Eighth Grave After Dark (15 page)

He lifted a shoulder and leaned back in his chair, straightened out his legs in front of him. “She's doing well. We've been talking.”

I scooted closer. “And?”

“She wants to try dating again.”

“Dude, that's great.”

“I don't know. She used me to purposely get pregnant and didn't tell me.”

“Of course she didn't tell you. What would you have done if she had?”

“Run in the other direction. But it's still not okay, Charles.”

He was right, of course, but we all make mistakes. I decided to remind him of that. “Do you remember that time I was helping you out with a bust—?”

“You mean that time you butted into my stakeout because you wanted me to lick your coffee cup?”

“Exactly. And what happened?”

“The guy came home. I busted him. End of story.”

“No, before that.”

“You tried to poison me.”

“No, after that.” And I didn't try to poison him. I just wanted to know if my cup was poisoned. It tasted … poisony. Turned out, I just didn't rinse well. So much for my theory that my landlord at the time was trying to kill me.

He drew out his exhalation to make his point. A long, needless point. “Fine. I get it.”

“No, what happened?”

“I went into that diner to get a cup of coffee.”

“No. You went into that diner to try to get a date with one of the waitresses.”

“I know the story.”

“And why was I really in the same neighborhood as you?”

“Because you were staking out that diner.”

“I was staking out that waitress. And why was I doing that?”

“Charles—”

I shoved an index finger over his mouth.

He glared.

“Why was I doing that?”

“Because you figured out she was spiking men's coffees with eyedrops.”

“Yes. She had this weird vendetta thing going on and was purposely making men sick. I saved your ass. You could have died.”

“I wouldn't have died.”

“You could have gone into a coma like poor Mrs. Verdean's husband.”

“So, where are you going with this?”

“You made a mistake hitting on that woman when your gut told you she was about as stable as a three-legged chair. We all make mistakes.”

“What Marika did wasn't a mistake. It was quite intentional.”

“I get it. I do. I just hope you give her a second chance is all. Especially now that she broke up with her boyfriend.”

“She broke up with him?”

I nodded, knowing that would get his attention.

“I don't know, Charles. Chicks are crazy.”

“Duh. That doesn't mean you can't keep trying.”

“Maybe it could work. I mean, I've always wanted a family. And Zaire is great. Marika has her moments, too.”

“That's the spirit,” I said, punching his arm. “So, did you get it?”

“Is that the only reason you're talking to me?”

It wasn't, but I couldn't let him know that I genuinely cared about him. “Of course.”

His mouth widened into a grin that made his silvery eyes sparkle. “It's behind that weird box.” He nodded toward the potato bin.

“Sweet!” I scrambled up to check out my new toy. “I've always wanted a sledgehammer.”

At about half my height, the handle wasn't bad. The head of the sledgehammer was about the size of a Big Gulp. All in all, it seemed pretty nonthreatening.

I took the handle and tried to pick it up, ignoring the skiptracer at the table. His snickers would not deter me from my task.

“Fine,” I said, dragging it from behind the potato bin and across the floor.

“You aren't going to kill anyone with that, are you?”

“That's certainly not the plan,” I said, huffing and puffing as it scraped along the tile with an awful, horror-movielike sound.

“You realize this floor is over a hundred years old.”

I felt bad about the floor. I really did, but I couldn't pick the stupid thing up. “It's much heavier than it looks.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Nope,” I said, winded. I'd traveled about two feet. “I got this.”

There was a tiny room off the kitchen with a wooden closet of some kind. Nobody knew what it was, even Sister Mary Elizabeth. It could have been a confessional, for all I knew. Either way, no matter what we did, we could not get the door open. Normally, that wasn't a big deal. But the more I thought about it, the more it ate at me. There could be anything in that closet. There could be a dead body. Or a mountain of gold. Or a staircase to a secret passageway.

After months of trying to pry it open, I couldn't take it anymore. This was my last hope. That door was coming open if I had to tear down the wall around it.

Garrett got up and followed me to the room that we had set up as the laundry room. Though I'd refused his help physically, he decided to help in other ways. He watched and chuckled and assured me I was batshit every so often. So, there was that.

After an eternity, we got to the door, a thick wooden thing set in the middle of a wall in the small room. The wall butted up against the room that Cookie and I had set up as our office, but we'd stepped the rooms off. There was a good five feet of space in between that wall and the office wall. So what was there?

I was about to find out.

As Garrett watched from the doorway, swigging his beer pretty as you please, I pulled with all my might to try to at least get the sledgehammer off the ground. I wasn't weak. I could lift stuff. Heavy stuff. Well, heavy-ish. This thing was insane.

I set it back down just as Reyes walked up. He wore the same doubt-ridden grin as Garrett.

“Gonna get it open, are you?” Reyes asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Yes, I am.” I set the hammer down to take a break. “We need to know what's in there. There could be anything. I mean, why is it locked?” I examined the door for the thousandth time. “No,
how
is it locked? There's no lock.” I pointed to emphasize the absurdity of it all.

The door was massive. In a convent with regular doors and regular walls, why was this door—the same door that was impenetrable—so thick? So sturdy? Reyes had even tried to see into the closet incorporeally. He couldn't get in!

“I mean, aren't you even curious? What kind of room is impenetrable even to something that is incorporeal?”

I struggled to lift the sledgehammer again, but now I had an even bigger audience.

“She at it again?” Osh asked.

“Hardheaded as the day is long,” Reyes said.

My frustration rose to new heights. “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, if you aren't going to help, what were you talking to Angel about?”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“In that field today. I saw you.”

He straightened. “What were you doing out there?”

“I was following that sweet departed nun. She's been trying to show me something and then someone pushed me and I almost fell to my death and were you there? No.”

A blast of heat hit me then, and I couldn't tell if he was angry with me or because someone had pushed me.

“What do you mean, someone pushed you?”

Oh, thank God.

“Who pushed you?”

“Why were you talking to Angel?”

“Is that what happened to you?” He took my arm and indicated a scrape down the back of it, his touch scalding.

“Probably.” I shook off his hold and gripped the sledgehammer again. “And I have no idea who it was. I smelled something weird, though.” I straightened and thought about it. “Like lavender or something.” I bent to my task again.

He stepped to me, curled his fingers under my chin, and lifted my face to his. “Who was it?” The moment he stepped forward, I felt consumed by fire, like I'd been swallowed by a blazing inferno.

“What were you talking to Angel about?” When he didn't answer yet again, I stepped out of his grasp and pointed in the general direction of the living room. “Go stand in the corner with Mr. Wong.”

Cookie had joined us then, doing her best to look over Osh's shoulder. “Is she trying it again?”

Reyes turned from me then as though frustrated. “Why is he here?”

“Mr. Wong? I have no idea.” But I stopped to wonder as Osh and Reyes eyed each other. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Why is such a powerful being in the house?” Osh asked.

“No. Well, yes—that, too—but I was thinking he needed to get out more. Maybe meet a girl. Try the singles scene. He seems awfully lonely.”

I pulled on the hammer again, raising it about two inches off the floor, and swung with all my might. It tapped lightly on the door, the sound barely audible above the sound of the spin cycle.

Then someone else joined us. Gemma stood behind Garrett, but I didn't think the high-pitched screech that nigh drew blood from my ears was coming from her. Nope. It came from none other than my stepmother.

“What are you doing?” she yelled, pushing her way into the room.

Ignoring her, Reyes shook off his misgivings about Mr. Wong, the sweetest man alive, or, well, dead, and stepped to me again. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking my arm and caressing it.

His touch liquefied my insides. “I'm fine.”

“A sledgehammer?” Denise howled. “What are you doing letting her lift a sledgehammer?”

“I'm calling Katherine,” Reyes continued, unfazed by Denise's rant. “I think we need to be sure.”

“Katherine the Midwife,” I corrected. Since we couldn't take me to a medical team to give birth, we'd brought a medical team here. We even had one of the downstairs rooms outfitted with everything a modern midwife would need.

Denise ripped the handle away from me. “Do you know what that could do to the baby?”

Was she kidding? “The baby is the safest person in this room, Denise.”

“Charley, you can't lift something this heavy.”

“Yes, I can. Not very far, but—”

A slap echoed along the walls and I realized my face stung. The moment was so shocking, so surreal, everyone stood in complete silence. Even Denise. She seemed the most shocked of all.

Reyes reacted first. His heat exploded around me and I slowed time to watch a hand lift to Denise's throat. He would snap her neck in a heartbeat, before he even knew what he was doing, his anger was so great. I stepped in front of him, put my hands on his wide chest, and pushed with all my might. Then I allowed time to bounce back with my hands still on his chest, my body braced for impact.

It crashed around me, and Reyes, not expecting my influence, took an involuntary step back. I'd hardly fazed him. He started for Denise again, but I put my hands on his face and drew his attention to me.

“Mom!” Gemma yelled, tackling the big guys blocking the doorway to get inside. She didn't know what Reyes was, but she knew he was supernatural and she knew he was as deadly as they came. She got between Reyes and Denise and held up her hands to fend him off.

“I'm sorry,” Denise said, trying to calm him.

“Reyes,” I said, my voice soft, soothing. “It's okay.”

His anger physically hurt, it was so hot.

“You have to calm down.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “You're boiling me alive.”

He sobered instantly, his eyes shimmering with emotion. A telltale wetness gathered between his thick lashes as he glared at me. Then, ever so slowly, he came to his senses.

I wiped at a tear that slipped past its glistening cage, but he turned from me, embarrassed and furious and, I suspected, afraid of what he would do.

“Are you okay?” I asked Denise.

Both hands were covering her mouth. “Charley, I'm so—!”

“Get her the fuck out of my house.” Reyes didn't turn around when he spoke.

“Come on,” Gemma said, rushing Denise out of the room.

Garrett helped, ushering them out, and then he and Osh blocked the door in case Reyes changed his mind.

“I'm okay,” he said to them, but they didn't move.

Cookie looked on the verge of tears herself.

“We're okay, hon,” I promised her.

Even unconvinced, she took that as her cue to leave.

“Reyes,” I said, placing a hand on the small of his back. It scorched my skin. “What is going on? You're so hot. Your temper is like a ticking time bomb. You leave and you're gone for hours. And then when you do come back, you stay away from me for the rest of the night. I don't understand.” I couldn't even imagine how he'd react when I told him about the Loehrs. The very thought filled me with an all-encompassing dread.

“Tell her,” Osh said, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Is it—?” I lowered my head, so afraid of his answer. “Is it me? Is it … how I look?”

His temper flared again as he faced me. “I can't believe you just asked me that.”

“I'm pregnant, Reyes. I'm the size of a blimp.”

The incredulous look on his face stopped me. He was astounded. “You're stunning. You've never been more beautiful. Don't you understand what you are? You're a god and I'm the son of your worst enemy.”

I got over the beautiful remark, and asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you don't tell her, I will.” Osh was pushing him. Now was not the time. Or was it?

“What is he talking about?” I asked Reyes as he glared at the Daeva.

“Okay, fine,” Osh said. “I'll tell her.”

The murderous expression he leveled on Osh made me wince.

He took a step closer to him, his movements dangerously smooth. “It will be the last thing to come out of your mouth.”

Osh nodded. “'Bout time you grew some balls.”

In the underworld, Osh had been a champion. Their best and fastest fighter. Even faster than Reyes, so my surly husband said. But he was not as big as Reyes. Not in human form. I wondered if that mattered, though.