The silence stretched as we all sat with the weight of those words.
“Do you know any details?” Allie asked Stuart, even though she knew perfectly well what his answer would be. We all did.
“Sorry, kidlet,” he said, sounding miserable. “I’m just the damn messenger.”
She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Well, it doesn’t matter until we figure out what we have to do. I mean, it’s hardly news what me and Daddy are.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“So we need to focus on Antonio,” she continued. “Some demon killed him in our backyard. We need to find out who and why.”
My kid was right. We could spiral about prophecies later. Right then, we had a murder to solve and a message to decode.
“I should write it down,” Stuart said. “The damn things never stay in my head.”
“I remember it,” I said. “I’ll write it down. You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stuart.”
“I’m fine, Kate.” There was an edge in his voice I’d been hearing more often lately. The edge of a man who was tired of being treated like he was broken. Fair enough, I suppose. Except that most of the time, he was still acting broken. Staying locked in his room. Sleeping too much. Not seeing Timmy unless Fran or I suggested daddy-time in an insistent sort of way. When we did, they both had fun. But Stuart never initiated, and he used to play with Timmy all the time.
I drew a breath, forcing my heart not to form any new cracks as I said, “I just worry.”
He slumped a bit, his voice less acrimonious when he said, “I know. But I’ve had dozens of these visions. They haven’t driven me loony yet.”
“I wasn’t saying that at all,” I said, even though—yes—I was terrified that the visions were harming him on some fundamental level. Now, however, wasn’t the time for that conversation. Especially when he had no control over the visions anyway.
I shifted into assignment mode because it was easier than feeling. “Laura, can you poke around online? See if anyone’s heard anything about Antonio’s movements in the past few days. Weird chatter, rumors, anything.”
“On it.”
Over the years, she’d built up an impressive network of contacts in various corners of the internet—hunters, researchers, historians, and a slew of people who knew things they probably shouldn’t. It wasn’t a formal network—and more than once she’d mistaken the teens in a role-playing game foractual Demon Hunters. But most of the time she came back with solid intel.
I turned to Eric, “Can you be symbol guy? See if you can find the demon who killed him?”
“Done.” That was Eric—whatever our complicated history—whatever tension simmered between us—when it came to the work, he was solid.
“I’m going to audit our security in the morning,” Cutter said. “We’ve got three new students coming and a demon bold enough to kill in our backyard. We may not own the cemetery, but we need eyes on it twenty-four/seven.”
“Perfect,” I said, then turned toward Eddie.
“Already got ears in places you don’t want to know about. I’ll find what I can find.”
I nodded, feeling a bit of weight lift from my shoulders. Then the room began to empty. Laura murmured something to Cutter about wanting a nightcap. Eliza slipped out with a significant glance at Allie. Eric lingered near the doorway, waiting to catch my eye. When he did, the look he gave me said we’d talk later—about the symbol, about what it might mean, about everything we hadn’t said in the cemetery.
Allie and Jared were the next to go. She paused at the door, looking back at me with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say. Be careful. Stay alert.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she looked at her feet. “Make good choices.”
“I was going to say I love you.”
She lifted her head, and something softened in her face. “Love you too, Mom.”
Then she was gone, Jared trailing after her like a very attractive shadow. He paused once to tip his head at me, a silent apology mixed with a promise.
I watched them go and tried not to think about what I’d interrupted earlier. Tried not to think about how grown-up my daughter had become. Tried not to think about the prophecy that hung over all of us now.
The door will bleed. Only living shadows can seal the wound.
