Banishing the Dark
Page 83
“Get down, you dumb dog,” Jupe said cheerfully. “You just ruined a happy moment, congratulations.”
“Are you okay?” Lon asked, eyes glassy with emotion—which, knowing now exactly how strong that emotion could be, was probably barely contained.
“I’m fine.” My hand slid to my stomach, as if I could tell something. “Everything feels okay. Priya?” I asked, pushing away to search for him.
“He couldn’t hold on,” Jupe explained. “He said he’d find a healer in the Æthyr. And he’s pretty torn up about what happened, thinks he failed you and all that junk. So you should probably be nice to him next time you summon him. He’s got some self-worth issues.”
“Thank God you don’t have that problem,” Lon mumbled, and I wanted to hug them both all over again. But the crunch of gravel behind Jupe made me remember we weren’t alone.
I peered around his mass of curls and spotted the girl. She was pretty, now that I could see her better. And she held herself as if she was slightly uncomfortable but would die before she admitted it. I liked her immediately.
“Hi,” I said.
She held up a tentative hand. “Hi.”
“Thanks for the heads-up earlier.”
“No problem.”
A slow grin lifted Jupe’s cheeks, and his eyes went a little squinky. “This is Leticia Vega.”
“Nice to meet you, Leticia.” I gripped Lon’s hand like he might dry up and blow away. “I’d apologize that you caught us on a bad night, but this is pretty much the everyday circus sideshow for this family.” Dead body. Pig’s blood summoning circle behind us in the shed. A great first impression.
“Her sister gets naked in front of the entire lodge every week, and her grandmother’s a racist,” Jupe volunteered happily. “She’s used to weirdness.”
“Well, then,” I said, giving her a sympathetic smile to ease her through Jupe’s gift of oversharing. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
EPILOGUE
August, three and a half years later
I lounged on a wide wicker chaise in the backyard. It had been dark for an hour or so, and a pretty good fire still crackled in the round stack-stone fire pit Lon had built this spring. It felt fabulous on my chilly feet.
Behind me, a few hundred yards below our cliff, the dark Pacific crashed on the beach. In front of me, beyond the fire, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday hauled away the last of the plastic cups and paper plates to the garbage before they drove back to their cabin. And beside me, a lingering party guest shared my lounge chair.
“I swear, it’s a good ten degrees colder out here than in the city at night.” To prove her point, Kar Yee shivered dramatically and hugged her sweater tighter.
“You say that every time you come out here.”
“It doesn’t stop being true. It’s summer, for the love of God.”
“I don’t mind when there’s a fire. Where’s Hajo tonight?”
“Working some police case in the foothills. A missing girl.”
“Another one? Damn, he’s really helping them out a lot lately. Not half bad for a former junkie.” I wanted to add and the biggest jerk I know, but the last time I joked about someone “pulling a Hajo,” Kar Yee and I had a huge fight and didn’t speak for almost a week.
“Thank you,” she said, taking full credit for his miraculous turnaround from Death Dowser/Drug Dealer to Death Dowser/Halfway Decent Person. “He’s cleaned up nicely. And if he quits smoking, he can move in with me.”
I chuckled. “Crack that whip, Kar Yee.”
“Gross. You know how I feel about black leather and vinyl.”
“S’pose there’s no need for riding crops when you’re wielding that fear knack of yours.”
She tucked the tips of her bobbed hair behind her ears and grinned. “Oh, I almost forgot. Glen texted me to say he got the snafu with your business license smoothed over. I told you he would.”
“Thanks for that.”
“No problem. You need me to help you with anything? Spreadsheets, organizing . . . ?”
“Think I’m good. Everything’s squared away now. Grand opening’s on Friday.”
“I’ll drop by after closing to see if you need help counting all the cash.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
Although Kar Yee and I were still co-owners of Tambuku, I hadn’t bartended since I buried my mother. Kar Yee had promoted Amanda to head bartender and hired two assistant managers and three new servers. Back in May, I signed a lease on a shop in the Village between an art gallery that sold Lon’s signed prints and Three Dwarves Pottery, which made all the Tambuku Tiki mugs.
And my new demon-friendly business? Arcadia’s Garden. Yep, I was now the proud owner of a rare herb emporium and tea shop and the only magical apothecary in town. I figured making magick medicinals was one of my better skills, and it was something I enjoyed. And it damn sure could be put to better use helping locals in La Sirena than pacifying drunk-ass bar patrons.
Karlan Rooke and I had kept in touch since my visit to Pasadena, so he was supplying most of my rare herbs. And although I’d be selling some of them loose—a fine selection of valrivia, rare teas, and few obscurities for the magick-minded customer—the majority of my business would be in medicinal teas and drinks. Depressed? Need energy? Trying to detox? Need to calm your nerves? I had you covered.
“Are you okay?” Lon asked, eyes glassy with emotion—which, knowing now exactly how strong that emotion could be, was probably barely contained.
“I’m fine.” My hand slid to my stomach, as if I could tell something. “Everything feels okay. Priya?” I asked, pushing away to search for him.
“He couldn’t hold on,” Jupe explained. “He said he’d find a healer in the Æthyr. And he’s pretty torn up about what happened, thinks he failed you and all that junk. So you should probably be nice to him next time you summon him. He’s got some self-worth issues.”
“Thank God you don’t have that problem,” Lon mumbled, and I wanted to hug them both all over again. But the crunch of gravel behind Jupe made me remember we weren’t alone.
I peered around his mass of curls and spotted the girl. She was pretty, now that I could see her better. And she held herself as if she was slightly uncomfortable but would die before she admitted it. I liked her immediately.
“Hi,” I said.
She held up a tentative hand. “Hi.”
“Thanks for the heads-up earlier.”
“No problem.”
A slow grin lifted Jupe’s cheeks, and his eyes went a little squinky. “This is Leticia Vega.”
“Nice to meet you, Leticia.” I gripped Lon’s hand like he might dry up and blow away. “I’d apologize that you caught us on a bad night, but this is pretty much the everyday circus sideshow for this family.” Dead body. Pig’s blood summoning circle behind us in the shed. A great first impression.
“Her sister gets naked in front of the entire lodge every week, and her grandmother’s a racist,” Jupe volunteered happily. “She’s used to weirdness.”
“Well, then,” I said, giving her a sympathetic smile to ease her through Jupe’s gift of oversharing. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
EPILOGUE
August, three and a half years later
I lounged on a wide wicker chaise in the backyard. It had been dark for an hour or so, and a pretty good fire still crackled in the round stack-stone fire pit Lon had built this spring. It felt fabulous on my chilly feet.
Behind me, a few hundred yards below our cliff, the dark Pacific crashed on the beach. In front of me, beyond the fire, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday hauled away the last of the plastic cups and paper plates to the garbage before they drove back to their cabin. And beside me, a lingering party guest shared my lounge chair.
“I swear, it’s a good ten degrees colder out here than in the city at night.” To prove her point, Kar Yee shivered dramatically and hugged her sweater tighter.
“You say that every time you come out here.”
“It doesn’t stop being true. It’s summer, for the love of God.”
“I don’t mind when there’s a fire. Where’s Hajo tonight?”
“Working some police case in the foothills. A missing girl.”
“Another one? Damn, he’s really helping them out a lot lately. Not half bad for a former junkie.” I wanted to add and the biggest jerk I know, but the last time I joked about someone “pulling a Hajo,” Kar Yee and I had a huge fight and didn’t speak for almost a week.
“Thank you,” she said, taking full credit for his miraculous turnaround from Death Dowser/Drug Dealer to Death Dowser/Halfway Decent Person. “He’s cleaned up nicely. And if he quits smoking, he can move in with me.”
I chuckled. “Crack that whip, Kar Yee.”
“Gross. You know how I feel about black leather and vinyl.”
“S’pose there’s no need for riding crops when you’re wielding that fear knack of yours.”
She tucked the tips of her bobbed hair behind her ears and grinned. “Oh, I almost forgot. Glen texted me to say he got the snafu with your business license smoothed over. I told you he would.”
“Thanks for that.”
“No problem. You need me to help you with anything? Spreadsheets, organizing . . . ?”
“Think I’m good. Everything’s squared away now. Grand opening’s on Friday.”
“I’ll drop by after closing to see if you need help counting all the cash.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
Although Kar Yee and I were still co-owners of Tambuku, I hadn’t bartended since I buried my mother. Kar Yee had promoted Amanda to head bartender and hired two assistant managers and three new servers. Back in May, I signed a lease on a shop in the Village between an art gallery that sold Lon’s signed prints and Three Dwarves Pottery, which made all the Tambuku Tiki mugs.
And my new demon-friendly business? Arcadia’s Garden. Yep, I was now the proud owner of a rare herb emporium and tea shop and the only magical apothecary in town. I figured making magick medicinals was one of my better skills, and it was something I enjoyed. And it damn sure could be put to better use helping locals in La Sirena than pacifying drunk-ass bar patrons.
Karlan Rooke and I had kept in touch since my visit to Pasadena, so he was supplying most of my rare herbs. And although I’d be selling some of them loose—a fine selection of valrivia, rare teas, and few obscurities for the magick-minded customer—the majority of my business would be in medicinal teas and drinks. Depressed? Need energy? Trying to detox? Need to calm your nerves? I had you covered.
