Page 25

Indy

Thanksgiving in July was a big hit.

Abigail came out and joined the others, no worse for wear after her chat with Whitney and Loren.

When I questioned Loren about it later, he told me Whitney wanted to make sure she could be trusted.

“Can she?” I’d asked.

To that, he’d offered a noncommittal grumble, and I wasn’t sure why I’d expected anything different.

As for my conversation with Sully, not much came of it.

She offered to keep looking into my disappearing powers, though neither of us had high hopes for answers.

My mission to introduce Whitney to junk food proved to be the beginning of a trend.

Whitney, Gunnar, Dottie, and Abigail had spent decades in Hell, in captivity.

Their freedom seemed like something worth celebrating.

Loren’s, too, for that matter, and I was eager for him to see more than the differences between himself and his fellow hounds.

They were pack animals, after all.

They could be a team.

A family. And with group dinners becoming a trend, it was time to implement another familial tradition: vacations.

Okay, not so much a vacation.

We were being hunted, and neither Loren nor Sully were big fans of my propensity to wander the city, aura-blocking wards or no.

However, they relented to my idea of a group outing due to the undeniable truth of safety in numbers, and because Gunnar got so damn excited when I mentioned Coney Island that no one had the heart to keep him from it.

Getting dressed in the trailer bathroom, I struggled to strike a balance quick and cute as I dressed in an off-the-shoulder crop top and low-rise pleather pants.

All black, which made my hair a pleasant shock of color, still plum but all I could think about was Evander saying Indigo, Indigo.

I grabbed a pair of foam earplugs from the drawer under the sink, then trotted out into the living area where Loren was waiting.

Walking over to him, I held up the earplugs in a wordless offer.

Any amusement park on the weekend was bound to be buzzing, which made for a chaotic atmosphere Loren did not enjoy, but Coney Island was sentimental to us both.

We’d visited regularly since shortly after it opened and, while I wouldn’t dream of dragging him to Disneyworld or Six Flags, he had a certain fondness for Luna Park.

That didn’t mean we went without accommodation.

Besides this being an opportunity for him to bond with the other hellhounds, it was also a chance for me to make up for our failed ice cream date.

And to prove I loved him.

Declare it boldly.

With a brief squint at the earplugs, Loren gave a nod.

I smiled and palmed them in one hand, then used the other to push his hair over his shoulders.

He stooped to let me slide the plugs into place, then roll my thumbs along the shells of his ears.

“All good?” I asked as he straightened.

He nodded again and, with a parting glance around the trailer, we headed out.

We drove into town, then took the subway to the Stillwell Avenue station where Sully and the others were waiting.

Loren was quiet most of the trip.

It wasn’t the silent treatment of last week, though, and I didn’t feel like I was in trouble anymore, but I wasn’t out of the woods, either.

That would take time, and I was more impatient than ever.

The sun was setting when we made it to the boardwalk.

Dottie and Abigail stood slack jawed, gawking at the food stands, umbrella-topped tables, and the dusky sky studded with banners and balloons.

As night crept in, lights flickered on, defining the edges of every structure including the towering Wonder Wheel.

While the other girls stared, Sully hung on Whitney’s arm.

They looked formal, almost posed, and I wondered about his absent mistress.

Was that how he and Loren accompanied the demoness in Hell?

Like broody prom dates or bodyguards?

Whitney looked less impressed with the carnival sights than the others, but I was beginning to realize that was his default setting.

Some people had resting bitch face; Whitney had resting stern face.

Beside him, Gunnar had that same puppy dog energy I’d seen before, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

Not literally, but it wasn’t hard to imagine.

It was funny to think he was the most intimidating of the bunch at a glance: brawny buzz-cut dude who could probably bench press me two times over.

He seemed sweet. Kind of like Travis except with the bulk in his biceps instead of his belly.

“This looks just like it did in The Warriors ,” Gunnar said in an awed voice.

I grinned and cast my gaze ahead.

“I know that movie! The costuming was epic.”

Gunnar’s smile stretched, and he cupped a hand to his mouth before throwing his head back to crow, “Warriors, come out to play!”

A handful of pedestrians glanced our way, and Loren grimaced.

I patted his arm, then leaned in to tell him, “You know, we’re kind of a gang now. Maybe we should get uniforms.”

His brows dipped low.

“Not a gang.”

Despite my soft tone, Whitney heard—all the hounds must have thanks to their supernatural senses—and his features twisted with uncertainty.

“A militia, perhaps?”

“Military uniforms!” I could picture it already.

“Double-breasted jackets and tasseled epaulettes!”

Sully raised her hand.

“If anything, matching outfits would make us more obtrusive. Let’s focus on blending in and having a nice, quiet evening.”

Odd instructions for a night full of rides, games, and greasy food, but I was too happy not to be cooped up in the trailer or her apartment to argue.

So, I bobbed my head in reluctant agreement as Sully addressed the group.

“What does everyone wanna do?”

Gunnar spouted off a list that included everything from eating hot dogs to riding the Cyclone till he puked.

Dottie and Abigail continued staring with their eyes round and heads swiveling like owls.

I joined them in gleeful observation.

Loren and I hadn’t been to Coney Island in years, not since they opened a new ride called the Phoenix, of all things.

It billed itself as a “family thrill roller coaster.” Considering the word “thrill” in the name, I expected Loren to sit it out, and I would be sitting with him.

Anywhere. Everywhere.

Being in this place brought back scores of fond memories, and I knew Loren had them, too.

It was going to be a good night.

As we advanced down the boardwalk, the hounds formed a protective ring around me.

Since I was the shortest of the bunch, I found myself peering between their bodies to see the path ahead.

Loren started off on the outside on the circle, surveying everything with sharp eyes and a tight expression.

I caught his arm and pulled him in to place his hand on the small of my back.

It was a wordless request, but a simple one: Come.

Stay.

Pack mentality seemed to be kicking in, and the group moved as one, ducking and weaving through the crowd.

It might have been intimidating—this ball of people cluttering the boardwalk—but I doubted anyone was put off by Abigail flinching at everyone who passed too close and Dottie staring unblinking at the Ferris wheel cresting the horizon.

Loren was fresh out of Hell a few years after the Wonder Wheel was constructed.

It terrified him. A gargantuan contraption with gondolas that swayed as it spun.

He’d acted like it was an invader in his town, a device designed for torture rather than pleasure.

But he’d warmed up to it, even grown to like it.

Snaking my arm around his waist, I pinned us together before forging through the hellhound barrier.

The others stopped and looked at me for explanation.

“Lore and I are gonna take a ride.” I gestured to the Wonder Wheel.

“Wanna split up and meet at Nathan’s for hot dogs?”

Sully frowned.

“I thought the point was?—”

“To have a nice, quiet evening,” I supplied.

“And I don’t know anyone nicer or quieter than my boyfriend.”

I could have gone for the hard sell, reminding her this was the first time in a century I’d been fully present with Loren.

I was aware of every moment that had brought us to this one and painfully conscious of the doubts and hurts he had barely begun to express.

I knew Loren well enough to realize that for every word he said, he thought ten more.

The wounds he’d opened up to me went deeper than he would admit.

It worried me to think they cut cleanly through, leaving holes where I’d taken too much from him and failed to give enough back.

That changed tonight.

“Give us fifteen minutes,” I continued, “then you guys can put a backpack leash on me for the rest of the night.”

Jokes about leashes might have been tasteless in the presence of my canine companions, but no one spoke as Sully gave mute consent.

She tried to look serious, warning me with her eyes to be on my best behavior, but I didn’t miss her smile.

Best wing woman in Brooklyn.

I led Loren to the closest ticket booth.

I bought a few more tickets than we needed, counting on Gunnar to convince the girls and Whitney to ride at least one thing.

Or maybe I’d leave that job to Sully.

She seemed to be doing a fine job getting the buttoned-up Brit to let his hair down.

With tickets in hand, we joined the line for the Wonder Wheel.

When we passed by the teenaged attendant, I folded a ten-dollar bill around our tickets and tried to discreetly ask her to stop our gondola at the top.

I was sure Loren heard—hellhound hearing rarely failed, even with earplugs in play—but he didn’t comment as we climbed the steps to board the ride.

He sat on the bench opposite me and immediately cut his gaze toward the group we’d left behind.

Sully queued up for tickets, leaving the hounds to watch Gunnar as he gestured enthusiastically toward the wooden tracks of the Cyclone.

Our gondola rose while other passengers got on.

Loren kept looking away, so I did, too, gazing across the boardwalk as elevation improved our view.

Lights sparkled, and colors stained the night, and I caught myself wishing it was all a little bit brighter.

Just a tiny bit more .

It could be—would be—if I was high.

Then hues ran like ribbons and every bulb burned with the heat that was missing from my core.

The craving, that too-specific itch, nagged at me until I faced Loren and found him haloed in the ambient glow and looking damn near heavenly.

My pretty baby. My reason.

Every addict needed one.

Scooting forward, I hugged my knees on either side of his and laid my palms on his thighs.

He stirred to my advance and cocked his head quizzically.

Like I had in the trailer, I brushed his hair back, this time to pluck out one of the earplugs so I could whisper, “You look nice tonight.”

Blush added a rosy tone to his cool, olive skin.

“Nice” didn’t begin to cover it, but I was trying to be a gentleman.

Coming on slow when I wanted more than anything to crawl into his lap and kiss him.

When he didn’t answer, I grinned and pitched my voice low to imitate his smooth baritone.

“Thanks, Indy. You look good, too.”

He snorted and gave his head a shake.

“You’re always gorgeous, Doll. You know that.”

“Mmhmm,” I agreed.

“And yet I still like to hear it.”

The color faded from his cheeks as his focus drifted again.

Everything worth seeing was up here, but he seemed more interested in the goings-on at ground level.

After several seconds of silence, I rose and crossed to his side of the gondola, then sat with my hip pressed into his.

I heaved a breath and laid my head on his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Since I was turned the same direction he was, I could see what had drawn his notice.

Sully and the hounds were gathered in front of a game booth.

The girls and Gunnar watched while Whitney threw darts at a wall of balloons.

It wasn’t a roller coaster, but at least the old fella was having fun.

“I don’t trust them with you,” Loren said.

I sighed again. “I know.”

And I was hoping tonight would change that.

We had time. Once he saw Gunnar as the absolute golden retriever he was and realized that Dottie and Abigail were as awed by the world as kids on Christmas morning, he would loosen up.

Trust may have been a tall order, but I would settle for tolerance.

I glanced toward the ground as it grew more and more distant.

At the balloon game booth, Whitney won a stuffed animal prize he handed over to Sully.

I couldn’t discern their expressions from here, but the sight made me smile.

“Nero didn’t cut out my tongue.”

Loren’s statement came from nowhere, and I sat up straight and peered at him with my brows furrowed.

“Then who did?” I asked.

“I did.”

I shrank back, trying to picture him sticking a knife in his mouth and cutting…

spitting so much blood…

“Why?” I asked.

He didn’t look proud of the fact.

If anything, he was disgusted.

His lips moved like he was rolling his tongue around, reminding himself his tongue was there.

“The witch was going to make me talk,” he said slowly.

“Tell her where to find you. It was all I could think to do.”

My hand crept onto his leg again.

I scuffed my nails at the denim of his pants, watching the hot pink polish flash in the carnival lights and wondering how desperate he must have been to maim himself without being sure the damage could be undone.

As if he could hear the questions bombarding my brain, Loren swiveled toward me and fixed his gaze on mine.

“I’d do anything for you, Doll. I’d die for you,” he said, and the conviction in his voice made me shudder.

“That’s why I don’t trust them. I can’t.”

Because they wouldn’t die for me?

I didn’t want anyone to die, certainly not for my sake.

Leave the death and rebirth to me; I had it down to a fine art and, with the success of Sully’s sweater thread memory charm, the idea of my next incarnation wasn’t so daunting.

The forgetting was the worst part.

The sense of ignorance, of being incomplete, ate at me.

I could deal with a self-made funeral pyre and turning twenty-six for the tenth or twelfth time as long as I remembered all the lives and love I’d had before.

The love I had now.

I pressed my hand against Loren’s thigh, leaning in until I could almost kiss him.

“Baby?”

His eyes met mine, warm and slightly worried.

But there was devotion, too.

A kind of adoration that resonated in my bones.

It had been there from the moment we kissed atop his ex-lover’s grave, when he said he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Because we were together.

Because he had me.

“I love you.” I told him.

“I love everything about you, and I can’t bear to think I made you doubt that.” Reaching up, I cradled the side of his face in my hand as I spoke.

“I’ve been with you forever, and I wanna be with you for the rest of forever. Only you.”

I rubbed my thumb over his cheekbone, and he rested his head in my palm, relaxing into my touch.

We sat close, but the distance between us remained.

The things he kept to himself and a question I’d had since I got him back from Nero.

“Why don’t you wear your ring anymore?” I aimed a meaningful glance at his left hand.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t lose it.”

He tensed, then pulled away to mumble, “It was in my truck.”

“But not on your finger.”

The proposal—our engagement—was a blissful memory.

I thought I nailed it with breakfast in bed and flowers, and I’d managed to make it a surprise, a big accomplishment since I was shitty at keeping secrets.

I’d wanted to marry Loren more than anything.

I’d wanted to say vows and pledge all my lives to him.

Only him. I still did.

But the ring was gone.

Looking back, I saw that those would-be vows vanished with that version of me.

When I was reborn, Loren wasn’t wearing his ring, and he’d never put it on since.

He never even mentioned it.

Almost like he regretted saying yes, or he’d seen his chance to take it back and did.

“It didn’t feel right,” he said at last. “The man who asked me that was gone, and?—”

“ I’m the man who asked you,” I cut in.

“It’s me .”

“But you didn’t know it,” he replied.

“We were strangers, and if I’d told you we were getting married, you’d have thought I was crazy. Or desperate.”

I frowned because he was right.

He’d tried to tell me, not about the engagement, but other things, and I hadn’t always been kind.

Waking up in an unknown world with an unknown man was a little like being kidnapped, then gaslit or Stockholmed into submission.

And my confusion must have felt like cruelty to Loren.

“I don’t want to demand your love, Indy,” he said softly.

“I don’t want to insist on it.”

“So, instead you’ve been trying to earn it,” I murmured.

“For a hundred years.”

Little wonder he was tired.

And sad. And shielding himself from me now when I was more myself than I’d ever been.

He’d had enough of my bullshit and baggage: the bad habits that chased me from one life to the next.

I slumped on the narrow bench seat until Loren slipped his arm around me and pulled me onto his lap.

The Wonder Wheel had stopped with our gondola at the top, giving us a bird’s eye view of Luna Park and the distant Brooklyn skyline.

I tipped my head onto Loren’s shoulder and let the silken strands of his hair cushion my cheek.

“Doll,” he whispered.

“Even if you didn’t forget, I would still try to earn your love. There’s nothing I want more.”

I couldn’t cry, but my eyes shimmered.

It made the carnival lights swim and streak, and they were every bit as beautiful as I’d wished they would be.

Without the drugs. Without the high.

This wasn’t a memory to chase.

It was the precious present, and I knew exactly how Loren felt every time I popped another pill, trying to go back in time and visit with ghosts.

We were the same people.

I was the same man who asked him to marry me, and he was the same man who said yes.

Maybe, once I got clean and was sure I could stay that way, I would ask him again.