Page 1

CHAPTER ONE

N o matter how justified, killing family members is still homicide.

Cody kept the reminder on a loop in his mind. He hadn’t been expecting to host a Bower family dinner that year, but he and Demmy seemed to be pulling it off so far..

“Do you have any other chairs?”

Roman had tried to temper his usual attitude, but Cody could hear the sneer in the question.

“You could sit on the sofa in the living room,” Cody said. “And eat at the kids’ table.”

“I hate that I’m sitting at the kids’ table,” Summer said from the other room.

They’d used both leaves to extend the table almost the full width of the dining room, leaving little space for Cody and Demmy to sit at each end. Even with the table fully extended, they were all squished in tight for dinner. And they’d had to borrow two card tables and chairs to set up in the living room for the kids. “Here, take mine,” Demmy said as he got up.

Cody grit his teeth to keep from barking an order at Demmy to sit down. Roman could suffer in the folding chair with the sprung back support.

“No, no.” Roman held up a hand, and, to his credit, tried to smile. “It’s fine.”

“You’re sure?” Demmy had stopped, blocked by Amelia’s chair.

“I’m sure. Let’s just eat.”

And get this over with might as well have been written in the air above Roman’s head like a comic strip speech bubble. Cody checked, double-checked, then triple-checked his temper as he watched Demmy battle his chair back into place. When he’d finally managed to once again squeeze into his seat, he looked down the table at Cody and smiled.

“Are we all settled now?” Cody said, thinking he did a pretty damn good job of keeping the full intensity of the snark he felt out of his tone. “Can we eat?”

“We haven’t said grace,” Brock said from the living room. His voice broke into a squeak on the word ‘grace.’ He was Roman and Madison’s son, just turned fourteen, and his voice was changing. Cody heard Summer, Brock’s older sister, groan.

“What?” Brock said, his tone indignant. Cody leaned to his right, looking past his father’s shoulder and through the doorway into the living room where he was able to see Brock looking back at him. He’d been hit hard by the puberty bat, gaining not only a squeaky voice, but a glistening complexion and a constellation of acne across his forehead. “We always say grace at home.”

Cody gave him a tight smile. It wasn’t Brock’s fault Roman was his father. No need to take anything out on the kid. Cody needed to save all of that up for face to face conversations with his older brother.

“You know what, Brock? You’re right. We should say grace. Do you want to do the honors?”

When he faced the table again, Cody caught a wink and a smile from Demmy. That made him feel more relaxed. A little.

“Okay.” In the living room, Brock clasped his hands and bowed his head over his plate, pausing to gather his thoughts.

Cody clasped his hands as well, but kept his head up. He looked along the table at his family who’d all come back to Parson’s Hollow on short notice. His parents, Greg and Alice, had driven in from Denver, along with Grant, the oldest of the five Bower boys, and his partner MacKenzie, who wore an orange and brown scarf wrapped around her shaved head. They’d convoyed with their parents because they’d brought along their three kids: Conrad, Mac’s son from another man, and the two kids she had with Grant, Brooke and Dexter, all sitting at one of the kids’ tables in the living room. They’d also brought a generous portion of cannabis which they maintained in a greenhouse on the property.

Roman, the next oldest, had groused about paying last minute rates for a flight, but had come with his wife, Madison, and their kids, Summer, and Roman’s miniature look-alike, Brock, who was still thinking about what to say for grace. Cody’s younger brother Dave was there, of course, because he lived in Parson’s Hollow now, as well as Ollie, to whom Dave was now engaged, though Cody didn’t like to dwell too long on that because… gross. Even the youngest Bower boy, Brady, had made the trip, along with his wife, Hilari, and their four-year-old daughter Erin, who had earned a chair at the grown-up’s table due to her age. Amelia and Otis were seated down by Demmy, and Amelia had helped cook the meal as well.

“Thank you, God, for the bountiful meal before us,” Brock began, his voice creaking and crackling through the words. “We are grateful for the opportunity for us all to gather together to share in this meal. Bless all who have come together under this roof and those they love. And please welcome Great-Grandma Felicia into your loving embrace. She will be missed. Amen.”

Tears burned in Cody’s eyes. He swallowed past a hot lump of emotion that seemed to be stuck just behind the hollow of his throat. Using the edge of his napkin, he wiped his eyes and looked into the living room. Brock was watching him.

“Was that okay?” Brock’s voice cracked on the last syllable.

Cody smiled and nodded. “That was perfect. Thank you.”

He grinned, then reached eagerly for the bowl of mashed potatoes in front of him. Cody was about to turn back to his own plate when he caught Summer’s eye. She smiled, and he smiled back. She’d grown into a smart and open-minded young woman, a miraculous feat considering she’d been raised by Roman. She’d received a full-ride scholarship to Sarah Lawrence, and Cody was overjoyed her enrollment at such a liberal enclave of open thinking had to have raised Roman’s hackles.

The clink and clatter of serving utensils at the grown-up’s table lifted his spirits a bit. He sat for a moment and watched the people he loved—yes, he had to admit, even Roman, dammit—as they dished out sides and grabbed slices of ham or cuts of chicken.

He filled his own plate, smiling and making small talk. But it was difficult to follow even the most simple trains of conversation. How long would it take for him to lose the anxious knots and concerns that he hadn’t done enough? How long until his nervous system understood she was gone, that she wasn’t sitting in Parson’s Pines, anxious and frightened without him there.

“Codes?” Grant’s voice brought Cody back to the moment.

“Don’t call me that.”

Grant ignored him, as usual. “Pass the mashed potatoes?”

“Oh, yeah.” Cody handed off the potatoes, piled high in a large silver mixing bowl because every other serving dish had been taken. Once it was out of his hands, he realized he hadn’t served himself. Dammit .

“This is all really great, honey,” his mother said, smiling from her place in the middle of the table. She looked at Demmy. “Thank you both for having our crazy group to your home on such short notice.”

“We’re glad to do it,” Demmy said, because he was the best husband in the entire world. If they weren’t sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room so Grant and MacKenzie could sleep in their bed—which, by the way, gross—Cody would definitely demonstrate his appreciation later.

Dinner was a blur of food he barely tasted and conversations he couldn’t keep track of. He tried to act engaged. Mostly though, he smiled and pretended to be following conversations. He caught a few looks from Demmy at the other end of the table and shared a quick smile, but he knew it didn’t reassure him. Sometimes knowing each other as well as they did could be a real pain the ass. He knew Demmy was worried about him. To be honest, he was worried about himself, too.

Memories of Felicia’s final days took up a lot of brain space. It affected his ability to focus on immediate tasks and making decisions, what he’d read some online shrink refer to as executive functioning. Even though Felicia had passed almost two weeks ago, it could have been the day before or the previous year. His emotions were all over the place. He knew it was grief. But knowing and being able to adjust for it were two different things.

In minutes, it seemed, his plate was clean, along with everyone else’s. Had he even tasted the food? Someone took away his plate and replaced it with a smaller one holding a wedge of pumpkin pie topped with the perfect amount of whipped cream. That had to have been Demmy’s doing. He looked down the table at Demmy. He looked tired, but good. His hair was buzzed short with a number two guide, steadily retreating across his scalp. Strong nose and rounded chin with that adorable dimple. Looking across the table at him felt like coming home. Cocking an eyebrow, Cody scooped some of the whipped cream with his fork and put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the burst of sweetness.

“Could you two not eye-fuck each other while we’re all trying to eat?” Roman grumbled.

“Roman Jovi Bower,” Cody’s mother snapped. “Language!”

Cody smirked as Roman’s cheeks burned, and his brother looked down at his own dessert.

“It’s all right, Mom,” Cody said, feeling a sizzle of sass work its way through him. “He’s just jealous because he and Madison don’t eye-fuck at the table anymore.”

“Gross,” Summer shouted from the kids’ table in the living room.

“What’s eye-fuck?” Brock croaked.

“Cody Duran Bower!” His mother’s eyes were wide. Just beyond her, his brother Dave beamed with pride.

Roman’s cold and beautiful wife, Madison, kept her eyes on her plate, studying her untouched dessert. Cody supposed empty calories were illegal or taxed heavily out in Utah.

Clean up took about three times longer than cooking and eating the meal. Cody parked himself in front of the sink and hand washed everything. He felt a little guilty leaving Demmy to talk with his family and handle breaking down and stowing the card tables. But he needed to find a spot to simply stand and do something brainless. When he finished washing and rinsing an item, he handed it off to Summer or her brother Brock. For his part, Brock was happily chatting along about the effects a big meal had on the human body. When Brock walked off with a handful of silverware, Summer leaned in close, shoulder against Cody’s side. He really did love his niece.

“Hey, kiddo.” He sounded tired and worn even to himself.

“Hey.” She put an arm around his waist and pressed the side of her head against his arm. “I miss Great-Grandma.”

A hot prick of tears made him blink rapidly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“I’m glad I got to talk with her a few years ago.” She dropped her arm and took the plate he passed to her. “You know, between all the werewolf bullshit.”

“Werewolf?” Brock stood a few feet back, looking at them with wide eyes.

“I’m talking about my comic books,” Summer said without missing a beat, “you twerpy little snoop.”

“Twerpy isn’t a word.” Brock twisted his lip up in perfect imitation of Roman. The sight triggered some flashbacks to a few particularly nasty arguments Cody had had with his older brother over the years, and he forced them back to the depths of his mental basement.

“You didn’t say anything about snoop, so I guess we all know what that means,” Summer snapped back.

Brock tossed the dishtowel at her face, but Summer was expecting it and grabbed it out of the air. He huffed and stomped out of the small kitchen.

“I see nothing has changed between you two,” Cody said as he rinsed a plate.

“I don’t see it changing anytime soon.” Summer dried it. “He’s been brain washed by my parents.”

“Maybe college will loosen him up.”

He and Summer exchanged a look, then both started laughing. It felt good for the moment it lasted, and Cody knew he needed to do it more often. Things just didn’t feel as funny to him right now.

The small house didn’t have a good gathering place other than the table that took up most of the dining room, so nobody lingered too long after dessert. Amelia and Otis had offered up their guest room to Cody’s parents. Cody’s youngest brother Brady and his wife, Hilari, and their four-year-old daughter, Erin, were staying with their brother Dave and Ollie at their apartment.

Roman and his family had, of course, opted to stay in a cozy Airbnb somewhere in town, with no offer of having room for anyone else. Such a dick.

Roman left first, as expected. He gathered his family and, with a perfunctory one-armed bro-hug for Cody and a shoulder squeeze for Demmy, he ushered them all out the door. Dave and Ollie were next with Brady and his family following. Amelia and Otis sat chatting with Cody’s parents at the dining room table, getting caught up on local gossip, and Demmy was helping Grant and Mac find something for their kids to watch on TV. Cody took the opportunity to slip out the side door, carrying a large bowl of raw vegetable remnants.

A sharp chill in the air felt good after the stuffiness of too many hours of the oven and burners running, and definitely too many bodies jammed inside the house. A lopsided moon peeked through the bare branches of the trees. It was waning, a few days past full, which was something they tracked now, just in case, and another fucking reason for his new-found anxiety. The moonlight threw long shadows across the backyard. Everything familiar seemed unusual, a hint of a threat. Though the air was chilly, he could smell the dampness of the earth and the soon-to-be-awakening spring flowers. They might get another snowfall, most likely an ice storm just before Easter, but the warmer rains would fall soon after, and the plants would return in earnest.

He smiled at the quiet rustling followed by an excited chirp. Even though he couldn’t see Trevor, Cody could perfectly imagine the raccoon sitting back on his hind legs, waving his front paws.

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ve got some food for you, you tubby freeloader.”

Cody walked onto the grass at the side of the detached single car garage and set the bowl on the plank of wood Demmy referred to as Trevor’s patio. Trevor lumbered over, a big, round furry shadow in the moonlight, and reached into the bowl. As Trevor ate, Cody crossed his arms against the chill and once again considered the moon.

He tried to stand still and just be at peace, but his entire body seemed to be thrumming with the need for motion. He clenched his toes inside his wool socks which were stuck inside his slides. He tightened and relaxed his fingers on each bicep and followed the same pattern with his arms. In the past, after having a big meal at the house, he would be putting together a plate and taking it over to Felicia. He’d be checking in on her, talking with her, listening to her go on about whatever dimly lit mental hallway her brain had led her down that day, trying to gently lead her back to reality. But now…

Loss blossomed in his chest. He felt the cut of each sharp leaf, the brutal stab of its blood-red bloom as it surrounded his heart.

Before the tears could come, he heard the squeak of the storm door. It was either Demmy or Grant, and he really hoped it was Demmy.

“Hey, Codes.”

All hope was lost. He sent a silent ‘fuck you’ up to the moon, then said without looking around, “Don’t call me that.”

“Dems said you might be out here?—”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Feeding Trevs.”

Cody put his face in his hands and blew out a breath. No matter how justified, killing family members is still homicide.

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I appreciate that. I’m good. Just getting some air. Big meal and all that, you know?”

“Yeah, great big meal.” Grant stood beside him. “Which you barely ate.”

“I had a lot of appetizers.”

“Mom and Dad brought those, and they were running late.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and tipped his head back to look at the clear sky full of stars. “You were Grams’s favorite, you know. Always had been, even when we were smalls.”

Cody looked up at the stars. His throat ached with the effort of holding back the full strength of his grief. He was afraid if he let it out, he might never get out from under it. He heard the flick of a lighter, and a gentle golden, glow lit the space between them. When he looked around, Cody found Grant pulling a deep lungful of smoke from a tightly rolled joint.

“I see why you and Mac drove here.” The distraction helped push the grief down once again.

“Had to have the good stuff with me,” Grant said as he held the smoke in his lungs, his voice strained. He released it in a sweet-smelling cloud that dissipated in the moonlight, then he offered the joint to Cody. “Want a hit? One of my specialties.”

Cody lifted a hand and shook his head. “I’ve sampled your specialty weed before. I’m on call with work and need to be lucid.”

“Oh, right. You got that job with that guy you and Dems used to work with.”

“Jugs, right.”

“How’s that going?”

“Living the dream.” Cody looked at the moon again.

“Cool, cool.” Grant took another hit. “You probably feel pretty lost now that Grams is gone and your company shut down. You never really told us all what happened with your last job. The one working with the city.”

Cody snorted quietly. His family was not ready to hear about how close Parson’s Hollow, and maybe the country, had come to being overrun by vampires.

“But look at it this way,” Grant continued. “Now you’re free to really focus on what you want to do.”

“Uh huh.” Cody’s focus at that moment was on not grinding his teeth into dust. “Right.”

“You were the best of all of us. Even Moms and Pops. You stayed and made sure Grams was safe and cared for. She loved you, man. She loved you like the smell of flowers in her garden, or the birds on her feeder, or strawberry lemonade, or a good dirty joke.”

The grief came up again, hot and choking in the hollow of his throat. He blinked fast and swallowed it back down. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready.

He managed a hoarse, “Yeah,” before his phone buzzed in his pocket. The displayed name made him flinch, but he accepted the call.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded raw, and he cleared his throat. “This is Cody.”

“It’s Shanice. Did I wake you up?”

He clearly pictured her sitting at the battered and ancient desk in the back of the storage area much too small to support a store the size of Bulk & Beyond. She was a broad-shouldered, big-hipped Black woman whose scowl could shut down any level of nonsense from the warehouse flunkies she managed. And Cody was her most recent flunky.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me and my entire family just lying in a tangle of arms and legs on my one couch.”

“That would be awesome.” Grant blew out another cloud of smoke, his dopey smile lifting Cody’s spirits a bit. And annoying the absolute fuck out of him.

“We got a big shipment in from Jersey,” Shanice went on, ignoring what he said. She was obviously getting used to him.

“Yeah.”

“It all needs to be out on the floor for tomorrow.”

Cody rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t want to be hauling stock out to the sales floor all night. But he also didn’t want to have to hang out with his family as they kept an eye on him, waiting for him to break down over Felicia.

“Can I count on you to be in here within an hour?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Shanice’s chuckle held no humor. Absolute zero. “You get a paycheck, how’s that?”

“Works for me. See you in an hour.”

“Within an hour…”

Cody disconnected the call and stuffed the phone in his pocket.

“Gotta get to work?” Grant asked.

“Gotta get to work.”

“I dig it, little bro.”

Grant held out his fist. Cody tried to resist, but he’d always told Demmy it wasn’t cool to leave a guy hanging, be it fist bump or high five. He bumped his brother’s fist, then picked up the bowl Trevor had emptied and headed for the side door. He hated to leave Demmy stuck with his family, but an extra hour or two on his next paycheck would help put a small dent in the large amount of debt stacking up around them.