Kim Harrison - Something Deadly This Way Comes

“I’ll talk to her,” he finally said, clearly seeing my fear.

“Thanks, Barnabas.” I pushed myself off the roof, my knees bending to absorb the impact of the fall. I looked up to try and see him wing out, but there was nothing except the barely moving black branches between me and the heavy clouds. Head down, I walked to the front door, looking at my shoelaces. Skulls and hearts. Maybe I should grow up.

A sliver of self-preservation made me hesitate before I went in. Grace said she’d fixed things with my dad, but it was still hard to grab the doorknob and turn it. Reaching for it, I felt a prickling through my aura. My fingers curled under, and I waited, breathing in the feeling.

“It’s almost like . . . I’m being watched,” I said, then spun as my amulet grew warm.

My breath hissed in, and I watched a vertical line of divine silver crack the night. A somewhat short, thin man seemed to step through it sideways, the light making a silhouette of his tight, graying curls and his billowy clothes.

“Ron,” I hissed, exhaling everything I’d just taken in.

It was the light timekeeper himself, standing on my front lawn in the dark. My first thought to call Barnabas lit through me and died. I could stop time, damn it. I didn’t need Barnabas’s help. Besides, he was probably shielding his resonance and wouldn’t be able to hear me. Cocking my hip, I stared at Ron as he finished materializing.

“What do you want?” I shot out, and he jerked his head up, seeming to be surprised I knew he was there. It was a brief flash of satisfaction in an otherwise sucky night.

The small man quickly recovered his pompous attitude, shaking out his billowy robes that were more suited to the back lot of a Hollywood set than anything that had to do with reality. And he thought what I wore was funny? “To know what you’re up to?” he said, filling those few words with more sly bile than one would think possible. God help me, he knew everything.

My arms crossed over my middle. I didn’t care if it made me look vulnerable. My day hadn’t gone well, and there was no hiding it. “I’m trying not to get grounded,” I said lightly. “Maybe you should leave before I yell for help and get you thrown in jail for being a pervert.”

Ron only smiled that same, infuriating smile. “You learned how to stop time. Congratulations.”

Funny how it didn’t sound like “congratulations” when he said it, and I looked at the porch light, wishing Grace was here to make a tree branch fall on him. “Yeah? So what?”

Ron took a step closer, head cocked as he lost his smug air. “I had a reaper out there.”

“So I noticed.” I rocked back toward my door, not liking this.

“So I wonder what you’re doing . . .” he drawled as if I’d fill in the blank.

“Blah, blah, blah,” I said, making talking-hand motions. “Don’t start monologing, Ron. I’m not doing anything.” I turned to go inside, gasping when Ron grabbed my arm. Spinning, I yanked out of his grip, shocked that he had touched me.

“Back off!” I exclaimed softly as I stared down the two steps at him, not wanting to explain to my dad who he was. My heart gave a thump and settled.

“You changed the mark’s resonance,” Ron said, clearly angry as he looked up at me. “My reaper can’t find her.”

Wahh, wahh, wahh, I thought. Madison isn’t playing fair! But what came out of my mouth was a short “Good.”

“You’re going to get her killed!” Ron said.

My eyes narrowed. “Did that,” I said shortly. “Made a video. Posted it online. It’s over, Ron. Go home.”

“It is not over,” he insisted, looking both angry and confused. “She isn’t dead. You wouldn’t kill her. Though I don’t know why. What are you trying to do? You can’t change things. They are what they are.”

I took a breath, feeling the disappointment of the entire day fall on me. But this time, it only made me mad. I didn’t have to explain myself to him. Yanking my door open, I went inside, grimacing at him standing at the foot of the steps before I shut the door in his face.

Exhaling, I leaned back against it. I could hear my dad on the phone in the kitchen, his voice holding a hint of strain as it rose and fell. I pushed myself up and peeked outside through the narrow window beside the door. Ron was gone. Thank you, God.

The house looked quiet and normal, and my dad stepped from the kitchen with the landline phone stuck to his ear. My first thought was he was on the phone with Josh or Josh’s mom, wanting to know where I was, but then he gave me a finger wave and I knew he thought it was still before my curfew.

“Bev, she’s fine,” he said somewhat crossly, and I realized he was talking to my mom. “It was just a prank phone call.”

Oh, jeez. The cops at the juvie center had reached her. Worried, I glanced out the window for Ron, then came in, trying to hear her end of the conversation.

“I said, she’s fine!” my dad said, rolling his eyes at me. “She’s upstairs asleep, or I’d put her on the phone so you could see for yourself.”

I reached for the receiver, and he shook his head. Why is my dad lying to my mom about where I am?

“Bev,” he said, his voice taking on that tightness that I remembered from when I was growing up. “Listen to me. Madison is fine. I am fine. We are getting along fine, and I think you have a problem with that. I can raise our daughter just as well as you can. She’s a wonderful girl, and I honestly don’t know where you come up with this stuff. I’ll have her call you tomorrow. I’m not going to wake her up because someone is yanking your chain. Go take a valium or something.”

My eyes were wide as he hung up and exhaled, looking at the phone like he wanted to throw it at the wall. “Mom?” I asked, though it was obvious.

“She thinks I can’t take care of you,” he said, the skin around his eyes wrinkling to make him look tired.

A sick feeling seemed to steal around my heart, and seeing it reflected in my eyes, he forced the irritation from his expression, smiling, though I knew he was still upset and likely would be for a few days. “Dad, you’re taking care of me great,” I said, feeling lost, and I gave him a hug, my guilt rising high. My dying was not his fault, and I couldn’t bear it if he thought it was.

He gave me a squeeze, then he stepped back. “Thanks,” he said softly. “Call your mother tomorrow. Trust me, you don’t want to talk to her now,” he said as he went back into the kitchen to hang up the phone. “Someone told her you were on the West Coast in jail, having been accused of setting fire to an apartment complex.”

“Really?” I said, forcing a laugh as I wondered how a call had gotten past Grace.

My dad carefully hung up the phone, but his fingers were shaking, and the click seemed unusually loud. “Maybe if your mother would get into the twenty-first century and get caller ID, she wouldn’t have to put up with cranks like that.”

Yawning, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe how tired I am,” he said, dropping his wrist to look at his watch. “I tried to call you but you’re either out of minutes or your battery is dead.” His eyes met mine, annoyance in them. “Again,” he added.

I couldn’t bear lying to him, and I went to the fridge, pretending to get a glass of apple juice. I dumped out about a gallon of it every week. “Um, it’s probably the battery,” I said as I stuck my head in the fridge and breathed in the cold air. “I, uh, kind of loaned it to Barnabas.”

“Madison!”

The exclamation was like a whip, and I pulled back out of the fridge, my eyes downcast. “I’ll get it back tomorrow,” I promised.