S’mores does a backflip in my gut.

  I back up and let the EMTs in, and try not to think about what I’m covered in.

  At a guess, I’m going to say the Civic driver didn’t make it… the car was small to begin with, but it’d fit in a glove compartment now. Though, I don’t see a body inside. All around me, the guys curse and swear at the foulness. The woman from the pickup complains of soreness in her neck, but doesn’t appear to have suffered significant injury. She does, however, strip to her underwear right there on the street before asking one of us to turn a hose on her.

  Herlihy obliges.

  While he’s spraying her down, I have a ‘screw it’ moment and walk over to stand next to her so he can rinse off my coat, pants, and boots.

  Sims sends O’Keefe and Lancaster into the spray as well.

  No sense getting shit all over the inside of the truck. And yeah, we’ll probably be riding home standing on the back ledge.

  Did I mention it’s in my hair?

  When we return to the station, I re-enact that scene from the movie with the space soldiers and the giant bugs: co-ed shower. At the guys’ initial surprised looks of me strolling past them naked, I mutter, “Not waiting, and I’m not gonna ask anyone to wait for me. That was fucking nasty.”

  The guys are total gentlemen about it as far as I can tell, since I’m not really looking at anything but myself and the wonderful bar of soap. Everyone’s quiet for a few minutes until O’Keefe grumbles about that being the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen.

  “They’re going to be pumping those people so full of antibiotics they won’t catch so much as a cold for the next fifteen years,” says Lancaster in the stall next to mine.

  Everyone shudders.

  “I had a feeling today would suck when a cockatrice walked onto my bus this morning… but I didn’t exactly expect two thousand pounds of uncontained sewage.”

  Herlihy gags.

  “Did you see the look on that cop when he got back up,” asks Baker, near to laughing.

  “About the same look Amari had on her face when she opened that door.” Lancaster retches.

  Baker’s laughter stops. “Oh. Right.”

  Lamar walks into the stall on my right. “Let he who is not covered in shit cast the first glop.”

  “That’s just nasty,” says McCafferty.

  “Hey, did the Honda guy make it?” Humberto slams a locker door somewhere off to the left.

  Warm wonderful water on my face pushes the memories out of my brain.

  “Barely.” McCafferty whistles. “First rule of driving a tiny car: do not cut off giant trucks and slam on your brakes. It would be easier to list the bones he didn’t break.”

  I let my head sag forward until it touches the wall, hot water cascading down my back. I don’t care that I’m the only woman in a room full of guys and most of us are nude. I don’t care that I should’ve been home an hour ago. I don’t much care to do anything for the foreseeable future but stand here cocooned in soap and steam, trying to scrub the memory of the last call out of my brain.

  “Gonna be smelling that for weeks,” grumbles Lancaster.

  “Hey, Keefe, you got some TP in your hair,” says Humberto.

  I throw up a little in the back of my throat.

  “I can still smell it,” mutters Lancaster.

  “Dude, it’s all in your head.” Herlihy laughs.

  Stretching, I turn my back to the spray, which gives me a view of a room full of firemen showering. Evidently, we all have the same idea: stand in the shower until skin falls off. Since none of them are checking me out, I keep my gaze on the floor at my feet. This is totally like one of those things that happens in the Army or something where the whole platoon sees something so damn awful they all agree it never happened.

  Yeah… this has been the ‘Monday’ from hell. Hello, Universe? If you could go ahead and not send me any more overturned shit trucks, that would be great. Thanks.

  12

  The Delete Button

  An inordinate amount of air-fresheners crops up in the station house Wednesday.

  Lieutenant Sims gives me an odd look that I think means he knows we broke the unwritten ‘shower protocol.’ It’s basically an ‘I understand, but don’t make a habit of it’ sort of expression. I nod and carry on with hose inspection… and not the one in the shower. Actual hoses.

  It hits me how odd it is that I’ve never felt the least bit tempted to cheat. Granted, it’s impossible to cheat on a guy when I don’t have an official boyfriend. But, I consider Jason official, and even in a room full of naked firefighters I didn’t at all feel the temptation. Odd that my weak impulse control should not apply in that situation. Maybe it’s because I grew up with Mom being so weird about Dad. For most of my life, I assumed myself a child of rape and hated/feared some despicable, faceless male figure who did something so awful to my mother that she couldn’t even talk about him. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined she suffered a mind-control enchant from an Elestari and seduced Dad.

  Though, I’m sure he didn’t exactly require much convincing.

  The day is slow. A little after one that afternoon, I conspire with Herlihy to play with Sims’ head a little by perching at the opening for the pole on the second story. As soon as the lieutenant walks into the garage area, Herlihy jogs over to the pole, says something about having a fey ancestor, and I pull him upward with telekinesis so it looks like he just slid up the pole to the second floor.

  That Brian is this huge Viking-looking ginger-bearded dude makes it all the funnier.

  Our co-conspirator, Lamar, is hopefully in position to get a good picture of Sims’ face.

  Yeah. We’re bored.

  But bored is good… it means no one is burning.

  Jason picks me up at 6:22 p.m.

  I filled in the time between my end-of-shift at six and his arrival on the phone with Mom. She’s okay and I’m starting to think that the warmongers might have only talked about kidnapping her as a trick. Just something to drive me crazy without any real intent to do anything to Mom.

  “You look beautiful… but tired,” says Jason as I climb into his pickup. “Still up for this?”

  “Yeah. I need it.” I pull the door closed, let my head fall back against the seat, and sigh. “Sorry if I’m a little weary at the moment.”

  He pulls out onto the street, heading for my place. “Not a problem. Heard you guys had a shitty day.”

  I groan.

  “Couldn’t resist.”

  “Neither can anyone else.” I chuckle. “It was so bad no one even noticed I ripped the truck open with my bare hands. I think they all just wanted to get the hell away from that mess as fast as possible.”

  “Don’t blame them. How’s your mom?”

  “Fine.” I spend a few minutes talking about how I’ve started wondering if it’s just a head game. “I mean it makes no sense for them to do it at all, so maybe they’re just playing with me.”

  “What for?”

  “Couple hundred years of mind games could make me snap. Maybe I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. They’re not planning anything on the scale of a human lifetime here.”

  Jason thinks that over for a moment while hunting for a parking space near my building. “That’s hard to wrap my brain around.”

  “Does it bother you that I’m going to live that long?”

  He kills the engine and grins at me. “Only in the sense of being somewhat jealous that some other guy will get to spend time with you after I’m gone. Though, I’ll eventually be the creepy old guy lucky enough to have a young lady on his arm.”

  I laugh. “And on that note… be right back.”

  He nods.

  My closet contains one Little Black Dress ™. I decide to let it out to play. For a moment, I consider front-loading another less expensive-slash-delicate thing to wear for hanging out at Jason’s place later into the amulet, but nah. I think we’ve gotten to the point where it wouldn’t be weird to be casually naked around him. Of course, if that turns out to be awkward, there’s the illusionary outfit or I can steal one of his shirts. Since our plans tonight involve a dark theater and a restaurant, I shimmy into the dress sans underwear… you know, just in case I need to use the tail.

  The amulet Natalie made for me hangs out in the open over the plunging neckline, but despite being a little chibi succubus, it doesn’t look too out of place. Wonder what she made it out of? Some manner of red enamel with gold outline. I hope she didn’t use up too much expensive stuff for me.

  Frilly goth stuff aside, I’ve never been all that into overly femme clothes, but I do have one pair of high heels, shiny black ones, that have ribbon ties instead of straps. I thought them cute—and ridiculously expensive. They’re one of the last things I ever stole, a few days before I turned eighteen, and they still look newish because I’ve only worn them like four times. Honestly, I stole them purely out of protest that someone seriously thought anyone would pay that much for shoes. Kind of a F-U to the nose-in-the-sky crowd. Who pays $2,400 for $38 worth of leather because some French dude puts his name on something?

  And okay, maybe I stole them because I couldn’t afford them.

  I hit the perfume a little heavier than normal out of paranoia that some lingering reek from the septic truck may remain somewhere that I can’t detect since my brain decided it’s no longer on speaking terms with my nose… at least for a few more days.

  Once dressed, I hurry back down to the truck. Jason spends a moment or two staring at me.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m impersonating a female at the moment.”

  He chuckles. “You’re astoundingly beautiful.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Dunn.” I fake fan myself.

  He drives to his place and runs inside to change out of his uniform to a nice dark blue-grey shirt and black pants. From there, we head downtown to a nice but not over-the-top Italian restaurant. I try to pick something I’ll be able to finish, so I order this clams-and-mussels over pasta dish. He tries the lobster ravioli.

  Our attempt at normal conversation over dinner starts off with fire department stuff, though I avoid talking about the accident since I’m trying to eat. It soon drifts into matters of a more esoteric nature when he asks about Mom. For some reason, I decide to just open up and whine at him about how annoyed I am that the ‘forces of evil’ are threatening my mother and how it makes no sense, and how I only want to be left out of the whole destroying the world thing. He listens patiently until I catch myself feeling too much like a kid who wants someone else to make the bad stuff stop happening.

  “That’s a bit of a mess, yeah.” He takes a sip of wine. “You’re right though. Even the idiots who want to go back to killing each other ought to be able to figure out it’s stupid to threaten someone who’ll die anyway if you blow up the Earth.” He gets a strange grin for a few seconds, but forces it away. “What if you try and act blasé, like it wouldn’t bother you?”

  “Jason, that’s my mother.”

  “Right. Hence, act. If they think you wouldn’t care, they’d leave her alone.”

  I stab a mussel with my fork. “Yeah but I couldn’t be like that in front of her. What if she didn’t realize I was bluffing?”

  “I’m sure she’d understand.”

  “She still doesn’t believe any of this is real.”

  He rushes a mouthful of food. “Didn’t you show her the wings?”

  “Yeah.” I twirl linguini around the mussel. “I can’t tell if she’s just trying to not think about it or if she’s really having a mental thing and refusing to let it in. Maybe the shock of it went beyond her ability to process and she just ignored it.”

  Jason quirks an eyebrow. “Can’t you peek into people’s thoughts?”

  “That’s my mother!” I gasp, then wind up snickering. “I mean, I realize I grew up in a trailer park, but I’m pretty sure mind-reading my own mother is taboo.”

  He sputters, nearly choking on laughter.

  Our conversation continues on a lighter tone from there, mostly about the musical we’re going to see, Cats, being older than hell and still on stage. Hell, I’ll probably still be able to catch a show of it 300 years from now… assuming the world still exists.

  I’ve found a new awesome hobby while sitting in the dark theater next to Jason.

  Every so often, I use my telekinesis to move random small objects on the stage to mess with the actors. Gotta give ’em credit though. None have broken character or flubbed a line—though they’ve made some interesting faces.

  Though I shouldn’t call it a new hobby. Doing it at a professional theater production is the new part. I’ve been using telekinesis as an outlet for restless energy most of my life. Moving teachers’ chairs out from under them when they go to sit down, disappearing dry erase markers or light wands… Probably the worst thing I ever did with TK was when I de-pantsed this kid Patrick during the fifth grade talent show. He used to pick on me mercilessly for being poor, so while he was in the middle of singing—make that murdering—Sweet Child o’ Mine, I gave the entire school a look at his cartoon briefs. Thinking back on it, I kinda regret doing it. He went from extrovert to introvert overnight. But at least he never picked on me again.

  Anyway… cats.

  I lean against Jason and enjoy the rest of the show.

  After the theater, we head to Jason’s place.

  I leave my shoes by the door, happy to be free from heels, and join him on the sofa. He’s not big on drinking due to his father being a mean alcoholic, so we sip iced green tea while unwinding and talking about the show.

  “I liked it, but they kinda overacted a little,” says Jason.

  “How so?”

  He waves about as if trying to grab a word out of the air. “Not sure how to explain it. They kept making these strange bug-eyed expressions that didn’t seem to fit what was going on at the time.”

  I die laughing.

  Jason gives me the side eye. “I sense some foul play was afoot.”

  “A little.” I make a pinchy gesture. “Some random little items might’ve been moving around the stage on their own.”

  He cackles, then sets his tea down, rolls toward me, and attacks with tickling fingers. “Sounds like someone needs to be punished.”

  I squeal and squirm away while laughing, trying not to spill my drink. The next thing I know, I’m draped across his lap and he’s patting my ass. I prop my chin up on one hand, tapping a finger at my cheek.

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been spanked. Is that where you’re going?”

  He hums appraisingly while rubbing my rear end. “Not sure. You just kinda wound up there.”

  “We could try it if you want, but I’m not at all into cuffs or being tied up or anything like that.”

  Jason’s hands keep roaming around my body. “That’s good since I don’t have any. Not really into that sort of thing either. Though, it is kinda ironic.”

  “What’s ironic?”

  “Your being a half… not-demon and having no temptation to get kinky. Figured the demons would be all about that stuff.”

  “Oh, it’s usually the prim and proper types who are. I bet the Elestari have some super twisted sex.” I roll over and smile up at him. “Blame the cops. I hate being confined.”

  “Seems like it would be pretty difficult to contain you.” He leans down and kisses me.

  “If I knew then what I know now…” I kiss him back. “I’d probably be in a cage somewhere in a secret government facility.”

  His eyebrows go up. “That bad?”

  “Well, cops hate it when people break out of jail. Especially if the ‘break’ part is literal.”

  “You never told me you did time.”

  I giggle. “Because I really didn’t. Longest I ever spent locked up was a weekend. They detained me a lot, but I never really got charged with anything. Call it ‘taxpayer-funded babysitting.’ You know, now that I think about it, maybe I was using mental influence on the cops without even realizing it.”

  “You’ve definitely charmed me.” He grins.

  “Jason?” I reach up and grab his shirt, pulling him down until our noses touch. “I think we should go upstairs before we wind up on the floor again.”

  He scoops me up and stands. “Your wish is my command.”

  It’s gotta be after one in the morning by the time we stop.

  Messing with actors isn’t the most fun I’ve ever had with telekinesis. It can certainly make for some interesting positions. Whoever wrote the Kama Sutra couldn’t even have imagined the effect levitation has on lovemaking. Jason’s splayed out on the bed like he’d fallen out of an airplane, staring at the ceiling with a dumbfounded grin. Hmm. Maybe I am a succubus after all. He does kind of look like I drained his life energy out via his groin.

  I roll toward him, sliding one arm and one leg across him. My chibi succubus amulet dangles down to his chest. He shifts his eyes to meet mine.

  “You can’t possibly be ready for round… three?”

  I tap a fingertip to his nose. “You mean five?”

  He emits a nervous laugh.

  “No… just want to cuddle. I’m tired.”

  Jason smiles. “Sorry for keeping you up too late. The morning’s going to be rough.”

  “Thank you for a wonderful night.” I let my head rest on his shoulder, wondering if it’s a bad sign that his skin feels warm to me. Then again, an ice cube would feel warm compared to dry ice. “Tonight was like a delete button for the awful ‘Monday’ I had yesterday.”

  “I suppose disgusting traffic accidents and stray cockatrices are better than chasing a serial arsonist. Speaking of… how’s Lawrence doing?”

 

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