The Angel of Death (The Soul Summoner Book 3) (5 page)

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” he said.

“Screw you, Nathan.”

He laughed. “I’m outside and it’s snowing. Come let me in.”

With a huff, I disconnected and dropped the phone on the mattress. I sat up, draped my blanket over my head, and wrapped it around my body instead of getting dressed. Barefoot, I trudged down the cold hardwood steps, through the living room, and to the door. I yanked it open.
 

His head snapped back with surprise. “Whoa. You look terrifying.”

I rubbed my eyes. “I didn’t get much sleep. Why are you here?”

Dusting the snow off his shoulders, he stepped inside and wiped his boots on the welcome mat. “It’s Thanksgiving. You invited me.”

I scowled as I closed the door behind him. “I invited you to eat with us later at my dad’s. It’s the butt crack of dawn.”

He slipped off his camel colored jacket. “Thanksgiving is an all-day gig, Sloan. The parade starts at nine.”

I tightened the blanket around me and cocked my head to the side. “The parade?”

“The Thanksgiving Day Parade.”

I smiled. “I know what it is. You get up early to watch it?”

He held up his hands in confusion. “Doesn’t everyone?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Not everyone over the age of seven.”

“Shut up, Sloan.”

The patch on the front of his hat said,
I’d be thankful if you’d shut the hell up.
Chuckling to myself, I rolled my eyes and turned toward the stairs. “I’m going to get dressed. You woke me up, so I expect coffee when I come back downstairs.”

“What do I get in return?” he called after me.

I started up the steps. “You get to not die today.”

Fifteen minutes and a hot shower later, I was much more alert when I went back down to the living room to find Nathan lounging on my white sofa. His socked feet rested on the coffee table, and his thighs cradled a bowl of dry cereal. The Thanksgiving Day Parade was live on my flat screen. It was kind of adorable.

He looked up at me. “You look less lethal now.”

I was pulling my hair up into a ponytail. “I still might kill you.”

“The coffee’s fresh.”

“Bless you,” I whispered as I walked past him toward the kitchen.
 

On the third shelf of the cupboard above the coffee pot was one of Warren’s man-sized travel mugs. I stretched on my tiptoes to retrieve it. One cup of coffee simply wouldn’t be enough. As I filled the mug, Dr. West’s voice came to mind. “Go easy on the caffeine,” she’d said.

My shoulders slumped and I whimpered.

“Everything OK in there?” Nathan called.

“Yeah.”

Damn it.

I put Warren’s cup back and got my regular mug. I fought back bitterness as I poured it half-empty. I shut off the coffee maker and went back to the living room. “You ready to go?” I asked, taking a tiny sip of my drink.

Nathan looked over his shoulder. “Can we wait till a commercial?”

I giggled. “Sure.” Stepping over his legs, I plopped down beside him. I eyed the bowl he was holding. “Where did you find Lucky Charms cereal?”

He offered me a rainbow marshmallow. “Brought it from home. I thought you’d have milk. I’m not sure why.”

“Sorry,” I said, taking the rainbow from his fingers.

He pointed at the screen. “You just missed the new Snoopy and Woodstock balloon.”

I turned toward him. “It’s like I’ve never met you before.”

Laughing again, he funneled a handful of cereal into his mouth.
 

When the program went to a commercial break, Nathan picked up the remote and shut the television off. “Come on. Let’s hurry and get to your dad’s. I don’t want to miss Joan Jett.”

Before we left the house, I picked up the suitcase I’d packed and left in the foyer the night before.

He cocked an eyebrow as he eyed it in my hand and opened the front door. “You running away?” he asked, taking it from my hands.

We walked outside together, and I turned to lock the front door. “I’m crashing at Dad’s tonight. You can pick me up there in the morning.”

“Really? How come?” he asked.

I grimaced. “I’m kinda becoming a wuss at being alone. Nightmares and such.”

A snowflake landed on my cheek. He brushed it away. “You don’t have to be alone.”

The nerve endings on my cheek tingled from his fingertip. “I know. Thanks.”

He gestured toward the truck. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” I paused before walking down the front steps and saluted the ripples in the sky. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone, boys.”

Nathan looked around. “What the hell?”

I looked to the sky. “I’m talking to my guardian angels.”

He laughed. “Are you cracking up on me?”

I pointed. “There’s an angel right there, or maybe more than one. I’m not sure. They’ve been following me around since we got back from Texas.”

He looked in the direction of my finger. “I don’t see anything.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Mortal.”

He sighed and offered me his arm as we headed out into the flurries. “You weird me out sometimes.”

I gripped his sleeve as we carefully went down the stairs. “I know. I don’t want things to get too boring.”

My foot slipped on a patch of slush.

Nathan’s bicep crushed my arm against his chest, while his other arm shot behind my back as my feet flew forward. Wide-eyed and panting, we both stared at each other a moment as I regained my footing.
 

He burst out laughing. “Boring? No one can ever accuse you of being boring!”

* * *

We took Nathan’s pickup to my dad’s house on the outskirts of downtown Asheville. The roads were wet and empty as we wound up the mountainside. It was that time of year when Mother Nature was stuck in limbo between the decay of fall and a glistening winter. The oaks and maples were bare, jutting out from the mountains like a dark skeleton of the forest. The thick branches of the hemlocks sagged with the weight of the almost-snow dropping from the gray sky in clumps. Soon, North Carolina would be a winter wonderland, but that day it was just soggy and cold.

Dad’s stone chimney was pumping out smoke when we pulled in the driveway.
 

Nathan grabbed my arm when I reached for my door handle. “Get out over here on my side so we can avoid any holiday catastrophes, please.”

I laughed and scooted across the bench seat toward him. He held me steady with both hands as I slid down from the cab.
 

When we walked in the front door of the house, a crash of metal clanged against the tile floor in the kitchen. “Dad?” I called out as I took off my winter coat.

“I’m all right!” he answered.

Nathan followed me to the kitchen where we found my father with a pile of pots and pans scattered around his feet. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked around at them. “I pulled out the bottom one, and they all fell,” he explained.

We helped pick them up.

Once all the cookware was tucked back in the cabinet, Dad’s eyes settled on Nathan. “Detective McNamara, I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

Nathan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Sloan invited me. I hope that’s OK.”

My father squeezed Nathan’s arm. “Of course it is. You’re always welcome here. I just assumed you would be with your family today.”

Nathan shook his head. “Sloan and I are heading to Raleigh tomorrow to see them.”

Dad’s eyes widened, and he cast his gaze down at me. “Oh, really?”

“His sister’s burial service is this weekend, so I’m going with him,” I said.
 

“Oh.” Dad’s shoulders sagged. “Please send my condolences.”

Nathan nodded. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

Dad stepped over to the coffee pot. “Would you like some coffee, Detective?”

“Please, Dr. Jordan. Call me, Nathan,” he said.

My dad smiled. “As long as you promise to call me Robert.”

Nathan grinned as Dad handed him a cup. “Deal.” Nathan motioned toward the den behind us. “Do you mind if I turn on the television?”

I giggled. “Nathan wants to watch the parade.”

Dad held out his hands. “Be my guest.”

I pulled out a barstool at the counter. “I want some coffee, Dad.”

He shook his head. “Not in your condition, Sloan. It isn’t healthy.”

Nathan glanced back at me as he turned on the parade. “You can’t have coffee now?”

Dad poured his own mug full and shook his head. “No. Caffeine isn’t good for the ba—”

“My panic disorder!” I shouted to interrupt him with a loaded glare. “I’m not supposed to have caffeine due to my anxiety. Right, Dad?”

Dad looked at me, then at Nathan and back at me before a mental light bulb flickered on. “Oh, yes. Caffeine is no good for your anxiety, Sloan.”

Nathan settled onto the barstool next to mine. “Oh man. That’s bad news for everyone if Sloan can’t have coffee in the morning. That was the only thing standing between all of us and a beheading before ten A.M.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

He grinned over the rim of his cup.

“So, Dad, what’s on the menu for today?” I asked, leaning on my elbows.

He stepped across the kitchen. “Well, I went to the grocery store this morning and bought a turkey.” He pulled the refrigerator door open and lifted out the plastic covered bird. He set it down with a heavy thud on the marble counter top.
 

My eyes doubled in size. “How big is that thing?”

He looked at the tag. “Twenty-two pounds. Do you think it’s big enough?” He wasn’t joking.

“It’s only you, me, and Nathan eating, right?” I asked.

He nodded.
 

I exchanged a smile with Nathan and chuckled. “Surely, it’s plenty.” I got up and walked over to the turkey. “Now, does anyone know how to cook one of these things?”

No one answered.

I looked around at them. “Fantastic. Nathan, can you Google directions on your phone for how to cook a turkey?”

He whipped out his cell phone, and I carried the bird to the sink. “This thing is frozen solid,” I said. “Can we cook frozen meat?”

My dad shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It will thaw as it cooks, right?”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“All these directions say to thaw the turkey first,” Nathan said, glancing up from his phone. “Then you cook it on 325 degrees for 4 to 4 ½ hours.”

Dad cocked his head to the side. “Well, if we start with it frozen, why don’t we kick up the temperature a little to help it thaw and cook faster.”

I studied the knobs on the oven. “That’s a good plan. What should I set the oven on?”

“How about an even 400 degrees?” he suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” I said, dialing it up to 400.

“I also got potatoes, green beans, and rolls from the bakery,” Dad said.
 

I looked up at him. “What about dessert?”

He grimaced. “Oh, I forgot dessert.”

Nathan jerked his thumb toward the front door. “I can run to the grocery store and pick up something. We passed an open grocery store on the drive here.”

“OK, great.” I looked around. “I need a knife.”

Nathan stood. “Here you go.” He produced a tactical knife from his pocket, opened it, and passed it to me.

I sliced open the plastic wrapping around the bird, and Dad handed me the biggest pan they owned. The bird clanged against the metal when I dropped it in the center.
 

“Let me lift that,” Dad said, stepping in between me and the pan when I went to put it in the oven.
 

I opened the oven door, then set the timer for 4 ½ hours as Dad put the turkey inside. I washed off my hands and wiped them on my jeans. “All right, when should we cook everything else?”

Dad shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t think the potatoes will take long, and the green beans are in a can.”

I shook my head and laughed. “Somewhere, Mom is rolling her eyes and laughing at us right now.”

Dad chuckled and put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure she is.”

Nathan jingled his keys. “Sloan, do you want to go with me to the store?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll hang out with Dad. I think you can manage dessert by yourself.” I was still hugging my father around his middle.

He held up his cell phone. “Call me if I need to get anything else.”

When he was gone, my Dad looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. “So you haven’t told him about the baby?”

I walked to the den and plopped down on the sofa. “No.”

He sighed and sat in his recliner. “You understand you won’t be able to keep a secret like this for long, right?”

I kicked off my boots and curled my feet underneath me. “I know. I guess I was hoping I’d be able to tell Warren first.”

“Do you think he’ll call today since it’s a holiday?” he asked.

“I doubt it.”

“How would he feel about you spending the weekend with Nathan?”

I looked over my shoulder at him. “He wouldn’t be surprised. Warren’s aware I was planning to attend the service. It’s really not a big deal.”

Genuine concern had contorted his face. “Can I be honest with you, Sloan?”

I hugged a couch pillow to my chest. “Of course you can.”

His crumpled brow suggested he was struggling to choose his words. “You aren’t doing anyone any favors by spending so much time with Nathan, especially time alone with him. Both of you may have the best of intentions at keeping the relationship appropriate, but I feel like you’re playing with fire. I don’t want to see you do anything you might regret once Warren gets home.”

Dad was right and I knew it. “I appreciate the word of caution. I’ll tell him about the baby after the funeral and work on figuring out how to put some space between us.”

He cut his eyes over at me. “Please be very careful.”

I nodded. “I will.”

The familiar guitar riff of
I Love Rock and Roll
came over the television speakers. Joan Jett was performing Nathan’s song, and he was going to miss it.

* * *

Almost two hours later, I was sound asleep on the couch when the doorbell rang. Dad slept in his recliner, snoring with his mouth hanging open.

I shuffled across the house in my socks and opened the door to find Nathan shivering in the cold, holding two grocery bags. His eyes were wide, his face pale, and he shook his head as he stepped inside. “You do not want to go to the grocery store on Thanksgiving.”