Page 28 of Hounded (Fire & Brimstone)

28

Loren

I was getting too good at running.

The cowardice was infectious, overtaking agency and common sense. It made me weak, and I couldn’t afford that. Indy needed a protector, a fighter. I used to be that for him, but I’d never been adept at fighting for myself.

I couldn’t risk Indy catching up to me. Explaining why choking was unacceptable foreplay would lead to confessions, and anger, and indignation I could not face. Because I was a dog that had been kicked too many times, and everything in me begged to learn from hard lessons and lie down.

With my keys in hand, I forced my feet to move away from the home that felt less and less like mine. I piled into my truck and made the drive to the Urban Easel. Wandering the sidewalk that bordered the darkened storefront, I thought of Sully’s smug wave while Indy marched me out of here barely an hour earlier. Now, the exhibition was over, and Joss Foster had returned to his hotel. Or fled the state if he knew what was good for him.

I should have taken up the hunt before the artist put more distance between himself and me. Neglecting my hellish responsibilities rarely worked out in my favor and, with Whitney taken into Nero’s custody, Moira was paying closer attention to my comings and goings than ever before. Instead, I paced with my hands stuffed in the pockets of my slacks and my gaze flicking over cracks in the pavement as I tread across them.

It was less than five minutes before the shop door opened and Sully poked her head out.

“Lore?” Her eyes drooped with a bit of inebriation from the wine she held as she frowned at me. “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight. Where’s Indy?”

I waved my hand through the air, dismissing the question.

Sully checked the watch on her wrist, then nodded. “We can talk at the diner. Meet me in five.”

I never met her eyes, never stopped moving, just rounded on my heel and started the brisk walk toward Neighborhood Nosh.

Inside, the hostess greeted me with more cheer than I was in a mood to receive. I raised two fingers in a wordless request for a table where I sat until the waiter came by, then nodded to his offer of coffee. He poured two mugs full of the swill. Where last time it was weak and watery, this brew was thick and tarry enough I could have stood a spoon upright in it. There was no repairing it with cream or sugar, so I simply held the cup between my hands and let it warm my palms until Sully arrived.

She still had the flatware in her hair, and her breath smelled like White Zinfandel as she slid into the booth seat across from me. “I take it you put your boy to bed for the night. You’re welcome, by the way.” She giggled. “How did it go exactly? I want details.”

The waiter drifting past prompted her to add, “But first I want carbs. You wanna split an appetizer? I’ll bet you burned some calories tonight.”

Before I could reply, she flagged the server down and held one of the laminated menus aloft. “Loaded fries, please. Really loaded. Bacon, cheese, sour cream… you have jalapenos?”

The server grunted affirmation, and Sully glanced at me. “How do you feel about spicy, Lore?”

I rolled my eyes aside, reluctant to explain that my stomach hadn’t stopped cramping since I left the trailer park, and that jalapenos were a no-go even on a good day.

In the absence of a response, Sully decided for me. “Extra jalapenos.”

After scribbling on his order pad, the waiter fixed me with a bland look. “For you, sir?”

I nudged my steaming coffee mug. “I’m good.”

He took our menus and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sully and me alone.

Sully clasped her hands on the tabletop and leaned in. Her expression was nothing short of delighted.

“Banner night for us, huh?” she said. “Joss’s exhibition was a roaring success, minus the dust-up with that bigoted asshole. I’m not surprised Indy jumped your bones after that. I’d have fucked you, too. Or I guess you probably fucked him.”

I shifted on the booth seat. “Crass to call it fucking.”

Sully smirked, then lifted her coffee for a sip. “I forget about your old-fashioned sensibilities. I’m old, too, you know. But we must adapt, or time will run away from us.”

My expression soured, and Sully nodded concession.

“Making love, then,” she said.

Her impish smile grated on me, but I didn’t correct her.

“Shall we toast our mutual success?” She hefted her mug into the air, and I stared at it without budging. The cup wobbled as her enthusiasm waned. After a second, she set it down with a clunk. “Am I misreading this? Why are you so cranky?”

The waiter came by to deliver a plate of French fries topped with so many pickled jalapenos they burned my nose at range.

Sully unrolled her bundle of flatware and took a fork to stab into the mix. She pulled it out piled with fries, bacon crumbles, and drippy nacho cheese, and offered it to me.

“Maybe just hangry?” she suggested.

I shook my head, not knowing where or how to explain that I’d made a problem worse and muddied already murky waters. Part of me blamed Sully, though I tried not to. She’d wanted to help, and her intentions were good. That could be said of so few people in my life.

“I didn’t want him there tonight, Sully.” I began. “I had work to do, and Indy… got in the way.”

Sully loaded her fork with a bite so big she nearly had to unhinge her jaw to fit it in. She covered her mouth with her hand to mask the sight but not the sound of her words garbling past a wad of unchewed food. “What do you mean ‘work’?”

“Joss Foster is a job for me,” I replied. “His soul is overdue.”

She gulped down the fries, and her brown eyes widened. “You’re gonna kill him?”

The jukebox that had been playing chose that moment to pause between tracks, and I checked for eavesdroppers. An elderly man sat at the counter bar, and a homeless woman was draped, unconscious, over her two-person table a few feet away. Neither of them appeared to be interested in us.

Sully continued in a hushed tone. “But that means… Oh, this is…” Shock contorted her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would go over well,” I explained. “You seemed pretty into the guy.”

“Yes, but I’m more into you ,” she said, then clarified, “In a totally platonic way.”

“Even if I made you an accessory to murder?”

Sully huffed a breath and dug into her mountain of fries once more. “I might hold that one against you,” she replied. “I don’t need that kind of press.”

The vagrant either dozing or drunk on the table across the way gave a snort and jolted upright. She never fully roused, only listed to one side then the other before lying face down beside a stack of half-eaten pancakes.

“Did you get that one the other day?” Sully chased her next bite of fries with the last of her coffee. “The cop?”

The waiter returned with the coffee carafe. He refilled Sully’s mug, then added a courtesy splash to my full one.

After he left, Sully blurted, “Wait. If you’re killing Joss, I need to buy a couple of his pieces pronto. They’re about to be worth twice as much. ”

The speed with which she went from stunned to scheming made me snort. “Sounds like the art equivalent of insider trading,” I said.

She stabbed her fork at me. “I only have a few legitimate skills, Loren. Fortune telling and palm readings don’t pay the bills, but I have art. I get this.”

“Buy whatever you want,” I said, “but do it fast because that’s where I’m headed next. After you tell me where he’s staying.”

Sully tilted her head, and the spoons in her hair glinted silver. “Whatever happened to not making me an accessory?”

I grimaced. “I could sniff him out on my own, but it would take all night, and I’m tired.”

“I bet you are.” She winked. “I bet Indy wore your ass out.”

Aggravation made my skin itch, and I shifted in my seat. “Can we focus, please?”

“Leave me to my imaginings, then,” Sully said with a dreamy sort of sigh. “Gives me something to think about later.”

Her cavalier attitude about what had turned into a miserable night prompted me to scowl. I looked away, watching a redheaded boy plug the nearby jukebox with quarters.

“Loren…” Sully’s voice carried a hint of rebuke. “You’re pouting, and I don’t believe for a second it’s because you’re going to murder my guest artist. What gives?”

It was difficult to detail my encounter with Indy, how it started so well and ended so badly, and how I’d overreacted to something done in ignorance. Of course, Indy had crossed lines before. In a dozen lifetimes, it would have been impossible not to. But tonight’s failure was ultimately more mine than his. I spoiled our intimate moment by playing hard to get when I did, desperately, want to be caught.

“It’s Indy,” I said.

Sully squinted. “What about him?”

I chewed my lip. “He does things, and it’s like nothing’s changed. But everything’s changed, and it’ll change again.” The words eked out, leaving me feeling empty. I met Sully’s gaze, wearier than ever. “And you can’t say I don’t adapt. It’s all I ever do.”

“Not well,” she replied too readily.

My expression turned stormy as I glared at her.

She reached toward my hand on the tabletop, but I’d been touched too much by too many people lately, and the thought of more physical contact made me want to peel my skin off.

Withdrawing from her advance, I propped both elbows on the table and let my head fall into my upturned palms. I scrubbed my fingers over my face, then up into my hair, pinning it against my scalp.

When I looked out again, Sully wore a look of concern. “I haven’t said anything because I’m pretty sure you’ll say no,” she began, “but I’ve been doing some research.”

“No,” I grunted.

Sully rolled her eyes. “Hear me out. I found a spell—a recipe, really—for a memory charm. Like a magical knock on the head for your average amnesia patient.” A tentative smile curved her lips as she said, “It might help Indy get his memories back.”

The statement was as jarring as a slap. I straightened as my heart drummed up tempo.

“Why would I say no to that?” I asked.

“Because Indy isn’t your average amnesia patient. I’m not sure what he is.” She hesitated, and her already weak smile flagged. “It might not do anything, or it could make things worse.”

The wave of hope receded as quickly as it rose. Still, I had to ask, “Worse how?”

The server passed by again, peering at our coffees and finding them full enough before he returned to the kitchen.

Sully heaved a breath. “Without testing, I couldn’t say, and I don’t have many forgetful phoenixes around to try it out on.”

Her attempt at levity fell flat, and my voice was subdued as I questioned, “You want to do magic lab testing on my boyfriend?”

Sully tittered a laugh. “I love to hear you calling him that again.”

I grit my teeth. It was a response to her comment and her offer when I said, “No.”

“Shouldn’t we ask Indy about it?” Her voice leaped up an octave, becoming more insistent as she carried on. “I’m sure he wants to remember things, too. He’s lonely, and he’s missing out on the best thing in his life.” She shook her head. “Lives. Whatever.”

“No experimentation. No making things worse.” I slid out of the booth and stood.

“It could make things better!” She clambered to her feet after me, then waved to the waiter loitering on the other side of the kitchen pass-through window. “Check, please!”

He came around with a sheet off his order pad, which Sully met with a folded twenty-dollar bill. She declined his offer of change while I headed for the exit.

Sully trotted up beside me and seemed ready to continue protesting before I cut her off.

“I have to go.” I hit the glass door of the diner with my shoulder, swinging it wide. While Sully passed through, I asked her, “Where’d you say Joss was staying?”

On the sidewalk outside, she stopped and folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t.”

“Do you know?” I asked.

Her expression was a tick shy of irritation as she snipped, “Maybe.”

I sidestepped her, calling back and trusting she would follow. “I need to catch him before he skips town, or I’ll end up chasing him across the country.” She came alongside me as I asked, “Where’s he from, anyway?”

“Indiana,” she replied.

I scoffed. “Fuck that.”

We crossed the intersection held up with a few yellow cabs and a cyclist. The walk timer ticked steadily down as Sully said, “I feel like I should point out this is cheating, too. Since you were so eager to cast judgment on me.”

Neither of us spoke until we stepped onto the curb of the adjacent block. Once there, Sully grumbled, “I booked him a room at The Jewel, across from Rockefeller. It’s a boutique place, very chic—”

“Thanks,” I cut in .

We made it to the Urban Easel, where Sully unlocked the door and pulled it open before I turned to leave.

“Loren.” The way she said my name made it impossible to ignore.

I tipped my head toward her.

She met my gaze in earnest. “Don’t give up on Indy. And think about the memory charm. If it works, it could be a miracle.”

A pedestrian couple strolled past arm in arm, and I watched them travel halfway down the block before I responded, “Demons don’t get miracles, Sully.”

I expected protest. Instead, she nodded, resigned. “Goodnight, hon.”

The gallery door swung shut and locked.

The couple rounded the corner at the next block, sharing a laugh that echoed off the brick storefronts. I wondered what story they’d shared or joke they’d told and imagined where they might be going next. Home together was as good an answer as any. Certainly better than my plans for the evening.

Joss had asked me not to kill him in front of his admirers, and I granted that wish. The least he could do was make himself easy to find so we could both get this nasty business over with. But, with the way my luck was apt to go, that would be entirely too convenient.