“Are you okay?” he rushes out. “I’m on my way to work and saw smoke.” He looks away from me to the large pile of smoldering ghouls. They don’t look like anything more than a heap of rotting garbage at this point.
Which is exactly what they are.
He looks back at the broken window, and I know I can’t say things are peachy and send him on his way.
“It’s taken care of,” I say instead, and keep my arms close to my body. I’m not going to offer an explanation, and I don’t think he’s going to ask. “Thanks for, uh, being a good neighbor.”
He nods and points to the broken window. “Speaking of being a good neighbor, do you need help with that?”
Dammit. I do. Because I don’t know how to fix it, and I need it boarded up so I can leave the house.
“You teach history, right?” I ask, remembering him saying his area of expertise happens to be the same time period this house was built.
“I do.”
“Do you know of any places that work with historical homes? I think the glass was original and I’d like to replace it with something close if possible.”
“Yeah, I know a guy who restores anything from early American history. I can give him a call.”
“Thanks.” I bite my lip, fully aware of how fucking awkward this is. I thought moving out into a rural part of town would mean not having to deal with neighbors, yet here I am.
“It might be a while before he can come out, and even longer until he can get new glass ordered. I have some leftover plywood from a project I started last summer. I can bring it over so you can board up the broken pane in the meantime.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Richard.”
“Jared has vocational today and doesn’t have to be in until noon. I’m going to send him over. The kid is handy, and it’s the least we can do,” he adds before I can protest. Right. I almost forgot I could have had Jared arrested. No wonder Richard is going above and beyond to be a helpful neighbor.
I appreciate the help, really I do, but right now I don’t need anyone else at the house, especially Jared. Unfortunately, I do need the window boarded up so I can leave. And it’s more than just that right now. I’m someone’s target, and they went to great lengths to try and take me down.
Being around me is dangerous.
* * *
After cleaningup the mess in the living room and my bedroom, I take the world’s fastest shower before Jared gets here. I was already covered in blood and got more on me when I scrubbed the floors clean. Richard expected him to move slowly since it’s early and today is Friday, meaning he lacks motivation, but I have a feeling once Jared knows he gets to come inside the house, he’ll spring out of bed.
Toweling off my hair, I’m careful not to rub over my new scabs, then walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom. I mopped my floor clean, but my sheets are twisted and on the floor, and when I look at my bed, I remember waking up with the ghoul on top of me. How did it get in? Were the others sent as a distraction?
One or two ghouls would have been enough to kill an average human. With my background in law enforcement and my training in martial arts, I’m a bit above average when it comes to self-defense, but nearly a dozen ghouls…that’s overkill.
The sender has to know about my protectors. And sending them so close to dawn? They needed the cover of night but pushed it as close to sunrise as possible. Does that mean they know the guys can only protect me in the dark?
I toss my towel onto the foot of the bed and go to my dresser to grab a bra and underwear. My body is sore, and I can’t stop worrying about Jacques. He shouldn’t have risked himself for me. I would have been fine.
Maybe.
Probably.
Okay, probably not. I still have a dull headache from hitting the back of my head on the ground, but it’s nothing a little coffee and Advil can’t fix. I pull on dark jeans and a gray tank top, accessorizing only with my gun and badge.
Combing my hair with my fingers, I’m heading out the door when I realize the grimoire is gone.
“Fuck!” I race to the bed, throwing the pillows back. I left it here last night. It had to have fallen in the scuffle. Desperately I drop to my knees and pick up the blankets.
The book isn’t there.
Throwing the blankets back, I get down onto my stomach and look under the bed, blindly reaching forward and feeling around for it. Suddenly, it makes sense. Having that many ghouls sent to kill mewasoverkill. But sending that many to take me out and get the book…
That’s what they wanted. Whoever sent the ghouls, whoever knows about me and the guys, wants my book.
