The Trouble with Death and Demon Gods, page 10
She bundled her kid into her arms and started up the block. The kid looked back once, at Cary. He very pointedly didn’t look at the man. Then he faced forward as his mother rushed him down the block.
The small crowd that had gathered to watch the scene dissipated and went back to whatever they’d been doing.
Cary faced the man and Deacon again. Deacon still hadn’t released his arm.
“Let go of me,” the man snarled at Deacon.
Deacon’s gaze moved down the street. Cary followed his gaze. The woman was climbing into a car parked at the sidewalk. The boy was already in the back, his head just poking over the top of the seat. When the car started and pulled away from the curb, Deacon finally released the man.
Business Suit rubbed his wrist and glared at her and Deacon. “That was none of your business.”
“Sure, sure,” Cary said again.
The man snarled at them both and stalked away, in the opposite direction from the woman.
“Huh,” Cary said, watching his back. “I was kind of expecting a parting shot, like ‘you’ll hear from my lawyers’ or ‘this isn’t over’ or something. I don’t quite know what to do with the silent treatment.”
“Come on,” Deacon said, his voice still very deep.
He spoke quietly and his touch on her elbow as he guided her down the sidewalk was gentle, but she didn’t miss the tension thrumming through his body or the way a muscle in his jaw jumped.
When they were ensconced in the SUV, she asked, “You okay?”
“No.”
“Okay. Why?”
“You’re not a Protector anymore.” He gripped the steering wheel hard enough she heard the plastic groan.
“I know that. That’s why we’re here getting me some more protective clothes.”
He turned toward her and she realized his eyes were glowing yellow, just a little, but enough to show her how close to the surface his animal side was. “You. Are. Not. A. Protector.”
“Yes,” she said with a snarl. “I know.”
“Do you?” His voice was low, and his intensity turned it into a growl. “Because you ran in between that man and woman like you’d forgotten.”
“I…” She stopped mid-rant. Faced the front window. “Oh shit.”
“What if he’d had a knife? A gun? You aren’t a Kevlar vest anymore.”
Shit. She actually had forgotten. Well, not really forgotten so much as just didn’t…stop to remember. She’d just acted.
She shook her head, hard. Part in denial and part as a way to wave off the incident. “Listen, anyone would have gotten involved there. The woman screamed. She was obviously afraid of her ex.”
“No one else on the street got involved,” he pointed out.
“All the more reason for us to get involved. She was in trouble. Her son could have been in trouble. And you are a shifter. Why did you grab his hand by the way?”
“He was going to hit you.”
Shit. He actually would have succeeded in hitting her if Deacon hadn’t been there. She didn’t have a shield to deflect physical attacks anymore.
“Thank you for stopping him.”
“Cary…” Deacon let out a long breath and carefully released his grip on the steering wheel.
She was pleased to see there weren’t any dents or cracks. Good sign for his control.
“I know,” he started. Paused. Let out another long breath. “I know you can’t watch something like that and just let it go. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”
She smiled a little at that.
“But you are not a Protector anymore. You will not have a shield that comes up and keeps you safe from magical or mundane weapons. You have to think before charging in. You need to find another way to help that doesn’t involved possible getting yourself killed.”
She swallowed. She’d spent almost seven years learning how to not think. How to not hesitate. Just run in. Get there before the good guys got hurt. Then all would be well.
Except that wouldn’t happen anymore.
“I can’t just not stop someone harassing someone else,” she murmured. “Especially with the kid there. It’s… Hell, it’s habit after all these years.”
“You have to undo that habit, then,” he said, very seriously. “You are not indestructible. I won’t ask you not to help. That would be wrong on many levels.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to thank him. “But you have to know that my primary concern is for you above strangers. And I do not want you killed.”
It hung in the air unsaid, but she still heard the “again” at the end of that sentence.
“So what do I do?” she asked, and not rhetorically. “I can’t stand by and watch. But if I run in, I risk getting hurt.”
“Move in with more of a plan from now on. A way to defuse a situation without just physically putting your body in the way.”
She groaned and dropped her head against the seat. “I suck at plans, though. You know that. My plans almost always involved…” She sighed. “Involved me having a shield that would go up at the right moment.”
“I blame Jaxer for that, for the record.”
She rolled her head to look at him. His eyes weren’t as yellow anymore. Almost completely back to normal golden brown now. Which was good. “Why Jaxer? I’m the one who can’t make good plans.”
“He was supposed to train you better, to help you learn to be strategic.” His eyes might be back to normal, but there was still a very distinct growl in his voice.
“He trained me well,” Cary said, narrowing her eyes. “As best he could given what he had to work with.”
“Stop. That insults you, and I won’t have it.”
“You’d rather blame Jaxer for my failing?”
“Yes.”
Her lips twitched. And then she laughed. The laugh felt good.
He rolled his eyes, but he pulled her into a hug while she chuckled. And that felt good too.
When she stopped chuckling, she tightened her hug around him. “I’ll try to check my habits,” she murmured. “I can’t promise I won’t try to stop things like what was happening earlier, but I can at least try to be more thoughtful about the running in part.”
“That’s all I ask.” He kissed the top of her head. “And be sure you have on some of Marianne’s protective clothes next time.”
She smiled into his neck. “Deal.”
14
Cary spent the next two days either at Lucy’s dojo or hiding in her house. The incident outside Marianne’s shop, in hindsight, shook her. Because it had shaken Deacon. Because she’d jumped in so…automatically. Without thought. Deacon was right. She wasn’t a Protector anymore. Jumping in between people in a dangerous situation wasn’t an option now. It wasn’t her job.
But she couldn’t ignore stuff like that either. She just had to figure out a better way of diffusing tough situations. Couldn’t just muscle through them now. Unfortunately, a non-muscling-through option involved being able to make a plan, to think strategically. She was not a great strategist.
“You can be taught strategy,” Lucy said as she pulled Cary up off the mat. Again. “It just takes some time.”
“You don’t just jump into dangerous situations and start kicking people’s butts just because you can,” Cary said, bending over and putting her hands on her knees. A moment to catch her breath. “How do you handle stuff like that?”
“I don’t seem to come across it as often as you do,” Lucy said, her tone wry. “You’re a trouble magnet.”
Cary scowled. “Not on purpose. Is it my fault that asshole was harassing his ex and her son on a public street?”
“Of course not. But that’s what I mean. I don’t just stumble on situations like that all the time. You do.” Lucy motioned her into a defensive stance.
“But why me?” Cary said, not even flinching at the whine in her voice. “At least why me now? When it’s not my job anymore?”
She settled into a wide-legged stance, most of her weight on her toes. They were just running through some practice exercises that were supposed to train Cary’s muscle memory so she could react without thinking—and who knew thinking was such a handicap!—but so far, her muscles seemed to be unwilling to memorize these lessons.
Lucy lunged forward, then rolled to one side, a move that brought her up behind Cary. Cary followed the roll and turned her body so she was facing Lucy again as Lucy stepped in to grab her. Cary caught Lucy’s arms, spun under them so both Lucy’s arms were over one shoulder and ducked low, then lifted up and spun again, using momentum to toss Lucy over her head.
They’d practice this enough that Cary could now actually toss Lucy. The problem was always that Lucy just rolled with the throw and bobbed back up to her feet, facing Cary again, before Cary had time to regain her stance. The speed with which Lucy recovered from being thrown always amazed Cary—and distracted her from resetting her own position fast enough.
Which was how she ended up with her legs swept out from under her, lying flat on her back on the mat. Again.
“Still thinking too much,” Lucy said.
“Mostly I’m thinking about how fast you recover after getting tossed on your ass, though. That’s an improvement, right?”
Lucy snorted, but she didn’t sound amused.
Cary rolled to her side and got back to her feet.
“Have you ever considered,” Lucy said, “that the reason you keep coming across situations where someone needs protecting is because you are just naturally a protector. That the universe lines this stuff up for you?”
“No,” Cary said. “And why would the universe continue to put me in that position when I am no longer equipped to deal with it?”
“Aren’t you, though?” Lucy gestured to the currently empty dojo. “You’ve been training hard for months now. You’ve surpassed a number of my students who’ve been working longer at this than you have. You’re about to have a whole wardrobe to help keep you safe. You’re literally gearing up to be a protector without the magic.”
“Are you saying I’m… Batman?” Cary wagged her eyebrows as she lowered her voice to take on the proper tone.
“Except you’re not a billionaire.”
“I don’t have the super cool cars and stuff either.” Although, she did have a secret attic where she kept all her books on the otherworldly and her computer with links to places on the web she couldn’t go on her regular computer.
Oh. Would she lose that? Would Wisat and Liruk have her computer guru Chris come take the computer away now? She’d only had that access because it was a part of her job. She’d paid for all the books, they were hers, but the computer access to places she couldn’t get to on her own…
And did it even matter if she lost that since she wasn’t a Protector anymore?
“But my point is,” Lucy continued, “you’re lining up skills and equipment that will allow you to stay a Protector without having to work for anyone else.”
“No.” Cary shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m just making sure I can survive the next two months, until the people in this city that I’ve pissed off forget I exist.”
“And then?”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? I don’t know what then. Except that I won’t be a Protector anymore, or have my severance pay anymore, and I’ll need a job.”
“I hate to tell you this, sweetie,” Lucy said, her hands on her hips. “But I think, even without getting paid, you’re gonna keep trying to protect people.”
“Nope,” Cary said. “That thing outside Marianne’s shop was a fluke. It’s not my job anymore.” She raised a hand when Lucy opened her mouth. “I won’t be able to ignore people in trouble, but I doubt I’ll keep attracting trouble now. The universe and all the bad guys in Portland will soon forget I exist, and I’ll get on with my life like a normal, mundane human. I probably won’t even come across people in trouble anymore. That’ll be for the next Protector.”
“Right,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Until then, we’re going to keep up your training because I don’t trust you not to run into the middle of trouble.”
Cary’s turn to snort.
At the end of the session, as Cary tried to regain her regular breathing, while not snarling at Lucy’s easy return to an ability to speak without gasping for air, she said, “Any news from Angie?”
“Haven’t heard anything yet,” Lucy said. “And I’m officially worried.”
“Yeah, me too.” She’d tried texting Angie three different times in the last couple of days. Nothing. “I’d say we should go help her, but I have no idea where she’s gone.”
“Would Jaxer know? He’s known her longer than the rest of us. He might have a better idea about this mysterious demon hunter background of hers.”
It was a good suggestion actually. Except, “I haven’t talked to Jaxer either. Not since I was fired.”
“He hasn’t come around at all? That doesn’t sound right.”
Cary shrugged, trying for casual and not hurt. “He’s probably busy with a new charge or whatever.”
“Still, he was supposed to be your friend. The very least he could do was show up and explain why you were sacked.”
Cary actually agreed with Lucy on that point, but she kept it to herself. “If he does show up, I’ll ask if he knows where Angie is. In the meantime…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I guess we just keep trying to reach her.”
And hope that whatever Angie had gone to do—to help Cary!—that she was safe.
Cary left the dojo expecting to find Deacon waiting for her on the sidewalk. Instead, she found two different leopard shifters.
“Nicky! Jillian! What are you two doing here?” She hugged them in greeting.
She’d met the two women last January during her first—pretty disastrous—meeting with Deacon’s family. They’d bonded over pretty dresses and the complications of having a mate, and been friends ever since.
She stepped back and narrowed her eyes. “Deacon asked you to babysit me, didn’t he?”
Nicky grinned. “He said you agreed this time so we didn’t have to be subtle.” She’d recently let her blond bob grow a little longer, though it still swung in a lovely wave around her pretty, heart-shaped face. At the moment, her blue eyes showed none of the yellow of her animal.
Jillian made a face. Where Nicky had started letting her hair grow out, Jillian had buzzed hers farther, leaving only a small section of longer brown hair on the top to sweep at an angle across her brow. “We’d visit you even if he didn’t ask us to—” She rolled her lips into her mouth.
Cary laughed. “You can call it what it is. Bodyguard. Yes, we discussed it. And no, I don’t like it. But yes, I agreed to it.” She shrugged. “Seemed like a good excuse for a visit, anyway.”
Nicky clapped her hands and squeezed Cary’s shoulders. “I understand you’re getting a new wardrobe. I want in on that.”
“I have a feeling you and Marianne will love each other,” Cary said. She frowned a little. “But how long are you staying in Portland?” Nicky hated crowds. Being in the city drained her if she stayed too long. The mates lived on the coast of Oregon in a town small enough to suit Nicky. “And where are you staying while you’re here?”
“We’re staying at the Jones place,” Jillian said. “Deacon gave us an apartment for the duration. No charge.”
“Since we’re bodyguarding his mate,” Nicky said.
Cary snorted. But actually, she was glad to hear Deacon had done that. The Jones “place,” which Deacon sometimes called his house, was actually a small apartment building in Nob Hill. Apparently, it used to be a house at some point in the past, so Deacon still referred to it that way. The apartment building was large enough that Deacon had the entire top floor as his suite—though they rarely stayed there—his sister Caitlin had the third floor mostly to herself, and outside of some offices on the first floor for the family business, the rest of the building was apartments any leopard shifter could take advantage of if they needed a place in Portland to live, either long term or short. Cary liked that the Joneses did that for their people.
“And we’ll be staying for the next two weeks,” Nicky said. “A real holiday!” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And we’ll come back as often as you need us.”
“Even though…crowds?” Cary asked.
“Even though crowds,” Nicky said. “I can manage for a friend.”
Jillian nodded, wrapping an arm around Nicky when she leaned back from Cary.
“You two are beyond lovely,” Cary said. She felt herself starting to tear up, so she sniffled and straightened her shoulders. “Let’s get food. I’m hungry after my workout.”
“Food.” Jillian groaned and nodded emphatically.
They found an excellent Chinese food restaurant a few blocks from Lucy’s dojo, settling in for plates of sweet and sour chicken, pork fried rice, beef and broccoli, egg rolls, chicken with cashew, a tofu dish Cary had never tried before, a few dishes with fish in them that Cary left for the two shifters, and egg drop soup because it was October and Nicky claimed soup was an autumn food requirement.
The restaurant was smallish, with a scattering of brown wood tables, red rugs, stereotypical Chinese restaurant knickknacks everywhere—they were smack in the middle of Chinatown and the tourists expected it—and smelled like a heaven of spice.
“We should have gotten the lemon chicken too,” Nicky said.
“There are three of us and we got enough food to feed six people,” Cary pointed out. Though, to be fair, the shifters could eat more than that without issue. She sometimes envied them their shifter metabolisms.
“I just love lemon chicken,” Nicky said with a shrug.
Once the food was spread out on the table and everyone had filled a plate, Jillian leveled Cary with a serious look. “Deacon wouldn’t tell us why you needed a bodyguard suddenly. I don’t suppose you will.”
