Her mind began to clear. “You want me to swim to the caverns and check on the sirens?”
“Yes,” he said, taking another long draught from his glass. His lips were dyed red with the wine. “See if anything looks amiss and report back to me. Maybe by visiting their territory, we can get a sense of what ails them.”
“I wouldn’t know what to look for,” she said, shifting on the bench.
Ethan smiled. His eyes were filled with soft flames now. She was certain his eyes had not been full of hellfire earlier.
“It doesn’t matter. I only need you to look around.” His grin turned wicked. “I have ways of extracting what I need from the mind.”
“And they won’t hurt me for swimming into their territory?”
“No,” Ethan said, perhaps too quickly. “Of course, if for some reason they do realize you are a woman...” He took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving hers. “My advice is to swim away. As fast as you can.”
“I’ll go tomorrow,” Reese said, shifting against the creaking bench. “Once the sun is up.”
It wasn’t only the dangers of night swimming across open waters that concerned her. It was also that she was dead tired all of a sudden—she wondered if Ethan could be blamed for this immense loss of energy.
His mischievous grin betrayed him. “That is very wise. It will be best to go during the day when the sirens are tired and sluggish. They are as nocturnal as we are. Actually I suppose you are crepuscular, aren’t you? My apologies.” He took another sip of wine, his lips even redder than before.
Quite kissable, Reese thought. She wondered if it was the fragrant garden—or Ethan that was going to her head. Danger a little voice warned. Danger, Reese. The voice sounded like Violet’s.
“Observe as much as you can and report back to me tomorrow evening. I will compensate you however you wish.”
This stopped her in her tracks.
His grin turned wicked as if sensing her excitement. “Do you have a preference as to how you are compensated?”
Reese didn’t want for money. Her aunt was generous and doting, and Reese made good money as a bartender. All of this was made easier by the fact Reese had few needs.
But this was Ethan Benedict she was speaking to.
“I would like a favor,” she said.
He leaned back, his smile amused. “And I long to please you. What is your wish?”
“I don’t know.” Now she was the one grinning. “But if I ever find myself in trouble someday, it would be nice to know that I can call on you for...assistance.”
Ethan considered his glass of wine for a moment before taking another slow, luxurious sip. When Reese saw the fire spring into his eyes, another chill seized her spine. Had she overstepped? Had she asked too much?
He extended his hand. “In exchange for your help with this situation, I offer my protection. No harm will come to you on my watch.”
“Deal.” She slid her palm into his.
Quick as lightning, his hand seized hers and pulled. She was yanked from her seat forward across the lit walkway and into Ethan’s lap. Her body collided with his. He was warm, the way living vampires were warm after they’d fed. His chest didn’t give as she pushed against it.
But it wasn’t just his arms around her, or the press of his chest against hers.
It was his lips.
His soft, pillowy lips overtook hers. Her surprise came out as a sigh, or moan before she could stop it.
“This is how I seal my pacts,” he said, his breath warm on her face.
Reese stood, stumbling back from the demon. He let her go with a lazy, triumphant grin on his face.
“You have my word, Reese. Should you ever need me, I will be happy to help you.”
“T-thank you.” She tugged at the bottom of her shirt which had ridden up to reveal her stomach.
He pointed at the French doors with the empty wine glass. “And now I’ll lead you out.”
His tone brooked no argument.
She’d made it all the way to the front door when she turned and saw Liam descending the right side staircase. His hair was wet and curling. He was buttoning the cuff on a clean white dress shirt that he’d tucked into tight, dark pants.
Reese realized she was staring.
“He’s very beautiful, isn’t he?” Ethan whispered into her ear. The warm breath made the hairs on her neck rise. “You should see him on his knees.”
Heat shot through her body, tightening muscles low in her core.
“Don’t let him get to you, Reese,” Liam said. His eyes were on Ethan. “He likes to play with his food.”
Ethan tsked. “I haven’t fed on her, my love. Much.”
Reese had become aware of how close Ethan was standing behind her left shoulder. And with Liam standing in front of her, she was practically sandwiched between the two men.
“He likes shifter magic more than any meal in the world,” Liam explained. He was giving Ethan a wary look. “It reminds him of Vendetta.”
“Telling all my secrets, my love?” Ethan asked. It felt like his lips were micrometers above her skin.
“She deserves to know she’s the prey. It’s unfair when they think otherwise.” He turned to Reese. “He’ll get drunk on you if you let him. Better get out of here before he drains you dry.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Ethan said, in mock outrage. But he was practically purring in her ears.
Reese fumbled for the door handle, her face so warm she thought she would begin to sweat.
Liam took pity on her and threw the door wide, offering her the night. She burst out onto the porch, the fresh air hitting her with all the force of an ocean wave.
“Good night,” she managed before the door closed behind her.
She breathed deep, letting the cool air beat back the magic. For a moment she turned and stared at the front door as if she expected Ethan to come after her. But the front door remained closed. In her mind, she imagined Liam leaning against it, barring the demon’s path.
Why had he helped her?
Whatever the reason, she owed Liam and she knew it. Whether or not he was the sort of person to draw on such debts, she didn’t know. But the tally mark had already been made in her mind. With a slight tremor in her arms, which she recognized as falling adrenaline, she climbed into her truck.
The tree limbs blocking the road pulled back reluctantly this time—or was she only imagining that? Just be glad they pulled back at all, she thought as she pressed the gas pedal a little harder.
Grayson
He woke to a soft knock on his bedroom door. He opened his eyes and found his mother standing in the frame, one hand on the handle, another on the jamb.
If his mother had any thoughts about the way Abigail was wrapped around his shoulder, sleeping soundly on his chest, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look directly at Abby.
And Grayson was too exhausted to care. He felt like his eyes were on fire. He couldn’t have slept more than two or three hours.
“Abigail’s mom is going to be here in twenty minutes. I thought she might want a bagel or coffee before she goes.”
“Abby.” He shook her gently. “Abby, wake up.”
At first, her hold tightened on him.
“Abby, your mom is on her way.”
She raised her head, auburn hair covering her face. She pushed it back with her hand.
“Morning,” his mother said from the doorway. She came to the side of the bed and put Abby’s clean clothes on a pile. “I washed your clothes. Or you can just wear those.” She seemed to read Abby’s hesitation. “I can get them back some other time.”
“Thank you,” Abby said, sitting up. “I appreciate that.”
“Would you like a bagel and coffee?
“Yes and yes.” She smoothed her abundant hair out of her face.
“Blueberry or Everything?”
“Everything. Do you have any of that garlic spread?”
His mother smiled, but Gray
son saw how it didn’t reach her eyes. “I do.”
“I’ll take that, please. Thank you.”
His mother gave him a look.
“I’ll make mine,” Grayson told her before she shut the door with a nod.
“I love your mother,” Abby said, stretching her arms overhead.
“Do you need a washcloth or anything?” he asked. He knew Abby liked to wash her face in the morning.
“I still have one from yesterday.”
For a long time they both sat there, not moving, not speaking.
“It really happened, didn’t it? He’s really dead.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “There was a moment when I was just coming awake and I thought—”
“I know,” he said. The last twelve hours of his life seemed like a crazy blur.
She took her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom without saying anything else.
Grayson went downstairs and found the bagels by the toaster. The smell of coffee filled the kitchen. It was some sort of mocha blend. He could smell the chocolate.
He cut a blueberry bagel in half with a knife and forced it into the slots of the toaster. He stood there while the elements glowed red.
Landon.
God, Landon. Was he really dead? Could he really be gone?
His mind kept bucking against the idea with disbelief.
Before he considered what he was doing, he had his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed Landon’s cell—he was the last one to call Grayson—and listened to the empty static on the line.
It went straight to voicemail.
“If you’re looking for Landon, you found him! What’s up?”
It beeped and Grayson considered leaving a message. His mouth was half open. The breath was there between his lips.
“Who are you calling?” his mom asked. She came through the swinging doors and crossed to the fridge. She pulled out a pitcher of OJ and stood there looking at him.
“No one,” Grayson said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “I was checking my messages.”
It was a meaningless lie, but easier than opening himself up to have a conversation he wasn’t ready to have.
The toaster spit out his bagel and he took it into the dining room. He sat down at the table beside his father. That left a space between him and his mother for Abby, which already had a steaming cup of coffee and hot bagel waiting.
“What are you going to do today?” his father asked.
“I think you should stay home and rest,” his mother interjected. Her fierce blue eyes seemed to challenge his father to argue against her. “You clearly didn’t get enough sleep.”
His father seemed oblivious to any such challenge as he shoved the last bite of a bagel into his mouth and continued to scroll through his phone, catching up on the morning news.
“I’m supposed to be at work at two,” Grayson said. “But I could call in.”
“You should,” his mother said. “What will Tabitha do? Fire you?”
It was true that Grayson didn’t need his job at Curiosity Books. But he liked working there. There was something about the cramped rows and precariously perched stacks that comforted him. And it wasn’t like spending his afternoons in a used bookstore was a hard job. Usually he spent it reading behind the register and saying hello to the customers who meandered in.
Every hour or so, there might be a purchase or two, but overall it was quiet.
The most exciting part of the gig was the ghost upstairs who liked to move around Ms. Monroe’s dining room furniture when she was away. And sometimes, if the ghost was particularly restless, she would pull a book from the shelves just to hear it hit the dusty carpet.
“Are you guys going to be here?” Grayson asked, forcing down a bite of his bagel. Thinking of Landon was making his throat tight again, but if he didn’t eat his mother would only come down harder on him. She was militant about self-care.
“No, I have to go into the lab for a few hours, but I’ll be home in the afternoon,” his father said.
“And I have office hours and two meetings,” his mother said. “But I’d be happy to cancel those if you want me to stay with you.”
“No,” he said and hoped he didn’t sound too eager. “I want to be alone.”
“Okay,” his mother said, but her face was contradicting her. It was clear she didn’t really think it was okay. “There’s still Chinese in the fridge and I also made a salad.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll let us know where you’re going to be though,” his mother said. It wasn’t a question, even if it did tilt up at the end. “Work or here?”
“I’m going to work,” he said and checked the time on his phone. He had two hours before his shift started.
“Come home if it’s too much,” his mother said.
“Yes,” his father agreed, looking up from his phone again. “There’s no shame in needing personal time.”
“I know,” Grayson said and he did. Grayson didn’t know another kid at his school who could call his mother and be removed, no questions asked, because he needed a mental health day.
His mother squeezed his hand. It was warm from the coffee mug she’d been holding.
“We want to give you space and we trust you to take care of yourself,” she said. “But we also worry. No one should have to go through what you went through last night. Loss is terrible, but last night...last night.”
He squeezed her hand back and then let it go. “Don’t worry about me.”
She clucked her tongue. “As if I can turn it off.”
Abby came into the dining room and took the empty seat. She sipped the coffee, then added creamer from the carafe on the table. She also poured herself a juice.
“Mom texted me and said she’s going to be a few minutes late. She got hung up on a 911 call or something.”
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to,” Grayson’s father said, looking up from his phone.
“We love having you,” his mother added, tapping her rings against her coffee mug. “How are you feeling today?”
“Awful,” Abigail said and his mother responded by rubbing Abby’s back.
“Your bagel is cold. Want me to reheat it?”
“No, this is fine.”
The front door slammed open. “I’m home! Grayson! How was your birthday?”
Tanner, his ten-year-old brother, burst into the dining room. His hair was blown back from his face and he had his backpack slung over his shoulder. He dropped it with a clunk onto the floor.
He took one look at his family and his eyes widened. “Whoa. Who died?”
Grayson snorted. His brother had an uncanny ability to hit the truth spot on. His father often said he was fairly certain Tanner—because he’d been born in this creepy town—was some kind of psychic. Grayson had been born in LA and while he might have a knack for surviving, he didn’t seem to know things out of the blue like Tanner did.
Grayson’s mother was standing at the dining room window, waving to Will’s mother in the driveway.
“Landon died,” Abby said. She took a bite of her bagel as if to stop herself from saying more.
“Shit.”
“Tanner!” his father cried.
“Language,” his mother said, releasing the curtain.
“You’re one to talk,” Tanner shot back and he had a point. Everyone at that table knew his mother said words that would make a sailor blush.
“Please put your shoes and bag where they go,” his father said pointing at the pile Tanner made upon his arrival.
Tanner didn’t seem to hear him. “Did he really die?” He was looking to Grayson for confirmation.
Grayson found his voice. “There was an accident when we were swimming.”
Both his parents shot him warning looks. Grayson understood that he was supposed to omit the details of Landon’s death. Tanner knew Castle Cove was different. He knew about the vampires, werewolves, and witches—even the sirens in t
he cove. As with Grayson, his parents took great care to raise a curious but cautious boy.
But just because Tanner knew there were monsters in Castle Cove didn’t mean that Tanner fully understood what those monsters could do to a person.
Grayson thought that Tanner comprehended more than he let on. Perhaps it was his gift for knowing that kept him safe. This gift worked as well as, if not better than, their parents’ diligent training.
“He drowned?” Tanner asked. His eyes were wide. Too wide.
“Yeah,” Abby said, lifting her coffee from the table. Grayson saw the tremble in her hand.
“Your best friend drowned on your freaking birthday?” Tanner asked. Now he was hanging off Grayson’s chair, looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, dude.”
Dude was his favorite word the last few weeks and to hear it uttered with such sincerity undid Grayson inside. Tears formed and spilled over onto his cheeks. He pulled his little brother into a tight hug. “Thanks, man.”
His parents let the moment unravel between them. No one spoke. Breakfast continued as if nothing was happening. Tanner pulled back first.
“Shoes, bag,” his mother said.
Tanner dutifully obeyed, putting his backpack on the hook and slipping his shoes into their cubby.
The doorbell rang.
Because he hadn’t closed the door behind him, it stood open with a clear view of Officer O’Reilly on the porch. She didn’t have the officer uniform on. She wore pressed black dress pants and a deep burgundy dress shirt tucked into the waistband. Her badge was clipped to one hip and her gun was visible in its holster.
“Abby, it’s your mom,” Tanner said, and opened the screen door. “Hi, Miss Una.”
“Hey, buddy.” She sounded as exhausted as she looked. Deep pillows of purple had formed under each of her eyes.
Abby started to clear up her plate, but Grayson’s mother gently tugged her hands away. “Leave it. I’ll take care of it.”
Night Tide Page 38
