Nava Katz Box Set 2

by Deborah Wilde

  An older man of Japanese heritage, kind of a sexier George Takei dressed in impeccable business casual, and this seventeen or eighteen-year-old stocky guy in a Crooks and Castles “Cocaine & Caviar” hoodie stepped out of one of the pricey condo towers overlooking the water.

  Kane stopped dead.

  The teen pushed his Beats headphones up. “You look like an asshole.”

  Ari put his hand on Kane’s arm, but Kane shook him off, skewering the guy with his most disdainful look. I’m surprised the dude didn’t burst into flame. “It’s Pride and I look phenomenal. Not that I’d expect your Rohypnol-loving ass to understand either of those concepts.”

  “Kaname.” The man didn’t raise his voice but Kane flinched. “Apologize to your brother.”

  Whoa.

  “Half,” Kane corrected, lifting his chin to meet his father’s eyes.

  Double whoa.

  His father refused to be cowed. “There is no half in our family.”

  Kane laughed. “Right. You, me, step-monster, and the spawn. Cozy-cozy.”

  I tugged on Ari’s arm because this had gotten beyond uncomfortable, but my brother had planted himself at Kane’s back. I tried to make myself the third in a defense triangle, because we were being jostled like mad by the crowd and our little island was in danger of being swept downstream.

  Mr. Hashimoto raked Kane with a slow, disapproving gaze, but Kane didn’t wilt under it. He’d obviously learned his own intimidation from a master. Ari was next up for inspection.

  “Is this your boyfriend?” His father spoke the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Ari stepped forward. “Let’s go, man. He’s not worth it.”

  Kane laughed at his dad. “Please. You know us gay men. Incapable of all those values like monogamy you prize so much. Naw, he’s just someone I like to fuck.”

  He clasped Ari’s head in his hands and kissed him, hard.

  Ari stilled, sank into Kane for a brief second, and then shoved him back.

  My hand flew to my mouth, my heart breaking for the tangled mess of these two.

  “Don’t ever use me to prove a point,” Ari said.

  Hurt flashed in Kane’s eyes. Then he gave a cocky swagger. “You’re right. That’s your thing.”

  I stepped closer to my twin, ready to tear a strip off Kane.

  Kane’s father didn’t betray a single emotion. He jerked his head at his younger son. “Ren.”

  The kid trotted after his dad like an obedient puppy, throwing one last sneer at the guys.

  Ari looked up at the sky, jaw clenched, then exhaled. “Why can’t you admit your dad set you off?”

  Kane threw me a humorless smile. “You getting all this?”

  I threw my hands up. “Don’t take your anger out on me.”

  “I don’t get mad.” Kane’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I’m Mr. Good Time.”

  He snapped his fingers at some random pretty boy who sidled up and poked Kane’s “Gay as fuck” T-shirt.

  “Care to give me a demonstration?” Pretty said.

  “Kane,” I said. “Come on.”

  Kane brushed past me to slide an arm around the man’s waist. “You’ll do. Happy Pride, kids,” he said and, taking his boy toy, was swallowed up by the crowd.

  4

  Ari remained in quite the mood for the next couple of hours, perking up from grim to pleasantly murderous when we tracked a trail of fights that had broken out to the brahns responsible. Sure, these pug-like demons looked cute, all wrinkle-faced, even wearing rainbow doggie collars, but one brush with these fuckers and a person was lost to the darkness.

  Pride, sadly, was a perfect venue for these demons to ply their trade. For all the people living loud and proud, totally confident with whomever they were and whomever they loved, there were those grappling with all kinds of identity issues. These people came down here hoping for connection and community. Many of them found it.

  But sometimes these demons found them first, sucking them in with their adorable big eyes. A single pat on the demon’s head was enough for a person’s self-perceived failings to start playing on a loop in their brain until it twisted, hardened into a rage that needed to be unleashed.

  We cornered the demons in an alley and Ari wrapped his shadow magic around them. Tight with tension, the ropy cords wound around against the demons’ necks despite their thrashing. Their eyes bugged out, their tongues lolled, the doggies emitting pathetic little whimpers.

  A sense of unease crept in that we’d made a terrible mistake. “Ari.”

  He tightened the shadow noose even more, a determined glint in his eyes.

  The whimpering increased, their little tails wagging at warp speed.

  I grabbed his arm. “What if they’re not–”

  Their glamours fell away, revealing their true forms: fat, foot-long worms, their skin weeping like half-crusty herpes sores.

  Ari stomped them underfoot until they winked out, dead. I guess I must have made some kind of noise because he rounded on me, the line of his shoulders tight. “What?”

  “Beer?” I said.

  He relaxed slightly. “Okay.”

  I slung my arm over his rainbow flag cape. “You’re buying. I left my wallet at home.”

  We’d made it back down to the beach, the party-happy beer garden a more welcome sight than Eden, when a very familiar red-head walked by, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Leonie!” I cried out in evil glee, bounding over to my best friend, who sped up. Well, she tried to speed up, but I had about six inches on her and fifty percent more determination. I snagged her by the back of her short purple sundress. “Happy Pride!”

  Leo thrashed in my grip while I stuck my hand out to the tomboyish woman rocking the bright blue pixie cut beside her. “I’m Nava.”

  She shook my hand, slightly taken aback by my enthusiasm. “Hi? I’m Madison.”

  “Yes, you are,” I beamed.

  “Please lock your sister up,” Leo begged Ari.

  “I tried. They didn’t want her. Hey Mads, how’s it going?” He hugged her.

  I narrowed my eyes at Leo, who broke free to duck behind my brother.

  “Look at that,” she said, totally unconvincingly, peeking her head out. “They know each other.”

  Madison laughed. “You’re so mean. Ari and I have a bunch of chem classes together. Leo freaked when she found out. Apparently, I’m not allowed to socialize with you two.”

  “Not because of you,” Leo assured her.

  “Nope. Don’t lump me in with my sister,” Ari said. “I don’t interrogate new kids.”

  “I wasn’t going to interrogate Madison.” Three pairs of eyes swung my way in disbelief. “A gentle questioning.”

  “You’re a few weeks too late on my intentions,” Madison said. “I’ve got a girlfriend now. Leo and I are just friends.”

  Leo batted her lashes. “She got herself a real live lesbian. Much better than me, the girl who ‘couldn’t decide which team to play for.’”

  Madison jammed her hands in her jean pockets. “Zahara has issues with bisexuality. She was burned by a past relationship,” she explained to me.

  “Nope,” Ari muttered.

  I crossed my arms.

  “And now you’re wondering about me,” Madison said. “If I’m just one more lesbian being an asshole to a bi girl.”

  Leo nudged her hip. “Come on, Mads. I know it isn’t like that.”

  “Now that we’ve cleared that up,” I said. “What’s Leo’s ticklish spot?”

  Leo tried to jump up and muffle my mouth but I’d anticipated the move and scurried back out of range. She’d used my ticklish spots against me on many an occasion, but I’d never been able to do the same.

  “She doesn’t have one.” Madison was betrayed by the tiniest flicker of her eyes cutting to Leo. If I hadn’t been Rasha and trained in visual cues, I’d have bought it.

  “Fine. Take her side. Y
ou two wanna come to the beer garden with us?” I liked Madison’s loyalty to my bestie. While Madison didn’t know that Drio had dumped Leo because she was a half-goblin and he said he’d kill her if he ever saw her again, she did know that their tentative relationship had suddenly derailed. She’d helped keep Leo from falling into a funk this past month. That counted for everything in my book and I wanted to get to know her.

  “I’m meeting up with Zahara,” she said. “Rain check?”

  “Definitely.”

  Leo hugged Madison, then watched as she was swallowed up by the crowd.

  “You okay?” Ari said.

  “Yeah. Mads and I were never meant to be long-term, and I’m happy she’s found someone. Just…” Leo shrugged.

  “I know.” I wrapped an arm around her waist. “Let’s get you a drink.”

  Thanks to Leo’s connections with the bouncer manning the beer garden gate, the three of us got to skip the line. We snagged a sticky folding table and sent my brother off to procure booze.

  “Something up with our favorite non-couple?” Leo said.

  I glanced over at Ari, patiently waiting in line for drink tickets. “No clue. Why?”

  She fiddled with her mass of thin silver bracelets. “I ran into Kane about half an hour ago on a log down at the beach.”

  “Was he sucking face?”

  She shook her head. “He was on the phone and he sounded really agitated. I’d come up behind him but didn’t say hi.”

  “He was probably upset about his dad.” I filled her in on what had happened. “Why didn’t you talk to him?”

  Leo bit her lip. “He was speaking to Drio.”

  “Oh.” I squeezed her shoulder.

  She waved me off, grimacing when she touched the table. She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and scrubbed at the sticky spot. “It’s all good. If Drio is gonna define me by what I am, not who I am, then fuck him. I’m glad I never have to see him again.”

  Leo had uttered some variation of this so many times that she sounded close to believing it. My friendship with Drio had died that day as well, and if she missed him only twice as much as I did, then she was screwed.

  Ari arrived with the pitcher. I took the precariously balanced glasses away from him and he dumped the jug on the table, beer sloshing over its side.

  “Remember it’s hot,” he said.

  “Right, right, pace the drinking, whatever,” I said.

  “No.” He filled the first glass. “We should be able to get drunk faster.”

  By the time we finished the pitcher, sloshy happy Leo had made an appearance. She was sitting in my lap, telling us about a recent negotiation she’d had to do as a part time Private Investigator between two basilisks.

  “So then.” She cocked her fingers like a gun. “I looked them straight in the eyes and said, ‘Life is full of little dangers and I’m one of them.’ Booyah!”

  “You’ve got mad skills, baby,” I said.

  By the end of our second pitcher, sloshy happy Ari had made an appearance. He’d pulled us to our feet, the three of us dancing in a group like high school girls to “YMCA,” which was pumping out over the speakers.

  Tilting to make my “C,” I poked Leo, pointing out the very fit shirtless man trying to grind up on my brother. Ari had ditched his cape but kept the fire hat, now sitting at a jaunty angle. “You know my favorite guy part?”

  “Your near pathological fondness for the peen?”

  “Shockingly, no. Eyes.” I sighed. “Ro has the most beautiful eyes.”

  “Shut up. Today we only objectify strangers.” She rooted around in her bra.

  Ari covered his eyes. “Quit it. I might see nip.”

  “What did you store in there this time?” I said.

  “Gum. And… Aha!” She triumphantly pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill and waved it in the air. “Yoo-hoo! Mister Hot Guy.”

  Ari plucked the money from her hand.

  “I didn’t mean you,” she pouted.

  “You did at one time,” he smirked.

  Leo punched my arm. “You told him I had a crush on him?”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Elyse Shimizu told me in grade eight.”

  Leo crossed her arms. “Well, it was over by grade eight and a half, smarty pants, so nah.”

  Maybe I couldn’t have everything I wanted, but having this? Having them? It was pretty damn good. One more pitcher and sloshy happy Nava would make her appearance, making the what-the-fuck’s-going-on call to Rohan so much easier.

  I kicked off my shoes, curling my toes into the grass and feeling no pain. So when my phone rang in my front pocket and I recognized the international number, I answered with, “Go away. I’m on my break.”

  “There’s no rest for the wicked,” replied a man with a French-Canadian accent.

  “Seriously, Pierre. I’ve already protected the good people of my city today.” Pierre had been my main contact at Brotherhood intel since the assignment where I’d been lead hunter tracking down this demon called Candyman.

  “Bon. You’re warmed up.”

  I scowled at the phone, mouthing “Orwell” at Leo and Ari.

  “Hang on,” I told Pierre. Brushing off my brother’s offer to come with me, I pushed through the crowd and out the back exit of the temporarily erected fencing onto the beach.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Pride parade. Ouch.” Half-jumping over the hot sand, I beelined for the nearest log and sat down, scrunching my feet until I hit wet, cool grains. “Okay. What demon would the Brotherhood like me to dispose of?”

  “What do you know about Gary Randall?” Pierre said.

  “He’s a demon? Sweet! I’m on it. One less asshole hockey player in the world.” I’d gone through a phase of crushing hard on those boys. It hadn’t gone well.

  “Tu me gosses.”

  I snickered. Pierre lived in Jerusalem and he and I had never met; still, I’d quickly become one of his favorite people, since not only was I a fellow Canadian, but thanks to my years of French Immersion I was well-versed in Québécois expressions. I knew exactly how the fucker was insulting me, which we both found hilarious. Between that and the way I’d handled the Candyman assignment, I’d gained his approval.

  “What about Gary?” I said.

  “Watch the video footage,” he said. “Right before Randall trips into the path of the oncoming car, he stops to speak with some woman. You can’t see her face in the video and there isn’t any other CCTV footage that caught her on tape, but there’s a flash for a frame and then she’s gone.”

  “Demony. Do we know what they talked about?”

  “No. The cell phone video was too blurry to lip-read and there was too much ambient noise from the street to hear the conversation.”

  “Sounds suspiciously tidy.”

  “His doctors are saying his career is over. Could be an honest case of drunk and unfortunate, but if not?” It came out as “’onest” and “hunfortunate.” Pierre tended to both drop his “Hs” on words that started with that letter and add them on words that didn’t need them.

  I jacked up the volume on my phone because the beer garden crowd had gotten riled up at the opening strains of “Born This Way,” their enthusiastic singing drifting across the beach.

  “Draw out the demon,” he said.

  “Oh, sure, throw me to the wolves, Pierre.” I watched a tiny crab scuttle across the sand. “I’m the most unappetizing target for that kind of demon. I have a few hundred devoted Instagram followers, but that hardly makes me famous.”

  “Remember when you were Lolita?”

  “Hell, no. I’m not playing Rohan’s groupie again.” I was barely playing the role of his girlfriend these days.

  “Camme toé.”

  “I’m calm. This is me being calm.” My voice rose with a tinge of hysteria.

  “You don’t need to be Lolita. Our working theory is that this demon was attracted to Gary’s cockiness. A groupie who’s now th
e girlfriend? You’ve gone public with the relationship and it’s the perfect opportunity.”

  “I haven’t–”

  “Your friend Blair.”

  I checked my Twitter notifications which had exploded with messages from people asking if Blair had been talking about me, since her next tweet was a photo of Ari and me in the parade that I hadn’t seen her take.

  I kicked at the sand. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! “That was like four hours ago and I wasn’t even mentioned. Jesus. Are you stalking my friends?”

  “We’ve monitored all mentions of Rohan for years. We had to in case his fame exposed the Brotherhood. You should be pleased. You’ve created the perfect way to draw this demon out.”

  I hunched over, my shoulders curling forward and my knees clasped tightly together. Everything Pierre was saying made sense, especially in light of this mission. I could behave like a giant diva on Ro’s arm and probably attract the demon’s attention fairly easily. That level of obnoxious was fun for about five minutes, but living it 24/7? I’d done it in Prague and it’d been hell. The thought of doing it again made my skin crawl.

  “Look, how about…” I cast about for an alternative. “Um. Okay. Rohan is writing again. He could do a bunch of interviews. Talk about his solo career. Slam the band. That’s douchey.”

  Pierre made a dismissive noise. “Even when Rohan acted his worst at the height of his fame, this demon never came for him. Why would that work now? But with you, we have a unique opportunity. We need you.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. The Brotherhood had never claimed to need me–officially or otherwise. Part of me preened like a cat hearing them acknowledge my worth, however, Blair tweeting a vague tweet was one thing. My relationship, if there still was one, was so fragile right now that deliberately seeking out criticism and a demon to shred it to pieces was insanity.

  But they needed me.

  I swore silently. “I’ll help you find the demon, but not like that.”