Epilogue #2
When I get to the office with the coffees, though, I find the small reception area relatively packed.
Ms. Stryker is leaning against my desk in her daylight-appropriate only-mostly-badass gear: sturdy blue duck-cloth shirt, high-waisted utility pants with a bunch of pockets, and steel-toed boots.
Sitting on the couch are Nicole and Emma, who look up the moment I arrive.
It’s been a little over a week since I fought Valiente and ?avadeva at the Benevolent Society.
That night I told my boss exactly what I am, along with everything that happened.
She reacted with a frown, but when the Feds eventually showed up, she kept me completely off their radar and away from anyone who could ask any questions.
And the next day, she treated me like she always did—grouchy and impatient, while still expecting me to get her coffee and type up her voicemails.
After months of freaking out about her potentially finding out that I’m an incubus, on some level, this was a relief.
But she hasn’t brought it up since, so I still don’t know for sure what she thinks about me.
And I never got a chance to say anything to the kids before I had to race back here, and I haven’t seen mother or daughter since. None of the teens, actually. That didn’t feel great, and all Stryker told me was that “they seem to be doing about as well as you’d expect.”
Both Nicole and Emma rise from the couch. Ms. Stryker stays where she is, unreadable. She doesn’t like emotional scenes, so chances are they’ve all just been sitting around in awkward silence.
“Hi,” I say, holding the tray of hot beverages in front of my tummy and feeling a bit awkward myself.
“Ms. Bruno’s daughter would like to say something to you.” Ms. Stryker’s tone makes it clear she wants this interaction done as quickly as possible—but she is smiling with her eyes.
Last time I saw Emma, she was bruised, filthy, covered in scrapes, and in torn clothing.
Now she’s in a well-fitting cranberry button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, dark jeans with a leather belt, and black Oxfords.
Her pink-frosted hair is nicely styled with a scoop up over her forehead.
Her face seems fuller and her compact body more solid.
She stands in front of me, chewing her lower lip, frowning fiercely.
For a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to yell at me.
After all, these kids went through hell—I’m one of the few people who could understand what they went through, and I haven’t checked in with them at all.
Turns out, though, I’m not the only one who feels bad about not being in touch.
“Mr. Alonso… I’m sorry I couldn’t come before…
” She glances over her shoulder at Ms. Stryker.
“We were all told you were supposed to be some kind of secret.” Her gaze falls to her shoes.
“But what you did… It was huge. The others who were there, we all think so. So I wanted to say thank you. I never thought I’d make it out, and you literally saved my life.
And I was wondering—” She meets my eyes, and the vulnerability I saw from the photo before has returned.
“I was wondering if it’d be okay—if I gave you a hug? ”
My eyes widen before I quickly pull myself together. “Uh… sure! Of course it is!”
I shuffle the cardboard tray in my hands, uncertain where to put it. Ms. Stryker doesn’t seem inclined to move, so it’s Nicole who winds up taking it from me, her eyes soft with gratitude. She looks like she might cry.
Emma is almost perfectly my height, and she’s a really good hugger. She pulls me in and squeezes me tight against her sturdy frame. It lasts a bunch of seconds, like she doesn’t want to let me go. I’ll admit, it’s hard not to get a little teary myself.
But when Emma steps back her eyes are dry—and happy.
“So, are you okay? How are you doing?” I ask. She looks fine, but what she’s been through has to have affected her deeply.
She takes another half-step back and scowls down at her hands, making fists.
“I’m still taking time from school. I have nightmares.
Like I’m stuck back there. Panic attacks.
But I’m getting some help with that.” She glances at her mom, who nods.
“Also… when I get anxious… things sometimes blow around the room…”
“And I’ll be helping with that,” Ms. Stryker chimes in, crisply.
“You will?” I’m honestly surprised.
My boss’s smile is more of a wince. “I’m offering lessons in magic to all the children. At least until I’m confident they are in control of their powers. You’ll be joining them.”
“I will?” Now I’m even more surprised. Between cleaning up my mess and wrapping up those delicate fae negotiations off-world, Ms. Stryker has only been in the office a few minutes at a time.
Other than letting me know she confronted Eirian, the truth is we’ve barely said twenty words to each other after she interrogated me last Sunday.
She raises her eyebrows with a “that’s sure what it looks like” kind of expression, clearly not enthusiastic about assuming the role of a teacher, especially of children.
I turn to Nicole, who’d had such an issue with Emma’s magic before, but her smile is broad, tears now fully shining in her eyes. She looks relieved.
“Emma told me what you did. How you got hurt, again and again, and kept on fighting. I don’t know what your big secret is, but you’re a good boy, Alvin. I’m so grateful you were here when I knocked on that door—and I’m glad you’ll be there to watch over my daughter.”
The heat of a strong blush rises to my cheeks, but I swallow hard and say, “Of course.” I look back to Emma. “I’m just glad to see you’re doing better. And if you need anything, please just let me know, okay?”
That sparks a legit grin on Emma’s face, even if it’s a bit shy. “Okay. I will.”
Both mother and daughter gaze at me with warmth and gratitude. Two weeks ago, a moment like this—where anyone would even think about looking at me that way—felt completely out of reach. The real-life version feels better than I could have imagined.
Ms. Stryker startles us all by clapping loudly twice. “All right, people! Thank you for stopping by, but Alvin and I have important work to do. So…!”
She glares meaningfully at the door.
Taking the oh-so-subtle hint, the Brunos beat a hasty exit, Nicole giving my shoulder an affectionate (and perhaps even sympathetic) squeeze on the way out. I follow them to the threshold.
Just before she goes, Emma fixes me with a pointed look.
“That vampire said a bunch of things to us, right before the ritual. Some of it was about you. This is probably too personal and stuff, but if it’s okay, can you tell me… are you really queer?” Her gaze is intense, like this is a matter of life or death.
“Uh… yeah,” I stammer out, completely caught off guard. Mom has implied that all incubi are essentially pansexual, but per usual, my experience hasn’t tracked with hers. I’ve only liked guys so far. Either way, I still qualify.
Her smile broadens. “Cool.”
She offers me a fist bump, and I don’t leave her hanging. Completely satisfied with my response, she trots down the hallway to join her mom.
Up to now, I’ve been thinking of all these kids as innocent victims who I helped save—which of course, they were. But I get the impression that I might have actually just made a friend—a normal, regular kind of friend—and somehow that feels even better.
I close the door. When I turn, Stryker is already popping off the cap of her Nitro Cold Brew.
“So…” I begin tentatively. The offer she casually dropped just a minute ago feels as fragile as a soap bubble. “You’ll, uh, be training me on the regular?”
She leans back against my desk and takes in a deep drag of her coffee before answering.
“That’s right. I don’t yet fully understand how spellcasting works for paranormals, let alone incubi.
But you have power, potentially dangerous power, and since I have decided to keep you a secret, that means you are my responsibility.
” She takes another sip. “I suppose congratulations are in order—you’ve just been upgraded from intern to apprentice.
” She glares up at me over the lid of the paper cup. “Don’t expect cake.”
“Oh, wow!” I take a step toward her. “That’s so awe—”
Her palm immediately comes up. “I swear, if you try to hug me, I will bring you to the ground.”
“Right. Of course! Sorry.”
She rests the cup down on the desk next to her and folds her arms. “And don’t think you’re getting this training for free.
You will be doing all of my grunt work from now on.
Library research. Photo surveillance. And every face-to-face interview that does not involve something with fangs or claws.
You seem to be good with people, and I intend to make full use of that.
In addition, every single hour of magical training I provide will be coming out of your paycheck. ”
“Right. Okay.” I tap the tips of my index fingers together, playing casual. “So, does that mean I’m getting a paycheck now, too?”
“A very small paycheck,” she responds with a hint of a smirk. I think she’s actually enjoying this.
Well, I don’t care if it’s two cents an hour! I look to Collin and let myself full-on grin, eyes wide with wonder. “This is happening. I’m going to be a real paranormal investigator…”
Collin shares my excited smile, but doesn’t say anything.
Like the fake version, the real Sarah Stryker also had concerns about me keeping possession of such a powerful artifact as the watch.
She’s tentatively decided to allow it, but neither one of us wants to push things, so Collin basically just tries to blend into the wallpaper whenever she is around so I won’t get distracted.
She still follows my eyes. “What time is your friend coming over?”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s not talking about Collin.