Under Attack

I glanced into the mirror and sighed. “Grandma, I’m really not in the mood.”

My grandmother’s bushy white brows raised, then furrowed. “What happened to your face?”

“Alex and I got mugged last night.”

Grandma’s milky blue eyes widened and she pursed her bright red lips, the stain of the lipstick sinking into her wrinkles. “What is that city coming to? Used to be a girl and her beau—” Grandma’s eyes flicked back to me. “He is your beau, isn’t he?” I didn’t answer and she prattled on, oblivious. “Could spend a night out without fear of being attacked by some animal. Or some dope-head or some criminal all hopped up on—on marijuana.”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. This”—I pointed to the purpling mask of bruises under my right eye—“is actually from a different incident.”

Another tsking sigh.

I rolled up on my toes and gripped the sides of the sink. “Hey, Gram, can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, honey. You can ask me anything.”

“Why didn’t you ever get married?”

Grandma’s shoulders stiffened and I could tell that I had caught her off guard. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing, I just—I don’t remember there ever being ... someone ... in your life ... that way. And Mom and Dad didn’t work out and ...”

Grandma raised her brows. “And?”

I sunk back onto the souls of my feet. “And never mind. I have to get ready for work.”

I didn’t remember dressing myself in charcoal-grey slacks and a black cowl-necked sweater. I didn’t remember driving to work or the six hours that passed between getting there and processing the last demon request—a notice of intention to cease terror—offered up by a fanged creature with an unfortunate underbite.

“You understand that by giving up your right to terrify, you are also giving up all under-bed, dark-corner, and closet access?” I mumbled.

“I just don’t want to be the boogeyman anymore. I’m hoping to get this underbite worked on and I can’t get a dentist to even look at me without the cease notice.”

I stamped his form and sent him to the next line over, then hung my head and rubbed my temples.

Suddenly, I had a pounding headache and the fat velvet ropes that held our daily demons in orderly lines were bulging, and everyone was talking at once—a cacophony of groans, growls, and wailing howls. My blood started to pulse in my veins and my heart sped up to a feverish, sickening pace. My hairline started to prick with little beads of sweat.

“I’ve got to get out of here.”

I slid the closed sign across my window and pressed out of my chair so quickly that I left it spinning behind me. I was making my way toward the elevator when I stopped, taking in a lungful of freesia-scented air.

Ophelia.

Every muscle in my body tightened into a painful spasm and I looked around, panicked. I spotted a snatch of blond hair between two tall centaurs. Her elegant, sun-bronzed shoulder standing out against the stark whiteness of a vampire in line. Her laugh, tinkling in my ear. I shook my head and clamped my eyes shut.

“You’re not here, you’re not here,” I whispered.

I flinched when I felt a cold hand encircle my arm. “Sophie?”

Nina was still gripping even as I tried to flail. She was holding a paper cup filled with water and looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Ophelia,” I managed, my lips dry. “She’s here.”

“Drink this.”

Nina handed me the cup and I stared down into it and then blinked up at Nina. Is it Nina? Even my own hand circling the cup looked foreign to me and I dropped it, feeling the water splash against my ankles as I sped for the elevator. I mashed the CLOSE DOOR button and hung my head as the concerned and confused eyes of the demon Underworld bore into me.

I tore out of the elevator and ran with my head down through the police station vestibule, not wanting to be stopped. When I pushed outside the damp air caught in my throat and dripped down my cheeks. It was then I realized that I was crying.

I’m going crazy.

I doubled over and stared at the blacktop while I took in huge gulps of air. I was hiccupping and shivering, and I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stumbled until Alex reached out and steadied me.

“Hey, Lawson, are you all right? You took off like a shot from the elevator. Didn’t even stop when I called. Hey, are you crying?”

I sniffled, feeling the itch of my runny nose, and then threw myself against Alex’s chest, letting out a day’s worth of heaving cries. I felt him stiffen and then soften, his arms encircling me, one hand gingerly holding the back of my head, the other patting my back softly.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this.”

I snorted. “I don’t even know what this is. First you show up, and then Ophelia shows up. And then there’s maggots and my door and the mugging and you get stabbed, but you still look like”—I gestured to Alex’s perfectly sculpted chest and broad shoulders—“that and I look like, like crap.” I sniffled and used the back of my hand to wipe at my eyes, then winced when a starburst of pain set off through the bruise. “Ow!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I dragged you into this.”

“I just”—hiccup, sniff—“want to be”—sniff, sniff —“normal. Or not normal. But not this in-between, my-butt-gets-kicked-and-stays-kicked human. And I want her out of my head.”

Alex pulled me forward, his lips laying feathery kisses across my forehead. “I am so, so sorry, Lawson. I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to you.”

I cried myself to exhaustion in Alex’s office while he dialed Nina at the UDA and asked her to bring up my things. She rushed in, my coat and purse clutched in her pale hands.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did she come after you again?”

“I’m fine,” I whimpered. “My life is just a toilet bowl of despair and I look like a battered wife, but I’m fine. I just want to go home and take a nap.”

Nina smiled sympathetically. “Can I drive you?”

I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. But can you cover for me?”

Nina’s sweet smile turned salacious and she popped a button on her blouse. “You mean distract Dixon until closing? You bet.”

I squeezed her hand. “I can always depend on you to be slutty when it counts.”

Nina gave me a military salute and sped back downstairs.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?”

I nodded again and Alex walked me to the parking lot. “I’m just going to wrap up a few things and then I’ll come over. I’ll pick up dinner and we can figure this out. Don’t answer the door to anyone and don’t answer the phone unless it’s me or Nina.”

I nodded robotically and started to turn, my head a heavy, foggy mess.

“Hey.” Alex took my hand, and I turned to stare at him, my eyes feeling like blank saucers. He kissed my palm and looked at me with kind eyes. “Be safe.”

*  *  *

I had just finished watching my third hour of Discovery Health and had diagnosed myself with sarcoidosis, Morton’s neuroma, and a mild case of dwarfism when there was a quick rap on the door, followed by someone trying the knob. My heart dropped into my stomach and my blood felt warm as I crept—keeping low to the ground —to the door. “Who is it?” I hissed, keeping my distance.

“It’s Alex.”

I raised one eyebrow and my hand hovered over the knob. “Are you sure?”

“Look, Lawson, I’m glad you’re taking my advice with the whole don’t-open-the-door thing, but it’s late and the grease from this takeout bag is eating through my sleeve.

“You brought Bambino’s?”