phone. Look, Tiff, it’s not working out. I want a girlfriend I can be with more than once every couple of weeks. And you’ve been distant. I think you know there’s no future for us. I hope we can still be friends.”
The old standby: I hope we can still be friends. As if that ever works out.
“Um. I gotta go, Tiff. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
I deleted the message, then listened to three hang-ups and four messages from Clarion PD. I didn’t feel bad about Colin dumping me. I did feel bad I let a man I really liked, and with whom I had been intimate, be utterly erased from my mind.
Jack breezed into the kitchen. “How are the wrists?” he asked snarkily.
I turned my spine to the counter. “I told you what happened.”
“As if we believe you,” he said close to my ear.
I jumped. “I’ve asked you before not to do that, Jack.”
He drifted to the kitchen table. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Nope. It’s not a habit of yours. Where’s Mel?”
“Upstairs, dreaming of bacon and sausage no doubt.”
I bet it wasn’t all she dreamed about. After lusting after Gorge, Mel had now seen a spectacular demon at close quarters, in the flesh, not a picture in a newspaper. She would run the experience through her mind for a good long time and pester the life out of me talking about it.
I measured a cup of water into my electric kettle and turned it on. “I quit my job with the PD.”
“What?” Jack appeared too close to my shoulder again. I squinted at him through one eye. He backed off. “What are you going to do?”
“Get another job,” I said as I opened the cabinet and grabbed the packet of teabags.
He slapped his palms either side of his face. “You’ll have to sell the house!”
I got a clean mug and dropped a bag in it. “Don’t be ridiculous. The house is paid for. So long as I earn enough to cover utilities and basics, we’ll be just fine. I’ll worry about property taxes when I get the notice. Though I might have to find a job nearby so I can walk to work.”
“Property taxes? But they’re due this month, and they’re huge! How much money do you have?”
“Five hundred in Savings. A few dollars in Checking.”
Jack relaxed. “Phew. Nothing to worry about, then.”
“Wasn’t me worrying!” I poured hot water in the mug and dunked my teabag. I paused with the teabag dangling from its string. Money had more value when Jack was alive. “You do realize five hundred dollars doesn’t go far these day?”
But Jack was looking through the backdoor window. “Something’s outside.”
Chapter Twenty
I joined Jack and looked through the window. I didn’t see anything unusual. “What do you mean, something?”
“For just a second, between the apple trees. It’s gone now.”
I peered outside with my nose inches from the glass. “Yeah, but what did it look like? An animal?”
“A shape, man-sized, kind of blurry.”
I held my breath as I gazed intently. Then I saw movement, a small dark shape jutted from the apple’s trunk and disappeared again. It could be a squirrel on the trunk. Or an elbow. I cracked the door and listened. The yard was perfectly silent. Not a bird cheeping, not a chirrup from the grasshoppers. A ray of sun broke free from a sullen sky and I saw a flash, sunlight reflected off metal. My heart lurched.
I went to the kitchen drawer where I kept my Ruger and took off the safety. I returned to the backdoor with the gun in my hand.
Jack eyed the Ruger. “What is it?”
“A demon, I think.”
“Him
?”
I shook my head.
“How do you know?”
“Why would Royal hide in the backyard?”
“Don’t you go out there, Tiff. If anything happened to you, it would kill me.”
“Nothing can kill you, Jack,” I said softly. I wanted to hug him. The small, rare indication of tenderness evoked the same feeling in my breast.
Why did a demon hide in my backyard? I thought Kien’s death put an end to it. They had no right to be here. It was over. The High Lord had returned to Bel-Athaer. Maybe I should not automatically think my visitor was up to no good, but I wasn’t going outside without my gun.
I swung the door open and stepped outside, leaving it ajar lest I needed to get back in fast. Rain drizzled down now, though the sun still shone in the west and made the raindrops glitter like diamond chips.
Standing on my small concrete patio, in my own backyard, trying to see every which way at once was freakingly scary. It was all so familiar. The scrub oak, small pine, wild mulberry and canyon maple at the back of the lot; the fruit trees to the fore on a piece of mown grass. The leaves of the grapevine had shriveled and scrunched on the brick wall. The yard looked the same as always, but felt like another world.
My heel cracked an acorn and I froze; it sounded too loud. But whoever lurked in the yard knew I was here, so I stepped on the grass and slowly, cautiously walked to my right. Nothing but me moved in my backyard. I stood in the rain a foot from the redbrick wall. Raindrops spattered off the withered vine. The hems of my jeans grew damp from the long, wet grass.
I saw movement out the corner of my and swung in a crouch. He appeared between the cherry and an apple tree, long red-on-black hair in damp ribbons on the shoulders of his ankle-length black leather coat. Caesar’s partner Phaid, who pinned me to the ground and made me, for a few minutes, want him so bad it hurt.
With one arm behind his back, the other curved at his waist, he stopped in front of the trees, and spoke, and although from a distance away and he didn’t raise his voice, I heard him. “For the murder of Kien Morte Tescien, I pronounce judgment.”
No demon charm in his silken voice, no allure in his glossy eyes; they were cold, hard green emeralds. I lifted my gun and waited as my heart thudded.
