instead of being lazy slugs, pointing out that we had a PT test coming up. In theory I was heartily in favor of fitness as a requirement to be a police officer. In reality I hated running more than life itself, but at least it gave me time to indulge in all sorts of gossip with Jill. Not that I really had a choice. Jill had proven to be remarkably hard to budge on this, the stubborn bitch.
But first I intended to have my coffee. Nothing was going to happen until I had a caffeine infusion.
I loaded the coffeemaker with the appropriate quantities of grounds and water, then waited impatiently for enough to brew so that I could fill my mug. I glanced at the clock as I stirred in my usual insane amounts of sugar and creamer. I had barely enough time to check my email before I had to head out, which was convenient since I had an annoying tendency to forget to check it when I was at home. Not that I suffered from an overflowing inbox, but sometimes the penis-enlargement spam was worth a chuckle.
I sipped cautiously as I walked down the hall to the living room and my computer, humming in silly pleasure as the coffee worked its lovely stimulating magic on my nervous system. I set my mug on the desk, then went still.
The chair. It was pushed all the way in. I never did that. A chill ran down my spine even as I tried to talk myself out of being freaked.
My gaze swept over the desk and computer, finding more things out of place. It was all little inconsequential things . . . the mouse was moved, the keyboard shifted. But taken together it was an unnerving whole. And, when I finally sat down at the computer, I realized that the monitor had been adjusted as well. For someone taller.
I took a deep breath in an attempt to control my stupid paranoia. This was insane. Why the hell would someone break into my house to use my computer? Jiggling the mouse to clear the screensaver, I was relieved to see the familiar sight of my computer desktop. At least it still worked.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen.
I rubbed my arms, chilled by uncertainty. I didn’t know whether I wanted to summon the lord immediately to confront him, or put off seeing him again as long as possible.
I scowled. I
Yeah, that would be effective.
But the acceptance that I wasn’t immediately going to summon the demonic lord didn’t stop me from fretting about the whole thing pretty heavily while I drove over to Jill’s house. I wanted badly to talk to someone about it, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Ryan. And I didn’t want to go anywhere near the subject of Rhyzkahl with my aunt.
I grinned wickedly.
Jill lived about half a mile from my aunt Tessa, in a house that was within about two blocks of being in a rather crummy section of town. I always made sure to lock my car doors whenever I went over to her place. However, I loved her house. It was two stories, small and skinny, painted in a dusky blue that I adored, and raised a few feet off the ground. Somehow it reminded me of a really cool clubhouse.
“Let’s go, you lazy bitch!” I yelled as I came through the front door.
“Bite me, you whore!” I heard the cheerful reply from the direction of the kitchen. I laughed and headed to the back. Her house couldn’t have been more than about eight hundred square feet—and that was counting both floors, but it was all tucked together neatly and efficiently. The front of the house was the living area and the back was the kitchen. There was only one bedroom, which, along with a bathroom, took up the entire second floor. And, the only way to get upstairs was by way of an utterly charming wrought-iron spiral staircase. I was dying to put one of those in my house, except for the annoying fact that my house had only one story. And I couldn’t replace the basement stairs with a spiral staircase, since most of the demons I summoned would never be able to navigate it.
Thus I was reduced to lusting after Jill’s.
Jill was perched on a stool with one foot on her counter as she tied the laces of her shoe, and I silently en- vied the muscle tone in her legs. Slender and petite, she had the sleek athletic build of someone who was always moving. Her red hair was cut into an adorable pixie style that I’d always wanted to try, but had long ago accepted could never pull off with my facial features. It totally worked on Jill, though she was far from “adorable.” Fierce, determined, loyal, and caring—yes. Adorable? Not in this lifetime.
“I think I need new shoes,” she said sourly. “I had to superglue the sole of this one back on last night. Why do they have to be so damn expensive?”
“Space age engineering,” I replied. “Make you better runner. Faster. All that stuff.”
“Ha. Make you broker runner.”
“Y’know, if your shoe is falling apart, it might be safer to not run,” I said, probably a little too hopefully.
She gave me a quelling look. “Nice try. You’re not getting out of this.” She laughed as I stuck my tongue out at her. “So I hear you had fun the other night!”
“Would have been a lot more fun without the whole chase-the arcane-creature-through-the-city part.”
“You
I planted my hands on my hips and tried to look offended. “Is it really that hard to believe?”
“Yes!” she said with a laugh. “I’m your running partner, remember? Or should I call it your wheezing shambling jogging partner?”
“You are such a bitch,” I muttered, unable to keep from smiling.
“Yep, which is why I’ll go ahead and remind you now that the PT test is in two weeks, and we’re running again on Friday, and you need to have your butt over here by six A.M.”
I scratched the side of my nose with my middle finger cocked in a rude gesture. “Seriously, you’re really a bitch. I don’t know why I bother with you.” I took a dramatic breath. “Okay, so I
“Now that I can believe!” Her blue eyes were bright with amusement.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I planted myself on a stool. “Now, in the spirit of me putting off running as long as possible, I was hoping you could help me with something.”
“Sure thing, as long as it doesn’t take so long that you try to weasel out of running altogether.”
I batted my eyes innocently. “Would I do that?” I ignored the rude noise she made. “Tell me everything you know about golems,” I said.
She blinked at me. “Excuse me?”
“Ummm, aren’t you Jewish?”
She gave the most withering look I’d ever experienced. “Okay, I like you,” she said, “and so I’m not going to say something that I would probably go ahead and say to anyone else.”
“Er, thanks?” I said tentatively.
She laughed. “Look, golems are part of Jewish lore, but I don’t know much more about them than anyone else. Hell, most of what I know is from watching