Chapter 10 Autopilot
AUTOPILOT
RAE
I’m working on autopilot. That’s the only plausible excuse for why I didn’t freak out when I woke up staring at Zeke’s face. I even kept talking to him instead of kicking him out of my bed.
I hadn’t had a man in my house—let alone in my bed—since I moved in.
After using my inheritance to buy the townhouse, I made a point of not bringing men home since I didn’t plan on moving while Grandma lived in Greensboro.
I didn’t need a partner knowing my address if the breakup was messy.
I dealt with enough without needing to look over my shoulder for human threats, too.
After Zeke left, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and checked my voicemail. I’d left my phone on silent because I didn’t want to be bothered after last night.
I’d missed Patricia’s call informing me it’d be another two weeks before the funeral. I assumed she’d rush through it all. Two weeks gave me more time to prepare myself, even if it wouldn’t make things easier. Nothing would.
I headed for the bathroom, pausing when my screen lit up with a text from Maya. Shane wanted me to come in to work today on my day off.
The bastard was only calling me in because of what happened in his office.
My employment contract granted bereavement leave, but I needed to save those days for Grandma’s funeral. I also didn’t want to play twenty questions with Shane when my emotions were all over the place. I might get myself fired—or snap his neck.
Routine was better than sitting alone with my thoughts, so I fired back a text telling Maya I could come in mid-morning.
It’d give me time to get ready and deal with the situation downstairs.
I needed to get my head straight. My mind kept replaying the last twenty-four hours on a loop I couldn’t stop.
Shane’s harassment.
The weird book.
Demons.
Grandma.
The warm shower loosened my muscles and relaxed my mind, but the hollowness inside me remained.
Despite the proof waiting beneath my feet, I couldn’t bring myself to believe the years of psychological torment hadn’t all been in my head. It made no sense that demons who appeared out of thin air couldn’t leave the same way.
I couldn’t exactly return to the bookstore and request a do-over. As weird as the previous encounter had been, I doubted the poor lady working there had anticipated what happened last night. If I showed up and started babbling about demons, she’d call mall security.
I dried off, pulled on faux leather leggings and an oversized dress shirt, and applied a touch of foundation and eyeshadow to mask the dark circles from crying and poor sleep.
I made my way downstairs to find breakfast items covering the counter.
Cyn washed dishes while Zeke and Ash talked at the counter. Ezra sat on the sofa studying the summoning book in his hands.
I placed my phone and purse on the coffee table.
Zeke spun on his stool. “Rae! I like the outfit, but why hide the pretty tattoos?”
“I’m not hiding my tattoos,” I said, entering the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee. “I have to work today.”
I didn’t want them to see the birthmark on the back of my leg. No matter how many people thought it was a tattoo, the color was all wrong, making me self-conscious—especially since it looked eerily similar to the symbol on the book they seemed to recognize.
I didn’t need more reasons to piss off demons.
“Work?” Zeke perked up. “Can I come?”
“No.” I turned, mug in hand, and saw him pouting. “I’ll be gone until this evening, so you have until then to be out of here. Eat what you want, but don’t be here when I get home.”
Zeke looked stricken. “Why not? I thought we were having fun.”
I swallowed my mouthful of coffee and blinked, dumbfounded. “Fun?”
“Well, yeah. When we were lying in bed—”
Ash choked on his bite of toast. “You were in bed with her? She let you sleep with her?”
“No, I didn’t let him sleep with me.”
Ash looked from Zeke to me in confusion.
“He climbed into my bed this morning. I didn’t let him.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” Zeke said with a cheeky grin.
Cyn dropped the pan he was scrubbing and spun around, studying Zeke. “How do you remember it?”
“She pulled me into bed with her.”
Cyn turned toward me, tension obvious in the set of his shoulders.
I took an instinctive step back, lifting my mug like a shield. “What? I don’t remember that at all.”
“Because you thought I was Max.”
My mouth popped open before I realized what had probably happened. I shook my head with a small smile. “That’s because Max sometimes sleeps with me when he stays over.”
Ash looked at Cyn, who turned back to the sink, then glanced at me again. “Who’s Max?”
“That’s what I wondered,” Zeke said, taking a large bite of eggs. He looked over his shoulder at Ezra on the sofa, who paid us no mind. “You eating?”
Ezra turned a page. “I ate toast.”
“But you need protein. You’ve only had an apple since dinner the night before last.”
“I’m fine.” When Zeke opened his mouth to protest, Ezra’s cold features softened as he sighed and closed the book. “I’ll have some eggs and fruit.”
Both Zeke and Ash turned their attention to me again when Ezra joined them.
“So,” Zeke prompted, stuffing another bite of eggs in his mouth.
“Swallow before speaking,” Ezra said, voice quiet.
Zeke swallowed. “Sorry, Ash.” Noticing my puzzled look, he explained, “Ash hates when people talk with food in their mouths.” He tapped his fork against his plate. “Now, back to the important stuff.”
“What?” I took a sip of my coffee.
“Who’s Max?”
“My neighbor’s dog.”
“Wait.” Zeke set his fork down. “You thought I was a dog?”
Cyn snorted a laugh.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting a grown man-demon-whatever to be in my bedroom.”
Ash stood and carried his plate to the dishwasher. “So, you thought Zeke was a dog, pulled him into bed with you, and now he’s smitten. Got it.”
Cyn drained the sink, turned, and leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “He’s not smitten. She’s a novelty.”
I glanced at the clock on the microwave and rushed to add my mug to the dishwasher. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I have to go.” I placed two small sausage links and a slice of buttered toast on a paper towel. “Remember, gone by the evening.”
I hurried across the living room, avoiding their gazes.
“Don’t worry about locking up when you leave.” After sliding on a pair of ankle boots and grabbing my purse, I rushed out the front door without another word.
I probably should have said more or tried to get them out before leaving, but I ran out of time and lacked the emotional bandwidth for another round of their excuses about why they couldn’t leave.
With so much on my plate, I couldn’t worry about otherworldly beings. I didn’t want to unpack the implications of their existence.
This is Earth. Worry about Earth things.
They arrived here fine and dandy; they could leave without my help. Even if I somehow brought them here, the blank page made it clear the ritual only worked in one direction.
I hated feeling guilty for not being able to help them, though.
Ash and Zeke were kind, but Cyn and Ezra hadn’t set the bar very high with their hostile and cold demeanors.
After making it to work, I slipped back into autopilot, letting routine guide me so grief couldn’t rise from where I stuffed it down and swallow me whole.
As the day progressed, I couldn’t help but reflect on the last twenty-four hours and how much my life had changed forever. Losing Grandma—my only confidante—hit harder than expected.
Strangers and family offered the same empty platitudes, saying they took solace in knowing the deceased had lived a long and full life. The words rang hollow. It felt wrong to sum up someone’s life with a passive brush-off.
I couldn’t dismiss the years spent with Grandma with a simple, “I’ll miss her, but she was old and had her fun, so it’s time for her to go.”
She deserves better.
Sliding another box of essential oils across the floor, I opened it and pulled out the pamphlet on top. I couldn’t shake the cloud of melancholy pressing down, threatening to unleash a torrent upon me. I knew grief would inevitably return.
If Heaven and Hell didn’t exist like my family claimed, what did humans have to look forward to? Elyrdin? That’s what the guys said. But what did that mean? Were they even telling the truth? The more I grappled with what I’d always run from, the deeper my confusion grew.
“Raelynn.”
I looked up from the tiny bottles of oil to see Shane staring at me, his brows drawn tight.
“I’ve called your name three times.”
Shit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chasteen. I was really focused on learning about this new brand we got in.” I lifted the pamphlet in my hand.
As much as I hated dishonesty, I wasn’t above lying to my boss to avoid another meeting in his office. Avoiding being alone with Shane felt more important than stabbing him with a box cutter or quitting the job I needed—whichever opportunity presented itself first.
“I told you to call me Shane.”
“What did you need?”
His jaw flexed when I didn’t acknowledge his instruction. I wasn’t playing his game. “Lunch time. Make sure you clock out. Diane’s on me about making sure you girls take your breaks.”
When I stood, he approached me. “I’m sorry about your grandmother.” He sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. Your aunt called Diane an hour ago to tell her when you’d need off for the funeral.”
Blowing out a breath, I put my hand on my forehead. “Right. Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”
I wanted to scream. Patricia called my boss as if I were a child who needed her mama to call her teachers.
“Raelynn,” he said, closing the distance between us, grasping my elbow. “If you need to talk—”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know.”
I backed away, sidestepping the boxes, and left. I needed to text Patricia.