It sucked. He wanted to tell Ryan about his loves, and he couldn’t, not ever. He couldn’t even talk about how he and Caleb worked together, for fear of letting too much slip. Just like John could never let anyone know he didn’t need an exorcist circle, so long as he was powered full of Gray’s energy.
At least they could work together, though. And at least Zahira knew. That had to count for something, right?
“I think I get it,” Ryan said as they shuffled forward a few feet, then stopped yet again. “The thrill of being with someone exciting.”
“Hey, are you trying to steal my boyfriend?” John asked with a grin.
Ryan laughed. “Maybe his motorcycle.” He hitched his carry-on duffle higher on his shoulder. “Hey, thanks for letting me come along.”
John looked around at the sea of frustrated faces. A family at the front had forgotten to take shampoo and lotion out of their carry-ons, and were trying to sort through their bags while wrangling two toddlers and a screaming baby. Two college-aged goths leaned against one another, looking like they might fall asleep without the support. A balding man stared at his phone, while the younger woman at his side complained about having to see all three of his ex-wives on Christmas.
“Of course,” John said. “This is way too much fun to keep all for myself. I had to share the joy.”
Ryan laughed. “It is the season of giving.” Then he sobered. “Seriously, though. You could have told me to stay out of it. I’m glad you’re letting me see this through with you.”
“The real John was your cousin, and your aunt and uncle are dead,” John said. “You’ve got as much of a stake in this as I do, in a way.” He met Ryan’s warm brown eyes. “And…I know we’re not related, but it feels like we are. Sorry, that sounded weird.”
“Not at all.” Ryan smiled and clasped John’s shoulder. “I know what you’re saying. We’re not connected by blood, but we’re family.”
John grinned back, relieved. “Exactly.”
Four
Caleb pulled up in front of the urban outfitters whose website had said they offered canoe rental. Night sat in the passenger seat, wearing sunglasses and a face mask to hide his eyes and fangs.
“Come on,” Caleb said. “We’re going to get some waders and a canoe, and whatever else we need that will help us get through the swamp and hunt this thing. Just act human and don’t do anything weird, okay?”
“I am not weird,” Night informed him.
“Right. You keep saying that.”
“I am not weird.”
“Christ,” Caleb muttered, and climbed out of the SUV.
He’d expected the outfitters to be almost deserted due to the weather, but he hadn’t counted on the Christmas shoppers. The place was packed with people taking advantage of the holiday sales, while screaming children chased each other around.
This time last year, he’d been working his ass off as a barista, doing his best not to strangle the impatient pricks who wanted to know why their latte wasn’t already up, despite the fact there were ten people ahead of them all just as stressed. Once he’d get off work, he’d go back to his shitty apartment where he lived alone, crack open a beer, and feel sorry for himself.
To his surprise, the old lady who lived across the hall had given him a sweater she’d knitted herself, saying he was too thin and needed something to keep him warm. It was the first gift he’d gotten in years, and he’d had to run out to the liquor store and get a bottle of her favorite vodka just to have something to give her in return.
The sweater had been ruined just two months later when he fell through the rotting floor of an old house, torn up by the jagged wood and soaked in his blood. John had gotten rid of it, and the rest of his old clothes, when he took Caleb and Gray back to his condo, when Kaniyar ordered him to keep an eye on them.
God, he hadn’t even had a chance to think about what to get John for a present. Oh hell, should he buy two presents, so John would get something from both of them? Not that Gray was likely to have any helpful suggestions, other than “hunt demons” or “have sex.”
“What is wrong with those?”
I don’t even know where to begin.
A young woman wearing the store-issued polo shirt approached them. “Good morning, gentlemen. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said, flashing her an easy smile. “We’d like to rent a canoe for a couple of days, actually.”
“Yes,” Night put in. “We humans enjoy canoeing.”
The saleswoman blinked. “I…see.”
Caleb gritted his teeth. “We need some waders, too. If you could just point us in the right direction, that would be great.”
“Waders are very useful for humans like us,” Night agreed.
“Over there,” the woman said hastily, pointing to the other side of the store. “One of the clerks at the front will help with the canoe rental. Excuse me.”
“That went very well,” Night said when she was gone.
Caleb resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Perfect. Not weird at all. Come on, let’s get the stupid waders and canoe, and get out of here.”
The flight was mercifully free of turbulence. None of them had brought enough things to bother checking a bag, so they went straight to the rental car lot. John put it on his personal credit card, just as he had the plane tickets. If someone really wanted to trace his movements, they’d be able to, but at least it wouldn’t raise any immediate flags with SPECTR’s accounting offices.
Once they were in the car, Ryan asked, “Where to first?”
John drummed his fingertips on the wheel. “Walsh. It’s Saturday, so hopefully he’s home and not at the university. Or off visiting family for the holidays.”
Zahira sat in the passenger seat, and while John navigated out of the rental car lot, she tapped on her phone. She’d used SPECTR backchannels to get Walsh’s address, and entered it now.
John followed the phone’s directions, out of the airport and onto I-95. Traffic was lighter than expected, so they made good time to Boca Raton. Though it was getting toward dinner time, no one suggested grabbing food. John didn’t know about the others, but his stomach was tied up in too many knots to even contemplate eating right now.
He tried to concentrate on the drive, not the destination. It didn’t work as well as he would have liked, and by the time the phone announced “Your destination is on the left,” his mouth tasted sour and his hands felt shaky.
Walsh’s house was a spacious, two-story structure meant to recall a Spanish villa with its white walls and terracotta roof. A Lexus sat in the driveway, and the landscaping looked as though it had an entire army of gardeners to tend it. Festive white lights hung from the eaves and from the iron railing of a fake balcony.
“I guess torturing children pays well,” Ryan said bitterly from the backseat.
John stared at the house. Warm light shone through the big glass windows on the first floor, accompanied by the bluish glow of a television screen.
This was it, then. He was about to see the face he’d glimpsed in his resurfacing memories, his dreams. The face of a man who had forced him to submit to possession, experimentation, and Goddess only knew what else.