Eleventh Grave in Moonlight Page 37

 

He reached from behind me and disconnected the call. Then he stepped closer, drowning me in his warmth. Saturating every cell. Filling every dark corner.

 

He leaned into me. Pressed his mouth to my ear. Whispered, “Care to explain?”

 

I turned to him at last. He towered over me. Curious. Worried. And a little angry. I didn’t know what to say. I’d exploded and ended up thousands of miles away. So I decided to change the subject. “Does that closet look familiar?”

 

He didn’t turn around. Didn’t take his eyes off me. Didn’t change his expression in the least.

 

“It’s just like the one at the convent.”

 

“Is it?” he asked, still refusing to look. “There’s an angel with a sword wound explaining to Jehovah right now how he got it.”

 

“Reyes,” I said, alarmed. “What did you do?”

 

“What did I do?” he asked, deathly still.

 

“Well, yes.” I pushed against him. He didn’t budge. “You got into a fight with an angel?”

 

“Three. I thought…” He bit down but didn’t give up his position. “I thought they took you.”

 

“You thought they took me?” I asked, both stunned and flattered. “Why would they take me? Wait, no, where would they take me?”

 

“It’s not important. Why are you here?” He glanced around the cottage just as Bernie came up behind him, his expression grave as he said, “Grab me a chib, wifey. Shite’s about to get real.”

 

“Bernie, wait,” I said, pushing past Reyes and holding up my hands. “This is my husband. He came to get me.”

 

Bernie continued to glower as Bertrice ran up behind him with a knife. “A good nip is all this’ll take, I imagine.”

 

“It’s okay, really. He’s a good guy.”

 

Bernie relaxed, but just barely. “He’s no right to pin ye against your will.”

 

I turned back to Reyes. “Bernie has a point.”

 

Reyes glared at me, then crossed his arms over his chest. What he said to the man, in a perfect Scottish accent, floored me to no end. “I wouldnae refuse a square go, but I’d best warn ye, I’m solid.”

 

It was at that point that I melted. Only a little. Mostly in the knees.

 

 

10

 

 

Thank God I don’t have to hunt for my food. I don’t even know where tacos live.

— MEME

 

Bernie stepped closer to my husband, his chest puffing in a display of strength and fearlessness. “Solid or no, ye pin her like that again, ye’ll find yourself covered in your own blood.”

 

He and Reyes stood nose to nose for a tense minute before Bertrice slapped her husband on the back. “Let it go, Bernie. That one’ll see ye to your grave afore ye ken he even moved.” She looked at me and winked. “He’s a braw one, aye?”

 

“Yes,” I said, wrapping an arm in Reyes’s. Since I didn’t know if she meant beautiful or brave, I just agreed. “He is definitely a braw one. This is Reyes.”

 

Bernie took Reyes’s hand. Amends were made. Biscuits were eaten because who doesn’t like biscuits that taste like cookies?

 

We said our good-byes and promised to visit again. I couldn’t get the closet out of my mind. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

 

We walked in the dark a ways, the chill less chilly with Reyes near. It was like having my own personal traveling heater and latte maker. The man could make a latte.

 

Also, he’d given me his jacket. It was like a huge, comfy blanket, and it smelled like him. I struggled to keep from molding it to my face and breathing him in.

 

Since I had no idea how we were going to get home – Reyes basically teleported over – I turned to him. “So,” I said, my breath fogging on the air, “any idea how we’re getting back?”

 

We’d stopped in a grove of trees, and Reyes was leaning against one, watching me. Studying.

 

When he spoke, it was with that same Scottish lilt. The one that melted my knees. And my panties. Mostly my panties.

 

“Come here, lass.”

 

I did. How could I not? He pulled me into his arms, where it was warm and safe.

 

“Care to tell me what happened?” he asked in his normal accent. Oddly enough, it still worked for me.

 

I shrugged. If he wanted a conversation, he’d get one. “Care to tell me why you want me to drop the Foster case?”

 

He tensed and looked off into the distance but said nothing.

 

“How about the fact that you’re a god. I mean, you just found out. What do you think? What do you remember?”

 

Silence again.

 

“What about the god glass? It’s clearly upsetting you that I have it.”

 

Nothing.

 

I pushed out of his arms and walked to a brook. The moon overhead glinted on the bubbling water. “Okay, we can always talk about the promise you made to Michael. Do you remember that?”

 

When I turned back, he was watching me again, his dark eyes glistening as though the moon danced inside them.

 

“You promised him you’d get all three gods of Uzan off the plane. He tricked you, since you had no idea at the time that you were one of the three. But is there like a loophole? How are we going to get around that?” I waited, but not long. “And speaking of the god glass, there are innocent souls trapped in there. Now they are trapped with an assassin demon named Kuur and a malevolent god, Mae’eldeesahn. I have to get them out. I’ve been racking my brain, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what a hell dimension is like.”

 

At that point, I was more or less voicing my stream of consciousness. If he didn’t want to chat with me, I’d chat with me. I was excellent company.