10. Ten
TEN
Knox insisted on driving me home. I told him over and over — and over and over and over — that it wasn’t necessary. He dug his heels in.
I was part vampire for crying out loud. I didn’t need a chaperone. He drove me home anyway. He didn’t have to check his GPS or ask me for my address. He’d been at my house before — not for anything romantic — and remembered the route.
I assumed he’d drop me in front of my house and be on his merry way. Instead, he walked me to the door.
It was odd. This wasn’t a date. Not that I wanted a date to walk me to the door or anything.
“Um … thanks,” I said when we reached my front door. “You really didn’t have to bring me home. I might not look it, but I’m in good shape.”
Yup. That was a stupid thing to say.
Knox let his eyes wander up and down my body before landing on my face. “I wasn’t suggesting you’re in bad shape.”
“I can take care of myself,” I reminded him.
“I’m well aware.”
“Is this because of your mother?” That was a fair assumption, right? “Would she ground you for not seeing a woman home?”
“My mother would find that rude, but she didn’t say anything in your case. I don’t think she would because … well, she just wouldn’t. She knows you’re capable of seeing yourself home.”
“Then why — ?”
He cut me off before I could ask the obvious question. “What do you think we’re dealing with here? With the Axeman, I mean.”
He got right to the heart of matters, which I appreciated. “I don’t know. It could be some sort of demon.”
“But?”
“Lex would have scented a demon.”
“Only if it was the sort of demon he’s familiar with. Besides, gator shifters don’t have the same olfactory prowess as shifters.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Did you really just refer to your ‘olfactory prowess’ with a straight face?”
He obviously didn’t like my teasing tone because he turned defensive. “That’s a thing.”
“Olfactory prowess?”
He frowned. “I don’t need this abuse.”
It was hardly abuse, and I didn’t apologize. “Okay.” I pulled out my keys. “Thanks for the ride.”
He walked halfway down the steps and came back up. “I don’t know if this is a demon,” he said. “It could be a ghost. It could be a witch. It could be someone trying to use the Axeman as cover. We need more information.”
We? Since when were we a “we” in this investigation?
“I’m going to keep digging into this,” he said, ignoring the questioning look on my face. “I assume you’ll do the same.”
I bobbed my head. “I’m too interested to look away.”
“I feel the same.” He hesitated, then barreled forward. “If I find something, I’ll text you. I still have your number.” He waited for me to reciprocate.
I didn’t. “Thanks.” I smiled. “The barbecue was really good, by the way. Your mother is amazing with all the stuff she put together.”
“Do you expect me just to ignore the fact that you didn’t say you would contact me with information if you came across it?”
“Yes.”
He smirked. “I’ll send my mother your regards.” He leaned in just a bit closer, and my breath caught in my lungs. For some reason, whenever he was in my space, I couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “Call me if you find anything good.”
I stared at him, the air between us charged with electricity. If he leaned a little closer and I leaned a little closer … .
I shoved the thought right out of my mind. “I will send you anything I think is important.” It was a slippery response, but I felt no guilt about it.
“Great.” He tossed me a flat smile and then stepped away. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
I pursed my lips as I watched him go. I wanted to throw a parting shot at him, get the last word, for my ego’s sake at the very least. I remained quiet, however, until he’d disappeared in the night.
I WAS UP EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. I had scheduled breakfast with my brother, niece, and nephew. Miles and I did very little interacting under our parents’ roof, despite my mother’s best efforts.
Miles picked Ruby Slipper for today’s breakfast because it was one of my niece Peyton’s favorite spots.
My brother had two ex-wives, one child from each, and he tried to spend time with his kids on an individual and group basis every week.
He wasn’t much of a worker — in fact, he was downright lazy — but he put in the effort with his kids. I had to give him that.
“Aunt Freya!” Peyton threw herself at me when I walked through the door.
I caught her, hugged her, then looked down at her outfit.
She was going through a phase dressing herself.
Her mother believed it was fine — she wasn’t hurting anyone — but it bothered my brother.
That could have been because it was apparent from her choices that Peyton was color blind.
“Nice outfit,” I said, even though I was jarred by what I saw. “It’s … just wow!”
Miles glared at me. “She looks like a Christmas gift in July.”
I managed to refrain from laughing — Peyton’s bottom lip was pronounced enough that I recognized she might fall off the edge if I gave in — and instead took a step back.
She did kind of look like a Christmas present.
Her leggings were forest green. Her skirt was white.
Her shirt was red. For some reason she’d decided to top it all off with a blue cardigan.
“Aren’t you hot in this outfit?” I asked as I tousled her hair.
Peyton rolled her eyes. “Fashion is pain.”
“Who told you that?”
“Tyra Banks.”
“Um … .”
“She’s become obsessed with old episodes of America’s Next Top Model,” Miles volunteered when I sent him a questioning look. “They’re on Hulu.”
“That show is like 20 years old,” I told Peyton.
“Fashion never goes out of style,” she replied, tugging my hand. “Come on. Mom is going to take me shopping for back-to-school clothes soon, and I want you to help me pick them out.”
It seemed too soon for that. When I did the math, Peyton still had six weeks of summer vacation. I remembered going school shopping a week or two before classes started. Of course, I hadn’t been as fashion-obsessed.
“I want to see whatever you have to show me,” I promised.
Miles rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Don’t stomp on her spirit,” I shot back. “If she wants to go nuts with her clothes, who cares? There are worse things in this world.”
Miles’s grimace disappeared, and he nodded.
Holly’s disappearance had shaken him in a different way.
He’d been older and saw it as his job to look out for his younger sisters, even if he never had.
He was seven years older than me and five years older than Holly.
He’d been doing his own thing in college when Holly disappeared.
He hadn’t lived at home, opting for the dorms instead. There was nothing he could have done.
That didn’t stop him from blaming himself. I’d been younger, and I blamed myself, too. Our whole family had been scarred.
“Fine,” he said after a beat. “I’ll get cheerier about the clothes.” He sent his daughter an exaggerated smile, which made her giggle.
One crisis averted, I focused on my nephew Luc.
He was 13 going on 45. He liked the normal teenage stuff, video games, and TikTok videos.
He was starting to show interest in girls, but he tried to pretend otherwise.
He ogled when he didn’t think anyone was watching.
I was waiting for that to turn into a thing.
I was more concerned about him than Peyton.
“How’s it going, bud?” I ruffled his hair because I knew it bothered him. He didn’t fix it for a change.
“Good.” His smile was soft, and he seemed legitimately happy to see me. “How are you? Haven’t seen any of those ghost things again, have you?”
I flicked a quick look to Miles and registered the muscle that worked in his jaw.
Weeks ago, during an attack at my parents’ house when invaders came looking for the resurrection stones my father had accumulated, Luc had almost been hurt.
He’d been forced to witness the attack, which resulted in my parents being taken, and I’d been sealed in a coffin for a regenerative sleep.
Knox had done that. He’d also waited until I was back to full strength to leave. Just thinking about that had me internally sighing. Was I going to give him whatever information on the Axeman killings I could find? Apparently, I was.
“No more ghost shadows,” I promised him, seeing no reason to correct his word choice. He didn’t need to know what had attacked us. All he needed to know was that they were gone. “They’re not coming back, Luc.”
He was having a moment, his brow wrinkling. He looked younger than his years. “I saw on the television that there are dead people.”
It was only then that I realized what had really gotten him going. “Luc, that thing on the television, you don’t have to worry about that. It’s not the same.”
“But people said it’s bad and that it’s a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Miles made a face. This was the sort of thing that had him falling down on the job. “They were covering ghosts on the news? That’s not possible.”
“They were,” Luc insisted. “I saw it. Mom said to stop watching because it would give me nightmares, but I saw it.”
“Tell him he didn’t see what he thought he saw,” Miles ordered me.
Thankfully, the server arrived to take our orders, allowing me time to think about my response.
“I want French Toast Bites,” Peyton announced. She had her phone out and was studying some sort of tween fashion blog.
“You need something more than that,” Miles interjected.
Peyton let loose a sigh that only a parent could tolerate. “I’ll have the tater tots on the side.”
Miles opened his mouth — to suggest she order fruit instead, I was certain — but I shook my head to stop him. This was not worth arguing about. He let loose a sigh to match Peyton’s, then turned to Luc. “How about you?”
“I want the breakfast tacos and a pineapple juice,” my nephew replied.
The server snapped her gum, something that irritated me on about eight different levels, and turned to Miles.
“I’ll have the Spanish omelet and about eight cups of coffee,” my brother said.
“That should help with your patience,” I teased.