The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(33)

Why? Because he’d actually enjoyed our union? That was something we’d always been good at.

He started to dematerialize, and before I could get the words Reyes and wait out, he was gone. Just like that.

I stood there swimming in confusion. At least Reyes had seemed as confused as I was. Was I just seduced by my husband or something else? Which part of Rey’azikeen craved me with such wild abandon? With such delicious debauchery? Or was that my husband making an appearance?

Then again, did it matter?

Slowly, reluctantly, I shifted back onto the cool earthly plane.

My two cohorts were leaning on Garrett’s black truck. They straightened, their expressions a combination of concern and alarm as they stared at me a solid minute. Then, coming to their senses in unison, they sprinted toward me, not slowing until they skidded to a halt barely two feet away, ignoring the clearly marked boundaries of my space bubble.

When Osh tore off his duster and hefted it around my shoulders, I realized why. I glanced down to see nary a stitch in sight. My skin, covered in black soot and a fine sheen of sweat, was still smoking. Tiny ghostlike spirals wafted off me.

I could only imagine what my hair looked like.

I should’ve been mortified as Osh draped me in his duster, but my mind was elsewhere. Too stunned to worry about my public display of indecency.

“Charles?” Garrett said, bending down until our faces were level. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill those people.” I looked down. “Where are my boots?”

“Come on, sweetheart.” Garrett scooped me up into his arms and carried me to his truck.

“Wait. Misery.” I held out a hand to her, possibly exposing Will Robinson in the process. “Misery.”

“Your state of existence?” Osh asked, a grin in his voice.

“We’ll come back for her,” Garrett said.

Osh ran around the truck to open the door. Garrett lifted me inside, but I threw my arms around him. My breath hitched, and I fought tears with everything in me. When Osh raised his brows—probably because the duster slipped off my shoulders—I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the hug as well.

They let me hug them while I fought for control over my emotions. Garrett wrapped an arm around my shoulders and Osh around my waist.

I didn’t know how long that went on, but Osh finally pulled me out of my state of shock by asking, “So … threesome?”

I released them at last, pulled the duster around me the best that I could, then schooled my features to show a bravery I didn’t possess.

“I don’t know who he is,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t have a clue. But I do know that he’s searching for something. Hunting.”

Garrett’s forehead wrinkled. “You don’t know what?”

Shaking my head, I said, “No, but he destroyed Rocket’s asylum because he wouldn’t tell him where it was.”

“Is it bigger than a bread box?” Osh asked.

“It could actually be a bread box for all I know. Rocket called it the embers and the ashes.”

Garrett bowed his head in thought. I looked into the black distance, searching for other meanings. Embers and ashes. That certainly sounded like the god inhabiting my husband’s body. Was it the ashes from something important?

“The god glass,” I said, thinking aloud. “Maybe he wants the ashes from the pendant?”

“Glass doesn’t turn to ash when it’s burned,” Garrett said.

“True. And why would he go to Rocket?”

Osh raised his head and stabbed me with a rare serious expression.

I perked up, hoping he’d thought of an answer. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, looked in the general vicinity of Danger and Will, then said, “Can I have my jacket back?”





11

Never ask a woman who’s eating ice cream

straight from the carton how she’s doing.





—BUMPER STICKER


There was nothing like a shower to give one perspective. I turned off the water just as a dark shadow slipped past my periphery. I whirled around but saw absolutely nothing.

Stepping out of George, I wrapped myself in a towel and walked to my bedroom.

“Reyes?” I asked aloud. Of course, I didn’t get an answer. Even if he were there, he wouldn’t have answered me.

The room seemed so big without him. Cavernous and empty. Not a place I wanted to stay much longer, so I dressed in a hurry and called Garrett.

“Hey, Charles. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. What are you doing?”

“Feeding my box turtle.”

After a long pause, I asked, “Is that a metaphor for something?”

“Not especially. How are you?”

“Better. But I need you and Osh for another job.”

“Does it involve hunting down a god who abducts you out from under our noses, takes you to another plane, and incinerates your clothes in a bizarre mating ritual that only another god must understand?”

“No. It involves flirting.”

“We’ll be right there.”

I walked to Calamity’s for a quick bite before the big night out.

The place was hopping. Not literally because it wasn’t a dance club, but it was full and loud enough to drown out the noise in my head. Almost.