Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (2 page)

“I told plenty of people.”

“You didn’t tell me. Or my mom.”

Meaghan fidgeted in her chair, fighting back the tears that had grown even more frequent since Labor Day. It had gotten so bad, she could barely get out of bed some mornings. February in Arizona and February in northern Pennsylvania were not remotely similar. The moment her plane had touched down at Sky Harbor, she’d felt better. Actually, she’d felt better the moment the puddle jumper from Williamsport to Philly had broken through the ever-present cloud cover to reveal sunshine and blue sky.

Elena waited patiently for Meaghan to respond. Elena had been Meaghan’s best friend since Meaghan had arrived in Phoenix as a child. Meaghan knew that Elena would slowly, but inexorably, push, like lava flowing across the land, until Meaghan told her what was going on.

But how much could she tell her? Really tell her? About Eldrich, about her new life . . .

“It all happened so fast,” Meaghan said. “I barely had time to register what was going on before I was there starting the new job.”

“And they have no phones in this town? Is that why you show up on my doorstep without a word in advance?”

“I . . . yes.” And now the tears did flow, because Meaghan desperately wanted to talk to Elena about everything, especially the paranormal and magical crap, but knew she couldn’t.

Elena nodded and patted her hand. “I’ll get the tissues. Drink your tequila like a good girl until I get back.”

Meaghan snorted a giggle through her tears. Elena knew her so well. She dug a rumpled tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose, then a fresh wave of tears swept over her.

She’s my best friend and I can’t tell her what’s going on.

But Meaghan knew that was bullshit the moment she thought it.
The magic is only part of it,
her calm, rational voice told her.
The magic isn’t what made you run away from John. The magic isn’t what’s causing the nightmares.

Elena returned with a box of tissues and a full dinner plate.

“What’s that?” Meaghan asked, sniffling.

“Cheese enchiladas.”

Meaghan’s stomach rumbled, her tears forgotten for the moment. “Tía Nancy’s?”

“Yup. Frozen into single-serve packets for emergencies.”

Meaghan raised an eyebrow.

“I got divorced,” Elena said. “It’s a good divorce, but that doesn’t mean it’s been easy.” She dropped the tissue box into Meaghan’s lap and held out the plate. “Here.”

Meaghan blew her nose, then took the plate. Nobody made enchiladas like Elena’s aunt Nancy, not even Meaghan’s brother, the chef, because Tía Nancy used the cheapest flour tortillas she could find, canned enchilada sauce, and Velveeta cheese.

Tía Nancy’s enchiladas were the Mexican food equivalent of SpaghettiOs and the supreme comfort food of Meaghan’s youth. She loved them with all her heart. Russ, on the other hand, considered them a culinary travesty.

Between bites, Meaghan said, “My brother would have a stroke if he saw me eating these. He thinks Velveeta should be banned by treaty, like nerve gas. His enchiladas take at least three days to make.”

Elena smiled. “Russ is the gayest straight man I’ve ever known.”

Meaghan laughed, inhaled a bite of food, and started coughing. When she got her breath back, she said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Yeah, it didn’t surprise me to hear that love spell made him gay for a day.”

Meaghan sprayed her sip of tequila as she began choking again. Elena knew? Elena, her best friend from Phoenix, sensible down-to-earth Elena was clued in?

“Before you start wigging out, I know, I’ve always known, and I’m so relieved that now you do, too.” Elena drained her margarita.

“How?” Meaghan managed to gasp. “How do you know?”

“My mom’s a witch,” Elena said. “She and Tía Nancy both.”

“What about you?”

Elena shook her head. “Nope. I’m a little psychic, but that’s it. And it’s not like Mom and Nancy are Eldrich-type witches. They have to go up to Sedona to get that kind of power and you know how much Mom loves Sedona.” She rolled her eyes. “If it weren’t for the vortices, she’d never go near the place. That New Age stuff annoys the crap out of her.”

“So, you know about me?”

“Yeah, sweetie. Always have.” Elena reached forward and grabbed Meaghan’s hand before she could pull away. “And if you start in with the ‘everybody lied to me’ whine, I’m gonna brain you with that dinner plate.”

Meaghan bristled. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Yeah, Meg,” Elena said. “You were. Psychic, remember? You think your father left you guys unprotected? It wasn’t a coincidence that we moved in next door right after you got here.”

“You—”

“No, I was your friend because I wanted to be your friend, not because Mom asked me to get to know you. I didn’t befriend you because it was a job or because I knew you had some big-time destiny.”

“Stop doing that,” Meaghan said.

“Doing what?”

“Reading my mind.”

“Oh, please. I don’t need to be psychic to know how your mind works. Russ gave me a heads-up. He figured you’d show up here when he got your note. And before you start with the ‘everybody’s conspiring behind my back’ crap, we only do it because we love you and know how much shit has been thrown at you in the last year.”

“You know about Eldrich?” Meaghan asked in a small voice.

“Yeah, all of it,” Elena said. “Russ—what do you guys call it?—clued me in. So, what’s going on? What’s really going on? Why did you run?”

There hadn’t been one defining moment, no epiphany or precipitating event. Meaghan had simply woken up that morning, looked at the heavy gray sky, smelled more snow in the air, and decided she was done with it. Done with Eldrich, done with magic, done with her destiny. She was going home.

“Bullshit,” Elena said. “It was that guy, John, after you rejected him again.” She paused a beat. “Okay, I did read your mind that time. He’s crazy about you. What’s the problem?”

“You’re the one reading my mind,” Meaghan said, her voice sullen. “You tell me.”

“I’m only a little psychic, remember? Talk already.”

“He’s an alcoholic.”

“In AA, right?”

“That’s no guarantee he won’t drink again.”

“This again?” Elena rolled her eyes. “Meg, life doesn’t come with a guarantee. Just because you won’t let yourself make mistakes, doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t human.” She shrugged. “Mostly human . . . humanoid . . . you know what I mean.”

“I make plenty of mistakes,” Meaghan said.

“Yeah, and then never forgive yourself for them. Did it ever occur to you that hiding from life so you don’t screw it up is the biggest mistake anyone can make? So, tell me, if you let him in, and he starts drinking, what will happen? What’s the worst that will happen?’

“I . . . he’ll . . .” She glared at Elena. “He’ll leave. Or I’ll have to leave.”

Elena shook her head and sighed. “Well, sweetie, then the worst has happened already. You’ve left. And he hasn’t touched a drop.” She leaned back in her chair. “Don’t shake your head at me. He wasn’t drinking when I talked to him before you got here. He’s worried and he’s hurt, but he’s sober.”

“You talked to him?”

“Mmhm, I did. He has quite an interesting accent to go along with that sexy voice. He knows something’s wrong. This isn’t only about his past. There’s something else you’re not telling anybody.”

Meaghan shook her head as the tears fell again.

Elena stood up. “Hold that thought. I have something that might help.”

Meaghan blew her nose and tried to regain her composure. There was something she wasn’t telling anybody, something she could barely articulate to herself.

Back in September, she’d promised Russ and Natalie, their much younger half-sister, that she’d see a therapist about the bad dreams and sleepless nights. But in the aftermath of Labor Day—rebuilding city hall, finding homes for the Fahrayan diaspora, trying to learn more about the dangerous magical creatures that had tried to enter the human world—she’d never gotten around to it. They all had bigger problems, and it seemed, to Meaghan at least, like everyone had wanted her and John to live happily ever after like some fairy tale.

So, she played along. She tried to stuff her fear and uncertainty as deep inside herself as she could and be strong. She was surrounded by people who had suffered real trauma—Jamie, despite pretending otherwise, still had a long way to go to recover from his ordeal in Fahraya, and Marnie . . . six months had passed and she was still hiding in Brian Cressley’s guest room.

Meaghan and John had begun to date, but despite what everyone believed, had not had sex yet. He remained patient, but Meaghan wondered for how much longer. She wanted him—at least she thought she did—but whenever they came close to physical intimacy, she panicked.

Her nightmares had coalesced into one awful dream. The giant scorpions, the waving tentacles of the mystery monsters, dead Jamie excoriating her for failing to save him, Natalie burning and screaming atop the bonfire in the city square—they’d all been upstaged by a wizard. A paunchy, balding, middle-aged wizard, who pinned her to the ground and fumbled for the zipper to her jeans, while she heard a male voice growl, “
The bitch needs to learn her place.”

Before the wizard could go further, she always woke up, with the covers snarled around her and a scream in her throat. But the worst part was the way the fear bled into her waking life whenever things got too far with John.

Meaghan had faced so much in the nine months she’d lived in Eldrich—starting with the discovery that magic was real and she was impervious to it. Her father had died. She had been attacked by wizards and had fought monsters. She’d saved the world—twice.

She’d even managed to fall in love. She knew she loved John and that he loved her. That wasn’t the problem. And, to be brutally honest with herself, neither was the risk of him drinking. That was merely a convenient excuse.

The real problem was that every time John touched her below the waist, her mind was filled with the balding wizard crushing her to the ground, leaving her weak and powerless.

The bitch needs to learn her place.

But Meaghan hadn’t been raped. The wizard’s companion had shoved him away from her, not to save Meaghan from the wizard, but to save her for something worse.

But that hadn’t happened either. Meaghan had to keep reminding herself that the monsters hadn’t gotten past her. Jamie had survived and was getting better. Natalie hadn’t been burned alive.

Meaghan hadn’t been raped.

But when John touched her and the panic rose in her throat, when the nightmare came alive in her waking mind, all she could think of was escape. Not from John, but from that wizard and from the realization that there had been nothing she could have done to stop him.

And the worst part was, she couldn’t tell John. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the man she loved that his touch reminded her of a man who had tried to hurt her.

She couldn’t tell anybody.

Chapter Three

B
EFORE MEAGHAN COULD
spiral any deeper, Elena reappeared holding what looked like a tablet computer.

She held it out to Meaghan. “Here. You need this more than I do.”

Meaghan examined it. “I thought these things were supposed to weigh less.”

Elena shook her head. “It’s not an iPad. It’s a light box.”

“A what?”

“A light box,” Elena repeated. “For seasonal affective disorder. Seasonal depression. Winter blues. I got it when we moved to Portland. That first winter, I thought I was gonna die. It rained all the time, and the sun went down at like four thirty. Then somebody turned me onto this.”

“I don’t have seasonal depression.”

“Bullshit, you don’t,” Elena said. “You can’t deal with the PTSD until you deal with this. You sit in front of it every morning. The owner’s manual is in the house and there’s a lot of stuff on their website.”

Meaghan looked at it skeptically. “I don’t have PTSD.”

“You sure about that?” Elena sighed. “You moved really far north after spending most of your life in one of the sunniest places on earth. Seasonal depression is biochemical. It’s not a sign of weakness, and you need it.”

“I guess. I do feel a little better since I got here.”

“Moving back fixed my problem. That and divorcing Dennis. That helped, too.” She laughed a moment, then grew serious. “But moving back here isn’t an option for you and we both know it. Tell me what’s going on.”

Meaghan was silent a moment. Where to start? “What do you know?”

“I know about that Fahraya place and what they did to John and his son. Jamie, right?”

Meaghan nodded.

“And I know Jamie went all wacky and blew up city hall—”

“Not all of it.”

Elena waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. And I know you kept some really awful scary monsters out of our world, but I don’t know how.”

“I chucked a stapler at them,” Meaghan said.

“A stapler? For real?”

“It was big stapler, made out of steel. They don’t like that. I also beat up a wizard with one of Russ’s chef-grade saucepans.”