Call number one:
“It was huge!” Mrs. Kestner waved her hand straight up above her head. She was a local who worked at the bank. She also was an avid hiker.
“What were you doing out hiking at night, Mrs. Kestner?” I asked. “Alone?”
Her house was one of the many tiny cottages built in the thirties. This one had an addition off the back. The front room, which had once served as both the living and family room, was now a tidy home office and crafting space with a bright yellow couch, matching chairs, and some leafy plants in the corners.
Than stood at my side, observing.
“I got held up at work, and then Georgia needed me to pick up the kids and get them home because Paul was also working late. Georgia’s pulling a double at the hospital, you know.”
I didn’t know her daughter’s shifts, but I nodded and took notes in a little book. “Don’t you think it might have been a bear?”
“It was carrying light bulbs.”
I looked up from my notes and raised my eyebrows, giving her my patented I-don’t-really-believe-you look. “Light bulbs.”
“Yes. Look, I know how this sounds. But I saw Bigfoot. The real Bigfoot! Tall, hairy, ape-like…but with these eyes.”
“Uh-huh. Do you want to describe Bigfoot’s eyes?”
“They were round, and…soft. Gentle. I think Bigfoot is just a gentle misunderstood creature. Poor thing.”
What Bigfoot was, was a kleptomaniac with a weird fascination with light bulbs.
“Well, I don’t think Bigfoot is real, Mrs. Kestner. I think what you saw was a bear.”
“No. It was much taller than a bear. And the light bulbs!”
“Don’t you think those might have been marshmallows? We’ve had reports of campers who lost some food out of their coolers.” That was a lie. I was covering for the big lug who was going to get an earful from me real soon.
“We thought it might be raccoons,” I went on, “but I see we need to get the rangers out here to make sure the bears in the area are tagged.”
“But…Bigfoot. I’m sure of it.”
“Did he stink?”
“What?”
“Everyone knows that Bigfoot stinks worse than hot garbage.”
This was actually a lie we’d sowed into the public myth of Bigfoot years ago. It helped throw people off the whole Bigfoot thing, because in truth, Bigfoot liked his cologne.
“Well, no, I didn’t smell anything like that. There was a scent though. I’ve smelled it before.” She frowned then snapped her fingers. “Axe cologne. I smelled Axe cologne. Tell me, Officer, what kind of bear wears Axe cologne?”
“The kind that breaks into a campsite and chews on everything, including the camper’s toiletries,” I covered smoothly. “That was part of the report from last night. Food missing, camp torn up. We checked it out, and the bear got into all their supplies. Frankly, destroying that cologne was an act of kindness on the part of the bear.”
I grinned and invited her to join in.
But she just deflated. “You really don’t think it was Bigfoot?”
“Do you have any pictures or video that could change my mind?”
“No. No, I was so startled. And by the time I got my phone out of my pocket, it was gone. Faded into the trees and shadows like nothing had even been there. It didn’t make a sound. Don’t you think a bear would have made a sound?”
“I think you were startled, it was late at night after a long day, and adrenalin does funny things.”
“True. That’s true. So, a bear?”
“They really are big when they’re up on their back legs. And if we have a grizzly in the area, that’s an even bigger fellow.”
“So, should I avoid any particular area?”
“Just don’t hike after sunset for a few days. Just to be safe. I’ll contact the rangers and they’ll make sure any bears in the area are tagged and can be tracked. If we’re lucky, this one’s just wandering through to its home territory.”
“Don’t hike at night,” she repeated.
“That’s it. And if you happen to see anything like that again, even if it actually is Bigfoot,” I paused to give her a tolerant smile, “don’t approach it, don’t take flash photography, don’t do anything to startle it. Just call us again. Even if it’s the middle of the night, okay?”
“I have a gun. I could hike with a gun.”
“Handguns won’t do much except make a bear angry. And while we don’t know what a bullet would do to a Bigfoot,” the smile again, “I’d rather not have you be the one who finds out, okay?”
“Yes. Of course. I could have really been hurt, couldn’t I? A bear.” She was going a little pale, so I helped her sit down on the couch.
“We’ve had them in the area before,” I said. “Never had any deaths or maulings. So I think you’re going to be fine as long as you stick to daylight.”
“And if I see one again?”
“Stay very still and let it walk on by.”
“Right. I can do that. I can do that.”
“All right then. If you’re feeling okay, Mrs. Kestner?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry to bring you out here and ramble on about…well.” She blushed.
I waved a hand. “No problem at all. That’s what we’re here for. Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone to sit with you a bit? Georgia or Paul?”
“No, really. I’m good.” Her color was warming up back to normal.
“All right then. We’ll leave you to your day. I’m so glad you’re okay, Mrs. Kestner.”
“Thank you. Thank you both.” She stood and walked us the short distance to the door. “Thank you for coming out.”
“Any time.”
We stepped into the bright afternoon sun and wind and she shut the door behind us.
“You lied,” Than noted.
“Yes, I did. It’s in the rules. Especially when it comes to keeping the supernaturals safe. If people knew that Bigfoot really lived here, swarms of people would come to try to find him, and eventually someone would, because he is a dumbass who can’t resist a shiny glass bulb.”
“Are you angry?”
“Not really.” I started the car and waited until he had buckled, which he did with such a look on his face, before driving onto the street. “He’s never been caught, not even spotted for long. So it’s not like I’m going to have to squash hundreds of sightings.”
“He is acting in his nature, and though it might be annoying, it isn’t destructive,” Than suggested.
“Exactly. We put up with a lot of this kind of behavior as cops. Although stealing the light bulbs isn’t ideal.”
“And the demon?”
“What about the demon?”
“Is he not acting in his nature by possessing Delaney’s soul?”
“His nature is harmful.”
“Do you truly think so?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
I sighed. “You like Delaney, don’t you? You have a…friendship?”
“Death is a friend to many.”
“Vague.”
He nodded in agreement.
“I need a solution, Than,” I said. “To save Delaney’s soul. To make sure Bathin doesn’t make a terrible choice we’ll all pay the price for.”
“Perhaps the solution will reveal itself to you in time.”
“You either have a lot of faith in me or time. I’m not sure which.”
“I have known Time for all existence. I have never had faith in it.”
I couldn’t help myself. I smiled.
~~~
Call number two:
“When did you last see the penguin?” I asked Mrs. Yates. We were in her sunroom, which had become a large display space and museum for all things penguin.
Her concrete penguin statue was the unofficial star of the town. Framed newspaper and magazine articles filled the walls in neat rows, separated by photos of some of the more inventive penguin-nappings.
There was the little penguin stuffed in the barrel of a cannon. There was the little penguin dressed as an angel dangling above the main intersection in town. There was the little penguin strapped to the cross on the church steeple.
A few non-kidnapped pictures were sprinkled among the others. The little penguin out in Mrs. Yates’s yard, in the snow, autumn foliage, spring flowers, and deep greens of summer.
Really, she’d gone all in on the famous penguin part of this gig, which had started as a high school prank and had turned into a national obsession.
Tour buses came by to see the penguin in her yard as part of winery tours, for heaven’s sake.
“This morning. I was having coffee right here in the sunroom. It has the perfect view of the front yard.” She pointed at the wall of windows. Than and I turned in tandem to stare at her yard. The marble podium she had commissioned for the penguin was noticeably empty of said penguin.
“I got up to get my toast, and when I returned, it was gone.” She didn’t sound upset. Not really. If anything, she seemed a little excited about this theft. It would, after all, be another picture on the wall if the kidnappers were creative enough.
“Did you see any suspicious cars?” I asked.
“Do you know who took it?” Than asked.
Mrs. Yates’s gaze snapped up to his face, and she looked him up and down as if she had just noticed he was in the room. “What was your name again?”
“Than.”
“Didn’t you used to run the kite shop?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
“He’s a reserve officer. We’re training up a few new people over the autumn and winter months so we can better handle the influx of tourists next summer.”
“Oh, of course. Like Mr. Bailey.”
“Exactly, and it doesn’t cost the taxpayers a thing.”
“Well, isn’t that wonderful! What a wonderful thing. How community minded of you, Mr. Than.”
“Cars?” I prompted.
“No, nothing unusual. You know that house on the corner always has someone coming and going. I don’t want to judge, but I think multiple families live there. I never see the same people for long.”
It was a good guess on her part, and something that we allowed as a cover story for the family of shapeshifters who lived there. While they each had their preferred human shape, sometimes they took multiple shapes, especially the children who were still learning what it took to control their gift.
It could look like three different families lived there, but it was really two men, two women, and four kids.
“That property is zoned for multi-family use. There are two families living there, and they’ve let us know they sometimes have extended family stay for blocks of time. Being so close to the beach is a real draw.”
I smiled, just like I always did when I was covering things up. Mrs. Yates took me at my word.
Than raised his eyebrows, but I stared back at him. Other than omitting the fact that they were shapeshifters, I’d been telling the truth. When other shapeshifters showed up in town, they always stayed with the Persons.
Yes, I got the humor in that last name.
“I don’t know who may have taken my property, Mr. Than. That is why I called you here.”
“All right, so no cars, no people you noticed walking by lately?”
“No one I haven’t seen before. A lot of people stop by to see the penguin, you know.”
I knew. Everyone knew.
“Were there any tour buses?”
“No. Although there was a couple who said they were driving Highway 101 from beginning to end, and they stopped by to take a selfie. They came up to the house to talk with me briefly.”
“About what?”
“They asked permission for taking a picture in my yard. They were very polite.”
“Did you get their names?”
“Troy and Trisha Smith. Cute couple. Young. Here, they sent me the photo.”
She stepped over to the little dining table and retrieved her tablet. It only took her a moment to scroll through the pictures and find the one she wanted.
“This is them.” She handed me the tablet. I studied the faces. Young couple. Cute. Their car was parked across the street at just the right angle, I could make out the plates. “We’ll run their plates just in case.”
“Oh, I don’t really think it’s them,” she said hastily.
“No?”
She drew her hands together in front of her and picked at one of her thumbs. “I’m sure it’s someone local.”
“Why do you think that?”
Her eyes dashed to the side, back to me, then dashed away again. She was hiding something. She knew something.
“Who took the penguin?” I asked. “If you know, I can just go to them and retrieve it. It won’t be a problem. If you want us to let them off with a warning, we’re happy to do so.”
“It’s just that things have been quiet, with the summer season winding down.”
“Yes,” I encouraged.
“And there hasn’t been an article for months now.”
I scanned the framed clippings again, and noted they were in chronological order. The last was dated June. So it had been three months since there was any outside press.
“I thought stirring things up wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
“Did you give someone the penguin?” But even as I said it, that didn’t make any sense. Why would she call us in if she knew where it was?
“No. I…even I’m not that hungry for attention.”
Jury was still out on that.
“But I might have seen who picked it up,” she went on. “I think…I don’t think it was a normal kidnapping.”
“Why?”
“It was that glassblower.”
“Crow?” I asked.
She nodded. “He came by this morning. He seemed inebriated. Drunk. And loud. He was singing. And he waved. He knew I was right here in the sunroom.”
“You watched him that long?”
She sighed. “When I saw he was taking the penguin I didn’t want to interfere. He is an artist of a sort. I thought maybe he would dream up a delightful photo op. Maybe something that would renew interest? I mean, not for me, of course. I have all the attention I could possibly want. But it’s good for our town. Brings in the tourists.”
I didn’t tell her that the nearby casinos, gorgeous open beaches, ample fishing, antiquing, wineries, craft breweries, and small town coziness was more than enough to bring in the tourists.
“Did you contact Crow and ask him to bring it back?”
“I tried. He wasn’t answering his phone, so I drove to his shop.”
“And?”
“It was closed.”
Crow had just gotten back into town. It was possible he hadn’t wanted to head straight back into the glass-blowing business. It was also possible he was still drunk from Roy’s party.
“We’ll look into it,” I told her.
“You don’t think he’s going to…to harm it, do you?”
He was a trickster god. “I don’t think that would be his goal, no. Have you thought about setting up your own photo shoots with it?”
She shook her head firmly. “I just wouldn’t. Part of the fun is seeing other people get creative. If it were just me dressing up a concrete penguin. Well, my goodness, do you realize how much of an eccentric attention-seeker that would make me out to be?”
Than cleared his throat. I would have said he was choking back laughter, but I knew he never laughed.
“Right. Okay. We’ll try to locate Crow and find out if he still has the penguin in his possession.”
“Do you think he might have given it away? Or might have sold it?” She was wringing her hands now.
“I don’t think he sold it.”
“But it is valuable. He could probably get a pretty penny for it on the dark web.” She leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “I know what that is.”
I nodded soberly. “Next time you see someone stealing your penguin, please just call us. We’ll come out, stop the theft, and you won’t have to imagine your penguin smashed into a million pieces and being sold, chunk by chunk, on dark ebay.”
“There’s a dark ebay?”
“There’s a dark everything, Mrs. Yates,” I said as seriously as possible.
She frowned, looked out the windows, and tugged on her fingers. “I hope you find Mr. Crow quickly. Tell him I will press charges if anything has happened to my property. I’ve insured it, you know. If it’s harmed, I can sue. I will sue.”
“I’ll let you know the moment we have anything to report.”
“Thank you, Myra. You have always taken this so much more seriously than either of your sisters. And don’t get me started on Officers Hatter and Shoe. They make jokes when I call in my complaints.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I am a taxpayer, you know. I pay your wages. Theirs too.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And I pay your…” she pointed a finger at Death, then curled it back in on her palm. “No, you’re a volunteer, that’s right.”
We let ourselves out, and I dialed Crow’s number.
“Busy,” he answered, and hung up.
I dialed him back.
“You hang up on me, I’ll break your kneecaps.”
“Myra? Is that you? What can I do for you, my darling?”
“Return the penguin.”
“Penguin?”
“Crow.”
“I…can’t. Really. Not yet.”
“Where are you? What are you doing with it?”
“What does anyone do with a concrete penguin in this town? No, don’t answer that. I haven’t been home in a bit and I’m afraid things may have veered into the X-rated zone since I’ve been gone. No kink shame, if that’s your thing.”
“Hand me the phone, Myra Reed,” Than said.
I narrowed my eyes, but since I wasn’t making any progress with Crow, I handed him the phone.
“Your excuses are no longer sufficient to ensure your further existence, Raven.” He paused to listen to Crow’s reply.
“I am an officer of Ordinary’s law now.” Than pulled the phone away from his face and lifted both eyebrows. He inhaled, exhaled, then placed the phone to his ear again. “I will uphold the law for mortals, supernaturals, and, more significantly perhaps in this regard, for deities. Bring the statue back to its proper placement within the hour, or I shall thoroughly enjoy interpreting Ordinary’s laws as I see fit.”
He swiped one thumb over the screen and handed it back to me.
“You…uh…I’m not sure that was exactly by the book.”
“I clearly stated my rank, my intent, and my preferred outcome. As the book instructs. Also, it is Crow.”
The look on his face, so long suffering, made me laugh. “Okay, fine. You know you can’t kill him while you’re here?”
“Yes. But then…accidents do happen.”
That got me laughing again.
~~~
Call number three:
“I don’t see the problem.” I tipped my head to one side and back again. The restroom off of 24th was a nice, new, single building at the end of a small parking lot, which was at the end of a residential street.
The town had put in parking spaces, a restroom, a drinking fountain, and a picnic table, because 24th ended on an easily accessed rise above the beach. A new, steep, concrete staircase led down to the sand. A lot of tourists used it. So did the locals in the neighborhood.
“The yarn, perhaps?” Than suggested.
“Yeah, I see that.”
It was pretty hard to miss. The picnic table was covered in a patchwork of squares and each square featured some kind of creature, from little spiral snails to several patches in a row that made up a winged dragon.
The benches were also covered in squares of flower after flower after flower.
The trash can had been turned into a robot; the drinking fountain, a mushroom. I paced over to the stairway and noted the metal banister was now wrapped with a swirling pattern that arced like rainbows and clouds and birds swooping through them. I thought there, at the bottom of the stairs, it ended with butterflies.
It was actually very pretty. It also was not the work of one person. There was just too much of it.
“So who called this one in?” I wondered to myself.
Than glanced around at the houses. “Perhaps that man can tell us?”
He pointed to a man about four houses down on the left side of the block. He lifted a hand and started our way.
“Hello,” he called out. “Hi there! Are you here to remove the…uh…graffiti?”
We walked toward him. “You called this in, sir?”
“Yes. I didn’t think it was…sanitary.”
I glanced back at the picnic table and garbage can. “Sanitary.”
He followed my gaze, and his eyes widened. “No, oh, no. I don’t mean the table and all this.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the yarn bombing. “I think that’s…well…my wife crochets, so I know what kind of work goes into something like that. It’s more the inner stuff that I’m worried about.”
“Inner stuff?”
“Inside the restroom? I told the officer, Hatter, I never call in stuff like this, harmless things. But the restroom is used by a lot of day visitors. I thought it a bit inappropriate.”
I raised both eyebrows, far more curious than when I’d arrived. “Than, why don’t you go take a look in the restroom.”
He turned on his heel and strolled over to it, straight-arming open the door and disappearing inside.
I waited. Hoped whatever was in there was suitably shocking. Got out my phone so I could take a picture of his expression just in case.
“Care to describe it?” I asked the guy next to me.
“I suppose it isn’t the worst thing someone could knit around a toilet.”
“It’s on the toilet you say?” I rolled my hand in a keep-going gesture, my phone still held at the ready.
“Red lips with a tongue sticking out.”
I snorted. “And where is it located, exactly?”
“On the toilet seat.”
“Right. Anything else?”
“The tongue has something stitched on it.”
“Go on.”
“C.O.C.K. I don’t know if it’s a request, or a reference to the crochet club.”
Than still hadn’t come out of the restroom, darn it, so I headed his way. “I’ll find out.”
I strode over and knocked on the door. “You okay in there? Did you find what we’re looking for?”
The door opened slowly, and there was Than, dangling a large, lurid pair of lips off of one fingertip, the tongue flapping gently in the coastal breeze. “Are we looking for toilet art?”
I snapped a photo. This was going on the bulletin board at the station. Maybe on my Christmas cards.
“Yep.”
“Then I believe we have found it.”
“Ain’t police work grand?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Quite.”
“Turn it so I can see the tongue.”
He did so. Yep, right there. C.O.C. K.
“Looks like we need to visit our local crochet club. Put that in an evidence bag. They’re in the trunk.”
Than stepped out of the restroom, and I walked in, and took some pictures. The only other yarn bomb in the place was a frame around the mirror. It was golden with little dragonflies and a couple crabs in the corners and actually did a lot to brighten up the place.
I walked back to the table and stairs, taking more photos.
The neighbor guy watched me, his hands in his pockets. “You wouldn’t happen to know if the crochet club is meeting today?” I asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. My wife crochets, but isn’t in that group.”
“Why not?”
“She didn’t want to get caught in another war. Just can’t understand how knitters and crocheters are sworn enemies. Thinks both groups should just chill. Stitch and let stitch.”
“She sounds like a lovely person.”
“I think so.” He gave me a grin. I’d seen that look before. I’d seen it on Ryder’s face, I’d seen it on Delaney’s. I’d seen it on Jean’s and Hogan’s faces too. It was fondness. It was love.
Like a mirage out of my dreams, Bathin came striding up the street, wearing dark jeans and a motorcycle jacket, his hands in black fingerless gloves, his black hair blowing in the wind.
He had on motorcycle boots too, and even from halfway down the block, I could see his eyes were locked on me and only me.
Before I could stop it, the dream from the other morning flooded through me. And I was there, could feel the cool silk of the dream sheets, could feel the heavy warmth of his dream hands touching me, his dream lips skimming my neck, his teeth biting gently before his tongue soothed the sting away.
My breath caught and my heartbeat drummed.
It had been a dream. It would only ever be a dream.
But what a dream.
Bathin kept striding toward me, a knowing smirk on his mouth.
“What do you want?” I asked when he was a house-distance away.
“We have a date.”
“I’m busy. Working.”
“I see that.” He closed the distance, spared a glance at the guy next to me, who took a step back involuntarily. Yeah, Bathin had that way about him. That asshole way.
“Even officers of the law are allowed a lunch break. I know it’s true. I checked it out with the union.”
“We don’t have a union.”
“You should.” He lifted a bag in his hand. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to go to a restaurant, so I planned ahead.”
“And what, walked here?”
He lifted one eyebrow, that smirk in full go-mode now. “No, Officer Reed. I drove.” He tipped his head to indicate the vehicle behind him.
“You have a motorcycle now? Wow, could you not fill out every square of the bad boy bingo sheet?”
“You think I’m a bad boy?”
“I think I should be going,” the neighbor guy said.
“No, I’m not done getting your statement.” I glared at Bathin. “You stay right here.”
“I can give my statement to the other officer,” the neighbor offered.
“Yeah, that’s a great idea, buddy,” Bathin said. “Give your statement to the other officer.” He didn’t look away from me. Nor did that smirk disappear. He liked it when I was angry.
Well, I could more than oblige.
I turned and made a grab for the neighbor guy, but he was fast-walking to the safety of Death over by the cruiser. Than had carefully sealed the toilet mouth into a plastic bag, holding it above the open trunk in his long, almost delicate fingers as if it were filled with dog poop.
“You can’t just come here, barge into an investigation, and tell me what to do,” I snapped.
“Which is why I came here, reminded you we had a date—a lunch date even though it is almost dinner time—and brought food so you don’t have to stop the investigation.”
“I have leads to follow.”
He pulled something out of the bag and thrust it at me. “Do it while eating a sandwich, for Christ’s sake.”
I blinked, waited.
“What?” he asked.
“I was just wondering if lightning was going to strike you for using Christ’s name in vain.”
“Pffft,” he said. “Those rules don’t apply to me. If Christ wanted me dead by lightning, he’d do it in a face-to-face kind of way. Eat your food.”
I glanced down to the brown wrapper in his hand.
My stomach rumbled. Other than tea, I hadn’t eaten since this morning, and from the low angle of the sun, it was headed toward four o’clock already.
“What is it?”
“It’s a club with everything, extra peppers.”
“Grilled?”
“Of course, grilled. What do you take me for, a heathen?”
“If the pentagram fits.”
He grinned. It was all sharp teeth and wicked promises and my heart did that flip again, while all the blood in my body decided to heat up below my hips.
I knew I had to stop him or evict him or hurt him or kill him, but would it be such a bad thing if I slept with him at least once before all that? Angry sex? Goodbye sex?
Something that wouldn’t mean anything in the morning sex?
“Oh, I like when you look at me like that,” he crooned. “You should see your eyes, Myra.” He leaned forward, just that extra inch. I felt cocooned in his space, in his warmth, in his need that echoed mine and made it more.
“Whatever makes your eyes look like that, let’s do more of it.”
I closed my eyes for a moment too long. Just long enough for my imagination to take off.
Bathin hummed, low in his chest, and I thought he might be bending toward me, his eyes searching my face, his breathing hitched as he angled his mouth toward mine.
Nope. All the nopes and then all the rest of the nopes. This was heart stuff. And I knew better than to fall for it.
I snapped my eyes open and quickly stepped backward. Away from him. Away from the things he did to me. The things he made me want.
He hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted that smug little smile. He watched me with a calm expression. Then he lifted his hand with the bag.
“This spot is perfect,” he said. “Let’s sit at the table. Such a beautiful view.”
He strolled toward the table, though it was more of a strut, then got busy setting up the sandwiches, the little bags of potato chips, and the cups that smelled like they were filled with hot coffee. Not what I would have chosen for lunch, but the aroma was rich and smelled wonderful mixed in with the cool sea breeze.
Suddenly a grilled club with extra peppers, chips, and a nice hot coffee sounded perfect.
“Sit,” Bathin invited. “I’ll even split my sandwich with tall pale and sickly over there.”
I glanced at Than, who looked adorably ridiculous taking meticulous notes from the neighbor guy in a tiny notebook that seemed even tinier in his hands.
“It’s a sandwich, Myra,” Bathin said gently. “Everyone has to eat.”
I finally gave in and took the bench opposite him. He’d sat so the beach was behind him, giving him the view of the street. That left me the view of the ocean, and he was right. It was beautiful today.
I unwrapped the sandwich paper, revealing two separately wrapped halves that were still warm enough to give off a little steam. It smelled heavenly, melted cheese and rich, salty meat, with the vinegar heat of the peppers.
I picked up half, moved the paper out of the way and took a big bite.
It was divine.
“Good?” Bathin asked, pointing his half sandwich toward mine.
“Good.”
He was quiet after that and so was I. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I polished off the first half and headed right into the second without a pause.
Than ambled over and folded down next to me at the table.
Bathin pushed his half sandwich over toward Than. “Half a Reuben.”
Than glanced at the wrapped food, studied Bathin who was just now finishing up his portion, glanced at me, and then fastidiously unwrapped the sandwich and took a tentative bite.
Bathin watched him with an amused expression. “I take it you’ve never had a Reuben before?”
“I have not.”
“Don’t like it?”
“I don’t have an opinion. It is hot flesh and spoiled cabbage?”
Bathin leaned on one elbow. “Pretty much. Also, there’s a sauce made of pickles and sugar and tomatoes, so it has that going for it.”
Than took another bite, placed just the fingertips of both hands on the edge of the table as he chewed. He stared out at the horizon, frowned, then took another bite and repeated the process.
“This is nice,” Bathin said, staring at Than but talking to me. “Just you, me, and Death, sitting at a table someone decided to quilt? I’m assuming this is quilting. How cozy.”
“Crochet,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look away from Than who was now halfway through the sandwich and still frowning between every bite as if he had no idea what he was eating or why.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” I said.
Than nodded, frowned, took another bite.
Bathin hid a grin under his fingers as he rested his head in his hand.
“It is knitting,” Than said.
“No, my friend,” Bathin said. “It’s a sandwich.”
And oh, the look Than leveled at him. I was amazed Bathin didn’t dissolve into dust.
Than turned toward me, ignoring Bathin as if he’d just been pushed off the cliff behind him. “It is knitting.” He pressed his fingers into the colorful square on the table in front of him. It was crocheted, I mean, knitted, in the shape of a cross-eyed chicken.
“Okay?” I had no idea where he was going with this. Bathin was the one who had called it quilting.
“The neighbor, Curt, confirmed that the yarn bomb is knitting, not crochet, no matter what the tongue might suggest.”
“Well, this just got interesting,” Bathin said. “What tongue, and what did it suggest? Tell me it was something dirty, I’ve had an absolutely boring day.”
“I thought you were following Delaney around all day.” It came out as an accusation. Yeah, everything about him annoyed me.
Bathin shifted upward out of his slouch and gave me a wary look. “She left to go to the casino to check on god mail. I don’t leave Ordinary, remember?”
“Afraid your father might find you?”
He blinked, but other than that, was absolutely still. “Who told you about my father?”
“Does that matter?”
“It does. Very much. To me. Anyone who would have told you he’s my father must also know where I am. That’s a problem.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Was it you?” he asked Than.
“If it were?” Than asked.
“If it were, I’m not going to be worried about it. You happen to like Ordinary.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
“I like Ordinary too,” Bathin said. “And some of the people and creatures in it. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to any of them.”
“Did you just threaten me? Us? The town? Is that what I just heard?”
“No. You heard the truth and interpreted it in the worst way possible, like you always do.”
“You are a demon.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m evil.”
“Uh, yeah. It does.”
He winked. “Only if you want me to be. I’m not like the other demons.”
“Really? How nice. Give my sister back her soul.”
“No. But yes, really. I blame your father.”
“What does my father have to do with anything? Oh, right. You stole his soul too!”
“Worst mistake in my life. Do you know how long we were together? And do you know what he did? He talked. And he reasoned, and he made sense, dammit. He made me something I’ve never wanted to be.”
“A jackass? No, it can’t be that, because you’ve always been a jackass, because you’re a demon.”
“Of course I’m a demon, and maybe I’m a jackass, but I am not evil.”
“Using my sister’s soul as a bargaining chip to save your life when your father comes here to try and kill you? What part of that isn’t evil?”
He went deadly still. “Who told you that?”
But I was on a roll now, all the anger, frustration, grief, and yes, regret for not being able to act on my attraction to him, rolled through me so fast, I couldn’t seem to stop the words falling out of my mouth.
“Maybe I just figured it out on my own.”
“No, that’s not something anyone would know. Except my mo…therfucker! It was the unicorn, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“She told you about the king of the Underworld. And she painted him as a monster, didn’t she? Myra, she’s a unicorn. She hates all things demonic. She hates me. She’d like to see me kicked out of Ordinary. She’s playing you so you’ll get rid of me.”
“I’ve been trying to get rid of you for a year.” I was on my feet, braced between the concrete bench and concrete table. It was uncomfortable and bad footing. I snagged up his bag of chips he hadn’t eaten and shoved them in my pocket.
“Those are mine,” he said.
“No chips for liars.”
His lips twisted. Almost a smile. “All right. So you’re going to team up with my father? Do you really think that’s smart? Use that big brain of yours, Myra.”
“I’m not doing anything with your father. If he’s anything like the unicorn says he is, I don’t want him anywhere near Ordinary. Two demons,” I jiggled my finger at him derogatorily, “isn’t going to make anything better.”
“We agree. I think my father coming to Ordinary is a terrible idea. You and I are on the same page. See how good we are for each other?”
“You’re delusional.”
“Now, now, Myra. You just said I was evil. Try to stay on message here.”
This was serious. It really was. My sister’s soul hung in the balance of his decisions, of my actions. But this back-and-forth, the heat and pull, was frustratingly enjoyable. Why did emotions have to be so confusing?
“I’m going back to work,” I said archly. “Perhaps you should go to Hell.” I lifted my feet over the bench and stomped across the grassy space toward the cruiser.
“See you for dinner then?” he called out.
I lifted one hand over my shoulder, middle finger in the air.
He laughed, a sudden, unexpected sound.
I hated how much I liked it.