I went down the stairs and out the front door.
Thursday was on the porch, staring off down the street. His backpack was in his hand, concealing his gun.
“Couldn’t sleep again?” he asked.
“What is there to keep watch for?” I asked. Talking about something other than me would be good. It was what I needed.
“Hell if I know,” Thursday said. “I’m just . . . I’m just trying to be useful.”
“I feel that,” I said.
“I’m not always this way,” Thursday said.
“What way?”
“I don’t know. Protective? Kind of macho?”
I nodded.
“I love Doomsday more than I love life itself. I’m worried about her, I’m worried about the rest of us. So I don’t know what else to do besides watch out for her best I know how.”
“What are you like usually?”
“Believe it or not, I think I’m usually the funny guy,” he said. “When shit ain’t serious, I ain’t serious either. It’s just . . . shit’s real serious right now.”
“I can feel that.”
“You like Brynn,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He’d seen the two of us together.
“Yeah.”
He looked over at me, took in my expression for moment. “You’re jealous of her and Heather.”
“No, I’m not.”
He didn’t say anything to that.
“I guess I am.”
“Want to know why I think that is?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Because you don’t know where you stand with her. That’s it. That’s all. You figure out where you stand with her, you talk it over with her, and none of that shit will bother you anymore.”
He was probably right.
“Doomsday and me, we know where we stand. She fucks someone else, hell she falls in love with someone else, it wouldn’t bug me much. Because she makes it clear where she and I stand.”
“You all are poly?” I feel like most of the people I know are polyamorous, but it still surprised me. The Days seemed so, I don’t know, traditional. In a “wandering occultists with a bounty on their heads” kind of way.
“I wouldn’t worry about her and me unless, I don’t know, Idris Elba decided he was single and started hanging around.”
“Doomsday has a crush on Idris Elba?”
“Hell if I know,” Thursday said. “I’m the one with a crush on Idris Elba.”
I laughed at that.
“Glad to know I can still be funny when shit’s serious,” he said.
“I’m glad I met you all,” I said. “This is hands down the weirdest week of my life, but I’m glad I’ve gotten to meet you all.”
“You too, Danielle Cain.”
“I’m going to go back and try to sleep again,” I said.
“Don’t say anything to her.”
“What?”
“You’re in sad-sack mode. I get it. We’re all sad sacks sometimes. But if you go talk to her right now, you’re going to come across wrong, you’ll come across controlling. Just go to bed, and if she cuddles up with you, cuddle right back, and if not, try not to stress about it.”
“Thanks for looking out for us, Thursday.”
“Sleep well, Danielle Cain.”
* * *
On my way back through the library, I saw three rats on the checkout counter. I have a hard time getting mad at rats. All the best animals are scavengers, squatters.
On my way back through the living room, I saw Heather sitting next to Brynn. Heather’s arm was across Brynn’s lap, and Brynn had needle and ink in hand. She was tattooing Heather. I couldn’t tell what the design was.
Brynn looked up at me and smiled, sweetly, and I knew Thursday was right. If I told Brynn I was sad, hell, if I said anything at all, it would come across wrong and Brynn wouldn’t be smiling so sweetly no more.
I smiled back, then went down the hall to where my sleeping bag waited for me.
It was fine.
I was fine.
THREE
Morning came too soon for my taste. I’d scarcely been asleep before the first birds announced their desire to herald the dawn. Brynn was spooning me, and the idea of staying there, like that, was a lot more interesting than getting up to go chase down . . . what? A demon? A resurrectionist? Zombies?
There’d be coffee, though, if I woke up.
Sometimes I think I let myself become addicted to coffee not because I liked it, not because caffeine did me any favors, but because it takes the urge of a physical addiction to provide any kind of upside to getting out of bed in the morning. It didn’t bother me, thinking that.
Brynn liked coffee even more than I did, so as the dawn light came in through the window, I untangled myself from her and went off to figure out the kitchen.
Vasilis was already there, chopping potatoes. He brought the blade down slowly with each cut, working silently so as not to wake the house.
I found myself the coffee grinder.
It would be fine. Waking up was fine.
* * *
Over breakfast, we worked out our plans. Vulture and Thursday would take the library’s car—actually the old bookmobile—and head up to Glacier for the day, see what they could find. Doomsday and Vasilis were going to go through the library, see how much information they could dredge up about The Book of Barrow and resurrection. The rest of us—Heather, Brynn, and myself—would see what we could find out in town. Presumably, we’d start by talking to Isola and Gertrude. We’d reconvene at sunset, or whenever the boys came back from Glacier.
Now that I was awake, fed, and caffeinated, I was actually fairly excited to get this thing figured out. Everyone likes a good puzzle. Turns out, a puzzle with magic in it is twice as interesting.
Brynn, Heather, and I hopped on bicycles—janky old cruisers perfect for a town as flat as Pendleton—and went off to find Isola. I had my travel pack with me, emptied in case we found anything.
The few people we saw looked friendly enough. Outside the gas station/grocery store/diner combo, an older fellow waved at Heather, who waved
