Hannah Jayne (13 page)

“Great.” I sank down on a bench, and Will paced in front of me, nose buried in a menu.

“Are you seriously going to order something?”

Will rubbed his flat belly. “I am a bit peckish. We didn’t get to eat much before.”

My stomach folded in on itself as the olfactory memory of those hospital smells stung my nose again. “I can’t see how you can even think of food right now.”

Will’s eyes followed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes whizzing by. “It’s a gift.”

“No, sorry.” Shirley came back to us, shaking her head. The little jade elephants hanging off her ears were bopping against her cheeks. “No one remembers cleaning anything off that table other than the usual stuff. And none of the wait staff knew anything about any folders.”

My stomach dropped to my knees. “Nothing?”

Shirley shook her head. “Nothing. Aw, don’t worry.” She patted my arm kindly. “I’ll go get the lost-and-found bin and you both can rummage through that. If one of the customers turned them in, they’d be in there.”

I felt a weak stab of hope and pumped my head. “Yeah, okay. Hey, Will ...”

Will’s head was bent; his palms were pressed against the glass of the dessert case, where fresh slices of cake were laid out. He popped up and opened his menu again, studying it. “I’ll search through this display case, make sure nothing looks suspicious. You can go through that.” Will nodded toward the flimsy box Shirley returned with. She grinned.

“Here you go.”

I pawed through the “Remains of Vacations Past”—funky plastic sunglasses, a couple of mismatched gloves, and two full bottles of sunscreen—and sighed, pushing the box aside. I looked up to where Will stood and cocked one annoyed eyebrow at him.

“Well, at least one of us found something helpful,” Will said, holding up his overloaded to-go carton, flashing a pleased grin.

Under Suspicion

Chapter Ten

A hot cucumber-melon–scented bath and half a bottle of Chardonnay later, I was home on my couch, staring at my cell phone. Alex hadn’t answered when I called earlier, and I didn’t bother to leave a message. Still, I hoped—it was minuscule, but it was a hope—that he would see my missed call or feel my crushed-spirit Spidey sense and come running.

No such luck.

I was about to punch the speed dial again when there was a light knock on the front door.

I rolled up on my tiptoes and stared through the peephole, where Will’s head, giant and mis-shapen, greeted me. He grinned and held up a coffee mug.

“Just need a little sugar, love.”

I undid the dead bolt and the chain—you can never be too careful, even if you did live with a fashionista vampire and an eight-inch hound of Hell—and opened the door.

“Sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you?”

I pulled my bathrobe tighter across my chest and wagged my head. “No. Nina just got in.

I’m too antsy to go to sleep. Any word on Kale?”

“Nothing new.” Will followed me into the kitchen and I began opening cabinets. “Do you just need white sugar?”

“Please. And a tea bag, if you’ve got one.”

I thunked half a bag of sugar on the dining-room table, where Will was making himself comfortable, and glared at him. “You came over for some sugar and a tea bag.”

“I fancied a cup of tea.”

“Can I get you some hot water, too?”

Will leaned back in his chair and grinned. “That would be capital.”

I put the kettle on the stove and set out a cup for myself, plus a plastic bear filled with honey.

“So what’s the fits about, then?”

“Fits?”

Will squirmed in his chair. “You said you were antsy, right?”

“Oh, fits. Yeah. I just”—I used my fingernail to dislodge a prehistoric piece of Hang Chow fried rice stuck to the table’s fake wood veneer—“I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“Didn’t we have this conversation? You said you were forgetting something. I told you it was the files, and you showered me with thanks and biscuits?”

“Where are the files, then?”

“Where are my biscuits, then?”

“Anyway,” I said, my patience wearing thin, “I know that what happened to Kale wasn’t a coincidence. I know that this wasn’t just some guy tearing through an intersection. Ditto with Bettina”—I swallowed thinly—“and Mrs. Henderson.”

“And you.” Will reached out toward me, his finger tracing what still remained of the bruise and scratch on my collarbone.

Whether it was his gentle touch or the tenderness of the injury, I wasn’t sure, but my skin immediately broke out into a sheath of gooseflesh, every fiber of my being on high alert.

“You’re worried,” he commented.

I gave him my “duh” look and poured boiling water from the kettle.

“But you know you’ve got your Guardian right there across the hall.” Will patted his chest smugly.

“And you’re going to defend me with what? You don’t even own a tea bag.”

Will cocked an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Miss Ungrateful, I wasn’t planning on killing anyone with a tea bag. And you certainly didn’t mind my interference during your run-in with the idiot vampire slayer.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Imagine someone thinking I’m a vampire.”

“Well, you could use a bit of sun, love.”

I shot Will a withering look. “Tanning advice from the sun-kissed Brit.”

Will rolled his eyes and dunked his tea bag, then squeezed it against the side of his mug.

“Anyway, who said I wasn’t going to outsmart your projected assailant?” He tapped a finger to his temple. “Brain can be stronger than brawn.”

“And you’re all brain?”

“Cunning, even.” Will sat back in his chair and sipped his tea. “So cunning that I have an entire cupboard full of tea and yet here I am, drinking yours.”

“Well, now that you’ve said that, I feel ever so foolish.” I batted my eyelashes and sipped my tea.

“So tell me what you’re so worried about.”

“I’m not that worried,” I said.

“So you shredded that napkin for the sadistic pleasure?”

I looked down at the heap of napkin shreds and sighed. “I think there might be another fallen angel.”

“Do you think another one is possible?”

I shrugged. “Why not? There was Ophelia, and then Adam and his band of goons. Why wouldn’t there be another fallen angel taking their place?”

Will was playing with the handle of his mug and avoided my gaze.

“What aren’t you telling me, Will? What do you know?”

“I was just thinking ...” His words trailed off.

“What were you thinking?”

“Maybe it’s not another angel after you. Maybe it’s the one that’s always around.”

I spat my tea in a mammoth shower. “Alex? You can’t be serious!”

“Look”—Will’s hazel eyes glittered, the light from our chandelier catching the gold flecks in them—“you said yourself that fallen angels are unrepentant. You said yourself that they would keep coming until the Vessel of Souls is theirs, right?”

I rubbed a napkin shred between my forefinger and thumb. “That’s what Alex told me. But he was helping me. He was protecting me from Ophelia.”

“Or he was protecting the Vessel from Ophelia.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said there is something more to all this demon-gone-missing stuff.” He sipped his tea, looking at me over the brim. “No need to shoot the ruggedly good-looking messenger.”

I chewed my bottom lip, considering. “Yeah, but if this was about me, why mess with my demons?” I forced a chuckle and then stopped. “My demons.” My heart did a double thump.

“All the missing demons are my clients.”

“And?”

“And maybe someone is trying to distract me, to get me focused on something else.”

Will bobbed his head. “Okay, I’ll bite. Now what about Kale?”

“She works with me.”

“Directly?”

“No, she’s in finance. But she’s out at the front desk a lot and—and we’re friends.”

Suddenly the hot honeyed tea burned in my stomach. My saliva went bitter and my throat felt dry.

“Sophie?”

“It was me, Will.”

“What, now?”

“The person who hit Kale. He thought he was hitting me.” I slammed my palm to my forehead. “Oh God. I set her up. She was wearing my coat. I told her to wear my coat. Think about it. We’re about the same size, and in my jacket—especially with the collar cocked up like I had it—Kale would have looked like any other townie heading across the street. If who-ever did this watched us walk into the diner, he must have thought that he was hitting me. Oh God. Oh God. Ohgodohgod.” I rested my forehead on the table. “It’s happening again. Alex said it was just a matter of time before another group of angels found out about me, and now they have.”

Will rested his chin on the table so he could look at me. “We’re not sure of that, love.”

“Not sure?” I sprang up. “Someone tried to kill me, Will. They tried to smear me on the as-phalt—only it wasn’t me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I should never have let Kale wear my jacket. I should have known better! Of course it was personal. Of course it was! I’m Sophie Lawson—supernatural Vessel of Souls—and everyone wants to kill me.” I felt my eyes tear.

“You’ve got to get out of here, Will. You’re not safe. You’re not safe around me. No one is.”

My voice had reached a high-pitched squeak, and the sob that I refused to release ached in my chest.

Will stood up and wrapped his arms around me, and I fell into his hug, slumped against his chest.

“Anyone around me is going to be in danger,” I said. “I can’t do that to my friends.”

Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” thundered through my head, my own personal hair band soundtrack. I sniffed. My miserable existence didn’t even warrant Bon Jovi.

Will gently rested his chin on the top of my head. “Well, you’re stuck with me, love. Protecting you is exactly what I’m here for.”

He pressed his lips into my hair, and I couldn’t hold back the sob any longer. I pinched my eyes shut and felt the tears rush over my cheeks. My mind filled with pictures of the intersection, of Kale, crumpled and battered, her head resting in Will’s hands.

That was supposed to be me.

“We have to find out who’s doing this, Will,” I said. “We have to find out before anyone else gets hurt.” I pulled away from Will. “Mrs. Henderson, Bettina—and now Kale!”

“Do you think they mistook her for the dragon and the—what’s the bird again?”

I frowned. “A banshee. And I don’t see how they would. Bettina was leaving her apartment. It’s across town, by the ballpark. And she looks nothing like me.”

Will nodded thoughtfully as though this all made perfect sense. “Right. No one would mistake you for a banshee.”

I knew he was playing with me, but he pulled me back toward his chest, enfolding me in his arms. I felt remarkably, unexpectedly safe. His heart thumping against my chest was a comfort, as were the little puffs of his moist breath against the part in my hair. Standing there wrapped in Will’s arms, I almost felt safe. Almost allowed myself to feel comfortable. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought of Kale, and Bettina—and Alex.

I stepped away, completely out of Will’s reach this time. “You should probably go.”

Will’s hand was on the doorknob when the car alarm went off. Its wailing siren was insistent and annoying, and the side of Will’s lip curled in disgust.

“Did you know in Australia that’s the sound the tropical birds make?” He shook his head. “I don’t see why people don’t do away with those bloody things. No one listens to them, anyway.”

I clenched my teeth together in a forced smile and grabbed my purse from the peg by the door. “That one’s mine.”

Will cocked an eyebrow.

“I parked on the street. There was parking right out front and I was a little too creeped out for the underground.”

Will opened the door and ushered me out. “Let’s go turn it off.”

I stepped out into the hallway, a sudden prick of fear sending gooseflesh all over. “Do you think it’s something bad?”

Will snorted. “It’s a car alarm, love. A heavy breeze probably came by and set the thing off.”

I pushed through the vestibule door, with keys in hand, trying to soak in Will’s nonchal-ance. “You’re probably right.”

“Maybe someone thought your car was a werewolf,” Will said, grinning.

I rolled my eyes at his stab at humor.

Though my rent includes an underground parking space, the cavernous darkness of the parking garage gives me the heebie-jeebies. So on the rare occasion that I can find above-ground parking in my zip code, it’s too good to pass up. Today the parking gods and Gavin Newsom must have been smiling down on me because I caught a cherry spot almost directly across the street. Sure, I had to shoehorn my little Accord into the space and make a forty-seven-point turn in the process, but kicking open the car door and having sunlight—or the graying drizzle that passed for sunlight in San Francisco—was wonderful.

I really wish I had given the underground spot a second thought.

“Oh no.”

I didn’t realize I was standing in the middle of the street until a Muni bus came barreling past me. The driver was laying on the horn that wailed like a dying duck. I jumped out of the way and tried to press myself flat against my car door, but my car door wasn’t flat.

Also, it wasn’t attached to my car.

I felt my lower lip start to wobble; I felt the moist heat of tears behind my eyes. The hood of my car was bashed so solidly that the metal roof undulated like hard green ocean waves.

Every window was smashed out and the car seemed to sink under its own destitution. I sniffed, trying to blink away tears, but I was still able to see that every single tire had been slashed repeatedly until the rubber flopped out in jaunty ribbons. I took a second step closer and felt the crunch of a car window underneath my sneaker. I tried to take a step closer, to run my hands over the puckered metal, but something was pinning me back. When I turned to look, I realized that a hunk of headlight—the size of my fist—had snagged my shoelace. I shook it off and rounded the car, somehow hoping the damage might not be so severe on the sidewalk side.

That so wasn’t the case.

“Wow, lady, looks like you really pissed someone off,” a kid said as he wandered by. His baggy pants pooled at the ankles and he walked with the kind of exaggerated limp that was meant to call up images of Snoop Dogg and original gangsters. Instead, he just looked like he was trying to keep his pants up.