Page 15

Loren

Three days had passed since I came home, and it should have been wonderful.

For the first time in over a hundred years, I was free.

I would never need to go to Hell again, never be startled with another summons or a request to service my mistress in whatever capacity she required.

And Indy… Indy was perfect.

Happy, healthy, and whole.

It was all I’d ever wanted, more than I’d dared to hope for, but I couldn’t enjoy any of it because I finally had everything , just in time to lose it.

Rather than cherishing the past seventy-two hours, I had stumbled through them in a miserable fog.

I hadn’t slept because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nero looming over me, wielding angry fists and equally violent threats.

Then I envisioned those threats coming alive with Indy locked in a cage, crying out while glittery tears rolled down his cheeks.

The grocery store trip had been a welcome distraction.

I felt almost human, almost convinced life was normal, that what was in the past could stay there and the future didn’t look so bleak.

They were strange thoughts to have while mulling over brown versus white eggs, but it meant that I could breathe.

I listened to Indy enumerating the kinds of snack cakes and potato chips he was going to shove down Whitney’s gullet, and I was fine .

Until I wasn’t.

The smell of brimstone wafting toward the trailer had robbed me of my fleeting sense of security.

Watching that boulder of a man barrel into our home like he belonged there broke something in me and scattered the pieces so far and wide I wasn’t sure I would ever find them again.

It was like Nero himself strode into view and grabbed me by the throat.

Shook me like he had so many times in those days and weeks trekking across the country.

Rattled my brain till blood leaked from my nose.

But I hadn’t talked, and I hadn’t taken him anywhere near my treasure because protecting Indy was paramount.

He was the most precious thing in this world or the one below, and I knew that.

Whitney didn’t. The other hounds couldn’t.

Whitney claimed he was bringing help, but if Nero or the witch captured them, if they questioned them or applied painful pressure, they would snap.

Then they would lead the archdemon straight to us because Whitney had showed them the way.

I said I wouldn’t run anymore.

I swore it. But here I was, tucking tail and turning my back on a situation that was slipping rapidly out of my control.

With my truck totaled and the Airstream so recently invaded, I had limited options for privacy.

It felt risky leaving Indy, but I couldn’t let him see this.

So, I started walking, circling the trailer park in wide loops, moving my feet to my heart’s thundering rhythm.

I walked, and I looked at nothing.

The campers and doublewides became blurs in my peripheral.

Chirping birds and rustling leaves were reduced to meaningless racket.

It was loud, but I was quiet.

Always so goddamn quiet, and sometimes I thought it would feel good to yell.

To scream out all the fear and anger and muddled things I couldn’t name.

Feelings that were stronger than me, binding me up tight.

My hound waited for orders, but I had none.

I had never been in control, even before I died, and I didn’t trust myself with it.

I didn’t want to be my own master.

So, I stayed in place when I should have moved.

Too mired in doubt to go anywhere or do anything.

I couldn’t go back to the trailer and let Indy sit in my lap, petting and preening and trying to pry the truth out of me because he was happy, but he knew I was not.

My mask was slipping and revealing all the cracks and fissures underneath.

I couldn’t let him see.

I couldn’t let anyone see, so I went to the only place I could be alone: the scummy bathhouse at the top of the hill.

Once inside, I needed more than running water and a flimsy plastic curtain to ensure my isolation.

I needed a door and a lock so no one could interrupt or intervene.

I went into one of the wood-walled bathroom stalls and flipped down the toilet lid.

Then I sat on top of it and drew my knees up, compressing the whole of my 6’3” height into the smallest ball I could manage.

I tucked in and squeezed my arms around myself, tighter and tighter until I thought my shinbones might crack.

It was like being in the kennels.

Or in that damned motel closet.

I hated it there, but I hated this more.

I hated me like this.

Sniveling and shaking and alone.

I deserved to be alone.

Maybe that was why everyone wanted to trap me or put me away.

Hell, I was so well trained that I did it to myself.

Forced isolation when what I wanted most was the comfort of Indy’s embrace.

He would have held me if I asked.

But I couldn’t.

I’d lied to him with my silence, and now he knew.

It had only been a day since I’d learned I could speak again, but I hadn’t.

I was too afraid to open my mouth and let my insides out.

Giving my thoughts voice gave them power, and they were already ruling me.

Ruining me. Ruining everything.

There hadn’t been anyone in the bathhouse when I arrived.

No steam in the air or water running from the showerheads.

I’d even had my choice of vacant toilet stalls.

But now footsteps approached, quick pattering feet that reminded me of the last time I hid in here after a night in Moira’s bed, and Indy found me.

It seemed he’d found me again.

“Loren?” His voice echoed in the cinderblock building, drawing closer.

“I know you’re here. I saw you come in.”

More scuffing against the cement, followed by a noisy sigh.

“Loren, don’t you dare hide from me. You’ve been hiding from me for days, and… fuck.”

I held my breath, curling into myself and torn between the urge to run to him and the need to disappear.

Beneath the closed stall door, Indy’s platform boots tromped into view.

He stopped, blocked only by the wall between us.

All was quiet for a few seconds until he spoke again.

“I just want you back, baby. I thought I had you back, but it’s like you’re still gone, and I… I can’t keep doing this.”

The pleading whine in his voice made me weak.

I winced as he sighed again and said, “I can’t do this alone.”

I deserved to be alone.

Put away. Punished. But I didn’t want that, and I couldn’t bear my treasure standing a few feet away believing I did.

Unwrapping my arms, I stretched my legs out and stood.

I unlocked the door and gave it a nudge, prompting Indy to move aside.

I stepped out, unsteady and reluctant to meet Indy’s gaze.

So, I looked at the floor drains, the cracks in the pavement, and the neon pink laces in his boots, and I didn’t say a word.

Indy didn’t speak, either.

He’d chattered nonstop for the past three days, filling the void left by my silence.

I wished he would talk now.

About anything.

“What happened back there?” he finally asked.

Why ask? He’d seen it for himself.

I’d defended him, protected us.

But, somehow, I felt like a villain.

Or a monster, snarling and snapping my teeth while I was forced further and further into a corner.

When I didn’t respond, Indy crept closer.

I stared at his shoes.

The leather was scuffed.

Needed polish.

He moved until he was directly before me, beneath me, peering up with his golden eyes wide and purple curls spilling across his forehead.

Reaching up, he touched my face and turned it till I was fully focused on him.

“I know you’re not all right.” He smiled sadly.

“You haven’t been all right for a while.”

He would have held me if I asked, but I didn’t need to.

He threaded his arms around my waist and pulled me in, then smoothed his hands up my back till I was bent over him with my chin resting on his shoulder.

It felt so right that I wondered why I ever ran away.

Why did I mire myself in bad when I had something so good ?

He hung on, and I draped over him for a lingering moment.

Then, he pulled back, pausing to tuck my hair behind my ear.

His expression gained a certain edge.

Determination crept in as he asked, “Will you talk to me now?”

I nodded, and Indy nodded back.

“Not in here, though,” he said.

“This place is gross.”

Taking my hand, he led me from the bathhouse into the sunshine outside.

Around the corner of the building, we found a shady spot with a view of the hills and trees that bordered one side of the trailer park.

We sat side by side with our backs against the wall.

Indy kept his fingers laced in mine like he thought I might bolt if he let go.

I wouldn’t. Not again.

But I didn’t tell him so because I wanted him to hold on.

I liked the press of his palm and the way he slid his thumb up my forefinger then back down, on repeat.

I’d agreed to talk but hadn’t yet, and Indy didn’t wait long to remind me.

Leaning over, he bumped his shoulder into mine.

“I think you should start.”

I nodded, but the words swirling around in my brain refused to fall in line.

He wanted an explanation.

He deserved an apology.

I had neither.

It must have been over a minute before I managed a confession.

“I’m afraid.”

His head tipped, and his eyes flicked through a blink.

“Of what, baby?”

“This.” I used our linked hands to gesture between us.

“It’s different, and I don’t?—”

“You don’t like different,” Indy supplied.

I exhaled the last bit of breath in my lungs, feeling hollow and cavernous.

Indy scooted around until he could face me more directly.

I wished he hadn’t. When he was beside me, I couldn’t see the worry creasing his brow.

“But it’s better, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Better than me not knowing anything. It’s a good different.”

He meant it as a statement, but there was uncertainty in his tone.

How could I tell him it was too good?

Too hard to accept when everything felt so fragile, so tenuous.

I would have grieved enough to lose a man who barely knew me.

But this was the sum of him, the totality of us, and seeing that erased…

I glanced over at him.

“You really remember everything?”

He frowned, and the sun created shadows like valleys on his face.

“I think so,” he said, then abruptly brightened.

“Wanna quiz me?”

I shook my head.

He’d said enough on my first night home to remove my doubt.

Regaled me with tales of times even I had forgotten.

Too many of my recollections had been blotted out by pain and loss.

The times when Indy wasn’t there.

The parts he omitted.

That wasn’t what I’d meant to ask, though, and I took a few more seconds to come out with an apter inquiry.

“Are you mad at me?”

“For?”

“Everything.”

Indy tipped his chin back in an exaggerated nod.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m not mad at you, Doll,” I said.

He relaxed. I hadn’t realized how tense he was.

His gaze dropped to our clasped hands and his thumb stroking back and forth, back and forth.

“I’m kind of mad,” he murmured, then fixed me with an accusatory squint.

“Why didn’t you talk to me? Or write me notes? Even a smiley face would’ve been nice. Or a frowny one.”

I grimaced as he continued, growing more agitated with every word.

“You iced me out, Loren,” he insisted.

“It hurt. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“You didn’t.”

“Then why ?”

My hound whined.

I’d heard that sound so much in the past weeks it had rubbed a raw spot in my brain.

I pulled my hand loose and drew my legs up again, wanting to shrink.

Folding my arms on my knees, I rested my head on top of those and stared at the distant hills.

“I love you,” I murmured.

Indy hesitated, then replied, “That’s not a reason.”

“It is.”

In my peripheral, Indy faced me, then away.

“You shouldn’t keep things from me if you love me.”

I bucked upright.

“Don’t say ‘if.’ You know I do. And I didn’t mean to keep anything from you. I’m just… I’m afraid.”

We’d come full circle, returned to the first and simplest answer.

The hum of a phone vibrating sent a spike of panic through my heart.

Fortunately, logical thought came right after.

It wasn’t mine. My cell had been lost in the wreck, and good riddance.

It wasn’t Moira. She was in Heaven, which was frankly absurd.

I glanced at Indy’s hip pocket as he cupped his hand over it.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Does it matter?”

I nodded.

Indy frowned, then pulled the cell out and checked the caller ID.

“Sully,” he said. “I’ll call her back.”

If I hadn’t just rebuffed a mini pack of hellhounds, I might have been able to dismiss it.

But with Whitney and his brood on the loose, I couldn’t shake the sense of danger.

Indy was putting the phone away when I snatched it in a sweeping grab.

I swiped to answer and turned on the speaker.

“Indy?” Sully sounded fine.

Safe.

I sighed in relief as Indy took back his phone and shot me a scolding look.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said into the receiver.

“And Lore. What’s up?”

“Are you guys coming?” she asked.

“Everybody’s here.”

A prickling feeling crept up the back of my neck.

“Who’s everybody?” I asked.

“Aww, Loren, you can talk again! I’m so?—”

“Who’s everybody, Sully?” I repeated.

I would have taken the phone again, but Indy jerked it out of reach, then covered the mouthpiece and hissed, “Would you calm the fuck down?”

“Whitney brought his friends from Hell,” Sully replied.

Her voice grew faint as I lurched to my feet.

“He says he’s ready to talk battle strategy,” she continued.

“I assumed you’d want to be part of that.”

“We’re on our way,” I said.

I held out my hand to help Indy to his feet but, rather than take it, he frowned.

The call ended, and the phone went dead in his grasp, but he kept staring, squinting, until I let my hand drop and turned to go.

No sooner had I taken a step than did he scramble up after me.

“We’re gonna finish this talk in the car,” he said.

My nod was a scarce concession.

I’d admitted enough.

Whatever else I had to say could wait for Whitney and “his friends.” They certainly were no friends of mine.