A Fiend in Need Page 19

  Now I glanced around my yard with pride. Could I sucker my friends and family into helping out or what? Even Logan was there, stretching out fake spiderwebs from the driveway to the front porch. Zoe Cohen was right behind him, planting plastic spiders (the only kind I could accept) in the webbing.

  Rachel had climbed the tree in the front yard and was currently wrestling the stuffed ghoul into position, and Thea was attaching blinking eyeball lights to the insides of the front window. Jasmine was muttering under her breath and setting up the coffin in the front flower bed. (All my dead flowers were suddenly looking pretty good as ambience. Good for me that I suck at gardening.)

  Brady was wandering around looking like he was helping.

  The real surprise, though, was Ryan Butler.

  Apparently he’d finally noticed Thea. I wasn’t real sure how I felt about that. But I’d taken the precaution of squirting him with the demon spray, just in case.

  He’d blinked at me and wiped the green-flecked liquid from his eyes. No smoking going on, so at least I knew he wasn’t a demon. He was cute, too, in a way that a fifteen-year-old girl would find dreamworthy. About six feet tall, he had brown hair, brown eyes and a letter jacket that made him the stuff fantasies are made of. (A big improvement from the last guy Thea’d had a crush on. At least Ryan Butler wore his pants higher than halfway down his butt—and as far as I could tell, there were no piercings.)

  Still, he was a guy who was looking at Thea as if she were a tasty steak, so I had a little chat with him anyway.

  “So, you and Thea, huh?” Smooth, Cass. Real smooth.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Oh, dear God. When did I become a ma’am?

  “Thea’s great.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I said, agreeing with him as I glanced into the house to smile at Thea through the wide front window. She didn’t smile back. In fact, she gave me the death look. You know the one. A teenager’s way of silently saying, Don’t embarrass me, Mother, or I will never speak to you again.

  Not a real threat in Thea’s case. Like me, she’s incapable of going without talking. So I smiled again, gave her a finger wave and looked back to the guy who was currently making Thea’s heart go pitter-pat.

  “See that guy over there?” I said, pointing at Logan.

  Ryan looked at him, saw Logan giving him the hairy eyeball, then shifted his gaze back to me. “Yeah…”

  “That’s Thea’s dad.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “He’s a cop. So he carries a gun.”

  Ryan blinked. Good. I had his attention.

  “Logan’s very protective,” I added.

  Ryan swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Then I gave him a pat on the shoulder and smiled up at him. He really was cute, and for Thea’s sake I was glad he’d noticed her, but not glad enough that I was willing to give him a clear path to my baby. “Just so you know, I’m really protective, too.” I leaned in and gave him my Mad-dog Mother glare. “And I don’t need a gun.”

  He looked nervous.

  Well, my work here was done.

  I grinned and said, “Thanks again for helping out with the decorating!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, but he looked like he was having a hard time not running for his life.

  But Mr. Football was apparently made of sterner stuff. He hadn’t made a run for it, and at the moment he was on the roof, stringing pumpkin lights along the eaves.

  I was pretty sure I’d have to listen to a speech from Thea all about how I’d mortified her and scarred her for life, but that was for later. Right then life was looking pretty good. I had bags of candy in the house, pizza had been ordered and there was cold beer in the fridge.

  And in a life as filled with craziness as mine…you learn to appreciate the slow days.

  Because tomorrow all hell might break loose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My unbelievably long day was over, and my street was settling in for the night. Behind wide front windows, televisions flickered and lamps glowed. Dinners had been eaten, homework was done, and now it was time to close up the house and lock out the night.

  Streetlights shone with a wavery yellow light, and the Sanchez’s dog, Rosie, had started her nightly howl. Sugar flinched at the end of her leash and looked around as if expecting something to jump out at her from the shadows. It was all so normal. Comforting. In a world of weirdness I held on to the familiar like I would a cinnamon roll from Sun and Shadow bakery. I needed this. I needed to take the time to remember that not everything revolved around demons.

  Sugar lumbered forward a few steps, then stopped, out of breath. That was embarrassing.

  From my backyard came the sounds of Thea and Brady, chanting and working on her cheerleader routine. My next-door neighbor, Harlan Cates, had his TV on too loud again, and I could hear Alex Trebek offering somebody a shot at Double Jeopardy. His door was open, the security screen probably barred and his front porch light on, no doubt so Harlan could keep one wary eye on his precious lawn even while watching TV. The man was just a touch psychotic about his yard.

  I swear, once I saw him using manicure scissors to even out the pruning on his oleander bush.

  Sugar whined and tried to head back to the house.

  “No way,” I told her. “You’re walking even if I have to drag you.”

  I wanted a little time alone. A little time to think about where my life was going (the toilet, currently circling the rim), about what I’d do next about the queen (hiding being the best first option) and the highlights my hair needed (give me a break. If I was going to die sometime soon, I wanted my hair to look good).

  “What’re you thinking about?”

  I jolted. Some superhero I was. A voice in the dark and I was ready to jump out of my skin.

  “Jesus, Logan.” I slapped one hand to my chest. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to shoot me as to give me a heart attack?”

  “Sorry. Thought you saw me coming.”

  Actually, no, I hadn’t noticed him. In fact, I was doing everything I could to pretend he hadn’t really moved in today. He’d hauled what little furniture he possessed into the house that morning before coming over to help decorate, so he had to be tired. But did he stay at home and rest up? No. Instead he was standing next to me in the dark.

  And all of a sudden it felt really crowded. “What’s up?”

  “I was going to ask you that,” he said, waving one hand at me holding on to Sugar’s leash. “You’re really taking this dog on a walk?”

  “Something wrong with that?”

  “It’s almost like exercise, isn’t it?” He grinned, and Logan has a really good grin. It hadn’t changed much since the summer the two of us had made Thea.

  Probably not a good thing that I was noticing this.

  Sugar walked over to him and leaned, which forced Logan to lean back. The only way to keep from falling over, remember? “This dog is fat.”

  “Hey, don’t you be insulting my dog.” Of course she was fat. That was why I was forcing her to take a walk. But that didn’t mean I let other people pick on her. “Come on, Sugar. Let’s move.”

  Instantly Sugar sat down, whimpered pitifully and held up one paw. Like I was going to buy that excuse. If she’d had thumbs, she’d have been playing a violin.

  Logan laughed. “Damn, Cassie. Your dog’s just like you!”

  What could I say? He was right. If I’d had an active dog, it would have run away from home years ago in disgust.

  “She’s had a long day,” I said.

  “Yeah, all that lying in the shade, snoring, must have really taken a toll.”

  I didn’t even respond to that, just tugged on the leash, and Sugar was forced to come along.

  We hadn’t gone very far, our footsteps echoing in the silence, Sugar’s heavy breathing playing counterpart, when Logan abruptly said, “That football player was watching Thea like she was dessert all damn day.”

  I’d noticed that, too.
/>   “Bound to happen,” I said, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. “She’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah,” Logan said with a mixture of pride and fear (a combination I knew and identified with), “she is. What do we know about him?”

  I shrugged. “He’s not a demon.”

  Logan’s steps faltered; he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and said, “Demons. Jesus, I can’t believe we’re talking about demons and I’m not laughing my ass off at you.”

  “You mean like you did last month, when I tried to tell you all about it?”

  He had the decency to look a little uncomfortable at the memory. “Okay, fine. I shouldn’t have blown you off like that. Or laughed,” he added before I could. “But in my defense, who the hell would have believed you? I still wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen them for myself.”

  Judging by the expression on his face, I was guessing he wasn’t real happy about having this new reality foisted on him. Well, hell. Get in line.

  We stopped so Sugar could rest up and spend her break sniffing at the base of Harlan’s tree. Dogs are easy to please. Give ’em the scent of old dog urine and they’re happy. To make me happy right about then, I would have required a giant margarita and a plate of nachos. Or pizza sticks from Tully’s. Or some KFC Original Recipe—extra-crispy only got you more batter, nearly burned. Or a sundae. Hot fudge.

  “Earth to Cassie.”

  I blinked.

  Logan looked down at me. “I talked to a couple of the guys at the station, and they said there’ve been rumors about demons for years. Most of the guys aren’t buying it, and I didn’t work real hard to convince them. I didn’t want an appointment with the police shrink. But one guy, Mahaffey, he’s convinced. Said he saw a guy with shark teeth once.”

  Rachel’s husband, Simon, dentist to demons, had a client with shark teeth. I wondered if that was the same demon or if, God help us, there were more of the Jaws guys running around town.

  “Weird to think about, I know.”

  “Think about?” Logan blew out a breath and shook his head. “I’m trying not to. Regular bad guys—dopers, armed robbers, hell, murderers—I can live with. Demons? Not so sure.”

  “You think I like it?” I tugged at the leash, but Sugar wouldn’t budge. This particular tree must have been the neighborhood water cooler. Every dog in town must pop by to leave messages. Bet Harlan loved that.

  Disgusted but resigned, I said, “I know how you feel. I didn’t know about them myself till last month. Didn’t believe it until I squirted my first demon and his head started smoking.” Poor Leo, my washing-machine-delivery demon. Short, fat and bald, he’d hit the ground running after I squirted him and nobody had seen him since.

  “So then,” Logan mused, “that night we went to the beach caves to save Thea…Judge Jenks really was a demon and you…dusted him?”

  “Yeah.” I smiled to myself at the memory.

  “And this guy Brady?” Logan asked. “He’s really a Faery?”

  “Yep.”

  “And Jasmine?”

  “Demon.”

  “Cole?”

  “Him, too.”

  His features went hard and tight. “I can’t believe you were dating a demon!” Logan shouted, and Sugar’s head snapped up as if she’d been shot.

  “Hey, did I give you grief for marrying somebody named Busty?” I countered.

  “Misty.”

  “Whatever.”

  I started walking again, and Sugar practically crawled behind me like a dog taking its last long walk through the pound. At this rate it’d take us an hour to get past Harlan Cates’s house.

  But I wasn’t really mad at Sugar. It was Logan bugging me. This was why I hadn’t wanted Logan moving in across the street. It was hard enough trying to figure out where the two of us stood without him living so close by. Now here he was, tagging along on my forced march, making me mad again.

  He grabbed my arm, dragged me to a stop and said, “You’re through with Cole though, right?”

  Was I? I didn’t know. The only thing I was sure of was, “So none of your business.”

  He didn’t let go of my right arm, and Sugar was straining against the leash I held in my left hand, trying to go home, so it was sort of like being drawn and quartered. Good to be me.

  “I want it to be my business,” he said, and his blue eyes, so much like Thea’s, stared down into mine.

  Oh, boy.

  It was damp and getting colder by the second. I was wearing my winter coat (red sweatshirt), and I was suddenly so hot I needed to fan myself. But I couldn’t do that. Logan would enjoy it too much.

  This just wasn’t fair. Wasn’t my life already full enough? Hadn’t I reached the top of my cup and now it was runnething (yes, I know it’s not a word) over? Wasn’t there a karmic limit to some things?

  Logan’s hands moved up and down my arms, and even through my sweatshirt I could feel the heat from his body pumping into mine. His eyes warmed up, too, and shone with something that looked way too interesting.

  This was one of the reasons I’d wanted those stolen moments with Brady. Because what I felt for Logan was too confusing.

  Heck, everything was confusing. I was still mad at Devlin (helping me notwithstanding, I still had the image of Three Boob stuck in my brain). I had a lot of affection for Brady, and Logan? Well, Logan still made me really nervous. He’d always been able to slip past my guard. Make me want him even when I knew it was a mistake. He was gorgeous and funny and knew me really well, even though he seemed to like me anyway. Logan, I guess, was my Kryptonite. One touch of his hand and weakness set in.

  He was my past and somehow had wormed himself into my present and he kept hinting about my future. All very discombobulating. (One of my grandmother Harry’s favorite words.) So was I baffled by my life? Oh, yeah. Was I worried? Damn straight. Was I going to let him kiss me?

  You betcha.

  Mist rolled down the street in tendrils of gray, thickening the shadows as the fog drifted in from the ocean. Wind sighed past me, and the night was so quiet it was as though the world had taken a breath and held it.

  Logan leaned in close, tucked my hair back from my face and smoothed the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone. I was trembling. My body was humming, my brain was screaming and my hoo-hah just didn’t know what to do with itself. It hadn’t seen this much action in years.

  Then Logan kissed me, and I’m sorry to say I can’t even describe it to you. My brain shut down. Hell, I was lucky I could still stand up. Logan’s got some great lips, and he’s not afraid to use ’em. There was some tongue action, too, and his hand was sliding up underneath my T-shirt, reaching for my boob, and I was leaning in, trying to help him with directions. Well, let’s just say he had my complete attention.

  Which was why I didn’t hear anything right away and didn’t know what the hell Sugar was up to until it was too late. Sugar doesn’t react well to strange situations. When she’s scared (which is pretty much all the time), all she wants is to climb inside my body for safety’s sake.

  Well, since Logan was trying to get there first, all Sugar could do was run in circles around us. She managed to wrap her leash around us once, then nearly strangled herself. Barking and backing up, she hit the backs of Logan’s knees, and he bit my lip as we started toppling over.

  My eyes popped open and stared up into his, and I winced and sort of braced myself, waiting for my head to crack open on the sidewalk.

  Fortunately, Logan’s reflexes are better than mine. He broke our fall with his hands and only let out a manly groan when his wrists bent back.

  Instead of sidewalk, my head bounced off Harlan Cates’s precious grass. Then, once we were on the ground, Sugar covered us with her body, but I wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t being brave, throwing herself on a live grenade to save her loved ones. She was trying to get lost in a crowd.

  “Damn it, Sugar, you’re killing me,” I said.

  “Your dog’s a menace, Cassi
e,” Logan said.

  “Ahooooooooooooo,” Sugar said.

  “Great,” Logan shouted, trying to lift his head away from Sugar’s gaping jaws. “Now I’m deaf!”

  “Who’s out there?” Harlan Cates threw his screen door wide and stepped out onto the porch. “Hey, you two, get off my grass! I just fertilized! What do you two think this is, Motel 6? I’m calling the cops on you kids, swear to God.”

  “Perfect,” I said, hoping that at least it wasn’t cow-poop fertilizer. Though God only knew what the chemical kind was doing to my hair!

  “I am the cops, Mr. Cates,” Logan shouted, then whooshed all the air out of his lungs when Sugar’s foot came down on his nuts. “Logan Miller.” How he managed to talk on a groan, I don’t know. “I just moved in across the street!”

  “And it’s me, too, Mr. Cates,” I called out, untangling the leash while Logan whimpered—in a manly way, of course. “Cassidy Burke!”

  “Should’ve known it was you!” the mean old coot yelled. “You think you can TP my lawn again? I’m ready for you this time!”

  Jesus. Let it go, already. Rach and I toilet-papered the old goat’s yard when we were in high school. Clearly Harlan wasn’t the forgive-and-forget kind of guy. Guess we were still public enemies numbers one and two.

  “Everything’s fine,” Logan assured him in a voice a notch or two higher than normal.

  “Everything’s not fine, you idiot!” Harlan yelled again. “Get off my grass!”

  “Ahooooooooooooo,” Sugar howled, and Rosie down the street picked up the echo and sent it on. From a distance I heard another dog and then another. Great. It was 101 Dalmatians and the Twilight Bark.

  “Sugar, get off me,” I said, and fought with the leash and the dog and—whoops—Logan’s hand. “Cut it out!”