Rules. I had just set boundaries, demanded actions and attitude changes. Like a churchman demanded of his women. Shame curled inside my heart. “Well, dang,” I muttered.
“That was impressive, Nell, sugar.”
I opened my eyes to see Occam in the open doorway between our rooms. I hadn’t heard him come in. He was leaning against the jamb, ankles crossed, arms loose, damp hair hanging forward and curling under his scarred jaw. He had already showered and changed into faded jeans and a long-sleeved Henley tee in a soft faded purple shade. I always looked at his neatly trimmed nails, and he smiled when my eyes dropped down to his toes. He scratched them into the low-pile carpet, much like a cat might scratch on a post, letting me look. They were so different from my deceased husband’s old beat-up feet and long thick jagged nails. Something in my middle flickered, heated, and spread, bright and quick, like fireflies in the night, calling to one another. My cat-man was here. Feeling light as a... as a sprite, maybe, I stared at him, taking in his damp hair, hisslightly scruffy face, at the way the Henley conformed to his long, lean chest, committing this image to memory, so I could pull it up again, anytime I wanted. The fireflies in me multiplied and I placed the cell facedown on the bed.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said, “but the door was open. I only heard the last bit.”
“I was pretty loud. I reckon I didn’t care who heard me.” I looked from the phone back to him. “I love you, Occam,” I said.
His eyes began to glow the yellow of his cat.
“I apologize for my jealousy,” I said. “I renounce the church and the fear and the jealousy that made me react to Etain’s interest in you. I also renounce treating my sisters like churchwomen instead of equal partners. Sometimes I’m just all kinds a stupid.”
He had begun to grin as I listed my sins. It was the kind of grin that said he thought I was cute as a kitten. Adorable. Even when I got all thorny and prickly. One hand had been held at his side, slightly behind his hip. He drew it forward and in his fingers was a single, long-stemmed lavender rose.
“It’s called Sterling Silver,” Occam said, as its fragrance filled the space between us.
John had brought me wildflowers, but never anything so magnificent. Something bittersweet and urgent and needy flooded into the fireflies within me.
Tears caught at my eyes; my chest twisted into some impossible spasm of delight. My words shuddered when I said, “I love you and I know you love me.”
“With all I am and all I ever shall be. With all my heart and soul. With my claws and fangs and with my human body. With your leaves or without. With thorns, like this rose, or smooth-stemmed like an oak. To the full moon and back.”
“Oh. My,” I said, the strange tears spilling over. “So. Cat-man-who-loves-me. Where are T. Laine and FireWind?”
“Busy,” he growled. “At least an hour behind me.”
I had thought my question and his answer were an invitation, but he didn’t move. Didn’t say anything else. But then, he had placed our entire relationship at my feet, in my hands. And... we had an hour. A whole, entire hour. Alone. I got up and walked to him, touched his chest with one hand and touched his hand, holding the rose, with my other. His skin was cat-man heated. He smelled of hotel soap and shampoo and I curled myfingers around his. Pushed him gently into his room. I shut and locked the door to my room, the one I would share with T. Laine. Slowly, I spun us and pulled him after me, crawling up onto his bed, and patted the plump pillows. “C’mere, cat-man. I got some making up to do, and I plan to do it in this here bed.”
Occam purred, a full-on throat-vibrating purr. He pulled off his Henley. Balled it up and tossed it across the room.
FIVE
FireWind texted us to gather in his suite for an EOB—end-of-business—debriefing and dinner, as soon as he and T. Laine had a chance to shower off the death stink and change. When we got there, we found pizza boxes with the logo for Bellacino’s Pizza & Grinders. The four of us fell on the pies as if we were starving and the pizzas took a hurting in just minutes.
Maybe it was the fact that I’d only eaten donuts, coffee, and my protein bars all day, but I was pretty sure this was the best pizza I had ever eaten. Maybe the best meal I had ever eaten. In my life.
“So good,” I said midway into my third and last piece. Even my leaves, trying to curl into my hairline, were happy.
FireWind took a slow bite and chewed as he watched us eat, his gestures formal, a ritual, as if eating take-out pizza was a ceremony of breaking bread. Maybe in his world it was. Maybe I should ask that. Maybe I should have already asked. Had I insulted him? I concentrated on my slice, trying to figure out the proper social words. I settled on something that Mama might have said to the senior wife of a church elder. “I thank you for the meal, the drinks, and the cheesy goodness. It’s delicious.”
T. Laine and Occam chimed in with thanks and FireWind inclined his head, still formal but a bit less distant. “You are welcome.”
JoJo and Tandy, back at HQ in Knoxville, were on the Internet with us, their faces on FireWind’s computer screen in the middle of the table. It was PsyLED’s version of FaceTime but with added security. They were eating salads and grilled salmon with some kind of fancy sauce, and I didn’t know whether I wascovetous or not. Considering my pizza-swollen belly, I decided envy was out of place.
I asked, “Why’s Tandy not here to help with the interrogations?”
“Dyson did the preliminary questioning of the victims sent to UTMC,” FireWind said, using the law enforcement SOP of last names only, which I still wasn’t used to, “and he experienced a negative reaction to the presence of thedeathworking.”
I looked at the screen in surprise. The last time magic had affected Tandy he had misused his gifts to sway the thoughts of others. I wondered if that had been a problem this time. He shrugged uneasily and slid his eyes to JoJo, saying, “I had no ability to read emotions. It’s nice to not have other people’s emotions pressing on my mind, but it made me no more effective than a human.” JoJo’s expression didn’t change at all, but I had a feeling there was more to it than that.
“Death and decayenergies,” T. Laine said, correcting her boss. “It’s not a witch working. All we know for sure is it’s directed paranormal energies.” She was using a tone of voice my mama woulda called sassy and swiped my bottom for using.
FireWind didn’t react to it, merely gave a single slow nod. “Interesting distinction. When Ingram returns to Knoxville, and thedeath and decayenergies have been neutralized, Dyson may be joining us here, for a limited time, in situations where he isn’t negatively affected. I want two people available at HQ at all times.”
I didn’t look at Occam, but I figured that meant we’d have no more hotel alone time. While we were still finishing up the last bites of pizza, T. Laine opened the EOB by calling on Clementine to record and transcribe the meeting. Clementine was the software that saved us from having to take meeting notes, but it was confined to HQ and only available now because we were essentially live.
T. Laine gave the time, the date, and the names of all present, repeating to the group that she had been on the road to Bowling Green for a read when FireWind redirected her to Stella Mae Ragel’s property. Using one clean fingertip to page across the notes on her small electronic tablet, she walked us through the events of the day, and caught us all up on the condition of the transport vehicle that had been taking the body ofStella’s housekeeper to UTMC in the cooler. “It’s still stalled in the middle of I-40. Thedeath and decayis working much faster in the vehicle than at the studio, probably because the concrete floor of the house is more substantial. The energies have eaten through the cooler, the floor of the vehicle, and the asphalt underneath it.” She licked tomato sauce off a finger and tucked her hair back behind an ear with it. “Traffic is backed up for a good seven miles and has been rerouted to back roads, which are bumper-to-bumper. The Nashville coven is heading to I-40 now to set up a circle around the transport vehicle and try to neutralize, or at least contain, the energies. I don’t think the vehicle can be salvaged. Frankly, I think it’s a total loss. The county will have to replace the transport unit and the state will have to repair the interstate, that is,ifwe can find a way to neutralize the destruction.
