“What about Cody?”
“I think he should stay with me. I’ll pull a few strings and see if I can find out where he came from and who he really is. Don’t look at me like that—just because I don’t use magic doesn’t mean I don’t have connections. And besides, if he’s here, and if he really does know something about your father’s death, I don’t think it would be safe for him to stay with you until you make contact with the police and get that straightened out.”
“I could call your local police station and turn myself in here.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not be on record as being involved in this yet. Cody was stabbed and left for dead. I don’t know who would have done that, but I don’t want them on my doorstep until I find out what his story is. Besides, the sheriff out here kisses up for any publicity he can get. I think he’s angling for a higher office—maybe mayor—and I don’t want you, or Cody to become his political platform.”
“I had no idea you had such a calculated, conniving side,” I said.
“I prefer to call it ‘practical.”’ She sashayed out of the room.
I took her advice and headed off to the shower.
Nola had a good head on her shoulders and could usually see between the lines of my personal drama and history, and give good advice. But she was wrong about one thing: Zayvion. Maybe he was a good enough guy, and maybe he found me attractive. But every instinct in my body told me that there was more to him than met the eye. And I refused to completely trust someone who appeared out of nowhere so conveniently every time something horrible happened.
He must want something out of this, something out of me.
As the shower sluiced away the musk and pine scent of him from my skin, I found my thoughts returning to his touch, to his lips, to the silent strength of him. And I realized I wanted something from him too. Not just sex. Not just companionship. Something deeper that I could not yet name.
Chapter Eleven
I changed back into my clothes, brushed my hair, and used Nola’s toothbrush. The black bands on my left knuckles and wrist were still there. So were the whorls of red on my right. They didn’t hurt, not even when I rubbed at them. I wasn’t sure how I felt about bearing a lasting, visible mark from magic. It would be a conversation starter, I supposed, but probably not a conversation I’d much want to get into. Which meant if I ever had a social life again—barring I got shot, locked away in jail, or otherwise derailed from trying to live a quiet life— I’d have to make up some pretty good excuses for why I tattooed my left hand and had permanent henna painted from my right eye down to my fingertips.
If things weren’t so serious right now, I might have some fun making up stories about it, but as it was, all I could think was that it would really make me stand out in a crowd.
Or a police lineup.
This was not the most convenient time for a drastic makeover.
I strolled out into the kitchen and found Nola and Cody there. Cody stood by the window, kitten in his hands, sunshine on his face. Nola was sipping coffee again.
“Don’t you have some farm-type things to do?” I asked.
“Got them done before sunrise. Zayvion’s packing up.”
I nodded and walked over to Cody. I stood next to him, looking out the window. Nola had a wide porch railed in white wood. Farther out was a length of green grass and flower beds that were done blooming for the year. Her driveway was to the left and just out of view from here.
“Cody, do you remember me?” I asked.
Cody stroked the cat over and over, and I was amazed the little thing had any fur left on its head.
I turned so I was to the side, but in front of him. I was careful not to block the sunshine that seemed to hold him so rapt.
“Do you remember me from the river when you were hurt?”
Cody petted the cat faster, and began rocking from foot to foot.
I tried a different tactic.
“I’m sorry you were hurt, Cody.”
After a full minute or so, his rocking slowed.
“You did a good job helping me make you feel better. With the colors and the—”
“Magic,” he whispered.
I nodded. “Magic.” I waited, letting this agreement settle between us.
“It was pretty,” I said, and I meant it. “Beautiful magic. And it made your chest stop hurting. Do you remember that?”
He nodded. “I remember.”
I glanced over at Nola. She was wiping down the kitchen counters and listening. Since the slow but sure approach seemed to be working, I waited a while before speaking again.
“You told me you knew a powerful man. Was he my father?” Pause while he rocked and Nola put her dishrag away.
“Mr. Beckstrom, right? Did you see me too?”
Cody nodded, a brief jerky motion.
My stomach churned. I glanced over at Nola, but she didn’t look panicked.
“That was good, Cody.” I worked hard to stay calm and convincing. “You were good to see us.”
Cody rocked.
“You saw us because you were using the pretty magic, right?”
Cody rocked faster.
“Okay.” I let the silence stretch out until he was rocking slower again.
“Did you see my dad die?”
Cody stopped rocking and looked at me. His eyes were still summer blue, but they were narrow, as if he were trying to see me through a thick fog.
“The Snake man told me to. I was you. You killed him.”
I cannot even explain the weird-creepy chill of hearing him say that. I tried to keep my voice level and soft. “I killed him? Or were you using magic to forge my signature when he died? How did you access that much power, Cody? Where were you? When did you do it? Who is the Snake man? Is he out there?”
Hells. I had pushed too hard.
Cody’s eyes went wide with panic. He grabbed at his stomach, over his scar.
“Ow, ow.” He moaned. “No, no, no.” He looked like he was going to scream or cry. He pulled the kitten close to his chest, dodged past me, and threw himself at the kitchen door. It banged open and Cody ran outside.
I was right behind him.
He ran down the porch stairs, one hand still on his stomach.
I smelled lavender, sweet and peppery. Nola didn’t have lavender plants. I hit the stairs running and made a grab for Cody, but that boy moved fast. He was out of reach, outpacing me, heading toward the middle of the yard running, wild, scared.
“Cody, wait!” I ran after him.
The yard was as wide as the house and stretched out half an acre before it reached the road. There were no trees in the yard, no place for someone to hide.
Jupe tore out of the house, snarling and barking. But I didn’t need his warning, because I’d seen it too. A flash of light in the air, silver hot cooling to a burning gold, struck like lightning. But instead of fading, the air where the strike had sliced filled with a flurry of black ash—like a cloud of black butterflies had suddenly appeared. A woman stepped through that wall of flying ash. Solidly built, blond, and stinking of lavender, it was Bonnie. She was reciting a mantra and moving her hands in a very un-Hound-like spell.
Cody ran right toward her. He threw his arms out to his sides and yelled, “Run! Run fast!”
Jupe pounded past me. Even though I had long legs and was in good enough shape to run, that dog was all muscle and instinct. He was gaining on Cody. But Bonnie wasn’t standing still; she was headed for Cody too.
