CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The sun woke him, bright through his eyelids.
His mother had drawn his curtains but not all the way, leaving a spear of light in the exact wrong place.
Keen groaned and did what he always did: he rolled over.
Except this time, shooting pain froze him in place.
Blinding sun or not, he couldn’t move. His arms ached and one leg was…
The muscles felt shredded. Dear Goddess, what had happened to him?
Then it came back in a flood: the catacombs. The bone dust and skulls. The foul oiliness of demonic energy. The trek alone down a long, echoing tunnel with only a flickering flame to guide him. And at the end of the tunnel–
A shudder racked him, bringing him fully awake – awake to pain and confusion.
He was lying on his back, a slash of sunlight falling over his eyes.
He blinked and managed to turn his head.
Where was he? Blue curtains, white walls, crooked shelves heavy with books, a worn desk and chair in the corner.
Right. I’m home . He vaguely remembered the ambulance ride, the specially designed wagon smooth as silk despite the bumpy roads in Otherside, a female medic hovering over him, dark face scrunched with concern.
Memories of his mother weeping and demanding answers, and he trying to reassure her – uselessly, since he could barely speak or move without help.
Somehow, the two medics and his frantic mother got him up the stairs and into his bed.
Oblivion soon followed, thank the Goddess.
Suddenly, his breath came hard and fast. A tightness squeezed his chest. He sat up, too quickly; agony roared through him and he hunched over, teeth clenched.
The pain eased and left him panting. His heart galloped.
He touched the bandages on his forearms with trembling fingers.
A thick swath swaddled his thigh beneath his blankets.
Gingerly, he stretched. A tug across his back told him he’d caught an injury there, too.
For a moment, he could almost feel demonic claws tearing through his skin.
Sweat coated his upper lip, sprang from his armpits and forehead.
He felt dizzy. At the time, in the thick of it, he’d acted instinctively, his training taking over, quashing his fear, but now, in the quiet of his childhood room, the terror roared up.
Not because of those shrieking, swirling elemental demons, but from what they’d been protecting.
A deep darkness. A bottomless pit. A presence. Pure malevolence.
Rising…
Moving stiffly, he threw back the covers and flung his legs to the side.
The wooden floor was cold beneath his bare feet, but he was sweating by the time he managed to lever himself out of bed.
A clean uniform waited for him in his closet, freshly pressed, neat as a pin.
He assumed the uniform he’d worn last night was in rags somewhere.
Aches and stinging pain racked each movement as he struggled into his clothes.
He had to stop and catch his breath with his pants still at his knees, but he finally prevailed and finished dressing.
His sash and bandolier of potions were on his desk, laid out for him with special care.
He noted with surprise that his array of vials had been fully replenished, and his heart warmed at his mother’s attentiveness and quiet efficiency.
The delightful aroma of sizzling pork tickled his nose once he had his weapons securely in place and his stomach growled noisily.
There came a gentle tap on his door and he smiled.
“Come in, Mama,” he said in a voice cracked and raw.
He cleared his throat as the door swung inward and turned to greet her.
But it wasn’t his mother standing in the doorway holding a tray of food.
“Your mother sent me up with lunch,” Abigail Hollander said with a tentative smile.
Keen’s knees gave out and he sat on his rumpled bed, the old springs creaking embarrassingly loudly.
He felt his cheeks and ears grow warm and hoped the dim lighting would hide his furious blushing.
Abigail Primm was in his room . Young Oleander Keen, good ole Charity-case, was beside himself.
It was a dream come true, even under such strange circumstances.
Nevertheless, the investigator inside him had to ask, why was she here?
Abigail flowed into his room and settled the tray on his desk.
She gave him a look, her cheeks apple red, as if to apologize for her intrusion, and moved closer, her steps a whisper against the smooth floorboards, a simple smile on her lips.
She stood tantalizingly close, almost close enough for him to touch her.
This time, she wore a satin frock in a demure midnight blue with a touch of lace at the collar and cuffs rather than her nightclothes.
The dress hugged her curves intriguingly and the rich color brought out tones of blue in her black hair.
Her beauty took his breath away and he was fifteen again, awkward, shy and vulnerable.
The sweet smile turned to a look of deep concern, her smooth forehead wrinkling prettily.
“I heard about your troubles, Officer Keen, and felt I must come pay a visit.” A tremor shook her lower lip.
Was she that upset for him? “After what you did for me the other night… I couldn’t–” Tears glimmered at her eyes and she bit her lower lip, evidently overwhelmed.
Keen stood, swallowing a hiss of pain and fighting to keep from grimacing – he didn’t want her to worry – and closed the distance between them.
Brazenly, he took her by the arms – a kindly gesture, a friend comforting another.
“I’m fine,” he said, squeezing gently. “It’s all part of the job. Really.”
Her smile lit the room and his heart swelled. Who needed the sun with Abigail Primm around?
It’s Hollander now.
He let go of her and stepped back. Her smile dimmed somewhat, and she seemed to lean toward him… or was he imagining it?
“Your job is so dangerous,” she exclaimed breathlessly, “though I blame the PKs for putting you in such peril. Who knew that inspector was a madwoman? I suppose I didn’t understand the risk of having a half-demon partner.
She seemed so nice the other evening, so helpful and kind.
” She shook her head ruefully. “I’m not always the best judge of character, apparently. ”
Was she referring to Dirk? He felt a surge of hope, forgetting that the woman standing in front of him was married in the eyes of the Realm and the Goddess. If her own husband was a threat to her–
“Wait, what?” He blinked rapidly, forcing himself back to reality. “What did you say about my partner?”
Now she did lean toward him, resting a slim, pale hand on his arm.
A slight wince creased her face at the touch; she must have felt the bandages underneath his uniform.
“The rumors have been flying. The sisters are saying Inspector Viridian attacked you after forcing you into the catacombs on some wild-goose chase!”
Aghast, he shook his head. “That isn’t what happened!
My partner saved my life. Demons attacked me, not Viridian.
And it wasn’t a goose chase, for the love of the Goddess.
We found… I found something, something evil.
I fear it threatens the entire town. It lurks beneath Bright Renewal Academy, a – a presence of demonic origin! ”
Her hand snapped back, like his arm had burned her. “Bright Renewal? You must be mistaken. Nothing evil could come from that place. They do the Goddess’s work. Why, I should know; I volunteer at the Academy twice a week.”
“You work there? At Bright Renewal?” Something cold crawled through his belly. He took her by the arms again, grabbing her roughly, worry and fear making him bold. “It’s dangerous, Abby. You shouldn’t go there.”
She laughed, a bright peal. “It’s hardly dangerous,” she scoffed.
She didn’t pull out of his grip. If anything, she moved closer to him.
Her hands rose to rest on his chest, and she looked up at him, blue eyes limpid.
“Thank you for being concerned, but I have nothing to fear at the Academy. No one does. I think someone might be playing a trick on you, Officer Keen. Or… can I call you Oleander?”
For another long moment he forgot himself, swept up in the moment, his name on her lips a wish fulfilled.
Only his worry made him push past the sweet fluttering in his belly.
“Abby, please listen to me. I saw it. I felt it. That… thing is ancient, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever come across as a demonhunter. Powerful doesn’t begin to describe it.”
Her smile vanished and a line appeared between her brows.
“Oh, Oleander, I cannot take these wild flights of fancy seriously. A demonic entity? Wild fights in the catacombs? I know your job forces you to confront terrible dangers, hideous darkness, but none of that is here in Havenside. This town is peaceful. Good. Why, the only thing I fear–” Again, she bit her lower lip.
A trembling lip. Her eyes cut away from him and her cheeks turned apple red once more.
Concerned, he pulled her ever so slightly closer, longing to kiss those rose-bright cheeks. But beneath his desire was smoldering anger. He knew what she feared. Who she feared. “If he’s hurt you…” he said in a low, intense voice. “You have to tell me. I can keep you safe, Abby.”
Her eyes returned to him, blinking furiously as if keeping back her tears. Her lashes were long and as dark as her hair. Keen swallowed. He’d kiss those soft eyelids, too, when he got the chance.