Demon Night (18 page)

“That's…weird. But thanks.” It
was
hot, and without an insulating jacket; she had to pull her sleeves down over her hands to hold it. Her knuckles ached when she curled her fingers around the cup, but his mouth didn't seem any worse for her hitting him. “Sorry about…” She gestured to his chin.

“I could've moved out of the way, but I figured I brought it on myself.”

She mulled that over, the cup just under her lips so she could inhale the hazelnut-scented steam. “I guess you probably thought that if you'd told me last night, I'd drive myself crazy between then and this morning. Or maybe do something stupid like try to run over here before dawn and save her.”

“It was the bit about fretting. Maybe not sleeping and working yourself into a bundle of nerves before coming here, so Jane might be more concerned about you than listening to what you were telling her. I never thought you'd be so foolish as to come here alone.”

“Okay, then I really am sorry for punching you. I just
said
it before.” His deep chuckle filled the truck cab, but it faded when she locked her eyes with his and added, “I did sleep well—longer than I thought I would, considering. But I'd rather you let me worry, next time. I know you have a job to do, keeping me from getting killed—I'm grateful for that. And I'll listen to you, because you know more about this than I do. But I'm not so emotionally fragile that I need to be protected from the truth, especially when it's about Jane.
And
it takes me a while to work through things, so the sooner I find out about them, the more thinking time I have.”

Ethan looked at his hand resting along the top of the steering wheel. His jaw worked for a second before he turned back to her. “All right, Miss Charlie. If it's something that pertains to you, I'll lay it out straight.”

“Thanks.”

So that was settled, but Jane's driveway was still empty. Restlessness began twitching at her fingers, her legs. A rustle had her glancing across the seat—Ethan was unrolling the blueprints Jake had left on the table.

Ethan dipped the paper and looked at her over the top. “You all right if I study these for a bit?”

“Yeah.” The truck had a tape cassette player. Her iPod was at the house. Jane's driveway was
still
empty. “Do you have anything else in there that keeps you busy?”

“Books—mostly westerns and adventure novels, but a few others, as well. I might have something you'll enjoy.”

“I can't sit quiet enough to read right now. What else?”

“Manuals for just about every security system and lock made in the last century, a harmonica—”

“Really?” She tried to imagine that, but only got as far as thinking about his lips and tongue sliding over the mouthpiece.

He nodded, the corners of his eyes wrinkling into a smile. “All of your things, too. And some playing cards…” He bent the paper a little farther. “You play poker?”

She shook her head.

“That's a shame, Charlie. A damn crying shame.” The blueprints vanished. “But it ain't nothing we can't fix.”

 

By half past three in the afternoon, Charlie was starving, her ass was numb, she desperately had to use the bathroom, and Ethan had won most of her miniature unicorn collection. She'd forgotten they'd been in the back of her closet, but Ethan seemed thrilled by every porcelain figurine that accumulated on his side of the cab, examining each before adding it to his pile and claiming he hadn't seen such a fine herd of horseflesh in over a century.

And despite her worry for Jane, she couldn't remember when she'd had a better time since she'd been a kid and she and Jane had been saving all of their extra money to purchase them. Ethan was patient and teasing as he talked her through the rules of the games, just as quick with a joke as he'd been across the wall, and as slow as he'd always been when the conversation veered to other topics.

It was a combination that was potently sexy, and several times Charlie had to stop herself from simply staring—or leaping across the bench seat and having her way with him on their makeshift card table. Luckily, she could easily distract herself by asking him about being a Guardian—and, as soon as he mentioned Special Investigations, having him explain its role, as well. His job at Ramsdell had been a cover, she learned; Ethan spent most of his time traveling to different cities, tracking down demons, and slaying them. His brief accounts of several fights had her alternately laughing and horrified. And after the first few stories, she realized that he probably glossed over the worst of it.

She had one unicorn left on her lap when Ethan folded the cards together and vanished the deck. His unicorns went, too, and he looked over at the house, shaking his head. “This would have been too easy, Charlie. I'd wager anything that Sammael won't return before dark.”

The anxiety that had been lurking in the back of her mind sprang forward again. She clenched her teeth and breathed deep, trying to control the frustration and fear racing through her. How could Dylan block every single method of communication? Maybe she couldn't call Jane once the spell went up, but what about—“Can we leave her a note inside so that she'll try to sneak out and call me?”

Ethan shook his head. “She wouldn't be able to sneak if a demon's in the house, Charlie. And as soon as the sun sets, I'll have you back at the lake with Jake, and the house shielded.”

“Even if she can't get out tonight, she'll know that I need to speak with her as soon as possible. So she might call as soon as she's alone in the morning.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes, as if he was considering it. “If she finds a note without you there to explain it, first thing she'd do is take it to Sammael, get his opinion.”

“Maybe, unless I say on the note that she shouldn't. I could leave it on her fridge, the stickies—okay, no, Dylan would see it. Or her bathroom, tucked in her birth control, because he'd never look there, and she takes it right before bed. And I really,
really
want to visit that bathroom.”

He grinned, then opened his door. “I don't suppose we'd lose anything by it.”

Although Charlie had a key, Ethan got her in just as quickly—without setting off the alarm or entering the code into the system. Her note filled four stickies. Ethan carefully read it through before she folded the stickies up tight, put them in the birth control compact, then stood the last little unicorn on the top of it.

Butterflies were rioting in her stomach and her hands were trembling when they got back to the truck, but the helpless feeling had passed. It wasn't much, but it had been
something
.

“I'm going to throw up,” she announced as he pulled into the street, but a few blocks later she pointed out a Burgerville and ordered a cheeseburger, rings, and a shake at the drive-thru.

And then everything in her froze when Ethan's battered leather wallet appeared in his hand. She watched him pay with an old-fashioned twenty and take the grease-stained bag.

She waited until he'd driven out of the line. “Can I see that?”

He looked from her face to the wallet, and his eyes closed. “Damnation. It's not what you're thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” she asked quietly.

“Hell if I know…that I've been lying to you about everything. That I kissed you to get that money into your hand. That I've been using my Gift for thieving. Just whatever it is, it's not how it really is.”

She opened up the wallet. Most of the bills had faint ink stains. If Old Matthew hadn't pointed them out, she'd never have paid attention to them. “Then how is it? Is it stolen?”

“That it is. And after he'd been convicted, this was scheduled to be destroyed. I took it before it went into the incinerator.”

“Why?”

“Because it was the most harmless way of obtaining resources—it wasn't taken from anyone, hurting their business or their life, and no one ever missed it.” He frowned and glanced over at her. “Before Special Investigations, Guardians didn't have an Earth-based center of operations, but we had to work here, sometimes acting like humans—and having that human cover meant we needed money. But we don't have jobs, or inheritances, or any of the material things that we had when we were human. I got six thousand dollars of usable cash out of it, divided it between five Guardians, and I've been spending my portion for fifteen years. And I won't feel a lick of guilt for it, Charlie—except that it's upsetting you.”

“No, that makes sense, I just…” She shook her head. “That was
you
at Cole's?”

“Yes. Mostly, I was there to watch over you.”

He didn't say what the other part was, and she slowly unwrapped her burger. Even with her emotions spinning, she was hungry, and it gave her a reason to be quiet as she thought it over.

They were crossing the floating bridge over Lake Washington when she realized that she wasn't getting anywhere just thinking. “So you can change shape?”

“Not all that well,” he said wryly.

Then she hadn't been crazy, thinking he'd grown while he'd been talking to her. “And you
could
rob banks, if you wanted to.”

He glanced away from the road. “Well, sure I could. Getting through locks has always been my one thing—what I do best. Are you asking me to get you something, Charlie?”

She dipped her head, smiling as she took a bite of an onion ring. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he looked forward again with a deep sigh.

“I'd be willing to do just about anything for one of those,” he said. “But I promise I won't steal any from you.”

She set the fast-food bag in the middle of the seat, and he reached in. “Take all you want. I shouldn't be eating them, anyway.”

He finished the first one and went back for another. “Now that's just crazy talk. There ain't no one that shouldn't be eating these, even if they don't
need
to eat.”

She grinned, shook her head. “No, that's just it…I love them. So I don't let myself eat them, because I'll overdo it.” The low afternoon sun glittered like gold over the lake; water stretched out on both sides of them, the hills on Eastside rising green in front, the bridge a straight gray ribbon.

“You worried about your figure?” Ethan sounded so incredulous that a short laugh escaped her.

“Well, I like thinking that I'm someone who's strong, who looks as if she's got it together—but I guess it
is
crazy talk, because my body is just the result of me knowing how needy I am.” The glare off the water was starting to hurt her eyes, so she blinked down at her cheeseburger instead. “I don't eat stuff I like—or very much of it—because I'm afraid I'll eat too much. And I go to the gym every day so that I have somewhere besides knitting to put the energy. They teach you that in Mission Creek, and some of the other rehab places—finding a hobby or outlet. I guess knitting wasn't enough.”

She glanced up at his profile; his brow was furrowed, his jaw slowly moving as he ate another ring, his right hand loose on the steering wheel.

“And I like hitting stuff,” she added.

“Hell, I enjoy it, too. And being the ‘stuff' ain't so bad, neither.” He made a show of rubbing his jaw before he added, “I've seen pictures of you singing, Charlie—you were all soft and curvy. In my day, whether you were like that or as you are now, you'd have had men lining up to court you. Women didn't obsess about this so much then.”

She almost snorted strawberry milkshake through her nose. “That's such bullshit,” she said, laughing. “I've seen those…those…what do you call them? They're pictures of women, and they've got the foofy hair, and the ladies are wearing dresses and corsets so tight and waists so tiny I could break them in half. But they all went by the same name, because of the guy who started it. You know, the…” Dammit. She couldn't even get a sound to associate. God, she
hated
this. “What were they called?”

“The Gibson Girl?”

“Yeah. You can't tell me women didn't try to look like that, too.” She suddenly didn't feel like laughing much anymore, and neither was she hungry. The paper crackled around the burger as she wrapped the rest of it up. “You want this?”

His jaw was clenching, his hands tight on the wheel. “No. Goddammit, Charlie, you knew what it was. Just because you don't have the name on the tip of your tongue, it doesn't mean you're lacking brains.”

“I never said I did. It just pisses me off, because I start to feel sorry for myself, and I can't stand that.”

Tall firs lined the drive down to the house, shadowing the interior of the cab, but she had no trouble making out his surprise.

“I ought to go back to reading you, Charlie, because I sure as hell can't figure you out otherwise.”

“It's not that hard. You know everything about me, don't you? Probably even know my shoe size.”