“What’s the plan from here?” He stared into the basement, where boxes and bodies burned to ash.
In other words, he wanted to know if we should stay here and deal with the fire, or if we should call the fire department and let them handle the crisis while we went in search of Mel. The answer was obvious to me.
I know I defended the trailer pretty passionately earlier, but I really didn’t care that much about it. It was a cheap property on barren land—I chose it because it was close to Mel’s new family and close to my new job.
“Call the brigade,” I said, “while I collect a few things.” I stood, using the mattress for support. My legs trembled, and the room spun for a second.
“What about the bodies?”
“What about them?” I asked.
“The Ravens won’t just explode to dust like in the movies. They leave their bones behind. Fire department will identify them as human. They’ll notify the police, who will then question you about why you had corpses in your secured basement.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I said. “I’ll tell them the truth. Say I know the infamous Alexander Shells, top private eye for Mather’s Investigative Services. So, suck on these nuts. Besides, dealing with law enforcement will derail my chances of finding Mel. Let’s get her back, then deal with the fallout afterward.” I leaned over and rolled the dead vampires in bedroom into the fiery furnace below. “There. Maybe they’ll burn to ash and all our problems will be solved.”
Without caring to hear his argument, I stumbled into the living room. Xander’s mug still sat on the coffee table, while mind lay shattered on the floor. I ignored them and grabbed the framed picture of me and Callie. I broke the glass and removed the photograph, then shoved it in my back pocket with Mel’s artwork. Glancing around the single-wide for anything else I might need, I moseyed into the kitchen. My phone still rested in a bowl of uncooked rice. I fished it out. Amazingly, it powered on.
“They’re on their way,” Xander said, appearing in the living room. “You ready to go?”
I left the kitchen and joined him. “I’m not going to miss this shit-hole,” I said. “In fact, I’m guessing your place is much nicer.”
Xander glanced around and nodded in affirmation. The smoke had seeped into the living room and kitchen, making the air thick with ash. “It is. But you’ll never see it.”
I grinned, patting his back. “You think the Snake Head Lounge will let us in like this? Covered in soot and sweat and Raven ichor? We have to shower and change our clothes, my friend. Where do you propose we do that?”
“You blew up my company car—”
“Ravens,” I corrected.
“You blew up your house.”
“Trailer… and Ravens.”
“Now, you want to go back to my place to shower and, what? Wear my clothes?”
I shrugged. “We’re pretty close to the same size. I mean, your pants might be a little tight in this area,” I gestured toward my groin, “but it’s nothing I haven’t worked with before.”
Xander shook his head. We were nowhere close to the same size. “Here’s the deal. Anything happens to my condo—”
“Stop it,” I said. “Jesus said to forgive and forget. Don’t act like you’re not going to take me in, provide for me, give me the shirt off your back. It’s the Samaritan thing to do.” I reached into my pocket and removed the keys to our ride, then tossed them to Xander. “I get shotgun.”
7
I sat in the passenger seat and ran my fingers over the runes of my Benelli M1014—or Gretel—as Xander drove us to his condo in Sacramento. I wanted to pour energy into the runes and charge them, but I didn’t have the strength left in me. After using so much magic in the span of a few hours, my body barely had enough energy to keep my eyes open.
So, as I sat there, holding Gretel and thinking about the mysterious Hecate, exhaustion pulled me under the dark waves of sleep. The car slowed and came to a stop, and my body willed itself awake. The dashboard read a little after eleven.
“How was your nap?” Xander asked.
I yawned and stretched, and then readjusted the shotgun on my lap. “Wasn’t napping. I was preparing my old friend here for a fight.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I said. “Oh, thanks for driving.”
Xander smirked. “It’s interesting that part of the charging process includes snoring… but goes to show you what I know.” Xander slapped his forehead, as if he were the biggest dolt in history.
“There’s a lot you don’t know. Better just to keep your mouth shut, so you don’t look so ignorant around the professionals.” I yawned again, unable to help myself.
“Not to sound like a jerk—”
“Classic start to any sentence. Not to sound like a jerk, or a racist, or a douchebag, but I am one.”
Xander’s smile widened and he shook head, glancing out the driver’s window. “Your daughter is missing. How do you find the peace of mind to fall asleep?”
Truthfully, I haven’t slept in,” I counted on my fingers, “five years.” During my time serving Hephaestus, I’d experienced too many real-life nightmares. Now, whenever I closed my eyes to sleep, I relived those experiences. That’s why I had spent so much time outside Derek’s house, watching it, waiting for something to happen. In my line of work, shit never calmed. I knew that mentality was in my own mind, that the storm was within me, not on the outside. It didn’t matter, though. After seeing death, living through hell, a person doesn’t just join the living again and not turn into a zombie. To combat my demons, I would drink. A lot. The alcohol fought against the memories, blurring and smearing them enough for me to fall into a blackout rest without nightmares.
Tapping into my magic in the basement earlier and exhausting my energy had
