Monster in My Closet (21 page)

“If I can adjust to my greatest childhood fear becoming my friend, maybe you can look past your worst nightmare being a nice guy?”

He grimaced. “Point taken.”

“Should I assume Molly has the same problem? You both cleared out of here pretty fast.”

“Reapers are scary dudes.”

What the hell did I get myself into? All around me were some of the scariest creatures in urban legends, horror stories and fairy tales. And this sweet, unbelievably gorgeous guy I met out in the real world was the thing that kept
them
up at night.

My life kept getting weirder and weirder.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Once I wound down enough to go to bed, I crashed into the pillow and was out like a coma patient. One second I was thinking of Riley’s smile, the next I was gone. When I opened my eyes again, the sun was up and I could smell coffee.

My little family ate pancakes with me at the table, but refused to meet my eyes whenever I said anything about Riley. I was sure they’d get accustomed to him. For now, I was content to have them surrounding me, being supportive, if still wary.

With a full belly, I prepared to spend the rest of the day poring through some of my mother’s books and practicing some of what I’d learned. I had a dim idea for dealing with Sebastian, but there were snags to work out.

The situation was a catch-22—I had to take my shields down to pummel Sebastian with an overload of energy that would, theoretically, send him back where he came from. But I couldn’t get near him without my walls well fortified. There had to be a way around the problem. On top of that, I needed to avoid physical contact with him at all costs.

After hours of digging in dusty books, all I had to show for it was a crick in my neck, dusty fingers and an in-depth knowledge of third-tier scat demons. I had no intention of knowing anything about something so disgusting. There’s no need to discuss it here. It’s enough to say they’re not at all pretty.

I spent some time on the beach practicing focus techniques, getting nowhere. I could easily build up my walls, tear them down and create windows. But now I needed someone to center on. I had new things to learn, and I wasn’t going to learn them sitting on a rock by myself.

I looked over my shoulder. Iris was lurking at the tree line, watching. I had Maurice and the brownies at home. I had fairies.

What I needed was humans.

I drove to a park in Muir Beach and found a comfortable spot at a picnic table. I avoided Sausalito. There was no way I was ready for a face-off with Sebastian yet. The likelihood of being rescued a second time by a reaper who was scheduled to take my soul was slim.

People milled around in the grass, reading books, eating, talking. One or two flew kites, a few tossed a Frisbee back and forth. Kids climbed and swung in a play area, and moms chatted with each other, one eye on their little ones.

I focused my attention on a guy kicking a Hacky Sack. I watched it bounce and spin, landing on the top or the side of his foot. He was good. He was so focused on what he was doing, he didn’t notice me scrutinizing him.

I opened the shutter over my thin, mental window and willed in only what he was feeling. It wasn’t easy. I had to block out the ruthless gossip of the mothers, the exuberance of the kids and the love radiating off a couple having a picnic. The minute my window was open, their emotions came floating toward me as if I were a magnet.

I pushed out everything else and focused on Hacky Sack guy. I pictured a beam of light connecting us, thin and tight.

The world narrowed. There was nothing but me and the athletic guy tossing a bean bag on his foot.

I couldn’t hear his thoughts, of course. I didn’t know if anyone could do that, but I certainly couldn’t. Still, I could feel him. He was worried about something. The random patterns of the sack pounding against his foot were soothing to him. There was guilt, too. Whatever he was worried about, he felt like it was his fault.

I wasn’t overwhelmed by what I was receiving. It was hard for me to tell whether that was because he wasn’t feeling it intensely, or whether I was somehow learning to tamp it down into more manageable doses.

I turned off my emotional laser beam and let him go. There were others around me to try, and I picked one at random. A young mother by the play area drew my attention.

She stood up from her park bench gossiping and marched over to her son. Her outfit captured my interest almost as much as the odd emotions she was giving off.

I like my comfy sweats. They’re thick cotton in subdued shades of blue or gray. I lounge around the house in them. I wear them for working out or hanging out at the beach when it’s a little chilly. I was almost jealous of this woman. I was quirky, but she had balls. I would never have the guts to wear a lime-green velour track suit. Kudos to her.

“Joshua! Get down from there!” She barreled down on some kid in a bulky cardigan. He stood at the top of the hand rail above the slide. “You’re going to fall and break your neck! I am sick and tired of telling you over and over. Get down now!”

To my surprise, Joshua laughed and climbed higher.

I focused on the waddling, irate mother. Nothing else existed for me but her. I let her in full force.
Irritation
. For all her blustering and yelling, all I could get from her was a mild annoyance tinged with a bit of dislike.

Joshua stood tall on the top of the jungle gym hand rail and let out a raucous belch. He turned his back on his mother, waggled his butt, made a heart-stopping leap and slid down the slide, laughing.

Truth be told, I didn’t much care for Joshua either.

Embarrassment.

Well, that was no surprise. I’d be embarrassed too if he were my kid. I didn’t much blame track-suit lady for being less than fond of her own son. He was a little shit.

She turned in resignation and waddled to her seat on the bench. Her emotions petered out and weren’t worth following anymore. I had a feeling her life was difficult and she hid inside herself. I think maybe she didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

The couple in the grass was making out. The idea of opening myself to that felt like voyeurism. I’d had enough of feeling other people’s sexual urges, thank you very much. My skin crawled when I thought about it.

I scanned the crowd. A young girl was sitting by herself on a swing, scooching her feet in the tanbark, kicking up dirt. She seemed preoccupied and a little sad. I liked this. It was like a game I was playing with myself. Body language alone was hard for me to read, since I’d gone my whole life not depending on it like everyone else. I focused on her.

The beam was easier to create the third time. I fine-tuned it and surrounded her with it. I blocked out everything around me and reached for her.

Sorrow.

Fear.

Loneliness.

I had underestimated what her body language was saying by a mile. Unfortunately, all I could determine was something terrible had happened to this girl. Maybe someone had died or her parents were getting divorced. There was no way to tell what the cause was without asking her directly. For all my gifts, I was almost as clueless as the rest of world. I wanted to put my arms around her and tell her whatever it was would be all right.

This is what I’d come for. This was what I needed to learn.

I reversed the flow of emotion, concentrating on comfort, love and contentment. It trickled into her, pushing away the negative emotions and giving her something more positive in its place. I shared what I could with her, taking away a little of the hurt.

She straightened in the swing, and while she didn’t exactly smile, her lips turned up a touch at the edges, and her eyes lost some of their dullness. She stopped scraping her feet in small patterns in the bark, stepped back and lifted her legs. The swing moved forward and back in a gentle motion, the girl’s hair ruffling in the breeze.

Sometimes we all need a hug and a heart full of lies, even if the relief won’t last.

* * *

Monday was the first day of Hell Week. Alma Dickson called three times with changes to the music program, and Gail called twice crying about a lack of RSVPs and then changing the music program back to the original list.

The agency we used for extra help called to tell us they only had two girls to send us to help out on Saturday. Charlie, who usually took care of deliveries, slipped a disc and was stuck in bed for the duration.

Through it all, Sebastian’s parting words hung over me like a cloud of dread. This wedding was important—it could make or break our business. I had to be there. And even if I could quit and remove myself from the proceedings, Sebastian might still show up. I couldn’t bear the thought of him taking a single life more than he already had. How many bridesmaids, mothers and guests might fall victim? Two? Five? More? It could be a massacre.

I didn’t know if I had the strength to defeat him, but I was the only one who could try.

Sara ran her hand through her hair leaving it in uncharacteristic disarray. “This one’s huge. We’ll need everybody we can call in to help.” She stopped pacing and narrowed her eyes at me. “Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to call in Brad, you know.”

I groaned and palmed my face. “Wonderful.”

“Hey, I’m just saying we could use the help for coordinating and deliveries.”

“He’s pretty high on my shit list right now, but if we need him, we need him.”

“Something new or same old Brad stuff?”

“He barged into the middle of my date Friday night.”

Sara banged her cup on her desk, and coffee slopped over the side. “A date? Why am I only hearing this now? Tell me.”

I felt guilty. I used to tell Sara everything. She’d been so tired, and we’d been so busy. I hadn’t wanted to bother her. That wasn’t really it though, and I knew it. Recently, my near-loner life had acquired a complete set of new family members—and then some. And nothing about any of them was something I could openly share with my reality-based best friend.

But that wasn’t a good excuse. I couldn’t tell her about closet monsters and grim reapers, but I sure as hell should have mentioned a date with the gorgeous paramedic I’d babbled about two weeks before.

I was a horrible friend.

I gave her the rundown on what she had missed, minus monsters, soul collecting and magical security systems. It made my week sound almost quiet.

“He sounds really sweet. I’m happy for you,” she said, blowing on her coffee. She did sound happy, but not as excited and gossipy as she usually was when we talked about guys.

“Well, we’ll see where it goes. We’re from two different worlds. It was only a first date.” Two different worlds was an understatement.

“Sure. Paramedics and wedding planners. It could never work out.” Sara’s eyes were cloudy and distant, as if she’d already lost interest. I resisted the urge to feel her forehead again. It was a nice gesture, but it wasn’t telling me anything useful.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” I said.

She frowned. “So he can take my temperature and tell me to get some rest? In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no place in the schedule this week to pencil it in. Besides, it’s just exhaustion. Let’s get through this week. Once Councilwoman Bitchmistress is out of our lives, I’ll sleep like a baby and be good as new.”

I was doubtful, but I couldn’t force her to go. She was probably right. I wasn’t feeling too perky myself. One more week and we could relax.

I put off the phone call to Brad as long as I could, but there was no way around it. I was going to have to call him.

For once, he was mercifully cooperative. This, of course, put me on edge. It meant he was coming in for the sales pitch.

“Of course I’ll help you out, Zoeygirl. You know me. I’m Mr. Reliable in a pinch.”

Sure he was. “Seriously, Brad, if you can’t make it, please say so now. I’m up to my armpits in problems, and I really need you not to be one of them.”

“I’ll be there, baby. Don’t you worry. Put me to work. I want to show you how useful I can be.”

That didn’t sound good. I was going to owe him for this. “Thanks, Brad. You’ve got the address? Eleven a.m. Please don’t forget. I need you on time.”

“Of course. Don’t worry. And maybe afterwards, we can go out for dinner or something?”

“Probably not, but thanks.” Crap. That’s what I needed. A date with my ex-husband.

“Sure, sure. Some other time. Soon though, okay? I want to run some ideas past you, see what you think.”

I stifled a groan. There it was. The pitch. At least he was being considerate enough to give me a rain check. “When all this is over, we’ll talk.”

“Okay, doll. I’m looking forward to it.”

All in all, the phone call had been painless. Despite the fact I’d be paying Brad for his time, it still came under the heading of “doing Zoey a favor.” I knew he’d collect on it eventually.

With the two temps I had lined up, Adrianne and Frankie, I had one errand boy and two assistants. A little more manpower would have been nice, but it would do.

Sara left around four-thirty, promising to go straight to bed. I was wrapping up to go home when the phone rang. I was both delighted and relieved to see it was Andrew—one more crisis might have done me in. Andrew was a much-needed reprieve.

“How’s our favorite supernatural rock star?” I could feel some of the tension in me dissipating at the sound of his voice.

It’s good to have friends you don’t have to keep secrets from. That used to be Sara. The strain of keeping things from her was wearing on me.

“Oh, I’m good. The world is falling down around my ears and I’m likely to be killed anytime I go outside, but I’m coping.”

“I have just the thing, my darling. I whipped up a batch of bath salts guaranteed to banish the most trying of mystical problems.”

“Do they smell like Christmas sweat socks?”

“Absolutely not. Christmas is not in the least bit relaxing.”

“True that. I was on my way out the door. Are you at the shop?”

“I am, but don’t you dare walk over here alone. Can’t have you running into any hungry demons. Milo needs to stretch his legs anyway, and I could use a little exercise to work off those muffins you brought last week. We’ll be over in five minutes.”

He hung up without saying goodbye. Andrew was cool that way.

True to his word, it was under five minutes before the boys came through the door. “Ready to go?” he asked. He looked around. “Hey, this is nice. Very swank. If I ever get married, I’ll hang out here in luxury while you do all the work.”

“You wouldn’t do that if it were a dump?”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t enjoy it as much. You should get a cappuccino machine. That would up the swank-level.”