He laughed outright now. “Whatever you say, sweetheart, but old Kokopelli knows the truth and so do you.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” I said, opening the door of the car.
“It certainly could have been,” he cooed, retrieving the flute and running his hands over it. He had long fingers and they danced along the instrument in a way that made me start to breathe a little faster. He smiled at me and lifted the instrument to his full, sensuous lips. Blood pounded in my ears.
I slammed the door closed with a thunk and took off, shooting gravel out from underneath my tires.
Love. What the hell did love have to do with it?
AS DELIVERIES WENT, THAT ONE WAS PRETTY EASY. I PROBABLY wouldn’t rest completely easy until I got my next period, but I didn’t think even Kokopelli could knock a girl up from that kind of distance. I got home, barely able to keep my eyes open. There was no way that I could teach karate. I called the dojo but got the answering machine. Mae was probably warming up. She didn’t often answer the phone when she was stretching. I left her a message explaining that I wouldn’t be in that afternoon and that I’d fill her in on why later.
One of the great things about working for Mae was that she understood my sudden and inexplicable absences. The hospital? Not so crazy about those.
It bothered me that Mae and I hadn’t spoken since our spat the other day. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to ask her how to handle the Ted situation, because after the kiss he gave me in the hallway that morning it was definitely a situation. I wanted to ask her what to do about the grow houses and Frank Liu. I wanted the comfort of knowing that she would help me and guide me.
I couldn’t quite let go of hearing her tell me that I should grow up and take some responsibility for a change, though. That still stung.
It didn’t sting enough to keep me out of my bed. I toppled in without showering again and dreamt about cinnamon rolls.
I WOKE UP WITH JUST ENOUGH TIME TO SHOWER AND HEAD OFF to work. It was already dark outside. I paused at the doorway before I left the apartment building. Someone had sent me a warning in the form of a horribly disfigured man. Would they be out there? Waiting for me in the dark?
I don’t scare that easily. Maybe it’s having died once already. Maybe it’s dealing day after day with so many different kinds of creatures.
Maybe I’m just not so crazy in love with this life that I can’t imagine it ending.
Still, I wasn’t crazy about becoming Messenger dim sum for a gang of
kiang shi
or being chopped up like a piece of fish in a Ginsu knife demonstration.
The Buick was less than a block away. I couldn’t quite see it from inside the building, but it wasn’t far. Could I make it to the car if
kiang shi
were hopping after me to the tune of ringing bells? As long as I didn’t do something totally horror-movie appropriate like drop my keys or get my foot stuck in a grate I was pretty sure I could outrun even the best hopper among them. Except the stuff I’d read on the Internet said that they got stronger with each feeding. They’d been feeding plenty on gangbanger smorgasbord. How strong were they now? How far could they jump? How fast?
What if there was another “warning” waiting for me?
That I didn’t think I could take. Another man hacked at with a machete lying on the sidewalk, a bloody cipher to be unencrypted by only a few? No thank you.
I had to go, though. Mae had drilled into me from a very young age the importance of maintaining every shred of normalcy that I could. Part of being normal was having a job. My mouth felt dry.
I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know what was gunning for me. I did know that I couldn’t live like this. Tomorrow morning after work, I was starting Operation Figure It Out.
I took a deep breath, held it and walked out the door. I heard nothing and smelled nothing. Nothing made my flesh buzz with supernatural awareness. I can hold my breath for a long time. I didn’t have to take another one until I was at the Buick. What I saw there, though, made me blow out the breath I was holding.
Someone had gouged a triangle into the paint on the side of my car. A triangle. Not a pentagram. Not any kind of obscenity. Just a simple three-sided geometric figure.
What the hell did that mean?
MY CELL PHONE RANG ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH MY SHIFT. Now normally, taking a personal call during work hours would earn me a glare or two from my coworkers and definitely from Doreen. Apparently, my hero status was like an amulet that warded off glares. A couple of people glanced my way, but no one stared for long as I answered it after checking the caller ID.
“Hey, you, hungry for more pancakes?” I asked.
Ted chuckled. “Hungry, but maybe not for pancakes.”
Didn’t that set off a little thrill in my girliest parts? “What’d you have in mind?”
“Maybe dinner next time.”
“Dinner sounds more like a date than breakfast.”
“It does.” He didn’t sound nearly as shy and tongue-tied as he had before. One good French kiss and the guy was bold as brass. “Maybe we could do it after you file your vandalism report.”
That stopped all the tingling and fast. “What vandalism report?”
“The one where you report how someone keyed your car.”
My eyes narrowed even though he wasn’t here to squint at. “How do you know about that?”
“I saw it tonight in the hospital parking lot. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
“What were you doing at the hospital?”
“How much trouble will I be in if I say I was checking on you?”
What an excellent question. Another excellent question was why was it that the first guy who really interested me in years had to be a cop? I know I’m a little on the self-destructive side—yet another side effect of the whole near-death experience, in my humble opinion—but this was suicide. What was I doing? “Probably more trouble than you want to be in.”
“Okay, then, what if I was dropping off a dude who’d gotten knocked off his bicycle by a drunk and checking up on you was just a fringe benefit?”
“Slightly less trouble but still not home free, Goodnight.”
He sighed. “I’m doing it for my own protection as well as yours, Melina. I know you’re into something you shouldn’t be. I know you’re probably in over your head whether you want to admit it or not. I also know that I haven’t had enough years on the force to have them look the other way if I get tangled up in something. I like you, Melina. I like you a lot. But I’ve wanted to be a cop since I was eight years old.”
How did he do that? How did he put his heart out there on a platter like that? Didn’t he know how dangerous that was? I’d sooner parachute into a pit of vipers than tell someone my hopes and dreams. Of course, being a little unsure of what those hopes and dreams were, made that kind of a moot point, but still! “I get it. If I told you that I have no idea what that triangle means or who did it, would that help?”
I heard him suck in his breath. “A triangle? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I thought you saw it.”
“I drove past it. I didn’t get a good look at it.”
“It’s definitely a triangle. Math was not my strong suit in high school, but I’m pretty sure those three-sided geometrical figures are triangles.”
He didn’t speak for a second. Then he asked, “Melina, have you gotten yourself mixed up with a Triad?”
I SPENT THE REST OF MY SHIFT CHEWING OVER THAT QUESTION. Had I gotten myself mixed up with a Triad? Those dudes in the suits with the shiny Navigators could totally be Triad members. A Triad is kind of like a Chinese version of the Mafia. It seems like every ethnicity has one. They traffic drugs, they launder money, they run prostitution rings. Any major city with a large Chinese population probably has a Triad or two in its midst. I hadn’t heard of any in Sacramento before. San Francisco, sure. But not Sacramento. The police had their hands full with the Russian mob in Sacramento.
I gathered my stuff from my desk drawer and went to clock out. Alex just happened to be loitering near where we kept our time cards. He lounged against the wall, looking nonchalant.
“Good morning, Dr. Bledsoe,” I said.
“Melina,” he said. His eyes darted up and down the hallway. A CNA bustled past us. I headed toward the exit and the parking garage. Alex followed me. When the CNA was out of earshot, he said, “Hurrying off for breakfast with your new cop friend?”
“What do you know about my cop friend? And how?” I kept walking. He wouldn’t be able to stick with me long. The double doors that led outside were already in sight.
“It’s really sort of a toss up as to which gossip travels faster, hospital gossip or underworld gossip. I can never tell.” He matched me stride for stride. I thought about running, but that seemed cowardly.
“So which one did you hear about my cop friend from? And for the record, his name is Ted.”
“We need to talk.” He hustled me into a waiting room with no one waiting in it. You’d be surprised how often the waiting rooms are empty. At least, of corporeal presence. I don’t venture in them very often, because even if no one is actually around, those rooms are full, mainly of emotion. I could barely walk through the miasma of fear, tension and despair that fog these areas of the hospital. A lot of panic swirls around the emergency room, but I’ve learned how to block that out.
Alex marched right in and flung himself down into one of the chairs, long legs stretched out in front of him, hands steepled across his broad chest.
I hesitated at the doorway.
“Come in and sit, Melina. I won’t bite.” He smiled at me, letting me see just the tiniest bit of fang.
“Is there a reason that you’re torturing me?” I asked. Seriously, enough was enough.
His smile grew. So did his fangs, but just the tiniest bit. “Sweetheart, you have no idea what kind of torture I can cook up. I could have you begging for mercy in five different languages in a New York minute. Now come into the room, sit your sweet little ass down in the chair and let’s talk.”
I took a step back from the door.
“Melina, sit down,” he said using his command voice and there my ass was in the chair. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.
“Fine. I’m here. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” He looked at me over his long, steepled fingers. He didn’t look ecstatic. He looked a little hungry.
“I heard about him from both. The nurses and staff are talking, and there are rumblings from other places as well. You’re playing with fire, Melina. I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Leave the ’Danes alone. Play with someone your own size. I, for instance, am almost always available.”
I wasn’t sure if I knew what had gotten into me either, but that didn’t mean I was going to stop. I stood back up and walked toward the door. “I’m not playing with anything. I had breakfast with someone. It wasn’t even a date.”
Alex was between me and the exit in a blur. “You watched the sunrise, holding hands.” Alex scowled.
“Who told you that?” I’d find whatever little gnome passed that tidbit on and stomp him. Even a Messenger was entitled to a little privacy every now and then.
“I heard it from Marian, the surgical tech with the big . . . uh, eyes.” Alex smiled and all but licked his lips.
I thought for a second. I was pretty sure I knew who he was talking about, and while she might have had big eyes, that wasn’t what was making his grin so wolfish. “So what? I’d had a rough night.”
Alex’s smile faded. “He can’t find out who or what you are.”
“I have no intention of telling him what I am. I’m not exactly looking for a one-way ticket into the loony bin. What do you care anyway?”
“I care because I have a vested interest in keeping stakes out of my heart.” He backed me toward the wall.
I looked out toward the hallway. It was deserted. Where was the snoopy surgical tech with the big “eyes” when I needed her? “Who said anything about anybody staking you?”
“Nobody has to say anything. I know what happens if someone with a little authority finds out about our kind. I’ve seen the witch hunts. I’ve watched werewolves rounded up. I’ve witnessed them exterminating pixies like garden pests. It’s done quietly and mercilessly. There’s no public outcry, because the public doesn’t know. I have no desire to see that happen. We have a good thing going here in Sacramento. We don’t bother anybody and nobody bothers us. I want to keep it that way.” He pressed further forward.
I tried to keep my ground, but he was right against me. I took a step back and the wall stopped me. “Nobody’s talking about changing any of that, Alex. I’m not going to tell him that I’m a Messenger.”
He cocked his head. He was so close to me now. “How long do you think you can keep pretending you’re a regular girl? He’s going to figure it out and what then? It won’t be just your skin on the line. If you’re exposed, then a lot of us are exposed. All the ’Canes have a vested interest in this.”
I wanted to push him away, but at the same time, I didn’t want to touch him. His lips were close to my ear, and his words set off a cool tingle that ran down my spine. “What does he have that I don’t have?” Alex leaned in even closer.
“Uh, let’s see. A heartbeat for one? The ability to attend a family barbecue without turning into a pile of ashes? Those strike me as good qualities.”
“Superficial at best, Melina, and you know it. You don’t even like your family.”
“Not true! I love my family,” I protested.
“That is not the same as liking them,” Alex said, leaning in further still.
