Kim Harrison - Something Deadly This Way Comes

“Use mine until you get yours back, okay?” he said as he handed me his. “Where did you and Josh eat?”

The heavy black phone felt funny in my grip, different from my slim pink one. The time was more than two hours off, but as soon as I looked at it, it magically shifted to the right time.

“Um, The Low D,” I said, scrambling to remember our cover story. “Nakita and Barnabas were with us. After Josh’s track meet stuff.”

“You ate, right?”

“As much as I always do.” Smiling, I got a glass out of the cupboard and poured myself some juice. He wasn’t saying anything, just looking at me with concern. “I might have something before I go to bed, though,” I added, and he seemed to lose much of his worry. “Can I go over to Nakita’s tomorrow? We took a lot of pictures at the meet and I want to help her organize them.”

“Sure, but get your chores done before you leave this time,” he said. “I might not be here when you get up. I’ve got to go in tomorrow to close out a trial. I hate those ten-day biological runs. Half the time you either have to start them on the weekend or end them on one. Don’t forget to empty the dishwasher. Take out the recyclables. And I want the porch swept before you leave. Front and back this time.”

It was the usual list, and I recapped the juice, hoping he would leave before I had to drink some. “Yes, Dad,” I almost groaned.

Again he yawned, looking at the clock over the stove. “I can’t believe how tired I am. I must not have had enough coffee today.”

“I’m going to bed, too,” I said, leaving my juice on the counter and going to give him a hug good night. His arms went around me in a blanket of security, and he kissed the top of my head.

“I’m serious about calling your mom tomorrow,” he said softly, still holding me. “She’s worried about you.”

“I will,” I promised.

He let go and I dropped back. Turning to leave, he hesitated. “You smell like smoke.”

I didn’t know if he meant from the fire, or the cigarette stench from the police station, and I fumbled, saying, “I got a ride home with one of Josh’s friends. The car stank.”

My dad accepted that, smiling faintly as he rubbed the top of his head, leaving his hair mussed. “Did you set your stops right?” he asked, meaning the photography stops.

“You know it!” I said cheerfully.

“I want to see the pictures when you’re ready,” he said as he turned and shuffled into the hall. “I know it’s the weekend, but don’t stay up too late!” he said from the stairs.

I exhaled, my faith in Grace increasing a hundredfold. Damn, she was good at keeping me out of trouble with my dad. She and Josh both. “Okay!” I called back to him, then stood there, listening to hear his bedroom door shut. Maybe I could get out of here sooner than I thought.

The house went quiet, and I dumped my apple juice, rinsed out the glass, then hesitated when I opened up the dishwasher. Sighing, I pulled the rack out and started to empty it. I was able to stop time, and here I was, emptying the dishwasher. It might not be a bad idea to sweep the porch, too, before I left.

The soft tap at the kitchen window shot through me like a pulse of fear, and my head snapped up, thinking it was Ron. But it was Josh standing between the house and the foundation plantings, his nose and eyes showing. Seeing my relief, he dropped from sight, but I was already on my way to the front door, swearing softly at him for having scared me.

“Josh!” I whispered as I opened the door. “I thought your mom grounded you!”

His gaze went to the stairway, and he whispered back, “You’re not the only one who can sneak out. What happened? Did you get in trouble? My mom tried to call your dad, but the call wouldn’t go through, and then the phone died.”

I exhaled, thanking Grace. She loved causing mischief if it would keep me out of trouble. I pulled him in, seeing the street behind him was empty and dark. He must have biked over so his car wouldn’t wake anyone up. “Come on in,” I said softly. “My dad’s upstairs.”

“No doubt.” Josh looked at his watch. “You’re going back to Baxter tonight, right?”

I nodded, not sure what I hoped to accomplish anymore, but knowing that it wasn’t over yet. “I’m going to have to. Josh, you won’t believe what happened.”

He followed me in, taking the plates from me as I pulled them out. Josh knew my kitchen almost as well as I did, and he slid them away, being careful not to make too much noise. “Did you get grounded?” he asked in a serious voice.

I looked up from stacking the bowls, blinking until I figured it out. “Oh! No,” I said. Grounding was the least of my worries. “Grace set the clocks back. My dad thinks it’s before midnight. No grounding.”

“Nice!” he said, glancing at the clock over the stove as I went to reset it. “What’s so awful, then?” His face went concerned. “Oh, no. Madison, they didn’t . . . die, did they?”

I touched the digital clock, and the numbers jumped to the correct time. I jerked my hand back as if stung, staring at it. That was weird. “No,” I said. “The apartment caught on fire. Tammy and Johnny are okay, but she told the cops that I set it. I spent most of the night in some cop’s office watching Grace short out my phone’s battery so they couldn’t call my dad.”

Josh made a noise of disbelief, and I turned, shrugging. “Barnabas and Nakita got me out and I learned how to stop time and change Tammy’s aura.”

“That’s great!” Josh said, his pleased expression fading when I didn’t smile back. “Isn’t it?”

“The seraphs sent a dark reaper to scythe Tammy,” I said, feeling the hurt of that all over again. “They’re giving up on me. So of course Ron sent a light reaper to stop him. It was a mess. He stopped by tonight. Ron, I mean.” I looked toward the front door as if I could see through the walls. “Trying to figure out what I was doing.”

Eyes wide, Josh fumbled for a clean glass. “So what is he going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, the open dishwasher between us. “At least he admitted he doesn’t think I’m trying to kill her.” No, he just thinks I’m being stupid. “I did manage to stop the dark reaper the seraphs sent out. His name is Demus. He’s a redhead,” I said, my focus blurring as I remembered how good he looked.

“What, do you like him?”

Josh’s voice had risen in pitch, and I jerked my attention to him. “He’s an angel,” I said, hiding a quick smile when I realized he was jealous. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“Of an angel? No,” he said, but his motions as he stacked the bowls said otherwise.

“Josh . . .” I said, worried that he felt like he didn’t belong and might leave. “Angels are pretty, but they are kind of intense, you know?”

“Yeah, but they can fly.”

“Oh, stop it,” I said, giving his shoulder a little push as I leaned across the dishwasher between us and grabbed the silverware. “I like you, okay? Not an angelic serial killer.”

“When you put it like that . . .” he said, smiling, and I turned away, suddenly uneasy. Angelic serial killer, and I was the boss. As soon as Josh figured out how true that was, he might be gone, and then I’d be a bigger freak than before. Puppy presents, this sucked.

Silverware in hand, I yanked the drawer open with my pinkie. Tonight had been a disaster. I couldn’t plug the holes fast enough, and the water was almost up to my chin. Frustrated, I gave up sorting the forks from the spoons, and just dumped them in and shut the drawer. Arms over my chest, I stood at the counter and stared at the wall.

“You’ll make it work. I know you will,” Josh said softly.