Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(76)

Brandy nodded. “Because we don’t give them a reason not to.”

“Well, maybe someone needs to talk to the—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I said, holding up a hand. “This has to be handled with care. If those girls think Amber and Brandy went to the principal about them, things could get bad. They could retaliate.”

Uncle Bob’s temper flared. He squeezed his girls tighter. Helplessness sucked, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do in this situation without potentially making things a lot worse for Amber. For his daughter.

Brandy’s mom rushed up then. “Is it over?”

I nodded.

“Did you catch him?” she asked, but before I could answer, she went on a rant. “See where this gets you?” she asked Amber. “You girls flirt with boys and wear spaghetti straps and short skirts and think there won’t be any consequences. You only have yourself to blame.” She pretended to be talking to both girls, but her remarks were aimed directly at Amber.

“I beg your pardon,” Cookie said.

“Mom,” Brandy said, “it wasn’t even a boy.”

“You’re gay?” she asked Amber, appalled.

That was it. I turned on her with a growl a microsecond before Osh saved me from a moment that would forever live in infamy. It could’ve gotten ugly fast. Instead, Osh plowed into the woman with his skateboard.

The woman whirled around and glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said, having way too much fun. He stepped on his skateboard and caught it in one hand. It was kind of magical.

“This is a sting, Osh. You aren’t supposed to enjoy it.”

He laughed and lifted his chin toward Cookie and Uncle Bob.

“This … boy is with you?” she asked.

“Mom, let’s just go,” Brandy said, now humiliated if the shade of her face were any indication. She clearly liked “this … boy.”

Osh sidled closer to Amber. Dipped his head to look her in the eyes. “You okay, kid?”

She nodded, her smile shy when he tweaked her chin playfully. Then she waved good-bye to Brandy as her mother dragged her off.

“Finally,” Osh said, easing closer to me. “I thought we’d never be alone.”

“Oh, my God, what is it with teenaged supernatural beings?”

He flashed me a wicked grin, then leaned in. “She’s okay.”

Beep. Beep was okay. When I almost collapsed in relief, he winked and rolled off. Mostly because security had spotted him.

I tapped Uncle Bob’s shoulder as I watched Osh glide in and out of the throngs of shoppers. “Did you clear up that whole shoplifting thing yet?”

Ubie chuckled. “I’ll get right on that.”

I stepped to Amber. Put an arm around her waist since Ubie had claimed her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“People suck.”

“Yes, they do,” Osh said as he raced past us again. Kid was so going to get arrested.

But it did the trick. Amber laughed. There were tears in her eyes when she did it, but she laughed nonetheless.

I’d take it.





18

Life isn’t a fairy tale. If you lose a shoe at midnight, you’re drunk.





—MEME


We were still at the mall well past two when hunger hit. According to Osh, Reyes was going to keep an eye on Beep for a while. He wouldn’t get too close. Those were the rules. Our visits were very much like today: an orchestrated sting operation. We had to get in and out before anything—any supernatural being not working for us—noticed our presence.

By the time Uncle Bob took Amber and Cookie home, I had almost starved to death. I glanced around at the offerings. Mall food. I’d eaten worse.

After scoping out something that sounded only slightly less nutritious than a marshmallow cream puff, I sat down to eat. Uncle Bob sat down with me.

“I thought you were taking them home.”

“I was. Then I remembered we came in separate cars.”

“Want some?” I asked, scooting my delicacy closer to him.

“What is it?”

“No idea. It looked good.”

“Hmm.” He took a bite, then got to his point. “How are you doing?”

“Truth?” I asked, adding a hard edge to my voice.

He dropped his gaze. “Of course.”

“I’m in awe, Uncle Bob.”

His gaze drifted back up. “Awe?”

“Of you. What you did for me … I can’t ever repay you.”

“What I did for you?” The astonishment in his voice bordered on comical. “Charley, you’re special. I mean, I already knew that, and I know that you know that I already knew that, but … you are really special.”

“So are you.”

“No. Not like you. Not like … where did you come from?”

“Well, one night, my mommy and daddy decided to play doctor—”

“That’s not what I mean.” He only pretended to be gruff with me. “How did we end up with you? Of all the people on the planet.”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“I’ll second that.” He took another bite, then glanced down at my stomach and asked, “But you’re good?”