“Mel doesn’t know about me,” I finally said, fatigued by our meaningless back and forth. Besides, he had offered to listen to my bullshit. So, why not air out some of my laundry? “Doesn’t know I even exist. It’s the strangest feeling. Loving someone so much and they have no idea who you are. I watch her from the shadows like a fucking ghost. Sometimes she’ll look at me and that’s the worst. I’m nothing but a stranger to her. And she’s identical to Callie. It’s torture seeing her. It’s like seeing Callie and Mel wrapped into one person, knowing that they’re both so close and I’ll never be able to hold her.”
Xander stared at me with sad eyes. “Is she happy with them?”
I nodded. “Which also sucks. If I saw her sad or suffering, I would take her back in a heartbeat. And sometimes I look for an excuse to do just that, knowing I never can.” I inhaled sharply and teased the idea of switching subjects back to Xander’s sexual orientation—just to see that archaic squirm. “I talked to her one time.”
“You did what?” His mouth fell open, and he rubbed his forehead.
“Years ago,” I said. “I had to hear her voice. I couldn’t help myself.” I closed my eyes and remembered the day a couple years ago. I had followed her and Marie into the grocery store after having watched them exit the car and cross the street holding hands. “They went shopping. Before I knew it, I had followed them into the store. I mean, why the fuck not? I was just another customer needing beer and popcorn.” I fell silent for a second, recalling the details—the way her hair had bounced on her shoulders, the popsicle stains on her hands. “She strayed away from Marie and to the cereal aisle. We both stood there staring at colorful boxes. I couldn’t not say something. I couldn’t just not say a word. I asked her about her favorite cereal. Cheerios, she said. Fucking Cheerios.” I chuckled.
“That’s disgusting,” Xander chimed in.
“That’s what I said to her. I said, ‘That’s the worst kind.’ She giggled—the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. But she grabbed a box and skipped off to the produce section and to Mar… to her mother.”
“Joey,” Xander said, his voice dropping to that level of existential concern. “You’re a depressed wreck, and I’m sugarcoating that. I think living alone has really messed with your head. You ever get out with friends? Get out of the house and away from your thoughts? When’s the last time you’ve really talked with another human being?”
Well shit, I thought. An answer to any one of those questions and I would be stuck in this car all night listening to Xander try to save my soul, try to bring me over to his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. A rock to lean on, an ear to listen.
“Well, I think it’s right about time for me to evacuate this stuffy car and take a walk.” I grabbed the door handle and asked, “You waiting in here, or you setting up in the garage?”
Xander stared at me with concern stamped across his face—eyebrows coming together as he tilted his head and made steady eye contact, pursing his lips. He looked like a damn caricature of worry. “I don’t like where we’re leaving this conversation.”
“I don’t like where we’re taking this conversation,” I said. “How about this?” I opened the door. Wind blew raindrops into the car. “I arrive as scheduled and talk to the scary bad guys about my wife’s killer. I find closure and move on in my own way. If it doesn’t work out, if I’m still all mopey and depressed, as you say, then I’ll answer your stupid questions.”
Xander chewed on the proposal. “How do I know you’ll make good on the deal and not just leave at the first hard question I ask?”
I sighed, then extended my arm and stuck out my pinky finger. “Pinky promise. How about that?”
Xander’s lips straightened across his face. “Not what I was expecting.”
“Take it or leave it.”
He grabbed my pinky with his, and we shook on it.
“I hope that was as satisfying for you as it was for me,” I said. “Now, I’m headed in. If the party ends up being pretty fun, I’ll give you a call. You can crash it.” Xander had issued me one of the company’s cell phones, as mine remained stuck in a bowl of rice within my house. I stepped outside and slammed the door, then leaned toward the closed window and held up both my middle fingers. “I’ll call,” I said. “But don’t hold your breath.”
Turning, I headed toward the parking garage.
The vehicle entrances to the abandoned parking garage were barred shut by yellow bars and rolling gates. I wandered around the perimeter of the building, looking for an entrance. A shoe propped a door open on the opposite side of the structure from where we had parked. Using logic for once in my life, I shot Xander a text and informed him of the development before stepping into the uncharted territory. When the delivered receipt showed, I pushed open the door, pausing to pick up the shoe—a size eleven, left-footed Nike.
Destructive magic in public places is a big no, no.
After an Acolyte receives a pact with their Nephil, they are held accountable for their actions—there are a few strings that come with such power. One, don’t use your gifts to harm innocent people or their property unless instructed to by your Nephil. Quick heads up, most Sheep—or regular guys and gals—know nothing about magic or the supernatural world. They just blindly live their lives in perfect suffering. Law two: you have to follow your patron’s bidding no matter what. Three: you cannot abandon your patron or your gifted powers after you have sworn your service to a Nephil. Yup, you guessed it.
