Eighth Grave After Dark (17 page)

Denise stared wide-eyed for a moment before continuing. “I just figured I was seeing things. Then about a year later, I was having dinner with my dad again and I told him what I saw. He tried to tell me how special you were. I scoffed and repeated our mantra. ‘Sometimes a blue towel is just a blue towel.'”

“I'm not really sensing an apology here.”

Gemma scowled at me. If only she knew about the bladder situation. It was making me cranky. I didn't want to go now, though. It would be my excuse to leave the room when they were getting ready to go home. I could hurry things along then.

“I slowly began to realize my dad had been right. You were special. Different. I didn't know your father was using you to help solve his cases, though. He hid it from me for a long time.”

“I can't imagine why.”

“It wasn't until the park incident with the missing girl's mother that I realized what he was doing. When I found out, I was livid.”

“Because he was paying attention to me?”

“Because I was so against believing what I saw with my own eyes. Despite everything that happened, I had convinced myself that the angel was a figment of my imagination. That my mother did not go to a better place. That supernatural beings like angels and demons did not exist. It went against everything I was trying tooth and nail to hold on to. There was too much hurt and too much suffering in the world for me to believe that an omniscient being would allow it all to happen. I became an atheist. People are just good or bad. There's no devil making us do evil things.”

“Well, I have to agree with you on the people front.”

“But the devil front?” Gemma asked.

I let a slow smile spread across my face for Denise's benefit. “I'm married to his son.”

“Charley, that's not funny.”

This time I planted a serious gaze on my sister. “I wasn't trying to be funny, Gem.”

She leaned forward and whispered to me. No idea why. “You mean—? Really? As in—?”

“Lucifer's son. Yes.”

I was hoping that would send Denise running. Instead, she rambled on. For the love of—

“When you told me what my dad had told you that day in your apartment, the thing about the blue towels, my last desperate grip on atheism slipped through my fingers. I didn't know what to do. How to handle it. But then everything happened so fast with your father.”

“After Dad died,” Gemma said, “Mom started going to church.”

“He's in a better place, right?” she asked, sobbing into a tissue.

“Actually, last I saw him, he was in my bathroom.”

They both blinked up at me, their mouths forming perfect
O
s.

“What? I wasn't naked or anything.”

“He's here?” Denise asked.

“No. Not right now.” I glanced around just in case. “Not sure what's going on with him. But I really have to pee, so is this a wrap?”

“No,” Denise said, her posture suggesting she was going to stand her ground. “I would like to ask for your forgiveness.”

“My forgiveness?” I said with a huff.

“Charley,” Gemma said, “you promised to listen.”

“I did. I am. But that's all I promised.”

“No,” Denise said, patting Gemma's hand, “it's okay. Charley listened. That's all I can ask. I just want you to know that I am sorry for any suffering I may have caused you.”

“There's something you're missing here,” I said.

“Okay.”

“You've known all along what I was. Or at least that I was special or had a gift or something along those lines. And you denied it and tried to make me feel like shit because of it. Is your knowing supposed to make me feel better? Because trust me when I say that makes you a bigger bitch than I thought you were.”

Gemma lowered her head, then spoke softly. “Sometimes we just need to forgive. Not for that person, but for ourselves.”

“You're right, Charley. I fought the truth. Fought you. Fought my father and your father and even our Maker. I have no one to blame but myself.”

She stood, tucked the tissue in her handbag, then walked to the door. Without facing me, she said, “Thank you for listening. If you can find it in your heart, I want to be a part of your life. A part of Beep's life. I'll do anything you need me to do. I'll help you with the baby. I'll go to the store. I'll change diapers. Anything.” Her voice cracked with her last plea. “Please think about it.”

She walked out, but Gemma had one last thing to say. “It's taken her months to get through a whole day without crying about Dad. She's come a long way, Charley. She has no family but us. Please consider her offer.”

“I'll think about it. After I pee.”

 

8

ANXIETY GIRL!

ABLE TO JUMP TO THE WRONG CONCLUSION IN A SINGLE BOUND.

—T-SHIRT

When I got back from making number one, Katherine the Midwife was there waiting for me, gloves on, in her ready stance. Gawd, she liked sticking her fingers up Virginia.

“Hey, Katherine,” I said. “Time for another torture session?”

Reyes was there, too, looking rather ashamed of himself. As he should. Picking fights with hellhounds was not something to be proud of. I would've kicked him out of the room, but I couldn't be too mad. I now had ammunition for when the time came to tell him about the Loehrs.

“Let's have a look at you,” she said. “You fell?”

“Yes, in the woods.”

“I see that.” She lifted my shirt, and a burst of heat washed over me.

Confused, I looked in the full-length mirror and saw what Reyes saw. I hadn't even noticed it before. I had scrapes all along one side of my back and over my rib cage.

Reyes didn't say anything, but I could feel his desire to question me further.

“Okay, no broken ribs. You're breathing okay?” she asked.

I nodded.

She checked Beep's heartbeat, then said, “How about we do this right here? I'll just check to make sure everything is intact.”

I knew the drill. She stepped outside the room while I removed my pants and my panties and draped the sheet over me. Then I lay down on the bed and called her back in. Reyes never took his eyes off me. His dark gaze was both reassuring and unsettling. He stared at me from underneath his lashes, his temper held in check by his own feelings of helplessness. I was right there with him.

Katherine the Midwife pushed my legs farther apart and did her thing. The lubricant was freezing and I jumped. “Sorry, hon. Let's see what's going on.”

But a barrage of thoughts and images crashed into me as I lay there. The thought of Reyes dragging a hellhound, a fucking hellhound, across the border to try to kill it sank in. That and the fact that someone, or something was trying to kill me in addition to said hellhounds. I wanted to continue to hate Denise forever and ever, but her loneliness—I'd felt it. I'd been feeling it for months. I just lived in a constant state of denial. And the business with the Loehrs. What had I done? What would my actions do to my marriage? Would Reyes forgive me?

It all came bubbling to the surface at the worst possible time. Two fingers. All the way up.

I bit down, covered my eyes, held my breath, but the emotions swirling inside me, the stress of living with a dozen hellhounds just waiting to rip me to shreds—no, waiting to rip Beep to shreds—and being so utterly helpless to do anything about it were getting to me. That combined with everything else, mostly Reyes and his antics and me and my antics, wrenched a sob from my throat.

“It's okay, honey,” Katherine the Midwife said. “I'm almost finished. You're dilated, but just barely. You're about a two right now.”

She cleaned me up and pulled down the sheet, but it was too late. I covered my face with both hands and fought tooth and nail to hold back the emotions overwhelming me.

“This is a very emotional time, sweetheart,” she said, patting my knee.

I felt the bed dip, felt the heat of Reyes near me, felt his fingers push a lock of hair from my face, and cried some more. It was like I'd turned on a faucet and broke the handle. I couldn't turn it back off again.

“I'll leave you two alone, but everything looks good. No damage that I can see.”

I heard the door click closed as she left, and then Reyes pulled me into his arms.

“Freaking whore-mones,” I said, and he held me tight as deep, cleansing sobs overtook me.

*   *   *

When I woke up, it was dark outside. I lay there listening to the sound of Reyes's breathing, deep and even, and I hoped beyond hope that he was asleep.

“I'm not,” he said.

“What time is it?”

“It's only nine. You need to go back to sleep.”

“I will if you will.”

“Can't.”

I rose onto an elbow and tried to make out his features in the dark. Moonlight streamed in from the open curtains and shimmered in his incredible eyes.

“Why can't you sleep?”

“I don't know, Dutch. I just can't. I can't make myself.”

“You can't allow yourself. That's what this is about, but eight months? Really? How did I not know?”

“Because you sleep like you're comatose. And you snore.”

“You can't watch me every second of the day. What good are you if something happens and you're too exhausted to fight?”

“I know. Trust me. I'm not doing it on purpose. I just can't sleep.”

I frowned, worried about him. “Why were you talking with Angel? What's going on with you two?”

“He's doing a little reconnaissance for me.”

“What kind of reconnaissance? You aren't putting him in any danger, are you?”

“No.” He bent to nuzzle my ear. It sent warm shivers cascading over my shoulders.

“Okay, then tell me exactly what you're doing.”

“No.” He trailed tiny, hot kisses down my neck.

“Tell me or we are never having sex again.”

He smiled behind a particularly sensual kiss where my pulse beat. “I'll put the tux back on.”

My lids drifted shut with the thought as a ripple of desire shuddered through me. “Nope. You have to tell me first or that's it. We may as well call the lawyer now because it ain't happening.”

“I'll do that thing with my tongue.”

My gawd, I loved the thing with his tongue. I had to stay strong. “Nope,” I said, my voice as weak as my resolve. “Not even then.”

“Katherine the Midwife left the lube. We could try anal.”

I stifled a giggle. “We are not trying anal.” I rolled away from him and onto my feet. “I need a shower anyway. I just want you to know that whatever happens from here on out is your own fault.”

“Really?” he asked, his expression full of interest.

“I tried to warn you. Don't blame me when this becomes a knock-down drag-out war.”

“And just what do you plan on doing?”

“You'll see. And, mark my words, you will not be happy.” I grabbed my robe from the closet with the sobbing tax attorney and left.

“Just remember,” he said as I closed the door. “I was a general in hell. War is my middle name.”

Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.

*   *   *

Hot water rushed over my skin, easing the aches from the afternoon's events. I'd already begun to heal.

I called Sister Mary Elizabeth on the way to the shower, hoping it wasn't too late. I'd promised to call earlier and give her an update on Quentin. He had been staying with them, but now split his time between the sisters and Reyes and me. We'd semi-adopted him.

“How's Quentin?” she asked before I could even say hello.

“He's good. He's still watching movies with Amber. Or doing crack. Not sure which. So, have you heard anything?”

“I couldn't find anything out about your nun, but we don't have access to those records. Much of that kind of stuff is archived in the Vatican.”

“Wonderful.”

“But I did find one very odd occurrence that happened at that convent.”

“Hit me,” I said, pulling back the shower curtain and turning on the water. It took forever to heat.

“A priest went missing there in the '40s.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He was visiting and just vanished.”

“Like, into thin air?”

“Not literally, but yeah, no one ever saw him again. There was a huge search. It was in all the papers.”

“Okay, well, thanks for looking into it. Anything else on the other front?”

“Besides the fact that heaven is in an uproar? Did I mention that?”

“Yep.”

“And did I mention how exhausting their chatter is?”

“Yep.”

“And how I'm slowly losing my mind with all the chatter?”

“Hey, it's not my fault you can hear angels talking. Hellhounds.”

“No, I haven't heard anything.”

“Well, can you ask?”

“I don't ask and you know it. I just listen. It's not a two-way conversation. I can hear them. I can't communicate with them.”

“Of course you can. You're a nun. You're pure and good and wholesome. Like Wheaties. They'll listen to you. All you have to do is ask.”

“Do you ever listen to anything I say?”

“I'm sorry, were you speaking?”

“You're funny.”

“Thank you!” I said, brightening. “So, I keep meaning to ask you something.”

“Okay. Is it about abstinence again? I can't keep explaining—”

“No, it's about the night you found out I was pregnant with Beep. And now heaven is in an uproar. Why? I mean, are they mad at me?”

“Oh no. ‘Mad' isn't the right word. More like … frantic.”

“Why? Don't they know about the prophecies?”

“Absolutely, but prophecies are thwarted all the time. I think they were just surprised it was really happening. I mean, you're bringing something onto this plane that, well, maybe doesn't belong? No, that's not the right way to put it.”