Golem in My Glovebox (7 page)

I shook my head. “I’ll never understand why same-sex marriage is so offensive to people.”

Alex laughed, then covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. Jamie smiled and nudged her in the ribs.

“What?” I had no idea what I’d said that was so funny.

Jamie coughed. “No Hidden cares about the genders of a couple. That’s a human problem. Our problem is more complicated.”

“I know we look alike,” Alex said. “But we’re not the same at all. Jamie is an elf, which you probably gathered. I, on the other hand, am an attic monster.”

She didn’t look anything like either of the monsters back at my house. It seemed impolite to say so, though. “So, this church has a problem with mixed species? My friend the closet monster married a gargoyle.”

“That’s not exactly what they’re upset about.” Jamie plucked at the ribbons from her hat. “We have different origins. I’m a mythological creature, and she’s a monster.”

“That’s ridiculous. You look the same.”

“Looks aren’t everything,” Alex said. “According to the priest who threw a bagel at me this morning, our love is an abomination in the eyes of their god.”

“Oh, hell no.” Sara rose from the desk. “We’ll be doing your wedding, and anyone who comes near it to picket, throw bagels, or make sour faces will have their asses handed to them.”

Both women’s eyes grew wide, and they looked from me, to Sara, and back again.

“Well, there you go,” I said, clicking my pen. “I may be the Aegis, but even I don’t argue with Sara. Let’s plan a wedding.”

Chapter Four

Maurice seemed more upset about my SUV going on the trip than he was about me leaving.

“You take really good care of my Mabel,” he said, stroking a side mirror and then polishing away the smudge he’d left. “I checked her oil and washed her so she’s nice and pretty. Whenever you stop for gas, clean off the bugs. Don’t let them set into her paint. And try not to let the gas get below half a tank. Mabel doesn’t like being hungry.”

I was almost tempted to take Riley’s car so I didn’t have to look at Maurice’s sorrowful face. We tossed our meager luggage over the tailgate and slammed the door shut.

Maurice winced. “Gently.”

I laughed and put my arms around him. “Your girl is in good hands. Don’t you worry.” I squeezed him hard. “Thank you for looking after everything. You’ve got Andrew’s number if any medical problems walk through the door. And he’ll be checking in every few days anyway for the centaur and the gryphon. Sara will get you groceries if you need them, and you can go through the closet to pick them up from her house.”

Maurice hugged me, then stepped back, his face serious. “I’ve got all this. Don’t worry. Go find Clara.” He took my face in his mottled, gray hands and fixed me with his big yellow eyes. “She’s my mom, too. Bring her home safe to us.”

I wanted to reassure him with promises of success, but we’d both lost her twice, now. Promises would ring hollow. He knew I’d do my best.

I nodded and stepped toward the car, giving my house and yard one last scan. Molly and her family sat in the tree at the end of the driveway, ready to wave as we went by. Tashi raised one shaggy white arm. I knew she would watch over everyone, the same way her skunk-ape mate, Iris, had watched over us.

In the shadows beneath the front porch I thought I saw movement, and wondered if the gnomes living under there would ever come out and talk to us.

My stomach clenched. Now that it was time to leave, I found it hard to do. What if someone needed me? What if something went wrong?

What if I never found the other Aegises, and I remained stuck to this property for the rest of my life because I was the only one who could help everybody?

The knots in my stomach loosened. I had to do this. I couldn’t spend my entire life here tending the broken hearts and legs of monsters. Other Aegises were out there to share the workload, and they were in trouble. Who better to find the missing helpers than the only helper who was left?

Yeah. It had to be me. I was almost embarrassed that I’d taken so long to figure it out and get my ass moving.

To be fair, I wasn’t exactly Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher. Definitely not Nancy Drew. My Internet skills were lacking, since I’d only started paying attention to the laptop Sara made me buy when Maurice insisted on giving me lessons. I nearly cried when my old flip-phone died a few months ago and the smartphone I bought to replace it asked me for passwords. I could use all that stuff, but I preferred the old fashioned way. At work, I refused to give up my Rolodex, in spite of all the contacts being accessible on my phone.

Even with the Internet to help out, what was there to search for? On television, they might be able to analyze the dirt particles on the ragdoll the kidnapper had left behind and pinpoint its origins. Or determine the handwriting on the crazy note could only have come from a German monk with a limp and an eyepatch.

But this wasn’t television. And my friends Darius and Kam were out there somewhere searching for anything or anyone that might help us figure it all out. Darius loved my mother. He wouldn’t give up.

The last time Kam called me to check in, they’d been in Georgia, following a dead end. A swamp bogey thought he saw a woman with my mom’s description working in a diner outside Atlanta. He was wrong of course. That was a week ago.

I slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. “Let’s go.”

Riley started the car and pulled out without a word. As we passed the tree, Iris’s tree, I forced a happy smile for Molly’s kids and waved.

Aaron must have sensed that I missed Iris. He balled up his tiny hands and gave me a double thumbs-up, exactly the way Iris used to do. Aaron’s gesture gave me a feeling of peace and comfort. Iris would always be with us in one form or another, as long as we remembered him together.

I returned the gesture, and my smile became genuine. We pulled out to the street, and tension in my shoulders I didn’t know I had, released. We were on a road trip.

A million adventures awaited us.

* * *

My new-trip euphoria lasted all of an hour and a half. Once I realized, upon scrutinizing the map and Maurice’s travel plans, that the drive from Bolinas, California, to Lebanon, Kansas, was approximately two long days of nothing, my enthusiasm deflated. Plus, I’m a California girl. The farther we drove from the coast, the harder it grew to catch my breath.

The response was psychological, of course. The minute I stopped thinking about the distance to the ocean, I was fine. Still. We were driving to the geographic center of the contiguous United States. That’s as far away from the coast as you can get, mathematically. But it’s also why headquarters was built there. The center was where ley lines crossed and gave it some sort of extra oomph. Bernice explained it once, but it didn’t mean much to me at the time, so I sort of glossed over the listening part.

Somewhere on the other side of Reno, we took our first break for gas, snacks, bathrooms and stretching. We chose one of those big truck-stop-type places with a food court, convenience store and gift shop.

“Four hours down,” Riley said, grinning and rolling his shoulders. “Only about twenty more to go!”

I tried not to groan. I’d looked at the map. I knew there was a whole lot of nothing between here and Kansas. Rocks, dirt, and for a variety, salt, once we got to Utah. The plan was to stop for the night in Salt Lake City, then make the rest of the trip on the second day. We could do it, if we didn’t die of boredom. And since I’d be driving the next leg of the journey, I got control of the radio. I switched it to play Broadway musicals to punish Riley for the last stint we’d done where he made me listen to the All Elvis station. Things were looking up.

I leaned against the car door and watched while Riley filled the tank. “That’s hot.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What’s hot?”

“You being all macho, filling my gas tank. You going to check my oil and wash my windows for me, too?”

His gray eyes sparkled. “I was planning to do that in Salt Lake City in the hotel. They kind of frown on that sort of thing in public places.”

I pursed my lips in mock disapproval. “Dirty boy. I’m going to check out the gift shop and see if I can find a souvenir.”

“To commemorate having made it four hours from home?”

“The farthest I’ve been from my house since all this started is across the bridge to San Francisco. I don’t get out much these days.”

The gas nozzle clicked off, and he placed it back in its cradle. “Be careful. Those gift shops lure you in with fancy shot glasses. Before you know it, you’re walking out with the second season of The Love Boat on DVD.”

I gave him a solemn look and crossed my heart. “No Love Boat. I swear.” I walked away singing the theme song at the top of my lungs. “The Looooove Boat...Soon will be making another ruuuuun!”

Behind me, I could hear Riley sounding like a cheap lounge singer. “The Love Boat...promises something for ev-ery-one!”

A few minutes later, I made my way back to the car, the proud owner of a Sparks, Nevada, shot glass, a deck of cards with naked women on them, a snow globe in which dollar signs floated around a tiny casino, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

Riley was already filling the cooler with more drinks for the road. “Nice shades,” he said, slamming the door shut.

“Gently,” I said. “You don’t want Maurice to find out you mistreated his baby.” I snagged the keys from his pocket. “My turn.”

“You’re the navigator.”

“I think you can handle it for a while. It’s a big responsibility, but I trust you.” I grinned and jumped behind the wheel. “No time to explain! Get in!” I’d always wanted to say that.

He slid into the passenger seat, buckling up with a sigh. “Try not to steer us off the road.”

I lowered my head and gave him a serious look over my shiny, obnoxious new glasses. “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” I started the car and pulled away.

Riley pressed his head against the seat back and pretended to white knuckle the door. “We’re going to die.”

The smile on his face reflected in the windshield didn’t hold with his words. Riley was having the time of his life.

* * *

Driving or navigating, there really wasn’t much difference. The scenery held very little of interest, aside from the occasional mysterious shoe on the side of the road. We stopped for the night, as planned, on the other side of Salt Lake City, having spent about twelve hours on the road, plus stops. I tried not to think about the similar drive we’d be doing the next day.

“Whose idea was it to do this in two days?” Riley asked, stretching his arms over his head.

“Maurice printed out the directions and planned the route. I blame him.”

He grabbed our bags out of the trunk and followed me into the building to our door. “Closet monsters don’t sleep much. From now on, only humans get to plan road trips.”

I slid the keycard into the slot, waited for the green light to click on, then held the door open for Riley.

“I got you here, didn’t I?” The familiar voice came from inside the darkened room. Closet monsters have incredible hearing, what with their enormous ears and all.

I flinched and turned around, flicking on a light. “How the hell did you get here?”

Maurice sat on the edge of one of the beds, grinning at us. “I came through the closet. Duh.”

The closet he referred to didn’t even have a door on it. It was little more than an indentation in the wall with a bar across it and those weird hotel hangers that are locked in place so you can’t steal them.

“You came through there? How is that even possible? I call bullshit.”

Riley stacked our bags on the other bed. “Hey, Maurice.”

“Hey, Riley. How’s the trip going?”

I cut off Riley as he tried to answer. “Shouldn’t you be back at the house keeping an eye on things?”

Maurice shifted and looked at his feet. “It’ll keep. I just wanted to check on you guys.”

I dropped my purse on the desk. He was clearly hiding something. “How’s it going with Stacy? Is she cooperating?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess? What’s going on, Maurice? Is she giving you a hard time or not?” I gave him my best
mom-face
. If I’d been wearing my cool new sunglasses, I’d have given him
cop-face
over the top of them for a better interrogation effect, but I’d already taken them off and put them in my purse.

“Yes. No. She’s fine. She’s doing all the jobs I give her.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I sat next to him and made him look at me. “Is it the personal stuff?” I knew it was. His discomfort prickled my skin and made my toes go numb.

“It’s so damn awkward, Zo. Why can’t I send her home? She’s sorry. She won’t do it again. I’m sure of it.”

I nudged him with my shoulder. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

He scowled. “You’re not going to let her go home, are you?”

“Nope. Sorry. Talk to her. Sort it out. Then maybe get her to clean out the attic or something. The garage could use some work, too.”

He picked at a loose thread on the hem of his bright Hawaiian shirt. “Fine. But for now, I thought I’d hang out here with you guys. Maybe watch some TV.”

I tossed a distressed look in Riley’s direction.

“Maurice,” he said. “Buddy. Brother. I’m going to have sex with Zoey in a few minutes. It’s going to be really loud, because we’re in a hotel, and because we can. There may even be barking and other animal sounds involved. Do you really want to be here for that?”

I think my eyes may have bugged out a bit. My cheeks burned all the way down to my knees.

Maurice, on the other hand, wasn’t particularly taken aback. He sounded more like a thwarted teenager forced to shut off the television and do his homework. “Fiiiine. Go do your monkey-sex thing. I’ll find something else to do.” He pulled himself from the bed and dragged his feet all the way to the makeshift closet. “I’ll be back if anything new happens.”

Riley patted the monster diva on the shoulder as he walked past. “How about you call us on the phone, instead?”

Maurice tossed his head back in a dramatic, put-upon pose. “Fine. I’ll call first.”