‘Don’t you fucking apologise, Stacy. Not ever. Not for that.’
I started to pull away to wipe my cheeks.
‘Just let me hold you,’ he entreated, voice rough. ‘Let me hold you a damned minute more, kærleiki. Please.’
I stopped shoving him away and sank into his arms. He wrapped himself around me, warm and solid. His hands stroked up and down my back as if he couldn’t stop.
‘I couldn’t wake you,’ he said. ‘You screamed and screamed and I couldn’t wake you.’
Loki’s mind touched mine, full of distress.It was worse than Rude Jingo,he said subdued.I’m sorry, Pigdog.
It’s over now.
Yes,he agreed, but his upset still swirled through me, hating that I had suffered that.
He had seen the echoes in my nightmares.
I hated that I had suffered that too. It was one of the reasons I wore the uniform: to stop others from suffering the way I had.
The pain I had suffered as a teen defined me in more ways than one. Even now, I wouldn’t let it break me.
Somehow, I fell back to sleep after the nightmare. Rarely did the dreams come for me now, and I wondered if it was because of the pain of the scry that my mind had pulled up echoes of other pain too.
Robbie stayed the whole night, as he had been doing with increasing frequency, but despite my surprising return to sleep, I awoke with gritty eyes and a hollow chest, the remembered fear still choking me.
It’s over,I told myself.Put it away.
I had other things I needed to focus on. Important things. Life and death things.
Jude Jingo was in Troy Fairglass. I was all but sure of it.
In the bathroom, the shower turned on, and a towel was placed on the heated towel rail for me. Robbie was in the kitchen, so I supposed this was Bob’s way of telling me it was time to shower.
It was odd having the ghost in my bedroom, knowing Bob was a guy. I had always assumed the ghost was female, that ‘she’ was taking care of me, making me eat breakfast, turning the kettle on for a brew, and nowmaking me shower. I’d always thought the ghost’s energy was maternal.
‘I’ll shower,’ I told my friendly shade. ‘But you go and hang out with Robbie, won’t you? Give me some privacy.’
Bob pointedly shut the bedroom door behind him as he went.
Alone, I stepped into the hot spray, grateful for the heat that helped wash away old memories. Without a shift to get ready for, I indulged in a lengthier shower, luxuriating in the warmth and firmly lodging myself in the here and now, focusing on my breath, on the feel of the cloth on my skin. I was fine. I had survived.
Put it away.
While Robbie banged around in the kitchen, hopefully making us something delicious for breakfast – the ghost wasn’t the only one with the need to take care of me – I dried and dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to order my thoughts.
I had a vampyr attacker to identify and a doppelganger to roust out of Troy’s body. Both of those things required a conversation with the Crone.
I checked that it was a civil hour – 7.45am, so just barely – and then called Amber.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked as she answered the phone, her voice lilting with surprising concern.
‘Much better, thank you.’ I went straight into it. ‘Have you heard of Jude Jingo?’
She snorted. ‘Obviously.’
Her knowledge of him wasn’t surprising. A cornerstone of Jingo’s business was making sure everyone knew who he was and that he wasn’t someone to be messed with. His name was synonymous with intimidation.
Until I’d come up against him as Ash Aspen, I hadn’t known what he looked like. Presumably that was because he changed bodies like I got pedicures.
