Out of Mind

Ben wanted Willow’s attention, on him. He also wanted to quit waiting for something crazy to start happening. Not that a couple of people dying for peculiar, indefinite reasons wasn’t crazy, but that didn’t have to be the end of it.

That was the other thing. Those deaths seemed to have something to do with Willow and her company— otherwise why would both events take place around the presence of Willow or one of her employees?

He had gone a bit far at that party.

Could be he should have found another way to protect Willow—and get her attention.

Soft laughter met his thoughts and he looked sharply around the courtyard. Water poured lightly from a fountain in the center, a young angel holding a shell. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he remembered it well enough.

As he’d experienced before, the faces of angels and the few gargoyles hiding above lintels had brightened in the darkness, and they all looked at him. He nodded in all directions, acknowledging their presence. And he accepted the strong likelihood that others—he did not know who—were using the figures to focus his concentration on them.

“Friend or foe?” He projected the thought and it was met with titters. He had tried this before and already knew his thoughts reached listeners in the courtyard.

A gentle and fleeting caress passed over his face, and he lowered his eyes. It could be a mark of friendship, he thought, a reassurance. But there were those entities that would use any subterfuge to find what most unattached spirits wanted: a host.

Ben wasn’t available to be anyone’s host body.

He would go to bed, but first he owed it to Willow to stop by—probably to apologize, too.

He ran up the steps, making no attempt to be quiet. Pascal slept in apartments above the shop, on the Royal Street side, and with most of the other Millets in London or making themselves scarce, as Sykes was, only Willow would be here.

He gritted his teeth. He’d forgotten Gray and Marley. One look at their darkened flat suggested they were probably not at home—he hoped not.

With the lightest of taps on Willow’s front door he wondered if she’d hear him at all. He could see light through the drapes in her sitting room.

But only a few moments passed before she opened the door a crack and peered out. She saw him and scowled. “You’ve got a nerve.”

With an innocent look, he shrugged. “What’s the matter? I saw your light on.”

“And I saw you at the Brandt place, Ben.”

“Did you? Well, I admit I was there, but I didn’t think you saw me. You didn’t answer when I spoke to you.”

“You were on the other side of the pool. How was I supposed to hear you?”

“You know what I mean.” He tilted his head to the side. “You heard me contact you exclusively earlier today—in the shop. You answered.”

“A fluke,” she said, and he heard snuffling.

“Is Winnie with you? I was afraid I might wake Gray and Marley, but I guess they are out.”

“I don’t know,” she said, opening the door a little wider. “Come in. It’s time we got some things straight.”

She turned away, but not before he saw a small dog with what looked like wiry orange fur. The animal was tucked under Willow’s arm where it appeared completely comfortable.

“That’s not Winnie,” he said.

“You noticed.”

“Don’t be smart. You’ve got a new dog.”

“Yes,” she said. “Marigold. She’s a stray I’ve taken in.”

“When?” Ben said.

“When, what?”

“When did you adopt the mutt? I didn’t see her when I was here before.”

Willow gave him a smirk. “Goes to show how unobservant people can be.”

He followed her into the living room, and she sat in a well-worn but comfy-looking blue chair, the dog on her lap.

“D’you like small dogs?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Not much of a conversation starter there. “Just a puppy, I guess,” he added and dropped to sit on the edge of the couch. “It’ll grow.”

“I don’t care one way or the other. She’s mine and I like her however she is.”

“You got her from a shelter?” he asked, becoming suspicious about the origins of Marigold.

Willow didn’t answer. She lifted the dog and looked into its eyes. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you? Wait till you meet Winnie. You’ll have to put her in her place.”

“Did you find it in the street and decide to bring it home? That sounds like something you’d do. Someone could be out there looking for that dog.” He looked a little closer. “Probably not, though.”

“My dog is very good-looking,” Willow said. “And her ego is too good to let her be crushed by your meanness.”

“You can’t call it Marigold, though,” Ben said.

If he could just sit there and look at Willow he’d be a happy man—at least for a little while.

“I can and I’m going to,” she said.

“Would you consider Mario?” he asked.

Willow frowned and took a better look at her new pet. “Oh. I’m only used to girl dogs so I thought… Ben, I don’t want you interfering in my life.”

“I’m not responsible for your girl dog being a boy dog,” he said, deliberately obtuse.

“Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not,” he said with his best boyish smile. “I’d settle for you accepting me and not treating me as if I’ve got a disease.”

“You know it doesn’t work for us to be around each other.”

“It used to work perfectly until you had your personality change. Will you call him Mario?”

“My personality has nothing to do with it, never did.”

“What, then?”

She swallowed audibly. “Common sense. I got plenty of hints that I wasn’t right for you, and I finally figured out I wasn’t.”

This was the closest she’d come to an explanation for the cold front that had preceded his dismissal. Or her retreat would be nearer the truth. Willow had gradually withdrawn from him until he forced her to say what she wanted from him. Big mistake. “I want you to go and find someone else,” she had said. “Please just leave me alone.”

He had been too shocked to refuse at the time, and later, when anger set in, he couldn’t make himself risk hearing her say it again.

“You can’t go on pretending you don’t have paranormal powers,” he said, hoping for some shock value from the sudden attack. “It’s ridiculous. It’s not true. And if you ever needed to be able to call on your special talents, it’s now when something is out to get you.”

The dog squirmed free of her arms and landed on the arm of the chair, where it sat like an intelligent red squirrel with a push face and stubby tail.

Ben tried not to meet its shiny black eyes, which were staring right into his own.

“Why aren’t you staying at Fortunes?” Willow said. “Poppy must be furious you’re not there. And Ethan and Liam can’t be pleased you’re in town and hiding out.”

“They don’t know I’m here—yet.”

She blinked slowly, visibly turning over the idea he’d just presented. “You’re in New Orleans and your family doesn’t know it? You run the businesses, Ben. That’s weird. Wait till they find out. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if Poppy figures you didn’t go to see her first.”