“Honestly, I don’t know exactly how it works. You put fuel into a tank, and it uses that to propel the car. I control it with the pedals on the floor and turn it with this wheel. It’s a rather complicated procedure now that I think about it, but I’m so used to it I don’t stop and wonder.”
He moves his gaze to the touchscreen glowing on the dash and brings his hand up, touching the little music note. The radio turns on, blasting a Spice Girls song. He jerks his hand back and tips his head.
“What is this?”
“I call it music, but I’m sure others disagree,” I say with a smile, and turn the volume down some. “I like ’90s music. 1990s, that is.”
Hasan doesn’t speak for the rest of “Wannabe.” Another song comes on, one I don’t like, so I change the station to one that plays current music.
“Music has changed.”
“I’m not sure what was popular in your time. Organ music, maybe?”
“I didn’t listen to music often.”
“Right,” I say, and slow for a stoplight. “It had to be live in order to hear it. No offense, but I’m glad I was born now. Mostly because as a woman I’d have no rights back then and I really enjoy being able to vote and work and wear pants.” I yawn and fight the urge to close my eyes. “How weird is it being here? You guys basically time traveled. I know technically you were here the whole time, but you went to sleep a thousand years ago and woke up to this.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” he starts, “but the world seems like a better place now.”
I make a mental note not to let them watch the news. “Things have come a long way. Human rights, healthcare—well, that’s debatable, but the ability to care for health issues is better.” I shake my head. “Sorry, getting off topic.”
Hasan carefully touches another button, bringing up the navigation system. I spend the rest of the drive back to the estate trying to explain GPS and satellites. I’ve confused myself by the time we pull into the driveway.
The others are outside waiting. Gilbert and Thomas are sitting on the roof, and Jacques is in front of the porch. His arms are crossed, face set with anger. It’s a look I know well because it’s one I’ve worn a time or two.
He’s not really pissed.
He’s scared shitless and fighting his feelings. He doesn’t want to care about me, because when you care about someone, you open yourself up to a world of hurt. I know it, and he knows it. We’ve both been hurt before.
I falter on my way up the porch, and Gilbert swoops down to help me.
“Jesus, Ace, what the hell happened to you?” He slips his arm around me, hoisting me up.
“She used magic,” Hasan answers. “And faced vampires.”
“Good thing you were there,” Gilbert says to him, helping me up the porch steps.
“I didn’t do anything. She fought them on her own.”
“And got away?” Thomas opens the door for us, stepping aside. My body begs to lie down and let my eyes shut. And this time, I don’t want to fight it. I need to sleep. I need a few hours of slipping into the black, dreamless nothing and not worrying about vampires or magic or how the hell I’m going to make things work at the station in the morning.
The house is warm, thank God, and I go to the couch in the sitting room since it’s the closest. The first thing I do is take off my shoes.
“Tell me about the magic.” Jacques sits next to me.
“Give her a fucking break,” Thomas says, coming into the room with a bottle of water. I take it and chug half of it down, feeling a little better already.
“I’m okay,” I insist. “There were two vampires at the bar. I caught one trying to drag a drunk girl into a back room, I think to feed.” I blink, and the scene replays before me. I hope tight-leather-dress girl got back to the bar okay. I shouldn’t have left like that. But I was in no condition to keep fighting.
My stomach hurts with regret. I’ve made one bad decision after another since finding out about the gargoyles and vampires. I can’t think like a cop when I’m fighting the supernatural, and I hate it.
“I got her away, and the vampire attacked me. He called me a ‘malefica’ and shouted for another. They cornered me and somehow I started the fire. I burned one vamp and it hurt him. That’s how I was able to get away.”
The guys all look at me, and several beats pass before anyone speaks.
“You need to rest,” Gilbert says, breaking the silence. “I can turn on the shower for you.”
“You know how to do that?”
