Boneyard (The Thaumaturge Series Book 2) (16 page)

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t look away from his dark and beautiful eyes.

“He begged me not to,” Leo continued. “And then he screamed when I bit into her. I made it last a long time. He was crying by the time she was finally dead.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. His words felt like physical blows and I cringed with each one.

“You know, it’s funny,” Leo mused. “I’ve found that hurting someone, killing them, yeah, it’s one way to get revenge. But making that person watch helplessly while you hurt and kill someone else? Nothing beats that.”

“Fuck,” I whispered. “Stop it.”

“I’m a monster,” he said, sliding off the bed. “I’m always going to be a monster. How much can you live with, Ebron?”

My eyes flew open. “Scaring me isn’t going to work.”

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he snapped. “I’m reminding you. If you want to be with me, you need to remember—”

“I’m sorry that I fucked him!” I yelled, the words shooting out of me as my temper snapped. My hands balled into fists. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I fucked up! If you’re so angry about it that you want to kill someone, then you should start with me. I’m the one who did it.”

He glared back. “I’m not going to—Christ, Ebron, I would never hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now,” I threw back. “There’s nothing I can do to change it. Quit threatening me. Either you can move on or you can’t.”

His furious eyes searched over my face and I saw a muscle in his jaw clench. Then, without a word, he turned and strode out, snagging his shirt off the floor as he did so.

I exhaled, sinking back into my bed. My whole body felt loose and precarious, held together by my own trembling anger. I heard noises from the other side of the trailer, stomping and slamming. I waited to hear to front door bang shut but the sound never came.

Eventually, my pounding heart slowed and I sat up. Wind whined against the frosty window, but no other noises came from the still trailer. Cautiously, I stepped into the dark doorway and peered down the hall. Flickering blue light reflected against the ceiling.

Leo didn’t look up when I sat beside him on the couch. On the TV, some late night movie played on silently; I watched a pair of cowboys ride along through a Technicolored desert, tumble weeds blowing around them.

“I’m sorry,” I said, not looking at him.

“I know,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry, too. I just—fuck. I can still smell him here, on this couch. You have to get a new couch.”

“Okay,” I agreed helplessly and he turned towards me.

“So we’re good?” he asked, eyes intently on me.

“As far as I’m concerned,” I said. I swallowed down the burn in my throat.

“C’mere,” he said, and pulled me towards him, his hand on the back of my neck.

We kissed, gently and with lips only. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the curve of his shoulder. My eyes felt heavy.

“I should go,” Leo said, drawing back with a small sigh.

“You should stay,” I said. “Come to bed with me. Leave tomorrow night.”

He shook his head, smiling a little. “I want to, babe. But I’ve got a long way to go and every hour, remember?”

I nodded, pressing my forehead against his. “Can I come?”

“No,” he said instantly. “Absolutely not. Stay here. Go to bed. Go to work. Do not resurrect any dead people. Do normal human things.”

“I’m not a normal human,” I pointed out crossly. “I should come with you.”

“No, babe,” he said. “I gotta go alone.”

He drew away from me, standing up and retrieving his shoes from beside the front door.

“Leo,” I complained as I watched him tie his laces and pull on his coat.

“Seriously,” he said, giving me a hard look. “You can’t come. Wait for me to call.”

“Does this guy know about me?” I demanded.

“No,” Leo said. “And I’m going to try to keep it that way. Stay here. I’ll call you when I can.”

I stood, crossing the room to him and sliding into his arms. He allowed it, looking up into my eyes. He stayed still when I leaned in for another kiss, but his lips parted under mine, soft and warm.

“Be good,” he whispered against my mouth.

“I’d rather be myself,” I replied.

Chapter 10

Chad was late for breakfast.

 I’d made it to the diner twenty minutes early, disheveled and grumpy and reeling from lack of sleep. I’d tossed and turned until I fell into an uneasy sleep some time near four a.m. My nightmares featured screaming faces, piles of smoldering bones, dark, endless hallways that I ran through. My own panicked cries had woken me and I’d hauled myself out of bed before I could slip back into the nightmare. 

I wanted to be in a good mood. After all, Leo and I were officially a thing, something I’d longed for going on a decade. And, if all went well, the bodies would be dealt with once and for all and I could have my life back. The bodies had somehow become an inconvenience, a problem to be solved, rather than tragedies. It sat uneasily with me, that I suddenly had decided some murder was perfectly acceptable, and that I was all right with Morgan and Corvin being dead as long as their bodies went away. Maybe I’d wanted them dead, after what they’d done. Maybe I didn’t think their death was that much of a tragedy.

 My mind shied away from that last thought, but there was still a low-grade burn of unease across the top of my stomach.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

So Leo was a
good
killer, and most of the evidence to tie the witches to me was destroyed. Leo was my official boyfriend and everything, but I still sat in a booth at the Dinner Bell scowling down at my omelet. Partly because I’d never been able to function very well when I was tired, partly because I’d wanted blueberry pancakes, but they were out of blueberries.

Fucking Dinner Bell.

But mostly I was grumpy because of the priest who was presently standing at my side, glaring at me.  Behind him, all twitchy and red faced, was his apparent protégé, a lanky young guy wearing the priest’s collar and well-worn running shoes.

“I think it’s time that we talked, Mr. White.”

I knew this priest. It was Father Laski from Saint Lawrence’s, the parish my whole family and most of the town attended. Father Laski had baptized me, given me my First Communion, and given me a talking to when I was eighteen and refused to get Confirmed. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but he looked the same, big and frowny with a tremendous shock of grey hair, so thick it rode a few inches over his wrinkled brow and swayed side to side when he moved.

“Father,” I said politely, taking a sip of orange juice. I was aware that most of the eyes in the Dinner Bell were glued on us.

“This is Father McLean,” Laski said, nodding to the other person. “He’s new.” He spat the word like it tasted bad, and the young guy at his side shifted nervously.

I offered the young priest my hand and his eyes widened a bit, but he gave me a firm shake.

“May we join you?” Laski asked, and slid in opposite me. McLean hesitated, then perched gingerly on the very corner of the seat.

“What can I do for you?” I asked. The very sight of them annoyed me, made me feel prickly and defensive and I wondered if the fresh hickey Leo had left on my neck was showing. I hoped so.

“I had a visit from your cousin this morning,” Laski said and then looked scandalized when I stabbed at my hash-browns with a curse.

“Mr. White,” he admonished. The other priest looked down, but I saw him smile before he could hide it.

“Sorry, Father.” I said. “What did my cousin have to say?”

“Very disturbing things, Mr. White. Very disturbing.” He paused, staring at me so intently that I flushed.

“What?” I snapped irritably.

“Are you a homosexual?”

“Yes,” I said, and I really couldn’t help it if the word sounded like a snarl. The other priest, McLean, looked up sharply at my reply and I met his gaze challengingly. His expression turned curious, but without any malice. I turned back to Laski, feeling a flush starting on my neck. People were watching, I could tell that they were watching.

Laski frowned. “And there are other rumors. About you.”

“Oh yeah? Let me guess—disturbing rumors?”

“Very,” he agreed. “Mr. White, do you sell occult items at your store? Herbs?”

“And teas,” I said. I pushed my plate away, all appetite gone. The waitresses kept walking by my booth, busying themselves with setting out rolled silverware at the nearby tables. McLean leaned one elbow on the table and began tracing patterns in some grains of spilled salt. He looked back up at me, thoughtful and intent, with big Cocker Spaniel eyes.

“Your cousin seems to think that you are involved in unnatural practices.”

“Besides the homosexual ones?” I asked and Laski’s face went a weird shade of purple.

“This isn’t a joke, Mr. White,” he said. His teeth were small, even. He must have had braces when he was a kid. I self-consciously ran my tongue over my own imperfect teeth.

“I’m not joking,” I said. “What is it that you want?”

“We can help.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, his eyes fixed on me. “You don’t even know what you are fooling with. We can help you, we can get you help—”

I snorted. “Are you offering me an exorcism, Father, or are you gonna pray the gay away?” I shook my head. “No, thanks for your concern, but I think I’m good.”

McLean started to say something, but one sharp look from Laski and he withdrew. Over his shoulder, I saw my old high school shop teacher watching us with a disapproving frown. I bristled and he looked away.

“You can’t hide from God, Mr. White,” Laski said. I could tell by the way he said it that this meeting wasn’t going the way he had imagined.

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” I said. “Least of all God. Did it ever occur to you that I might be doing the Lord’s work?”

That took him utterly aback and he gaped at me, at the other priest, then back at me again.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he sputtered. “You know not what you do.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for your concern. Now I want to finish my breakfast. And,” I added, pointing over their shoulders. “My date’s here.”

They both whipped around, but Chad was already ambling up to the table, frowning as he took in the scene.

“Father Laski, Father McLean,” he said. He looked like a different guy out of uniform and I was annoyed to see one of his kids peeking out from behind him.

Laski eyed Chad suspiciously. “You’re having breakfast?” he asked, shooting me a glance.

“Yes, sir,” Chad said, all cheerful and disarming. “Will you stay?”

“No,” Laski said quickly, and I was a little amused to see him shove at McLean so they could scramble out of the booth. Laski glowered at me while McLean and Chad exchanged pleasantries.

“We’ll talk again,” he told me, very seriously, and then off they went, Chad and his befreckled offspring sliding in to take their places in the booth.

“What was that?’ Chad asked.

“The Inquisition,” I said, and began eating my omelet again, willing my hands not to shake.

“I thought that this was a business meeting,” I said to Chad, and nodded at his kid, who was sampling the different syrups with a wobbly spoon.

“Ah,” Chad said, affectionately palming the kid’s buzzed head. The kid must have been about five. He looked up and grinned at his dad, all sticky and cute.

“Levi and I have errands to do after this,” Chad told me. “He’s keeping his old man company.”

“The baby won’t stop crying,” the kid informed me, serious.

“Oh,” I said and looked to Chad. He shrugged.

“Alena has colic.”

My experience with colic was confined entirely to horses. “Sorry?” I mumbled. It seemed like the safest thing to say.

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s the pits. Anyway, yeah, I have to talk to you.”

“You keep saying that. Just talk.”

“Did you think about what I asked you?”

“No,” I said honestly.

“No you didn’t think, or no you still won’t do it?”

“No, I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been busy.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I bet you have. Ebron, do you know Dana LeBreche?”

I sighed. “We’ve recently become reacquainted. Why?”

“You know that her father passed away?”

I sat up straighter. “I did not.”

Chad nodded, like I had confirmed some suspicion, and then he kept on nodding, bopping his head like a parakeet. I swallowed a mouthful of eggs and washed it down with my orange juice and tried to dampen my irritation. There was absolutely no reason to feel guilty. In this particular instance, at least, I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Last night,” Chad said, looking up at me solemnly. “Dana made the decision to take him off of life support.”

“Life support,” I murmured. So his body couldn’t survive without his soul, after all? Or the horrible condition he’d been in was simply too much, even for my abilities to overcome? Or, I don’t know, it just wore off? How the hell should I know? Not like I had a handbook.

I chewed thoughtfully while Chad ordered, and then when the waitress walked away, I leaned over the table and whispered at him, “Is this on the record, Officer Metz?”

He frowned. “Stop it. You know it’s not. I’m trying to help.”

“She talked about me? She mentioned me?”

“She indicated that she called a friend after discovering her father,” his voice lowered. “You were there?”

I nodded. “Yeah, she called me.”

“And...?”

I glanced at the kid, but he was totally absorbed in the child’s sized tablet clutched in his hands. Beeps and whirs and strange whining noises kept emitting from it. Chad followed my gaze and lifted one shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. What happened?”

“It didn’t work.”

“Why?” He leaned forward too, all fascinated. I self-consciously moved back from him, aware of the gazes still creeping up my back and my Aunt Sharon’s accusation riding hot in my chest.

“He was—it happened too long ago. It was too late.”

“I didn’t know you had a time limit.”

“Well,” I said and tore a bite of toast off with relish, “I do. It’s not like I could go to a museum and resurrect a mummy.”