Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (61 page)

Calls four and five also came from my sister, the last one clocking in only about twenty minutes before I got home. By the end she sounded as if she could have cheerfully twisted my head off at the neck. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you,” she snapped. “People have cell phones for a reason. Did you go out of town or something?”

True, I probably should have remembered to check my phone, but honestly, I’d gotten tired of the attitude people have where they think you should be reachable twenty-four/seven. I mean, how the hell did they think we all managed back when we only had — God forbid — land lines?

Deep cleansing breaths
, I told myself. After all, she wouldn’t have called that many times if it weren’t important.

Still, I wasn’t looking forward to the scolding I knew I was going to get when I finally did call Lisa back.

I sighed, willed myself to remember what a fabulous evening (and morning, and afternoon) I’d spent with Luke, then picked up the handset and dialed my sister’s home number. It was a Sunday evening, so she should be in.

The words “hi, Lisa, it’s Christa” were barely out of my mouth before she went into full-blown attack.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and calling — ”

“Yeah, I know that,” I said. “I had a date.”

“All weekend?” she demanded.

“Well, actually, yes.”

A few seconds of silence as she digested that statement. Then she said, “Fine, but why didn’t you take your cell phone with you?”

“I did have it. I was just…busy.”

“Okay, whatever, but while you’ve been off playing footsie with Danny, I’ve been holding down the fort over here.”

“I wasn’t with Danny,” I said.

Another silence. “Fine, whatever, I don’t need to know the sordid details of your personal life. All I do know is that Traci’s in the hospital, and Dad’s a wreck, and you’ve been MIA the whole frigging weekend — ”

I cut in. “Traci’s in the hospital? What happened? Did she — ” And I paused, unsure as to the best way to phrase the question. Had she lost the baby? Was that why my father was a “wreck”?

“She slipped and fell on the patio Saturday afternoon, and then she started spotting. Dad took her over to Hoag, and they think they have everything stabilized, but there’s a very good chance she’s going to be spending the next five months off her feet.”

Ouch. Being a bum every once in a while and spending the day in bed or on the couch while you read or watched movies was one thing. Having to stay flat on your back for months at a stretch, especially for someone as active as Traci, would be a complete nightmare. “That’s awful,” I said at last.

“Yeah, it is, and I’ve been staying with Dad as much as possible, but I have about fifty gazillion phone calls I need to return. You sure picked a hell of a weekend to go AWOL.”

Nothing like a good old-fashioned scolding from your big sister, especially one served up with a side helping of extra guilt. “Look, I said I was sorry. What do you need me to do?”

“Visiting hours are over at nine. Dad’s still at the hospital, but he needs someone there with him, and I’ve already been there most of the weekend.” Lisa paused and said, “If you left right away you’d probably still make it in time. Earlier today the doctor said they might let Traci go home as soon as tomorrow afternoon, but that’s still iffy. I’ve got a home tour tomorrow morning that I just can’t miss, so I need you to stay down there.”

Which meant calling in sick to work. Not a huge deal — I hardly ever got sick, so I had a bunch of leave on the books. And luckily this issue of the magazine was mostly wrapped up. Still, the thought of having to babysit my father all day and act concerned about Traci to boot didn’t appeal very much. Maybe there was something just wrong with my moral makeup, but I hadn’t been thrilled about this baby in the first place. Frankly, I was more worried about my father’s reaction than anything else.

But Lisa had already done her duty, and it was time for me to take a shift. “All right,” I said. Luckily, I was already mostly packed, since I hadn’t yet put away any of my toiletries. I could just throw some clean underwear and a change of clothes in the little case Luke had given me and get out the door in less than five minutes. On a Sunday night the traffic should be fairly light, and if I didn’t hit any snags on the freeway, it was conceivable that I could make it to the hospital before nine. “I’ll be out of here in a couple of minutes.”

Lisa didn’t bother to say thank you. “I’ll let Dad know you’re on your way,” she replied, and hung up.

I’d just started to head down the hallway to my bedroom when the phone rang again. Great. I hoped it wasn’t Lisa with a fresh round of guilt. That sort of thing could really slow a person down.

I looked at my cell phone’s screen; it was my father on his cell. I snatched up the handset. “Dad?”

“I’m glad I caught you.” He sounded a little harried, but not too bad, considering.

“I’ll be on my way in just a minute — ”

“It’s really not necessary. I tried to tell Lisa that, but you know how she is when she gets the bit between her teeth.”

Did I ever. Once she had a notion lodged in her brain, it took dynamite to blast it out. Part of me thought uncharitably that she was probably just angry with me for being out of touch all weekend and wanted to send me running off down to Orange County even though there might not be a good reason for me to do so.

“Are you sure?” I asked. I tried very hard not to let any relief show in my tone. “I really don’t mind coming down to help out.”

“Traci’s tired and already asleep. I wouldn’t want to wake her up. And the hospital gave me a list of at-home care professionals. I’ve got someone meeting me at the house in an hour to get things prepared. I appreciate the offer, but there’s really no need for you to come down here. Maybe in a day or so, after Traci’s settled back at the house and ready for visitors.”

He sounded calm and plausible, just as he probably did when speaking to one of his patients. But he was there and of course had a much better idea of what Traci did and didn’t want. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d really appreciate a vaguely hostile stepdaughter seeing me if I were in her condition.

“All right,” I replied. “If that’s what you both want.”

“It is.” He paused, then said, “I know you were less than thrilled when you heard about the baby.”

I opened my mouth to utter some sort of denial but realized that was useless. My father wasn’t stupid, after all. “Well, it just seemed a little...strange,” I said, after stopping to wonder whether I should be honest or diplomatic. At that point, though, I was too tired to be diplomatic. “I mean, you’re going to be retirement age when the kid is just in elementary school.”

“Men my age become fathers every day.”

Somehow I doubted it, but I didn’t want to get into a raging argument on the subject. “Okay, maybe in Hollywood,” I admitted. “But we’re not exactly celebrities. Whatever. I know you can certainly afford to have a baby, and if Traci wanted one, then fine, I guess. It’s just...” I trailed off. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to be having this conversation. On the other hand, I didn’t know when I’d have the opportunity again to talk to him one on one. I decided the hell with it. “It’s just that it seems to me as if the family you had wasn’t enough. Like you wanted to try again so you could get something better.”

“You know that’s not true.”

No, I don’t
, I thought.
I mean, you dumped Mom so you could trade up for a better model, so why not do the same with your kids?

He went on, “I will always love you and Lisa and Jeff. Having another child isn’t going to change any of that. I’ve always done my best to be there for you, even with the divorce.”

I wanted to argue, but that much was true. Even though my graduation from college had come post-divorce, while he was courting Traci, my father had made it a point to attend the ceremony, and had handed me the keys to my car that very same day. At the time his generosity had floored me, although he’d laughingly dismissed my stammered protests that it was too much. “Just think of how much money you saved me by graduating in four years and not being on the six-year plan,” he’d said, and wouldn’t hear any more on the subject.

“I also want you to know that I appreciate your offer to come help,” he added. “I know you’re not particularly fond of Traci.”

I would have done it for him, not her, but I didn’t bother to tell him that. “I’m really sorry about being out of contact,” I murmured.

He chuckled. “Ah, that. Lisa was definitely beside herself. That must have been some date.”

Blood flooded my cheeks. Thank God my father couldn’t see my face. I managed to say, “Uh — yeah, it was.”

“I take it this is someone new?”

No hesitation with that reply, anyway. “Yes.”

“He must be pretty special.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know — you sound different More cheerful.” Still with that little bit of a laugh in his voice he asked, “You’re not pregnant, too, are you?”

“God, no!” A baby was definitely the last thing I needed, but I had pretty irrefutable biological proof that I wasn’t pregnant. “No — it’s just — he’s — well, yeah, he is amazing, actually.”

“Good,” my father said. “It’s about time someone showed up who was good enough for my daughter.”

And that, Alanis
, I thought,
is irony
. I had a sudden urge to burst out laughing, but I only said, “He’s a great guy.”

The phone beeped in my ear, and he said, “I’m getting another call. Give me a call tomorrow afternoon, after I’ve gotten Traci settled. Plan?”

“Plan,” I replied, then took the phone into the dining room and set it on the side table so I could charge it.

As I headed back to my bedroom for the second time, a disquieting thought surfaced in my mind. Had Luke known that my sister had been desperately trying to get in touch with me for most of the weekend? I wasn’t sure how this whole omniscient thing worked. Obviously he possessed knowledge about everyone around me, even though for some reason he couldn’t get inside my head (thank God…literally). Did being the Devil mean that you were tuned into everyone’s lives at once? Or maybe his powers functioned more like satellite TV — the stations might be broadcasting all the time, but when they were accessed and for how long was in the control of the person with the remote.

I had no idea. Even if I had asked him to explain his powers to me, I wasn’t sure I could have understood. After all, the human mind, intricate as it is, has its limits.

So all right, maybe I should assume he had known. And if I assumed that, then he had deliberately kept me occupied all day even though my family needed me. I chewed on that thought for a moment and decided I didn’t like the taste very much. Up until now Luke had been the soul of consideration, the very antithesis of his supposed persona, but maybe there really was a darker side lurking in there. After all, he
was
the Devil.

A full moon broke out of the clouds just as I reached up to close my bedroom curtains. A silvery wash of light shimmered against the puddles in the courtyard below, and I paused to stare down at it.

Maybe Luke really hadn’t known anything. After all, he’d admitted to me a few days ago that he wasn’t completely omniscient. Still, he’d been awfully familiar with my family and their activities…too much so, actually.

Brooding about it wasn’t going to help the current situation, though. I pushed those nagging thoughts away as best I could while I got ready for bed. By that point I was so bone-weary I thought I’d fall asleep the second my head hit the pillow, but for some reason sleep had decided to run off to the Bahamas.

I couldn’t stop thinking of Luke, the way his arms had felt around me, the scent of his skin and how my body responded to his. An aching wave of desire passed over me, and I curled my hands into fists, willing it away. My doubts suddenly seemed silly and foolish in the face of my need.

I don’t pray, but that night I prayed I would dream of him.

I
didn’t dream
at all. It figures. I should have known from my futile pleading with God in the parking lot of St. Gregory’s that he wasn’t listening to me. Or maybe he was, but wanted to see how I would handle all this on my own. Maybe this was some sort of test. If so, I got the impression I was flunking pretty badly. Somehow I found it hard to believe that God actually wanted me to be having hot monkey sex with the Devil, but it was a little late to be worrying about that now…especially when the aforementioned sex was the best I’d ever had.

The next morning felt like ten Mondays instead of just one. My in-basket looked depressingly full, considering we’d just finished shipping off the last issue of the magazine. The one guarantee about my job was that the cycle never ended. No sooner were you done with one month than the next was poised to get started, all shiny and eager like a new puppy.

No email from Luke, either, which both puzzled and worried me. I hoped he wasn’t going to turn into another Danny — I’d had enough of the whole on-again/off-again thing to last me a lifetime.

And guess who showed up around ten-thirty? None other than Mr. Industrial Espionage himself.

He walked straight into my office, removed the stop that had been holding the door open, and let it close behind him. Then he said, “We need to talk.”

“Hi, Danny,” I replied, still glaring at the half-edited article on my computer screen. Did no one in the world know what a comma splice was anymore? I added, in conversational tones, “You know, I could get you and Victor fired for that crap you pulled last week.”

At least he didn’t bother to deny it. “I was desperate,” he said.

Giving up, I swiveled my chair away from the computer screen so I could face him and then took off my glasses. “Give me a break.”

“Well, I had to do
something
. Here you’d taken off with this rich, good-looking guy, and — ”

“Wait a minute,” I said, frowning. “How do you know he’s a rich, good-looking guy?”

Danny flushed, then apparently found something really fascinating to stare at in the weave of the carpet at his feet. Finally he mumbled, “Zach followed him.”

I screeched, “What?” even as Danny winced. Good thing he’d shut the door.

Looking as if he’d be perfectly happy for the earth to open up and swallow him at that point, Danny said, “It was Zach’s idea. He’d found this whole article on the Internet about how to follow people so they don’t know you’re following them…some CIA guy wrote it or something.”

I found it more likely that it had been written by some high school kid with an overactive imagination, but whatever. Geeks could be so gullible sometimes. “So when did this James Bond maneuver take place?”

“Uh…a week ago Saturday night.”

“I was in Orange County that Saturday,” I pointed out.

Danny’s face twisted, and for a second his pleasant features looked downright ugly. “So you said…but Zach saw this guy’s Jag parked in front of your house.”

I hadn’t, but that meant absolutely nothing. After all, Luke was a master of letting people see only what he wanted them to see. “That doesn’t explain why Zach was there to see it.”

“Because even though you’d said you were going down to Irvine to see your mom, I had a feeling you’d be seeing him again. And I was right.”

“So you sent Zach out to spy on me because you were too chicken-shit to do it yourself?”

He flinched, but answered, “No, Zach volunteered to do it. That’s what friends do for each other.”

I wasn’t sure if engaging in morally — if not legally — suspect behavior was exactly the best way to prove your friendship with someone, but the Lone Gunmen had always followed their own weird code of what was right and what was wrong. “So Zach followed Luke from my house back to his place.”

“Right. And he told me the guy had this huge mansion, and at least two other expensive cars besides the Jag, and — ”

Interesting. I’d only seen the Bentley. I wondered what else Luke was hiding in his garage. Fixing a look of what I hoped was bored contempt on my face, I asked, “So is being rich and owning nice cars a crime?”

“No,” Danny said. “But Christa — this guy’s the Devil!”

“And what evidence do you have to support that, except for a few comments I made in a private blog that you guys hacked? Maybe I was making a joke. Maybe,” I added, thinking of my father and his love for Carl Jung, “I was just using that as a metaphor, a way to express the shadow that people repress.”

As usual when I’d said something that he didn’t entirely understand, Danny ignored that last comment. “Whatever,” he sneered. “That doesn’t explain how this guy can leave his house driving one car and then come back driving the other one.”

“Maybe he was picking one up from the mechanic’s or dealer’s and leaving the other one behind,” I suggested.

“Nice try, but Zach thought of that. He went and peeked in the garage window and saw that big green thing — ”

“The Bentley.”

“Yeah, that, and then like half an hour later the guy comes driving up in the same car! Explain that.” Danny crossed his arms and shot me a triumphant look.

Well, I couldn’t explain it, because I knew it was entirely possible that Luke could have left the house with one car, become disenchanted with it for some reason, and swapped it out when everyone in the vicinity’s head was conveniently turned. I also knew I couldn’t admit that to Danny, so instead I went on the defensive. “Great, so Zach looked in the garage. Now we can add trespassing to the list of misdemeanors involved here.”

“Like anyone’s going to care when we tell everyone that the Devil is living here in L.A.!”

Despite the fact that I knew no one would probably believe him, I still felt a little trickle of unease thread its way down my spine. The last thing I needed was for Danny to go public with this whole mess. If nothing else, I really didn’t feel like explaining the situation to my family if I could possibly avoid it.

“Go ahead,” I said, knowing the only way to handle this was to call his bluff. “All it will get you is a hot date with a straitjacket and some serious anti-psychotics.”

For the first time Danny appeared a little unsure of himself. Maybe the comment about the straitjacket really had gotten to him. It also looked as if he’d decided he had committed himself to this course of action and so was determined to see it through to the end. “You’d like to think that,” he retorted. “I talked to my priest, and he said it’s entirely possible the Devil is walking amongst us.”

I quelled the urge to jump over the desk and throttle Danny with his badly knotted necktie. “All that proves is that your priest is as crazy as you are,” I said, not caring how rude I sounded. “From what I’ve read, the Catholic Church really isn’t that keen to get involved in discussions about the Devil. Your priest may be old school, but I doubt he’s going to get much support from his higher-ups.”

That appeared to stymie him for a moment, but then Danny said, “Yeah, but you know what’s really interesting about this whole discussion? Not once have you said, ‘No, Danny, he’s not the Devil.’”

“‘No, Danny, he’s not the Devil,’” I said immediately, with a curl of the lip. “Feel better?”

“No.” He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Because I know you’re lying.”

“Really? Have you developed psychic powers all of a sudden?” Maybe the scorn I injected into my voice would help cover up my growing sense of unease.

“No,” he replied, his eyes boring into mine. “But I know you.” And with that parting shot he threw open the door and marched out. He probably would have liked to slam it behind him, but it was on one of those overhead gas spring thingies and would never have cooperated.

I stared at the shut door for a moment, thinking of all the things I should have said and didn’t. Then, because I couldn’t come up with anything better, I said, “Well, shit.”

M
y mood didn’t improve
any when I finally got a chance to log into my personal email account, only to find a terse email from Luke.
Business takes me away
, it read.
See you on Thursday evening
.

Great. Just great. Not for the first time I wondered exactly what this “business” of his was and why he, as the Devil, couldn’t bend his schedule to fit his own needs. Of course, there had to be Someone above him calling the shots, but what did that mean, precisely?

I didn’t know, and it seemed as if I wasn’t going to find out any time soon. Scowling, I hit the “respond” button and typed,
Call before you come over, please
, then sighed and backspaced over what I had just written. That sounded too curt, even if I did happen to be more than a little ticked off. Instead I wrote,
I hope everything is all right. Could you please call before you come over?
and sent it off into cyberspace before I could second-guess whether I was being a doormat or not. After all, the beginning stages of a relationship were difficult enough without factoring the whole supernatural-being element into the equation.

Was Luke playing games? Pursuit, followed by evasion? Did he think that was the sort of thing I enjoyed? Well, I didn’t, and if he thought he could get away with it just because he’d gotten me into the sack, he was about to discover he was sadly mistaken.

The phone rang. I picked it up and barked, “What?” before I stopped to think that probably wasn’t the most professional way to answer the phone at work.

Jennifer’s voice. “Geez, Christa, who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Oh…sorry,” I said. “I thought you were someone else.”

“I’d hate to think who.” She paused, then asked, “Are you having problems with Luke already?”

Already
. Now there was a nice, confidence-inspiring thing to hear from a friend. I said, with some asperity, “I wouldn’t call it problems. He’s just busier than I would like. I won’t get to see him again until Thursday.”

“Well, there is such a thing as taking a relationship too quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re totally needy, do you?”

“No,” I replied slowly. So what if I found myself craving his touch, the sound of his voice, that smile of his the way an addict craves a crack pipe? I needed to be an adult about this. “I, well — I miss him. But at least he did say he’d see me later this week.”

“There you go,” Jennifer said, with a false heartiness in her voice I didn’t buy one bit. Her tone lowered conspiratorially as she went on, “I have a foolproof plan for you.”

“What?” I couldn’t say I completely trusted Jennifer’s advice about men. She hadn’t dated much in college, but I had to say that once she found her target — Phil, the guy who was going to be the big-shot surgeon — she zeroed in like an ICBM. Maybe she knew something I didn’t.

“Pot roast,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“So it sounds like he’s been wining and dining you, taking you out and showing you the town. But you should really make him dinner.”

“Gee, what a great idea…except for the fact that I can’t cook.” This was her big plan to keep Luke firmly at my side?

“You can follow directions, can’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

My unenthusiastic tone must have been getting to her, because Jennifer said, a little waspishly, “Cooking is just following directions. I have a great recipe for roast that you do in the crock pot — set it up before you leave for work in the morning, and you’ll gave a great dinner when you get home. I’ll email the recipe to you when I get home tonight and can pull it up from my desktop there.”

“Pot roast, huh?” Not that I had anything against roast; my mother used to make a great one back in the days before she decided meat was murder.

“Yes,” Jennifer said. “I made it for Phil, and three days later he proposed. Coincidence? I doubt it.”

I protested, “Look, Jen, I’m not really trying to get Luke to propose to me — ”

“Go to the kosher butcher up on Third,” she continued inexorably. “He’s got great roasts.”

“Kosher?” I asked. My mind was spinning. “But we’re not Jewish.” At least, I wasn’t, and I sort of doubted that Luke followed any religion, for obvious reasons.

“That’s got nothing to do with it. Kosher butchers have great cuts of meat because they’ve got to follow stricter rules. My friend Sarah told me that in high school.”

Sarah and Jennifer had been best friends since third grade or something, and Sarah was going to be Jennifer’s maid of honor (thank God, since that was more work than I thought I could deal with at present). I started to ask what Jennifer was doing discussing roasts with Sarah back before they had even graduated from high school, then thought better of it. Jennifer’s goal had always been wedded bliss. If she’d lived a hundred years ago, she would have been one of those girls who had her hope chest stocked before she even turned sixteen.

Okay, fine, I’d bow to a higher authority. What I didn’t know about roasts could probably fit into a cookbook of its own, but if this recipe was as foolproof as Jennifer said.…

“He does eat red meat, doesn’t he?” Jennifer asked, sounding suddenly suspicious. Old school in every way, she’d had a nasty bout following some tofu my mother had sprung on her unexpectedly back when we were in college and she’d come down to Irvine with me for a long weekend.

Now that I stopped to think about it, I’d never seen Luke eat anything except red meat. I would have said he was just an über-crazed paleo-diet follower, except that pretty much all those servings of red meat had been matched with equal helpings of potatoes or some other equally heinous carbs.

“Oh, definitely,” I replied.

I couldn’t see her face, but the feeling of relief that rippled down the phone line was practically palpable. “Thank God,” she said. “Anyway, I was actually calling to see if you could make it up to Pasadena for a fitting this Saturday afternoon. Nina said she’s available, and Micaela has some time off for once because they just went into an emergency rewrite and halted production for a week.”

That couldn’t be good. Still, I knew it happened every once in a while, and if the shutdown gave Micaela a few treasured days off, more power to her. I hated to commit time when I had no idea what (if any) plans Luke had for the weekend, but to be fair, Jennifer had the first claim on my time.