Midnight Magic, page 186
Waylin pushed the button and we waited for one to come. “That’s because he tripped me and shut the door in your face in a bid to escape.”
“We all lived. A win in my book.” River seemed like the kind of guy who would shoot you in the knee so he could get away from the zombies.
Sekani and Waylin both looked at him.
“Dying so many times is fucking with your memory, River.”
“Wait. He’s died before?” River was very much alive right now. So how could he have died? Was it like when your heart stops for a moment and then someone has to bring you back? They did say his dead time total was ten minutes, but they’d only done CPR for maybe two or three.
“Today makes the fourth time. One day, I’m not gonna give you CPR.” Sekani said.
“You’ll always give me the kiss of life.” River shot back. A few doctors gave him a weird look as they got off the elevator and we got on. It didn’t seem to faze him.
“Gross. Don’t call it that.” Waylin said.
“Oh, you have a problem kissing your foster brother but not my boyfriend? How noble,” Sekani snarked. I had the feeling things could get really awkward, really fast between the two of them.
“So now that we know ghost boy isn’t dead, I guess it puts banging back on the table,” River continued. Was this his way of stopping the two of them from fussing?
“I have a name. It’s Callum.” Callum Maslow. That was my name. It still felt strange; I didn’t have the memories to back it up yet.
“I need to call Barnet, see what she can tell me about your case,” Sekani said.
He’d mentioned Barnet once, when I was teasing him about why he’d stopped being a cop. His old partner. Maybe they would be able to help too? Did they know Sekani could see and talk to the dead?
“Okay.”
We had my phone now too. Maybe one of my friends was with me when I was hit. Maybe they could tell us more about what happened, help me remember.
“I should get back to ‘Orleans. Now you’re not possessed,” Waylin said.
“Don’t leave so soon.” River wrapped an arm around Waylin’s. “We finally got the gang back together; we can help Sekani with his haunting and then go to Vegas for my new episode.”
“No thanks,” Sekani said.
“Come on guys!” River tugged at them both, pouting, like he was a toddler instead of a grown man. “We hardly see each other anymore.”
“Whose fault is that?” Sekani asked. “Oh, I know.” He glared at Waylin.
“Are you gonna be mad at me forever?” The both of them stopped in the hall. I was all for having a good blowout, but was here and now really the right time? Or the right place, for that matter? Couldn’t they at least wait until we got to the parking lot like a normal family?
“No. Of course not. I’ll forgive you right after you unfuck my boyfriend and bring him back from the dead ‘cause y’know, I found him hanging in our bedroom two days after you guys blew my whole life to smithereens.”
I shifted from one foot to the other. That . . . that was a lot to unpack. And now I really felt bad for Sekani. How could Waylin have done that to him? They were brothers.
“It was one time, Sekani. It was a mistake. We both regretted it.”
“Regretted it so much you didn’t tell me for eleven years. Thanks for that.” Sekani walked away; Waylin watched him leave. I wanted to follow but he seemed as if he needed a minute so I stood with the brothers, looking between them.
Regret or not, how do you fuck your brother’s boyfriend, even just once?
“I really fucked up, River. I don’t think he’s gonna forgive me for this one.”
“Just let him punch you a few times and it’ll be squared,” River said.
I didn’t think that was how it worked but it wasn’t my place to say.
“Yeah . . . he did—a couple times—after Deacon came back as a ghost. I never told you,” Waylin said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking ashamed.
River sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair. “He just needs an outlet. He hasn’t gotten any since Deacon died. So we pop this cutie back in his body and you keep your dick away from him.” River tried to make light of it, but I could tell he was just as lost as Waylin. Clearly, he wanted his brothers to get past this, but I don’t know. I kind of agreed with Sekani. What Waylin did was a lot to get past.
“How do we even get him back in his body?” Waylin asked as we started walking. “The last time we dealt with the not quite dead, they just wanted a little sip sip from your skinny neck.”
“Oh yeah. He was hot.” River said.
“So why did you trip me and lock us in a fucking crypt with him?” Waylin asked as he glared at River. “No way in hell was I having a three-way with Sekani.”
“A three-way might’ve saved you from all this drama now,” River said.
“Oh gross.” Waylin shivered. “He’s our brother.”
I shook my head and rushed to catch up with Sekani. He was out of the hospital and halfway across the parking lot already; I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that he was going to leave without either of his brothers in the car.
“I’m sorry,” I said, softly now that I was getting a better picture of things.
“For what?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I just . . . I’m sorry you’re hurting I guess.” I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He didn’t like ghosts but right now, he seemed as if he just needed a hug. And I wasn’t technically a ghost. I wasn’t dead—yet.
After a long moment, Sekani sighed and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I leaned into him and squeezed him tight, tucking myself under his chin. “I don’t know if I’m hurt or angry or a twisted combination of the two anymore.”
“If you keep it all bottled up, you’re going to pop.” Clearly he needed to get some things off his chest. Maybe he and Waylin just really needed to sit down and hash it out. If they used their words—or even got physical again—maybe it would help.
“Yeah. Maybe.” He rested his cheek on my head as I tightened my arms around him. He was warm and smelled like something spicy. “As much as I hate Waylin, he’s still my brother. There’s just shit I can’t say to him.”
I could understand not wanting to hurt Waylin’s feelings, but he might deserve a hurt feeling or two. “Why not? Maybe it’s shit he needs to hear.”
“A problem to deal with after we pop you back into your body condom. You’re dying, Callum. And I know why we haven’t seen your door. It’s glowing like a neon light about ten feet from the foot of your bed.”
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t see it.” I guess I wasn’t quite dead enough yet.
“You probably won’t—not until you’re all the way dead, which won’t be long.”
I looked up at him. Knowing I was still alive, I wanted to stay that way. Somehow. We could go for that coffee he mentioned. “I . . . I don’t want to die.”
“I’m going to call Barnet, see what they can find out, show your picture around the long walk you did, contact some of your friends. If we can trigger some memories, maybe we can find some leads, discover what’s keeping you tethered here.”
Sekani’s arms loosened and I shook my head, keeping my hold on him. His grip tightened again as I turned my face into his neck. We stood in the parking lot for a long silent moment before he released me. We got in the car; Sekani turned the key as Waylin and River approached. He sighed, but he waited for them to get in before he drove off.
SEKANI AELOR
Was it against department regulations? Yes.
Could Barnet lose her job of almost fifteen years if anyone ever found out? Yes.
Did she still show up with Callum’s case file after her shift?
Yes.
I took the file from her outstretched hand and flipped through it quickly. Several witnesses had identified the car, but there was no indication whoever was working Callum’s case had done more than a basic search on the make and model. No mention of collecting surveillance tapes or traffic camera footage. It mentioned where the accident happened, the time of night, the weather conditions, a few witnesses and their statements but . . . nothing else. “What kind of shitty police work is this? There’s fuck all in here, Barnet.” I flipped a page and looked at the signature at the bottom. Groaned. “Are you kidding me?”
Rayner.
I couldn’t stand the guy.
Detective Rayner was useless in every imaginable way. He wasn’t going to take my calls or offer any kind of fucking assistance—which is probably why Barnet brought me the file. No doubt he wasn’t going to be missing it either. He probably hadn’t looked at it since two days after the accident happened. The guy cared about two things: donuts, and his truck, and not necessarily in that order.
“It’s the best I could do,” Barnet said. “I ran a search on the make and model of the car, but that’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”
I shook my head. Finding the car was gonna be damn near impossible, I’d known that. “Is there anything not in the file you can tell me?”
“You’d have to ask Rayner,” she said with an apologetic smile.
I rolled my eyes. “You know that asshole is gonna stonewall. Can you beg the case out from under him? Tell him you’re bored or some shit. If I find anything, you can make the arrest.” She peered at me for a long, silent moment. “Come on, Barnet. Do me this solid.”
“Is this one of those freaky gut feelings you get that usually lead to a commendation?” she asked.
“I’m not saying it is. But I’m not saying it’s not,” I told her.
She groaned long and loud as she tipped her head back. Her shoulders slumped. She shook her head and met my gaze. “Fine. But if you’re gonna log into the department’s database, your ass better do it while sitting in my driveway. The last thing I need is your apartment in my location history.”
“I owe you one.”
She waved me away. “Just remember I like my job.”
“But if you lose it, you can always go into business with me,” I said.
She scoffed. “My idea of a good time is not sitting on some rich asshole’s McMansion, waiting to find out if the spouse is boning the pool-boy.”
“Hate to break it to you, Barnet, but you went into the wrong profession,” I said. Most detectives spent their time drinking cold coffee and eating fast food bound to kill them early while sitting on some rich asshole’s McMansion, waiting for something to happen. The only difference was I made more money in the private sector. Oh, and I had a hell of a lot fewer rules to follow.
“Stay outta trouble, Aelor.” She squeezed my shoulder as she stood.
I followed her towards the door, Callum trailing behind us. “I’m never in trouble.”
“You are trouble,” she replied, opening the door and coming face to face with a crying Isla. She stood there pink in the face, her shirt pushed up over her fat belly, a dirty diaper hanging off one thigh. “Something I should know, Sekani?”
I pushed around her and scooped Isla up. “Neighbor’s kid. Escape artist.”
“They all are,” Barnet said as I bounced Isla on my hip.
“Thanks for this.” I flapped the folder at her. “Tell Ryan and Emma I said hi. I’ll come by for dinner sometime soon.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” She stepped around me and started towards the elevator.
“I will.”
As soon as the doors slid shut behind her, I tossed the file on the table sitting next to my front door and carried Isla down the hallway. “Mrs. Taffett!” I called as I knocked. The door was yanked open. Mrs. Taffett stood on the other side, her hair up in a messy ponytail, sauce staining her cheek. Her shirt was painted red and her jeans looked wet.
“Isla.” She reached for her daughter as tears welled in her eyes. “She got into the fridge, there’s ketchup everywhere. My friend who said she could babysit isn’t here and I’m late for work. They’re going to fire me.” Isla started fussing in her mother’s arms and Mrs. Taffett sniffed hard, rocking Isla back and forth. “Shh. Shh. Not your fault baby.” She looked back at me. “I don’t know how she got out this time. I even got a baby gate.” She knocked her hip against the door and sure enough, there was a baby gate halfway down the hallway, separating the main apartment from the door.
Unfortunately, there was also a box of toys pushed up against it.
Maybe I hadn’t been lying to Barnet—maybe Isla was a little escape artist.
I sighed and held out my arms. “I’ll keep her for tonight.” Someone had to.
Mrs. Taffett froze. “R—really?”
“Yeah. It’s not a problem. Just give me her bag.” Mrs. Taffett couldn’t afford to lose another job. She’d already been fired twice since moving into the building two years ago. And anyway, I liked Isla. It really wasn’t a problem.
“I’m supposed to get off at eleven. If you keep her, I can pick up an extra shift. Would that be okay?”
This was gonna become a thing.
My eyes drifted to Callum who stood watching, not far away. “Yeah. Okay. I’ve got work in the morning. If you can’t get her by five, I’ll take her with me for the day. You can use the break to . . . sort yourself out.”
“I . . . I’m . . . I’m her mom. There aren’t any breaks. She needs me.” Her eyes welled with tears as she tucked Isla under her chin and rubbed her back.
This right here is why I hadn’t called CPS. Mrs. Taffett loved her daughter.
“One won’t hurt,” I said, grasping Isla’s side and lifting her out of Mrs. Taffett’s arms. She released her reluctantly. “Grab her bag so you can get to work.”
“Sh—ipyards. I’m late.” She turned away from the door, leaping over the baby gate and running around like a chicken with her head cut off. She gathered diapers, more than enough clothes, and even shoved a couple of toys into the bag until it was spilling over. “Don’t give her apple juice. It does something nasty to her stomach. She won’t sleep without Ell.” She pointed to a pink stuffed elephant that had seen better days. “My number is—” She patted at her pockets. “My phone—”
She looked around, her eyes wide and wild.
This woman was a mess.
“I know where you work, Mrs. Taffett. I’ll call if anything comes up.”
She nodded like a bobble head, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Isla’s head. “I love you. Be good for Sekani.” She kissed her daughter again before pulling away. Her eyes were wet; she reached up to rub them. “I better shower and change. Thanks for this. I’ll pay you when I can, I swear.”
I nodded—it was better not to argue—before taking the bag and pulling it over my shoulder. “You know where to find us,” I told her, giving Isla a bounce. “Ready?” I asked the baby. She flopped her head on my shoulder and popped her thumb in her mouth. I turned away from Mrs. Taffett, who stood in the door watching us until I slipped into my own apartment.
River and Waylin had come out of the back room now that Barnet was gone. They were sitting on the sofa watching one of River’s videos, an older one. He was strolling through some old ass house, no ghost in sight until the camera overfocused. Doors started slamming and windows started slapping open and closed. The River in the video rubbed his chest, looked at his crew and did what he did best when something nasty was bearing down on him—took off running, like a bat out of hell.
I snorted as he tripped halfway down a set of stairs. Waylin started howling with laughter. Admittedly, that was my favorite part of this video. It felt like justice.
“I would have paid to be there in person,” Waylin wheezed, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows. My eyes landed on the tattoos he was sporting and I frowned.
“Pay me and you can be.” River started searching for another gem in the playlist I’d titled River’s Greatest Hits. Mostly, it was him fucking up so completely no one could possibly take him seriously.
It was a good coverstory—a way to keep the supernatural community off his ass. Plenty of members hated his channel, abhorred what he was doing. They felt like it exposed us more than necessary, and maybe it did. But as stupid as I thought it was for River to fuck around with ghosts, he honestly enjoyed what he did. No one—aside from his stupid ass—was getting hurt either, so as much as I bitched and moaned and huffed and puffed, I’d never flat out told him he needed to stop. I bitched just enough to let him know I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t going to put my foot down and make him give it up.
“At the bottom of the list you’ll find the one where the big nasty dragged your ass into the well,” I said. He’d been yanked off his feet and almost drowned. Once again, he’d survived so we could all laugh about it now.
“You know I do have some videos where I look like a total boss.”
“I like these better,” Waylin said. “Reminds me of home.”
River huffed and went to find the one I’d mentioned.
The home had been haunted; River had been target number one. Maybe because he looked soft and sweet, like an easy target. He was in a lot of ways. But also not. River could be scared out of his goddamn mind, two seconds from pissing himself, but no matter how many hits he took, he just got right back up and threw himself into the fray again. Put simply, fear never stopped him. Sure, he ran when things got nasty, but that was just fucking smart.
When Waylin had been locked in the attic, something clawing at his back in a bid to climb inside of him, it had been River who climbed out on the weak, rotten roof and threw himself through the glass window to save him. When I’d been trapped in the basement, ghost hands around my throat, choking the life out of me, River had been the first one down the stairs, screaming like a little banshee. So yeah, he might be soft and sweet, an easy target who ran when things got real because ghosts could be scary, but he didn’t run when it really fucking mattered. Except when vampires were involved. Then he was gonna trip a bitch, slam a door and wish everyone good fucking luck.
“Oh! That’s the one.” Waylin snatched the remote and fast-forwarded through until just before River, screaming like a little bitch, was dragged feet first into the well.
