The stink of overcooked pork filled the kitchen and I scrunched my nose as if that might somehow prevent the smell from worming its way up my nostrils. I looked down into the skillet at the nearly black cylinders of sausage links, thin tendrils of smoke rising from their tough, scarred hides.
At the entrance to the apartment, the door banged open.
“Good lord, what foul demon did you call from the depths of hell in here?”
Indigo pushed her way through the door, looking like the invisible man, her face wrapped in a few layers of white scarf, a baseball hat pulled down over sunglass-covered eyes. She peeled off the fabric, craning her neck as she unraveled herself, then tossed it onto the desk next to the computer screen.
“I’m making breakfast like you said I should.”
“Is that what you call that?” She made her way around the desk and cut a path toward the kitchen, lifting her chin to try and look into the skillet. “Are those sausages or chunks of charcoal?”
“That’s about enough out of you.”
“Five hundred years old and you never learned how to cook.” Indigo hip-checked me, sending me stumbling away from the stove as she looked down inside the skillet and shook her head. “It’s a crime against humanity in there.” She twisted around as the door opened again and Sammy walked in, immediately making a contorted face himself.
“I don’t want to hear it.” I snapped back at him before he could even have a chance to complain.
“Sammy, turn on that water, would you? I’d ask him, but I’m not even sure he could figure that out.”
Sammy snickered and walked past the phone, which had just started to ring at shortly after eight in the morning, then turned the cold water on the sink as Indigo upturned the skillet and dropped the sausages inside with a sizzling thud.
“I’d tell you to burn those in effigy, but they’re already nice and crispy.”
Sammy looked inside the sink, shaking his head. “That’s a damn shame, Gus. What a waste of good pig.”
Indigo sighed and filled up the skillet with a bit of water, returning it to the stovetop, then gestured toward the refrigerator. “Sammy, grab me some more, would you? Let’s see if we can salvage this disaster. It’s a miracle the smoke detector didn’t go off.”
I stepped away from the stove top and watched them work with a hint of amusement. Sammy let Indigo keep working and walked toward the phone on the desk, which had started ringing again, not two minutes after it had ceased.
“What crawled into the incinerator and died in here?”
The entire room froze at once, as if God had pressed the pause button on the world. Indigo stood above the skillet, a box of sausages in her hand, flap open, box tilted toward a plate on the counter. Sammy had been approaching the ringing phone, his hand extended, and jerked to a halt, his fingers several inches from the handset. All heads turned toward my bedroom, where at the mouth of the hallway, stood Loren, dressed in one of my Stryker t-shirts and a pair of flannel pants.
“Wha—” Indigo stammered, looking at Loren, then at me, then back at her, a stunned and shocked expression cut in the surface of her face. “Who—” Her head swiveled back and forth as a frozen sausage slid loose from the opened box and struck the plate with a clatter. The phone stopped ringing, the resounding echo fading in the air as Sammy stared over at Loren, his mouth agape.
“My name’s Loren.” She smiled, her eyes shifting between Indigo and Sammy, looking more than a little self-conscious.
“Good morning, Loren,” Indigo said with a nod, then looked over at me. “Gus? Who is Loren?” Her eyebrows lifted.
“She’s— a friend.”
“A friend. A friend who sleeps in your bed and wears your clothes. That kind of friend?”
“Indigo—”
“You’ve never mentioned this friend before.”
“We— haven’t seen each other for a while.” Loren lifted a hand helpfully, then pushed off from the wall, walking toward the open kitchen. “Would you like some help?”
“Ummm—” Indigo seemed unable to form the words. Loren took her stammering as agreement and circled around next to her. She lifted the open box of sausages from her grasp and shook a few of them into the skillet, half filled with bubbling water.
“He’s never been able to cook,” Loren remarked, shaking her head.
Sammy shot me a sideways glance as the phone rang again, though he diverted his attention toward it and lowered into the chair, lifting it from its cradle. I looked back over toward Indigo and Loren and caught a glimpse of something, a strange look in Loren’s eyes as she shifted her gaze in Indigo’s direction. She sensed something about the young woman, that much was clear— there was no love lost between the witches and the vampires, though I liked to think that Loren was a bit more understanding than some of her ilk had been throughout the years. Indigo cleared her throat, using a fork to gently turn the sausages, then glowered up at me, a crooked grin creasing her face.
“So— how long have you known Gus?”
Loren didn’t reply immediately, clearly unsure what she should or should not be saying.
“A long time,” I interjected, walking over to where Sammy was hanging up the call he’d just been on. “Though we haven’t seen each other in a while.” I moved over next to Sammy, trying to put my eyes on his notepad to see if he’d jotted anything useful down from the call he’d just been on.
“Where did you meet?” Indigo’s voice was raised a bit, asking the room in general.
“Actually not too far from here,” Loren answered, almost by instinct. “Just— outside the city. Long time ago.”
Long time ago, indeed. The mid to late 1600s to be a bit more precise, but I wasn’t sure that was information I was quite ready to share with the larger group yet.
“Like— how long?”
“Long enough,” I replied, my tone clipped, hoping it would chop further questions off at the knees. One look from Indigo told me that my attempt had not been especially successful. She studied me and I tried my damndest not to meet her eyes but knew instantly that she could tell there was more to this story than I was sharing.
“So what brings you back around?” Indigo kept an innocent tone in her voice as she stabbed at the sausages, slowly rolling like logs in water, steam rising from the evaporating liquid.
“Just some, uh— family stuff. Back at the old homestead.”
“Where is that homestead? You said outside of the city, right? Like— how far outside?”
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I twisted toward Indigo.
“That was before my time,” Loren replied, her eyes rolling.
“So when you say a long time—” Indigo continued, ignoring the back and forth, “like— how long? Like— really, really long?”
“Yes, Indigo, we know each other from that— other place,” I said firmly. “We met during my previous occupation.”
“So, wait,” Indigo whispered, almost with giddy joy in her voice, “do you know— magic?”
Loren cleared her voice, trying to conceal the grin. “Sure. A little. Here and there.”
“Are you a witch?” Indigo mouthed the last word without saying it aloud, her eyes wide.
“Indigo!”
She darted a glance back at me, looking not the least bit apologetic.
“I come from an old family,” Loren replied, “and yes, we belong to one of the covens. One of the oldest, actually.”
I rolled my eyes and turned away, shaking my head. “Nothing is sacred, Sammy, nothing at all.”
“She’s a curious kid.”
“That is so cool.” Indigo seemed legitimately impressed and the flush of color in Loren’s cheeks told me she was warming up to her as well.
“Why didn’t you tell us about her?” Sammy kept his voice down so as not to interrupt the women speaking.
“She’s from a previous life, Sam. Honestly— wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again.”
“Were you like— together?”
I nodded, running my fingers down his notepad, studying some of the scrawling marks he’d made over the past day or so.
“Why did you split?” That question came from Indigo, almost shouted over from the kitchen and I pressed my teeth together.
“That’s private.” I spoke without turning.
“Oh come on. Next thing, you’re going to tell me ‘it’s complicated’ or something.” Indigo’s young suddenly interested eyes rolled.
“It is.” I turned toward her. “There were people who didn’t approve.”
Loren wasn’t looking at me, focusing her attention on the steaming water and the all-too-slowly cooking sausages.
“Didn’t approve? Approve of what, you guys hanging out together? Seeing each other?”
“Being married.” The words came from Loren’s parted lips of their own volition.
The world halted, all at once and Loren’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. Her fingers released, dropping the fork to the counter and she pressed her fingers to her parted lips. Indigo’s eyes drew so wide I thought the flesh at the corners might split.
“Married?” Her mouth was a wide, dark crevice. “You were, like married, married?”
Loren chewed her lip, a look of mournful apology reaching out from across the room. I tried to conceal my frustration but failed utterly.
“Technically, I think we still are.” Loren shrugged, completely abandoning any sense of secrecy, no longer looking all that apologetic, secretly enjoying the shit stirring, I suspected.
“Okay, this was not a conversation I was anticipating having today.”
“Well, sorry, boss, cat’s out of the bag now.” Indigo crossed her arms over her chest. “Spill it. All of it.”
“Not going to happen.” I leaned against the desk and tilted my head toward Sammy. “Anyway, I need to borrow the office manager for a little while this morning. Got some big boy stuff to discuss.”
“Big boy stuff? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The arms had unfurled and now one hand was perched on her gently cocked hip.
“After we separated last night,” I replied, “Agent Fenric and I had an interesting conversation. I think that maybe Sammy can provide a little insight.”
“Is that a fact?” Sammy leaned back, looking up at me inquisitively.
“Need to pick a little of that cop brain.”
He nodded with a soft shrug. “You’re welcome to it— not sure how much is left.”
“Can you guys hold down the fort? I was cooking those sausages for you, anyway.”
“Thank God, we stopped you in time,” Indigo replied, turning her attention back to the skillet. “Yeah, yeah, shoo! Go on. Loren and I will have a little girl time, how does that sound?”
Loren closed a fist and the two of them bumped knuckles.
“I’m so screwed.” Shaking my head, I sighed and started for the door. I could hear Sammy squeak his chair across the floor and stand, then moments later we were gone.