Chapter 2

Jakob and I spent most of the storm in bed. When he slept I read, when reading got boring I explored. I wandered in and out of sections that turned from house back into cave for hours, only a little afraid I’d get lost for good. The house really was huge.

It seemed when he needed space, Jakob built a room; otherwise he was content to let cave be cave. Down one hall I found a woodworking room that looked fairly recent; the floor was still stone but the wooden benches smelled green and old-fashioned hand tools didn’t show any wear.

I suspected the room had been built, or rather half built with peg board walls instead of drywall, so Jakob would have a spot to make my birthday present last year. The wonderful hand-carved wooden chest sat in his room, still waiting for something worthy of it to go inside.

There were other finds, but nothing as important. I did leave some hallways completely unexplored; there was plenty of time until my lease ended and I didn’t want to rush the fun of exploring my new place. I spent long hours on the couch day dreaming about my furniture and where it would go. On the last day of the storm Jakob caught me there, mentally fitting my bed into his bedroom, when he woke up.

“How long have you had your bed?” I asked as he sat down behind me. I leaned back, happy to rest on his thin frame. He was keeping the place warmer because his skin took on the temperature of the room. Early on in the winter I’d caught my breath when I grabbed his cold hands. After that, the temperature turned practically balmy.

“A few years? Maybe more?” he said, thinking aloud. “Ronnie is how old now?”

“He’s old,” I replied, not wanting to mention Jakob’s adopted son was older than me.

“Well he helped me carry the new mattress in when he was sixteen, so it’s that old.”

“So I take it there have been other women in that bed?” It wasn’t really a question.

Jakob was silent behind me. He really wasn’t comfortable talking about his past, which I respected, but I was trying to make a point.

“I think I’d like to bring my bed from my place when I move in.”

Jakob agreed enthusiastically, then changed the conversation to food. It was early for dinner, but he cooked when he was nervous. I didn’t know if the nerves were because I’d brought up his other loves or because I was moving in. It didn’t matter why; his cooking would taste delicious either way.

The day was dark gray and sleeting so I wanted comfort food. I convinced Jakob to make spaghetti; simple but it fit the weather. We chatted about the rest of the furniture. I knew there were other things to work out but furniture seemed like the biggest one. In all my exploring I hadn’t found a second dining room or a place to fit my living room. The easy conversation carried us through dinner. I ate while he watched. I hated it but I wasn’t willing to address the topic of his meals yet; we’d solved the issue of the bed, which could have been a disaster, and I didn’t want to press my luck. Instead I moved on to happier aspects of moving in.

“You know, when I moved in with Greg, there was this sex thing…” I twirled the last bit of pasta around my fork lazily.

“A sex thing?”

“He wanted sex all the time. I mean, all the time. It was dreadful. I had to set limits, enforce rationing.”

Jakob’s quick smile barely covered his shock. I almost never mentioned my first husband to him, and I tried never to compare the two of them out loud. “You’re afraid I’ll be the same way?”

“I’m hopeful.” I raised my eyebrow with what I hoped was a lecherous grin.

“I’ll do my best not to disappoint.” His smile widened and he came over to my side of the table. There was a long slow kiss and I realized we wouldn’t be talking about anything for a little while.

****

The storm ended late on Wednesday night, blowing itself out while I slept and Jakob worked from his home office. The newspapers reported it did a good amount of damage to homes and businesses but most people were fine. Already the editorials called for revised plans, claiming the government alarmed its citizens unnecessarily.

I tossed the paper aside; there was a reason I didn’t get one delivered to my place. Jakob probably ignored the opinion section on his way to the financial pages. I didn’t have that kind of restraint. Put the frustrating blend of ignorance and zealotry in front of me and I read it. I made a mental note to ignore the paper completely when I moved in as I pulled his car out of the driveway, cautious on the nearly icy roads.

When I moved in. And when would that be? My lease was up at the end of March, one month and a few weeks from now, not a long time to wait. Then again, I could start moving a few things over here and there, sort of move in parts. Planning the move carried me through the early morning traffic and into work. Once I got there and fixed my coffee an out of place item distracted me.

It wasn’t much, just a coffee mug was sitting on my desk. It was white with red writing, a souvenir coffee mug showing a stack of pancakes coated with syrup and Majestic Diner, Ten years! 1944 to 1954 written beneath. Who keeps a coffee mug for more than fifty years?

“This yours?” I asked Danny, holding the offending mug by its handle.

“Nope.”

“Uh-huh.” I groaned realizing who it probably belonged to. Inside a trace of blood confirmed my suspicions.

“Problem?”

“Amadeus left his filthy coffee mug on my desk―”

“His desk,” Danny corrected.

“No, my desk, the left side is mine.”

“All right, the desk you share.”

“It doesn’t matter this mug is gross.” I considered throwing it away, but settled for putting it, old blood and all, in his drawer. I wasn’t about to do his dishes.

“Leave him a note. Auster was constantly leaving banana peels in the trash. I’d have to smell them all day. A simple note and he started using the trash can in the break room.”

I made a noise that wasn’t quite a comment but indicated how I felt about the whole thing.

“None of us are psychic, Mal, leave a note.”

“Do we have something to go do?” I wasn’t going to leave a note.

“You transferred a murder case to us?”

“Right,” I seized the opportunity. “Let’s go talk to the detectives who had it first.”

We took the elevators a few floors down and I wondered how to broach the subject of what Danny was without offending him. My curiosity ate at me but after working with Danny for nine months I knew better than to be blunt. Just when I thought I had something figured out he spoke, stopping me.

“Looks like Detective Quilez, he’s a good guy.” Danny pushed the glass doors open onto a squad room that mirrored our own. Partners’ desks were stacked three deep on each side instead of two, and the early morning din crackled with curse words that didn’t have anything to do with actual curses but otherwise, just like the SIU. We found our way to a desk in the back decorated with a cheerful looking office plant.

“Detective Quilez?” Danny said trying to catch his attention.

“Gallagher, right? SIU? Figured you’d be down. Have a seat.” He swiveled in his chair to grab a manila file. Danny sat, I leaned. “Where’s Doug?”

Doug was Danny’s last partner. It didn’t end well. “Doug left the force. He got into a relationship that went bad.”

Danny was being polite, trying to end the subject but Quilez didn’t get it. “Left? Where’d he go? And what kind of relationship takes you off the force?”

“She was a succubus.”

“Oh.” The detective looked startled for a second then dropped his eyes to the folder in front of him. While a succubus could kill you, it wasn’t the worst option. The worst was what happened to Doug; the suc drained his life away a little at time, so he forgot how he liked his coffee, how to do his job, and by now, he’d probably forgotten who he was entirely.

I didn’t blame Danny for not keeping in touch with his old partner, especially since Doug liked it enough he wouldn’t press charges or leave her. Quilez finally spoke again, “So Christine Sweeny, she’s your case now. Should I ask why?”

“Her ghost showed up in my living room,” I said without introducing myself.

Quilez gave a low whistle. “It really is another world up there isn’t it? Anyway, if the case is yours you can go check this out.” He handed me a pink phone message slip. Someone had found Cynthia Sweeny’s car. I thanked him and we headed down to the motor pool. We got there, got ourselves a car, and got on our way before I started the conversation I was desperate to have.

“So we going to talk about it?” Not the best start but at least it was one.

“Not really.”

“No?” I asked, a touch disappointed.

“Not much to say.”

“Not even a little bit how you’re supposed to be extinct?” The drive wasn’t going to be long but I suspected if I didn’t get something out of Danny about this soon I never would. My curiosity burned far too bright for me to let that happen.

“Why do I feel like I’m putting the girls to bed? It’s only five minutes, right?”

I laughed without wanting to. The girls hated going to sleep at night. All three of them firmly believed the good stuff happened after they went to bed. Declaring bed time meant being asked for five more minutes, which stretched into ten, and then requests for water or a story. Eventually the delays added up and it was an hour past bedtime before the lights were off.

“Fair enough,” I conceded. “But you don’t have to hide around me.”

“You’re right. It’s a habit. The whole thing is a habit really. Someone decided decades ago we were safer on our little island, letting the world think we didn’t exist. The old folks make it hellish for anyone who leaves or God forbid falls in love with someone who’s not our kind and…” Danny’s tone grew unnaturally sober before his voice trailed off. I didn’t need to confirm the woman he loved and the daughters he adored, wouldn’t be welcome in his ancestral home.

“And you hide.” I finished for him.

“It’s not like trying to hide I’m a death witch or anything…”

“Hey!”

“Oh come on, admit it, you suck at hiding: doing magic at every turn, eating tons but never gaining weight, my five-year-old hides better than you do.”

“She does not!” Actually, she did. I’d been so clueless about magic I would have been better off not bothering trying to keep it quiet. The realization didn’t fill me with glee. “Jakob knew what she was.”

“The stiff is what? Six hundred years old? He’d probably met one of us before.”

“Actually…” The wheels in my head started turning. “There was a woman, Oonagh? Name ring any bells?”

He shook his head. “I could ask around, it’s a small community.”

“If you get a chance…” And now it was my turn to let my voice trail off and be vague. I’d love to hear about Jakob’s past if I could do it without him knowing. I tried to switch the subject and not seem so eager. “Will Emma get better at hiding the way Maeve and Nora are?”

“Maeve and Nora don’t have anything to hide. They take after Katie.”

“How does that work?”

“Like all genetics work?” He laughed at my confusion. “You’ve got brown hair and brown eyes. Did you get them from your mom or your dad?”

“Dad.” I remembered his brown eyes shining with triumph when our football team won. “My mom had blue eyes, I take after him.”

“Yeah well, Emma takes after me, the other girls are like Katie.” He took a deep breath. “Doesn’t mean I love them less.”

“No one would ever say you did.”