Summoned to Thirteenth Grave (Charley Davidson #13) Page 19
And we were gone.
Livia and I materialized outside the city limits. Reyes whirled around, his predatory instincts spiking his adrenaline.
“At least you’re not foaming at the mouth,” I said, looking on the bright side.
But he took in the state of my clothes, as did several passersby.
“I’m fine,” I said to stop any tantrum he might have been contemplating, but he was on me at once. Well, on Livia and me. Thankfully, she was busy napping.
He wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled us close. “What happened?”
“Dude,” I said, still astonished, “a lion. A black lion. Seriously, what the fuck?”
He ran his hands under my jacket and over my body. The blood was drying and my clothes were stiffening, which was even grosser than before.
I put a hand on his face. “I’m okay, handsome.”
He looked at the dried blood in my hair and, I assumed, on my face, and set his jaw. He’d felt helpless, and he didn’t like that feeling. Who did? But for Reyes, it was like an affront to his masculinity. Guys.
“But I really need to get out of these clothes.”
“I see you’ve picked up another stray.”
“Can we keep her? Please, please, please, please, please?”
He tried to stop the lopsided grin from forming on his face. He failed. Hard. Because that thing was stunning, if the three girls who walked by us were any indication. Two gaped at Reyes, one at me.
“You have fans,” I said.
“So do you.”
I shrugged. “It’s probably my ass. I mean, have you seen my ass?”
* * *
We made it back to HQ in one piece. Which was not unexpected. I took Livia down to meet the other kids. It was like she’d found heaven. But a bigger reason I went downstairs was to empty the box into a zip-top bag. I needed to know more before sharing that with the group. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, and I didn’t want to start an all-out brawl between the boys. It’d happened before.
I stuffed the bag in the pocket opposite the box and went back upstairs for a shower, but trying to sneak past an entire room full of people when you looked like you’d barely survived hostile takeover of the planet by aliens was not easy.
Cookie’s reaction was the loudest. “Charley!” she shouted, making sure everyone in the room heard her. All heads turned my way.
I held up a hand. “I’m fine. I just need a shower and a change, then I’ll explain.”
“But—”
“No. Shower first.”
Cookie sank back into her chair, and the others let me leave even though more than one jaw had fallen off its hinges.
When I got downstairs after my shower, the gang was just now sitting down for lunch. Reyes and I sat with them to catch up on the news.
Garrett filled us in. “The looting and vandalism is getting worse. The governor has declared martial law.” He placed a patient yet strangely sarcastic smile on me. “How’d you guys do?”
“I’m not sure.” I dragged out the box and put it on the table. “Pandu sent us to Rome.”
Cookie gasped. “You guys went to Rome? That’s lovely. I want to go to Rome.”
“A huge black lion played shred-the-human with me.”
“Oh. But still.”
“I found this box in a secret compartment in one of the crypts in the Vatican Necropolis.”
Everyone blinked in surprise.
“It has to mean something, Garrett.”
He picked it up and turned it over. “Does it open?”
“Yes, but there wasn’t anything inside,” I said, lying through my freshly brushed teeth. I didn’t dare spare Reyes a glance. That would’ve been a dead giveaway, and I was bad enough about giving away too much without killing it. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s fascinating.”
“That’s what I like. Positivity in the face of certain annihilation.”
Garrett smiled proudly. “You know what?”
“Chicken butt?”
“I could swear I’ve seen writing like this.”
He rose. I followed while Reyes told the gang about the Vatican. While he broke the news to Cookie that they had a file on her daughter, not to mention one on herself.
We went into Garrett’s room. I sat while he tore through a few books until he found what he was looking for.
“How are you doing?” I asked him.
Preoccupied, he said, “Fine. Here it is. It’s Latin, obviously.”
I snorted. “Obviously.”
“But I don’t recognize any of the words. The writing is strange.”
“Then you two should get along.”
“Yeah. So, how old was the chamber this was found in?”
He was totally ignoring me. I couldn’t blame him. I ignored myself sometimes just to get a few minutes’ respite.
“First-century BC, I believe.”
“Wow. How does it open?”
I showed him, drawing blood again. “See? Nothing. So, how’s your love life?”
He finally gave me his full attention. “Why you asking?”
“Just curious. You know, in case the world ends tomorrow.”
“Ah.” He went back to the box. “I’m thinking about asking Marika to marry me.”
I didn’t see that coming. “Marika? The woman who tricked you into getting her pregtastic because of your ancestry?”
He lifted a shoulder.
“I thought you were with Zoe?”
“No, Pari is.”
“Are you serious?”
“As the silent killer.”
“Aw, they make a cute couple, don’t you think?”
He did the deadpan thing.
“Hey, you have Marika. What are you so grumpy about?”
“I’m not. It’s just that . . . I want what you and Reyes have.”
“The strong possibility of an STD?”
“No, a love that spans the life of a million stars. All I get is betrayal and tricks.”
“Oh, that.” I dismissed the idea with a wave. “If you’re worried about betrayal, hon, you’ve come to the right place. I was sent to kill Reyes, remember? To swallow him whole.”
“Somehow I don’t think he would’ve minded.”
“And he built a hell dimension just for little ol’ me.”
“What are you saying?”
“That all relationships are tricky. Maybe not quite as tricky as ours has been, but it took a lot to get where we are. Give her a chance. Marika loves you.”
“Yeah?”
“I felt it when she looked at you.”
“She used me for my sperm count.”
“Which is clearly excellent.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “I’ve seen amazing relationships based on worse. Ours, for one.”
“Yours and Reyes’s?”
“Yours and mine. We didn’t always see eyeball to eyeball.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”
“I’m going to assume you got her outta Dodge.”
“Yeah. She and Zaire were on the first plane out.”
“That speaks volumes right there. I think you care more for her than you think.”
“Okay,” he said, crossing out of the dangerous territory of heartfelt honesty and into his comfort zone, “let me study this a bit.”
“The Vatican wants it back.”
“And you care why?”
“Oh, I don’t. Not in the least. But if we do give it back, let me state for the record, they can put it back in the pillar themselves, because holy hell. Getting attacked by a lion sucks ass, dude. I do not recommend it.”
A frown flashed across his face, so I sat back down. Something was clearly bothering him.
“Garrett, what is it?”
“I saw your clothes, Charles.”
“That? It was either come back in my shredded and bloody clothes or come back in my birthday suit.”
A sexy brow shot up.
; “Don’t even.” I started to leave, but I turned around and asked, “Can I see your abs? You know, in case the world ends tomorrow?”
“No. Make sure it doesn’t, and I’ll show them to you all you want.”
“Damn it.”
I turned to see Reyes standing in the door. “He won’t show me his abs.”
“He won’t show them to me, either. I asked earlier. Angel is looking for you.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been worried about him.”
I started to walk out the door, but he braced an arm across it. “What happened in there, Dutch?”
I looked at Garrett. “Nothing. I swear. We’re just friends.”
Garrett came up behind me. “Sweetheart, you have to be traumatized.”
“Oh, honey, you’re good but you’re not that good.”
“Charles,” he said, his expression encouraging me to share.
Sharing was not caring in my book, so I turned back to my husband.
Reyes stared me down for a solid minute before exchanging glances with Garrett the Betrayer and moving his arm.
“Thank you.” I strutted past to search out my little Angel.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked when I found him in Quentin’s room with Amber lounging on the cot.
I didn’t even think about the fact that they could all be friends now that Amber could see the departed. It did my heart good to see them chatting. Meiko was sitting on Angel’s lap while Quentin taught Meiko how to finger-spell his own name.
“Hey, watch your language.”
He winced. “Sorry.”
Whew. Interrogation averted. If only they were all that easy. “Reyes said you wanted to see me.”
“Oh, yeah.” He handed Meiko to Amber, who sat up so it would at least look like Meiko was sitting in her lap.
“Hey, Aunt Charley,” Amber said, her smile bright.
Quentin followed suit, offering me a wave and a smile that would melt the polar ice caps. Meiko would have waved, but he was busy forming a K with his hand. Ks were hard for both kids and adults—mostly adults—but he was getting it.
When we got clear of their room, Angel stopped and backed me against a wall with his index finger on my chest. Ballsy.
“What happened? I’m not kidding.”
Damn it. “It was kind of like The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, only without the witch or the wardrobe.”
“Something attacked you?”
“Dude,” I said, using my word of the day, “it used me as its plaything. I feel so dirty now. Then it sat down to dine on my innards. But that’s neither here nor there. How did it go?”
He’d braced a hand against the wall next to my head, his thirteen-year-old face, only just shedding the baby fat of youth when he died, full of concern. The bandanna he wore low on his brows covered the top halves of this eyes, but it couldn’t hide the shimmering depths of his dark irises.
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just phase out?”
“Phase out? Interesting way to put it. I couldn’t, actually. The whole place had some kind of shield around it. It was bizarre. They even had one around Vatican City that kept Reyes out. And only Reyes.”
“So, it attacked and you couldn’t get out?”
“It did and I couldn’t.”
He bit down and drew closer. “Why didn’t you summon me?”
I let out a soft laugh. “I tried to summon Artemis and couldn’t. I knew it wouldn’t work with you either.”
He shook his head.
“Angel?” I said when he got even closer. “I’m going to hug on you if you invade my space bubble any more than you already have.”
He inched even closer, a challenging look on his face.
Left with little choice, I wrapped him in my arms. He wrapped back, burying his face in the crook of my neck. It seemed to be a popular place lately.
We hugged for a long time. This was more than just today. His embrace held a myriad of pent up emotion. He’d probably been worried about me when I was cast out of the realm.
I brushed a hand over his hair and pulled him tighter. He raised his face, his mouth at my ear. “In case we die tomorrow, can I see you naked?”
“No.”
“What if I let you see me naked?”
“Ew.” I shoved him off me. “You are thirteen, Angel.”
He brushed his T-shirt where I pushed him. “No, I died at thirteen. You’ve never taken me seriously.”
“I take you seriously. Just not often.”
“Oh!” he said, changing directions on a dime. “I found something out. They’re all crazy!”
Trying not to giggle, I reached up and ran my fingers over his peach fuzz. “It’s a mad, mad world.”
“No, really, they’re all crazy.”
“Who, sweet pea?”
He winced at the term of endearment. “The infected. They’re all crazy.”
“Yes, that’s part of the problem.”
“No, I mean before they were possessed.” He whirled around and began pacing the hallway. “I was listening to the chick from the CDC—”
“I’m sure you meant to say the doctor.”
“—and she was talking about how they might have found a connection between the infected that are making them more acceptable.”
“Susceptible?”
He nodded.
That perked my ass right up. “What is it? What’s the connection?”
“I already told you. They’re all crazy.”
“What do you mean?”
“She said that they have found an indignant amount—”
“Significant?”
“—of the people they’ve admitted so far have some kind of history of mental illness, like skit friends or polar bears or old-timers.”
In his defense, he died before any of those words were terribly commonplace with the in-crowd. “So, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and Alzheimer’s.”
“Right. They’re crazy!”
“Angel, we don’t use the C-word here.”
“Cunt?”
“No, the other C-word. Crazy. They have a mental illness. But, wait, not all of them?”
He shrugged. “The other guy said that for all they know, the rest could have a mental illness and might not have been formerly diagnosed.”
“Formally. Wow, Angel, that’s excellent work.”
“Thanks. Now can I see you n—”
“No.”
“Oh, I wanted to say, if this really hinges on something that happened to your mother, maybe you could, you know”—he hedged by kicking an invisible rock—“help your sister remember. I mean, you’ve done it before.”
I had. Several times. “I may do that,” I said, thoughtful. “I was hoping she would remember more, but what if that’s really all she saw?”
“Then no harm, no foul.”
He had a point. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Enough to show me—”
“No.”
18
I’m not on the crazy train.
Trains go fast.
It’s more like a wagon.
A long, slow ride on the crazy wagon.
—MEME
I searched out a formerly possessed biker dude named Eric and found him watching the news in the TV room. The same one no one told me about. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, yourself. Have you seen the latest? It’s crazy.”
“Funny you should mention the C-word.”
“Cunt?”
“No, the other C—Never mind. Can I ask you a super-sensitive question?”
“You pulled a demon feeding off my brains out of me. You can ask me anything you want to, gorgeous.”
“Thanks. I don’t mean for this to sound bad, but have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?”
“Not that I know of, unless you count clinical depression, ADHD, and bipolar disorder.”
I blinked and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think those would count.”<
br />
“Sweet. Then, yeah. Why?”
“The CDC thinks those with a mental illness are the ones most susceptible when the demons scope out a host.”
“I’ve always felt susceptible. In a strange, uncomfortable sort of way. Like when your uncle wants to play find-the-bunny with you but he always hides it in the same place: the pocket of his jeans.”
“You’re fucking with me, right?”
A stunning grin spread across his face. “Only a little.”
* * *
I hurried back to Garrett’s room and found him and Reyes in a bit of a heated discussion. The only thing I heard was Garrett saying, “This is crazy, Reyes, but of course you can count on me.”
“Hey, boys,” I said, totally interrupting.
They jerked to attention, surprised.
“Hey, Charles,” Garrett said before turning back to his books.
“They found a commonality among the infected.”
“They’re all crazy!” Angel said behind me.
So, the C-word talk didn’t quite sink in.
I let Angel explain. He was pouring all his energy into his retelling when Amber and Quentin came rushing at us with Meiko in tow.
Meiko ran up to me and said, “Amber and Quentin have been practicing bondage with me.”
I gaped at them.
“No, sweetheart,” Amber said, rushing to their defense. “We’ve been practicing bonding with you so that you feel comfortable with us and can open up. Remember?” She looked back at me. “There’s a book. We were practicing.”
“You know, it usually works best if you don’t tell the victim you are practicing bonding with them and, you know, just bond.”
“Right, well, I thought the truth might help him trust us even more.”
“This is what he described,” Quentin said, holding up a picture.
Amber pointed out a bird on a platform of some kind. “This is what Meiko could see out of a line of glass block at the top of the box.”
Quentin gave Meiko a thumbs-up, then added, “He said it’s white like it’s made out of snow.”
Reyes and Garrett joined us, examining the drawing themselves. It was of an eagle in flight.
“And we thought someone might recognize it,” Amber added. “We thought—”
“I know where she is,” I said, a chill of recognition sweeping through me. “I know where Belinda is.”