Page 11
Story: Thunder Road (Badlands #7)
“ I never realized saving the world was so exhausting.” Simon tried for a lighthearted quip but sounded bone-weary.
“We’re alive. We’re tired, but no one’s bleeding. And yeah, we stopped the monster. That’s a big win.” Vic and Simon stumbled into the blue bungalow close to midnight, utterly spent.
Vic felt jittery from the adrenaline of the fight, and he couldn’t imagine what Simon must be feeling. Spell drop, the emotional and physical letdown from working powerful magic, was real, and Vic had helped Simon recover from it on many occasions. Now, Vic worried about how drawn Simon looked on the ride home and how silent he had become.
“Come on. Let’s get in the shower before we sleep. Wash off all the heebie-jeebies,” Vic said in a tired attempt at humor. Simon had told him once that bathing played an important part in ritual magic, sluicing away negative energy and cleansing the body to receive new power.
“Don’t know if?—”
“I’ll hold you up if I need to. C’mon.”
Vic gently maneuvered Simon into the bathroom and stripped off his clothing, looking for injuries he might have missed. To his relief, he didn’t see any blood or bruises, but he knew that with magic, psychic wounds were just as real but left no mark.
“I think I’m okay.” Simon didn’t slur his words, not quite, but his voice was a low, exhausted rumble.
“I’ll wash you. No hanky panky—this time,” Vic promised with a fond smile. “Although I’ll take a rain check on that. Then we can sleep. I’ve already told Ross I’ll be in around noon.”
“Need to decorate for Halloween,” Simon murmured as Vic got the water temperature right.
“Worry about that later,” Vic replied to the non sequitur. “Last year it took us about two hours to set up. It’ll be okay.”
Vic lit a sage smudge stick in the bathroom and walked around with it to make sure the smoke reached all the corners before placing it in a safe container on the counter. He’d also grabbed the special soap Gabriella had made that combined rosemary, lemon, sea salt, and lavender, all powerful for physical and psychic cleansing.
He made sure that Simon could brace himself against the shower wall before gently soaping his body. Vic ran his hands everywhere to clean and reassure. Simon permitted it, worrisomely passive, proof of how much the night’s magic had cost him.
As he washed and rinsed, Vic triaged. Simon looked pale and drawn, and eyes haggard. Vic didn’t pretend to completely understand what it meant to command energies like Simon and the other witches had, but he knew the aftermath of an intense night of police work, especially one that involved a stand-off or shoot-out. The adrenaline crash afterward affected mind, body, and spirit. Vic vowed to be there every step of the way for Simon, helping him to recover.
Normally shower time turned into sex in a delicious variety of positions. Much as Vic craved the proof of life validation, he knew they were both too spent.
“Later, I’m going to show you how glad I am that we survived.” Vic hoped his gravelly murmur next to Simon’s ear sent shivers through his lover. “But right now, I’m going to rub you down and put you to bed.”
Vic toweled Simon vigorously enough to get his blood flowing and warm him. Simon was rarely so pliable, which Vic read as proof of how much the night’s work had cost.
He helped Simon into baggy sleep pants and an oversized T-shirt, then shepherded him to bed and tucked him in.
“I’m going to close down and set the locks, and then I’ll be right beside you.” Vic gave Simon a gentle kiss.
Moments later, when the lights were out and the house quiet, Vic slid into bed, lying close enough to throw an arm over Simon and pull them together. He told himself they were sharing body heat to warm Simon, but Vic knew he needed to feel his lover’s breathing and heartbeat to reassure himself that they had survived.
That was a near thing. I could have lost him. That poor nun died. We all nearly died.
I know that risk is part of the job. And I don’t mind—as long as I’m the one taking the chances, not Simon.
No use dwelling on what might have gone wrong. It didn’t, and we’re alive and together.
Take the win and move on.
Even so, it took Vic a while to quiet his thoughts and fall asleep, and when he did, his dreams were restless.
Hours later, Vic edged a hand down Simon’s pants, coaxing his cock to firmness with gentle strokes.
“There’s no hurry,” he whispered as Simon ground his ass back against Vic’s groin. “Just relax and enjoy.”
Simon let Vic work his dick until he was hot and hard, but then he struggled to turn so they faced each other. “Together,” he murmured, in that sleepy growl that Vic loved so much, bedhead and all.
Vic pushed down his briefs and closed their hands over both cocks, eased by the lube he kept close by the bed.
“That’s it.” Vic trailed light kisses over Simon’s skin. “Just go with the feeling.”
It didn’t take long for them to come, and it felt to Vic like the powerful shared orgasm mingled with a release of existential terror.
After another shower, Vic made scrambled eggs and sausage links, along with fresh coffee and cinnamon toast, grateful for the extra time to collect their wits before facing the day.
“I wonder how Batman does it,” Simon mused as Vic handed him a cup of coffee made the way he liked it.
“Does what?”
“Pick up the next morning after saving the city like it was no big deal,” Simon replied.
“Well, he’s a billionaire, so maybe he has a full spa day to soothe jangled nerves,” Vic said.
“Or Alfred drugs his coffee.”
“Or that.”
They wolfed down two servings each, making Vic realize again how depleted they were after the previous night’s events.
“Maybe tonight we can do something normal, like put up Halloween decorations,” Simon suggested.
Vic grinned. “I’d like that. Dibs on inflating the dragon!”
Simon chuckled. “Okay. I’ll handle blowing up the hearse with the vampire. Everyone loves those inflatables.”
Myrtle Beach at Halloween had a small-town feel. Everyone might not actually know each other, but gray skies and an early sunset made for a cozy feel. Vic loved helping Simon decorate the bungalow with purple and orange light strings, spooky skeletons and fake gravestones, and of course, the eight-foot-tall dragon with mechanical flapping wings and the life-sized hearse with a vampire in the back rising from a coffin.
This year, they planned to expand the display with additional Styrofoam tombstones and a weeping angel to have a small cemetery complete with a plastic faux-wrought iron fence, ghosts, and a large fake raven.
“Is it weird that we deal with real ghosts and monsters, and then we come home and decorate for a holiday about scary stuff?” Vic wondered aloud.
“No more than how we can still enjoy a good horror movie.”
“Yeah, but they get so many of the details wrong,” Vic countered.
Simon gave him a fond look. “Our decorations aren’t exactly accurate.”
“I wouldn’t know—we’ve never fought a dragon.” Vic fought the urge to cross himself.
“And let’s hope we never do,” Simon replied.
“Go back to bed,” Vic told Simon after they finished breakfast, as he got ready to go to the precinct. “I’ll be home for dinner.”
Simon nodded. “I’m not going into the store today. Pete was quite stern about telling me to rest and that he’d reschedule the couple of bookings. It’s like you two gang up on me,” he joked tiredly.
“We do, but it’s in your best interest,” Vic assured him before giving him a kiss. “If you need me, call. I suspect I’ll be drowning in paperwork.”
Vic decided to walk, and enjoyed the uninterrupted quiet, knowing that the day would be hectic in the aftermath of their evening activities.
“Are you okay? How’s Simon—and everyone else?” Ross asked as soon as Vic showed up in their office.
“I’m tired—but worried about Simon. He’s exhausted. I haven’t heard from the others since last night.”
“There’s a fresh pot of coffee, so drink up. Cap had a meeting this morning but wants to hear what happened when he gets out,” Ross said. “And I need to get the full, unredacted version.”
“Are you suggesting there’s more than one version?”
Ross gave him a look. “There always is—depending on who’s listening.”
Vic fixed his coffee and plopped into his chair. “The short version—the wardings are strengthened, the troll is bound, Simon is whole, and nearly everyone survived.”
“ Nearly everyone?”
Vic took a long sip of coffee before he replied. “Buckle up. It’s a wild ride,” he warned before he started his tale.
“…and then the troll vanished after Sister Cecilia burned him to death,” Vic finished a while later.
“Fuck. How do we write that up?” Ross looked a bit stunned, despite having had the inside scoop on Vic and Simon’s previous cases.
“ That’s what stuck with you out of the story? The fate of the coast hung in the balance, and you’re worried about a report?”
“The devil’s in the details,” Ross pointed out.
“Lucky for us that the Supernatural Coast Guard claimed jurisdiction and is handling the cleanup. Hardin is going to work with the Sisters of St. Cyprian to honor Sister Cecilia. She didn’t have any family except the cloister.”
Vic provided a less detailed recap to Captain Hargrove, knowing that his boss preferred plausible deniability and would be fine with the SCG handling the aftermath.
“You know, I slept better before I knew all this mumbo-jumbo was real,” Hargrove grumbled. “I liked thinking it just happened on TV.”
“Where did you think the scriptwriters got their ideas?” Vic joked. “Truth is way stranger than fiction.”
Hargrove held up a hand. “I don’t need to know. Thanks for saving our collective asses.”
“Any time.”
“Is Simon okay?”
Vic nodded. “He will be. Just drained. But he took the day off to recuperate, which is progress. He used to throw himself back into work afterward until he dropped.”
“You’re a good team,” Hargrove replied. “Glad you’re on our side.”
Moments after the captain left, Vic’s phone buzzed. “You’ve got people here to see you—motorcycle folks,” the officer at the front desk told them.
Vic and Ross exchanged a look. “Send them back,” Vic replied.
Chad Samuels and Maret were escorted, looking defiantly uncomfortable in the police station.
“Welcome back.” Vic looked at Maret. “Thanks to you and your coven again for your help.”
“Glad we could lend a hand,” she replied. “Simon delivered the goods. I’m grudgingly impressed—don’t get used to it.”
“The curse should be over for the club.” Vic turned to Samuels. “The troll can’t be destroyed, but the spellwork was strong enough to bind him, so the folks at the shelters should be safe again too. And your people did a great job protecting the locations. Thank you.”
“Happy to help—especially if it means something stops killing my crew.” Samuels extended his hand for Vic to shake. “For cops, you’re okay.”
Vic took the compliment as it was intended, and shook Samuels’s hand. “Thanks. If you think the troll has come back, let me or Simon know. But he thinks that as long as the spell is kept strong, the troll won’t be bothering anyone again.”
Ross waited until their visitors had left before turning to Vic. “That’s one of the most unlikely partnerships in the history of Myrtle Beach.”
Vic shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere, I guess.”
“Have you thought about how we are going to handle the paperwork for this case?” Ross asked.
Vic rolled his eyes. “Again you mention paperwork. No. But I’m definitely of the opinion that the less said, the better.”
“Works for me.”
Since there had been no official incident at the lighthouse, Vic and Ross skirted any mention of that part. No category existed for supernatural threats, let alone protecting the beach from trolls. They focused on Vic being asked by a member of the Coast Guard to do a safety check on the Georgetown light, and the report was close to the truth if extremely light on details.
The Sisters of St. Cyprian somehow finagled to have Sister Cecilia’s cause of death listed as natural, which Vic supposed was true if one stretched natural to include immortal trolls.
“Hold your breath and wish me luck—I’m sending Cap the draft report.” Vic pressed send.
Ross raised his hand with his fingers crossed. “Fingers crossed that he approves it. I said a prayer to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, just in case.”
“I’ll take any help we can get,” Vic replied. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest request for backup.”
Ever since Vic and Simon solved their first case—a supernatural serial killer—figuring out how to handle reporting had been a challenge. Vic needed to satisfy legal requirements without including details that would subject the department to ridicule from those who did not believe in woo-woo, or implicating anyone in technically illegal behavior. That often required fudging or omitting details that were outside the norm.
Vic knocked back the rest of his cup of coffee. “After Halloween, the four of us should go out to dinner if Sheila agrees. It’s been a while.”
“She’s been busy at work, but that should start tapering off toward the end of the year,” Ross agreed. “I think we can arrange a night on the town. Are you and Simon going all out for Halloween, as usual?”
“Yeah, despite everything that’s been going on, according to Simon, Halloween must be celebrated in style. It’s sort of like Goth Christmas. And for him, there’s the energy of Samhain as well, so he’s got some special wardings and rituals for protection to do that night.”
“I’m just in it for the candy.” Ross popped a mint into his mouth. “Sheila and I are going out to eat and coming home after it’s all over.”
They looked up when Captain Hargrove walked in an hour later. Vic held his breath, seeing a printout of the report in Hargrove’s hand.
“I have no doubt that you sanitized what happened to appease the mundanes,” Hargrove glanced from Ross to Vic and seemed to see down to their bones. “Is there anything that isn’t in here that’s going to come back to bite us on the ass?”
“Steve Hardin with the Supernatural Coast Guard claimed jurisdiction,” Vic reminded Hargrove. “Technically, I just did an assist.”
Hargrove’s eyes narrowed as he took Vic’s non-answer for what it was. “I’m happy enough to let them handle it. I’d just rather not have this blow up in the news.”
Vic knew the witches had made sure no one had tailed them or recorded the fight at the lighthouse.
“I have it on good authority that there won’t be any leaks,” Vic replied.
“There better not be,” Hargrove warned.
“There won’t be.”
Hargrove accepted Vic’s assurance with a harrumph but didn’t argue further. “At least you’ve got Hardin’s contact information in the report, in case anyone asks. Which they probably won’t. He called me earlier. Persuasive bastard. Sounded like he had everything buttoned up.”
“Look at it this way, Cap,” Vic said. “We’re saving time and department resources because what happened last night means no more deaths or disappearances from the Low Rangers and a significant decrease in vanishing homeless folks. No investigations or reports necessary.”
“Uh-huh,” Hargrove grumbled. “We’ll see.”
To Vic’s surprise, Hargrove paused. “Thank you—unofficially. It’s a big deal, even if no one else knows about it. I don’t pretend to completely understand what happened—and I don’t need to as long as it works. But I do recognize that there was significant risk involved and that people stepped up despite personal danger to fix a problem. So, thank you for letting the rest of us sleep well at night.”
“Just doing my best to protect and serve,” Vic said, although his boss’s recognition meant a lot. “I’ll pass that along to Simon.”
“And there’s a system set up to make sure the…force…behind the deaths doesn’t come back?” Hargrove asked.
Vic nodded. “Yes. It’s not our problem. The St. Expeditus Society is handling that—from matching guardians to lighthouses to making certain the protections are regularly reinforced.”
Hargrove lifted his hand in a stop gesture. “That’s all I need or want to know. Glad it’s taken care of.” With that, he walked out.
“Guess it’s business as usual—until the next time.” Ross shrugged. “I wouldn’t be disappointed if it got real boring for a while.”
“I’ll be very happy if the only spooky stuff I see are silly decorations and kids in costumes.” Vic checked his watch. “Speaking of which—it’s quitting time, and I’ve got a dragon to inflate.”
“Knock yourself out,” Ross replied. “If you have any leftover candy, bring it in tomorrow. I’ll take care of it for you.”
By the time Vic got home, Simon had already turned on the orange-and-purple twinkle lights and set up a small speaker on the porch to play eerie music. He had added fake cobwebs to the bushes for atmosphere. Strategically angled lights made the fake cemetery look ominous.
“I was worried you wouldn’t get home in time to do the honors.” Simon nodded toward the dragon and hearse, which lay in crumpled piles in their designated spots. “I already ran the extension cords.”
Vic kissed him. “Thank you. Best Halloween hubby ever!” He gave Simon a quick once-over. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. I slept most of the day. It helped,” Simon replied.
Vic arranged the dragon and hearse before plugging them in, letting the built-in air pumps rapidly fill the decorations. Both were lit from inside, making them stand out as the daylight faded.
“And there we go!” Vic said triumphantly as the dragon’s wings slowly opened and closed. It took longer for the hearse since it was bigger, but several people paused walking their dogs to watch the inflatables take shape.
“Dinner is in the slow cooker,” Simon told him. “Corned beef and cabbage with potatoes and carrots. That way we don’t have to worry about it during trick-or-treat, and it’ll be done by the time the festivities are over. I queued up a playlist of horror movies we haven’t seen so we can do a marathon afterward.”
“With snacks?” Vic looked up with a hopeful expression.
Simon made an exaggerated sigh with a fond expression. “Of course. Charcuterie board with all the trimmings and lots of good crackers.”
Since Vic’s introduction to the paranormal world, he discovered horror movies no longer scared him. He didn’t like gore fests or movies about human psychos and sadists because they were far too real to be entertaining. But he and Simon loved poking fun at the special effects and plot holes in movies about the supernatural.
It’s a strange, unexpected benefit for going up against dark magic, demons, and monsters, but I’ll take it.
They dumped bags of candy into a huge bowl, ready for the onslaught.
“It’s time,” Simon said at six. “Bring on the madness.”
For the next several hours, a parade of vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and robots came to the door, ranging from pre-schoolers to lanky college kids. Vic had to give props to the harried parents who shepherded groups of sugar-wired children while stealing a bit of grown-up camaraderie and conversation amid the madness.
“These are for the adults.” Vic walked up to the parents with a bowl of better chocolate, which was gratefully raided. “I hope you have something warm and alcoholic in your future.”
The night turned cool enough that Vic was happy for a sweatshirt, and he took over handing out candy to give Simon a chance to grab a jacket. The cold didn’t dim the enthusiasm of the pint-sized ghosts and goblins who swarmed the steps for candy.
“I love the costumes,” he told Simon as a gaggle of children walked away in search of more treats. “My brothers and I were always cowboys because it was easy.”
“I’m fine with ridin’ and ropin’,” Simon replied with a wink that sent heat to Vic’s groin. “I was ‘that kid’ who came up with the very nerdy original costumes. I dressed up like famous scientists for several years.”
“I bet you made a cute Einstein.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Everything’s relative.”
Vic elbowed him. “Ha, ha. Very funny.” He frowned when he realized that Simon had a far-away look in his eyes. Vic followed Simon’s gaze and saw only an empty street. “Simon?”
“It’s Maggie.” Simon evaded the next group of kids and left them to Vic while he headed toward the corner with a piece of candy, which he added to a small pile at the edge of the sidewalk. Kids and adults who knew the legend added to the stack over the course of the evening, and no one poached from the stash.
Vic greeted the trick-or-treaters and gushed over the costumes, but he kept an eye on Simon, who appeared to be talking to empty air. Simon let the candy fall from his hand toward the pile, and it vanished along with the rest of the candy, then he smiled and waved before returning to the house.
“Ghost?” Vic asked in between swarms of children.
“Yeah. Maggie got hit by a car back in the 1980s near that corner. As far as I can tell, she’s never pulled pranks or caused problems. I don’t know what she does the rest of the year because I’ve only ever seen her on Halloween,” Simon replied. “The candy vanishes, she looks happy and fades out.”
“Good to know that even ghosts like chocolate,” Vic said. Simon’s talent to see spirits no longer made him uncomfortable. He saw it as a way of providing solace and, sometimes, absolution. Or in Maggie’s case, letting a young girl’s ghost know that she wasn’t alone in the Great Beyond.
The hoards of candy-seekers gradually slowed, and by the final half hour, only a few dedicated stragglers remained. Vic made sure they gave the last two kids most of the candy left because he didn’t want to be tempted to eat it himself. Besides, Vic knew that Simon had a bag or two of their favorites hidden in the pantry for later.
When they finally turned off the outdoor lights and closed the door, Vic sighed in relief. They left the inflatables lit and running until the timers shut them down at midnight. He would collect them in the morning.
“Dinner smells amazing, and I’m starved.” Vic locked up and followed his nose to the kitchen where Simon was plating their food.
“Grab a drink and sit—everything’s ready.”
Over dinner they recounted the most memorable costumes.
“Store-bought costumes are fun, but I love the ones people put together on their own,” Vic said. “Some of those kids could end up being Hollywood costume designers. They’ve got the knack.”
“My favorite was the one that looked like a dinner table with a dome over a plate—” Simon began.
“—And then an arm lifted the dome, and the kid’s head was on the platter.” Vic laughed. “That should have won an award.”
After leftovers were put away and dishes done, Vic and Simon headed into the living room, where extra blankets were piled on the couch, ready for their marathon.
“I prepped the stuff for the charcuterie board when I made dinner, so when we’re peckish, I can just bring it in.” Simon plopped on the couch while Vic reached for the remote.
“And you made a horror movie playlist and queued it up.” Vic turned on the television. “So bring on the thrills and chills!”
By midnight they had polished off most of the cut-up meat and cheese, along with several glasses of wine. Thoroughly stuffed, Vic and Simon snuggled close beneath the blankets as they watched heroes battle vampires, werewolves, zombies, bad witches, malicious ghosts, and a seriously malevolent possessed house.
Bad special effects made them laugh. Incorrect lore had Simon cringing and pointing out what was wrong. Vic took exception to weaponry mistakes. But the really scary parts had them glad to be safe and together.
“C’mon—let’s go to bed.” Vic tugged at Simon’s sleeve. “I’ve got some ideas about ending Halloween right.”
It only took minutes to clean up, turn off lights, and check the locks. By the time Vic walked into the bedroom, he found Simon waiting beneath the covers, naked.
“I want you.” Simon held out his hand to Vic, who didn’t hesitate. He stripped quickly and slid in beside Simon, who turned toward him, pressing close. “Whatever you want to do, I just need to feel you.”
Vic answered with a kiss that started slow and deepened, growing heated. He stroked one hand through Simon’s hair, holding him close and angling his head just so. Simon went along willingly.
Vic’s hands slid down Simon’s shoulders, then to the sexy dip at the small of his back. He firmly gripped Simon’s ass and squeezed the globes, pulling him close and grinding their cocks together.
Simon tangled their legs, holding on to Vic like he was drowning. “Please,” he moaned.
“Anything,” Vic whispered. “I’m here. Just relax and let me take care of you.”
“I put in a plug when I got home so I’d be ready for you,” Simon murmured. “Just took it out and got slicked up. Want you as close as you can get.”
Vic chuckled. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“I figured that would speed things up,” Simon replied with a sexy smile. “We can do long and slow later.”
Vic squirted a dollop of lube into his palm and started stroking Simon’s half-hard cock until it firmed in his hand, grinding against his own rigid prick. He felt Simon tremble and heard the way his breathing changed to short, sharp panting. Despite the cool night, Simon’s face flushed, and he had a light sheen of sweat.
“Don’t make me wait.” Simon gave Vic a look so full of hunger that Vic’s groin tightened. “Want to look at you while we do it.”
They had tried a lot of positions and liked many of them, but Vic knew that right now, Simon wanted the comfort of having Vic top and being able to make eye contact.
Vic leaned in for another deep kiss, then pushed Simon’s knees apart and back. The view of Simon on his back, laid out for him, made Vic’s cock painfully hard.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Vic was just as besotted as on their first night together. He eased forward, testing to make sure Simon was as ready as he claimed by slipping two and then three slick fingers into his hole. He didn’t want to hurt Simon and felt relieved when Simon’s body accepted the intrusion without difficulty.
Vic covered him for a moment, holding his lover as close as humanly possible. He pressed kisses to Simon’s neck and let his hands slide between them to tweak his nipples before he raised himself on his arms and began to move. He rocked back and forth slowly, gradually increasing speed as he felt Simon relax and lose himself in sensation.
“I love you,” Vic whispered over and over. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
He reached down to take Simon’s cock in hand, stroking him hard once more. He kept up a matching rhythm, feeling Simon gradually come apart as passion drove out stress and made him forget the aftermath of the evening.
Their climaxes hit nearly simultaneously, like riding lightning. Vic loved the way Simon shivered and clutched him tight, moaning his name. Vic wrapped his arms around Simon in the afterglow, staying joined together until Simon’s breathing slowed and he relaxed, sinking into the bedding.
“Love you,” Simon murmured. “Best husband ever.”
“Planning to be your only husband ever,” Vic teased gently and followed up with another kiss.
“I’m all for that.” Simon sounded sleepy and sated. He tugged gently at Vic. “Time to sleep.”
Vic slipped out gently and rolled to one side. “Give me a minute.” He headed to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and rinsed a warm washcloth to take back to Simon, then took his time wiping Simon down with care, making it a finishing touch of their lovemaking. Simon went to brush his teeth and came right back.”
Vic lobbed the washcloth toward the bathroom door and crawled beneath the covers, spooning Simon. “Did you have a happy Halloween?” He pressed a kiss to Simon’s shoulder.
“Yep. Sex with you is better than chocolate. Don’t let that go to your head,” Simon teased.
“Better than chocolate, huh? Then I’m all for some hot chocolate in the morning.” Vic licked Simon’s neck.
Simon reached for Vic’s hand and pulled it over his heart. “Sweet dreams.”