“Finch!” Harley said sternly.
“Harley!” I mimicked. I knew it irked her when I did that.
“What happened to you?” Her tone softened. “When Jacob called, I was so worried.”
Wade nodded. “We both were.”
“Which is why he shouldn’t have called you. Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about. Hazard of the job, that’s all.” I grinned up at Wade. “Although, I’m touched. Wonderboy was worried about me—there’s something you don’t hear every day.”
“Be serious, Finch,” Wade replied. “Come on, just let us know what happened. You got injured by a poltergeist. That’s not some simple occupational hazard. You could’ve died today.”
I shrugged. “But I didn’t, and I can’t tell you. So it’ll be easier for all of us if you both just let it go.”
I wanted to tell them more, I really did, but I didn’t want their pity. Or their self-pity, for that matter, particularly Harley’s. She’d beaten herself up enough about Katherine’s demise and the way things had gone down. I wasn’t going to drag them into my troubles. I’d chosen this. I could do it on my own, the way I was supposed to. And, if there came a time when I couldn’t anymore, then I’d reach out for help.
“We already know it’s because of Erebus, Finch.” Harley perched on the edge of the bed and held my hand.
I didn’t pull away. Just because I wouldn’t ask for their help didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate some sisterly comfort. I liked having her nearby. Maybe it was because of some residual abandonment issues, or maybe it was just because I finally had family, but it made me calmer when she was here.
Wade nodded. “You’re always so secretive about the jobs you do for him, but sometimes it’s best to ask for help before things get too dangerous.”
“Are we forgetting how Harley tried to end Katherine on her own?” I regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, but I wanted them off my case. Not for me, but for their own sakes.
“And what did you do about that, huh?” Wade replied. “You followed her around like a puppy until she gave in. I’m glad you did, don’t get me wrong, but you might need a better example.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Touché, Crowley… touché.”
“You’ve been going at this by yourself for a year, Finch. Surely, it’s time you let us take some of the weight?” Harley paused. “Or, if not me or Wade, then someone else you trust? You almost got snuffed out by a poltergeist today. We almost lost you. Please, just ask for freaking help.”
“It’s not that simple—” I started to protest, but she cut me off.
“My guess is, you needed something from that spirit—something Erebus wants—and you clearly can’t get it on your own. I’m not saying you aren’t capable, because I know you’re capable of just about anything, but this may be biting off more than one person can chew.” She gave my hand a squeeze.
Wade smirked. “I wouldn’t say he’s capable of just about anything. He still has trouble keeping his hair the same color.”
“Pfft, says you. You’ve got enough product in your hair to baste a duck,” I shot back.
“Don’t say ‘baste.’” Wade shuddered.
“Why not? Baste, baste, baste.”
Harley rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged the corners of her lips. “Can you not do this now?”
“I wasn’t doing anything,” I replied, though I felt better. Making fun of Wade always made me feel better. “I know you’re concerned, but I really do have this covered. I’m fine, honestly.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” She gave me a long look and sighed. I squeezed her hand back in response.
“You know I’m always here if you need support, and I know you’ve got some demons to work through, on top of this creepy servitude.” Harley’s eyes and voice were solemn and kind. “But I just want you to let me help you, if you ever need it. I know what you sacrificed to finish Katherine, and I hope that, one day, you might let us share that responsibility.”
“As soon as my ass needs saving, you’ll be the first to know.”
I looked down at Harley’s hand holding mine, my eyes drifting up to the leather cuff on her forearm, which covered her golden apple tattoo. She never went without her cuff. I wore a similar cuff whenever I didn’t feel like shifting over my two apples—the first one that I’d willingly gotten, and the second one which I’d had poured onto me while gussied up as Pieter Mazinov. The cuffs served as a constant reminder for both of us of what we’d been through. We’d never have made it to the bitter end if we hadn’t worked together.
So maybe she was right. Maybe I did need some help for this task, if I ever wanted to finish it. This wasn’t Katherine-Shipton-level evil, but it left me with the same sick sense of dread.
A job shared… right? The sooner I got this over with, the better. And I had just the person in mind, someone who didn’t share my sister’s savior complex.
Four
Finch
The next morning, my eyes opened to daylight nagging me to wake up. I groaned and shoved my head back in the pillow. My sweet, squishy love… I’d deliberately refused to set an alarm, but the sun had transformed into a stressed-out mom ready to kick my ass if I didn’t get up and ready, pronto. I dragged my second pillow over my head like a sandwich to block out the glare.
My body felt like it had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler, or like I’d downed a bottle of Diarmuid’s secret brew, which could kill a grown man but, apparently, not a leprechaun. Everything hurt. No exaggeration. My skull throbbed, my limbs felt heavy, my wounds stung, and, man, did I stink. Those poultices should have come with a biohazard warning. I’d dragged myself to bed, not wanting to spend the night in the infirmary. Now, I wished I had. My sheets would never be the same.
Coffee… My delicious, caffeinated mistress will fix this. That and a hefty dose of painkillers, which Marianne had packed me off with. A stack of them sat on my desk. Grumbling a number of choice expletives under my breath, I removed the upper layer of my pillow sandwich and hauled myself out of bed. Every step took effort.
Padding over to the mirror, I took a long, hard look at myself. My skin was pale, and my hair was sticking up at all angles. My body hadn’t fared much better. Bruises were blooming all over the visible parts of my chest and stomach, and the bandages that were keeping my dignity had turned a rank brown color thanks to the poultices.
It was weird how quickly I’d settled into life at the coven. This bedroom brought me that homey kind of comfort that people loved to harp on about—home is where the heart is and whatnot. I guessed my heart was in the SDC now. Plus, I’d done a killer job of decorating, if I did say so myself.
I had a red feature wall with framed comic books hanging on it. Rare copies, of course—first appearances, key issues, all the good stuff. There was a packed bookshelf on one side with all my favorite reads, from the classics to contemporary and everything in between. Harley liked to mock me for my copy of Wuthering Heights and my Austen collection, but I called her a philistine and that shut her up. A guy could enjoy whatever he wanted, and I liked to think of myself as a bit of a Heathcliff.