10

GET SWOLE

After finally showering off the chicken soup, Dru had been much too stressed out to sleep. She was desperate to find any books by the elusive scholar Tristram, who she was absolutely sure had written a world-class treatise on dispossessed spirits. The caffeine and sugar jolt from Ruiz’s coffee and donuts had sent her into a brief overdrive, so she had impetuously worked her way through all of her stacks of books, searching.

But some of her books were unaccountably missing.

For all of her efforts, her caffeinated hyper-focus didn’t turn up anything she was looking for. She was left sure of only one thing: the Tristram book was not anywhere in her shop.

Which meant someone had taken it. But who?

As always, Salem was her first suspect. On more than one occasion, he had lifted important magical things right out from under her nose. But even if she could find him and confront him, he would deny everything.

She sat down in one of her ugly plaid armchairs, trying to think of her next move. Immediately, her head lolled back and she fell fast asleep.

She woke up with a snort a few hours later, disoriented and intensely hungry. She blinked in the bright sunlight streaming in through the shop windows. Her glasses had gone crooked on her nose, and her entire body ached from sleeping in the chair. Someone had covered her with a light blanket and carefully tucked it up over her shoulders.

She turned her head. Greyson sat in another chair, reading silently.

He was motionless, patiently quiet and unobtrusive, and yet his presence filled the room. Everything about him radiated strength and capability. His hair was slightly mussed up from the long night before, and his stubble cast a darker shadow along his jawline. But that just made her want to reach out and touch the lean contours of his cheek. He was like a rock, keeping her firmly anchored when everything else felt like it was going to pieces.

She looked him up and down, wondering for the hundredth time how they had ever found one another. A guy who didn’t believe in magic, wasn’t a sorcerer, and hadn’t grown up surrounded by the supernatural, the way she had. They moved in completely different circles. Had entirely different interests. He was a wrench-turning car guy, a mechanic and erstwhile muscle car restorer. She was a clumsy crystal sorceress with social anxiety. There was no way they should have ever even met.

Except that a bizarre twist of fate had inflicted a curse on him, dooming him to become one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. She still wasn’t exactly sure what he was. Mostly human, part demon, possessed of magical powers that neither of them fully understood.

Once, he had been a monster, threatening to destroy the world in a fiery apocalypse. But Dru’s magic had saved him, brought him back from the brink, turned him human again with the most passionate kiss of her life.

He was dangerous, that much was clear. She wanted to believe that it was a good kind of dangerous, the kind that would keep her safe and protected. But what if she was wrong? What if Salem was right, and Greyson had a hidden dark side that no one had seen yet?

And even if Greyson was a good guy all the way through, as she so badly wanted to believe, how would the two of them ever make their relationship work in the long run? Did they even have a relationship, technically? So far, they had shared only a few dinner dates—most of which ended in some kind of supernatural disaster—and several extremely hot kisses.

That, to her, constituted the start of a relationship with serious possibilities. Especially since every time she was near Greyson, she just wanted to be lost in his warm embrace. It wasn’t just his brawny good looks, either. He always seemed to know what she was feeling before she felt it herself. Even in the heat of battle against the forces of darkness, he was always there for her. They made a great team.

But she still had to admit that on the surface, it seemed the two of them were completely incompatible. No matter how safe and protected she felt around him, she still had to wonder how he really felt about her. She also couldn’t ignore the nagging worry that the same twists of fate that had brought them together could someday tear them apart.

But even after a sleepless night, the guy still looked amazingly handsome, and that right there was almost too good to be true. She didn’t want to do anything dumb to jeopardize this blossoming relationship.

Dru surreptitiously checked to make sure she hadn’t drooled on herself, then sat up and fixed her glasses, making the room zoom out of focus and back in again.

“Morning.” Greyson smiled bemusedly and held up his heavy brown leather-bound book. “I don’t know how you read these things.”

She cleared her throat and made a twirling motion with her finger. “You have to turn it over.” Too late, she realized that maybe she shouldn’t have pointed that out.

One eyebrow went up, but he didn’t seem offended. Carefully, he turned the old book right side up and stared at it some more, then flipped the page. “Huh. How can you tell?”

Dru leaned forward and squinted at the book. Greyson held it up again, so she could see the pages.

“Oh, don’t worry about that book. That’s nothing.” She waved it off. “It’s a pharmacopeia written in transliterated Nahuatl. Actually, it’s not even that. It’s a seventeenth-century forgery. I was just using it as a doorstop.”

Greyson nodded slowly. His expression clearly indicated that he wasn’t following.

“Nahuatl. It’s the language of the Aztecs,” she explained, which probably didn’t help at all. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead.

He nodded again as if he understood and carefully set the book down. “Well, the pictures are interesting, anyway.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dru felt a sudden flash of déjà vu. She remembered Rane sitting in that exact chair the previous winter, while snow piled up against the windows, guffawing with laughter as she flipped through the pages of a similar book, looking at the pictures. Oh, my God, look at this poky thing. Tell me that’s not what I think it is.

Dru had never really wanted to talk about what Rane apparently thought “it” was, but she did remember Rane cackling and insisting she had to take the book home to show Salem. Which Dru had immediately vetoed, or so she remembered.

The book Rane had been reading was the Tristram book. About dispossessed souls. And come to think of it, Dru hadn’t seen it since that day.

As if sensing Dru’s chain of thoughts, Greyson straightened up. “Everything all right?”

“Maybe. Are you up for a drive? Because we need to go to Rane’s place. She might have exactly the book I need to stop the wraith.”

“Rane? A book?” Greyson was clearly skeptical. “She’s a big reader, huh?”

Dru tried to keep a straight face. “Not exactly.”

* * *

After a quick bite at Denver’s famous sandwich shop, Snarf’s, Dru directed Greyson to the little-used frontage road that led to a sparsely populated area near the river. Calling it a neighborhood was too much of a stretch. It was more like a no-man’s-land between several blocks of working-class apartments and an industrial zone of endless concrete warehouses and smoke-belching factories. In between stretched a lightly wooded area that bordered the river, scattered with random storage yards and empty old houses. It appeared that no one quite knew what to do with the land, and had given up worrying about it decades ago.

An unmarked gravel road bumped and turned through the trees, leading to a squat brick building that looked like it had been hastily abandoned years before.

Piles of weathered lumber sat under threadbare tarps that did nothing to shield them from the elements. Two burly dump trucks, spotted with rust, sat abandoned in the weeds beside an old pickup with broken windows. To one side of the building, a tall chain-link fence completely enclosed a paved lot. The fence was run through with strips of weathered plastic that blocked out the view and rendered its contents a mystery. Which made it the perfect place for a sorceress like Rane to hide out from the world.

Forehead furrowed in thought, Greyson shut off the engine and regarded the brick building. “Maybe I should wait here.”

Dru almost told him to come on in, but then she thought better of it. After the brief but painful argument last night that had precipitated Salem’s sudden departure, Rane had been left fuming. Dru had no idea what sort of frame of mind she would be in now.

Dru had texted her before heading over, but Rane’s response had been unusually short and delayed. Getting a pump, she had texted enigmatically.

But maybe that was a good thing. For Rane, lifting weights was a form of mindful meditation. Then again, so was pulverizing brick walls with her metal fists. With her, you never could tell what would come next.

Dru laid her fingers on Greyson’s arm. “If I’m not back in five minutes, come after me.”

He checked his battered metal watch and nodded, looking unusually serious.

She wanted to kiss him and tell him that she was actually joking. Kind of. But she hesitated just a bit too long, and the moment was lost.

Feeling awkward, she got out of Hellbringer and followed the rhythmic thumping of dubstep music around the chain-link fence to the side gate. The air was clammy and thick with the earthy smell of the weed-choked river that ran nearby.

Dru slipped in through the gate, as she had done many times before. The fenced blacktop back lot was a maze of industrial junk. Bundles of rusted steel rebar lay near a giant black tractor tire. Wooden wire spools were piled up in a far corner, and beside that sat several lengths of concrete pipe big enough to crawl through.

Rane lay atop one of the huge concrete pipes, all six feet of her stretched out, blonde ponytail damp with sweat, muscles glistening in the sunlight. Grimacing, she pushed her palms straight toward the sky. Balanced on her hands, much to Dru’s disbelief, was the biggest wolf she had ever seen.

Dru took her glasses off, blinked, and then slipped them back on again. The wolf was still there, tongue hanging out, panting happily as Rane bench-pressed its furry bulk into the air. It turned its big shaggy head Dru’s way, and its fierce golden eyes stared directly into hers.

Dru backed up a step, feeling trapped in the cluttered yard. She was used to encountering constant weirdness, but the last thing she expected was a giant gray wolf standing in for a dumbbell.

Rane finished counting out her reps and grunted something to the wolf. With a whuff of breath, it bounded easily to the ground, its intense gaze still locked on Dru. It was an impressive animal, easily the size of a person. But for all its massive bulk, it moved with sleek grace.

Rane sat up and swiped a pink towel across the sweat pouring down her body. “Yo, D! What’s shaking?” Before Dru could answer, Rane turned and yelled after the wolf. “If you’re going to change, dude, go change over there. And put on some pants!” She pointed to a pile of broken cinder blocks in the corner of the yard. Tail wagging, the wolf trotted off in that direction.

Dru watched it go, her lips pursed in thought. “So, when exactly did you get a dog?”

Right at that moment, Rane was chugging water from a plastic sport bottle. At Dru’s words, she spit out a spray of droplets that shimmered in the bright sunlight. Alternately laughing and choking, she croaked, “Hear that, Feral? Even she says you’re a dog.”

Through the gaps in the pile of cinder blocks, Dru caught a glimpse of the wolf shimmering with unearthly green light. The tan and silver fur shrank away, revealing dark brown human skin rippling with muscles. A protean sorcerer, Dru realized, a human who could transform into an animal.

Not too long ago, a group of proteans had teamed up with an evil crystal sorceress named Lucretia in an attempt to destroy the world. The secrets of shape-shifting sorcery had been lost for more than a thousand years, but Lucretia had somehow brought the lost magic back with a vengeance. As a result, Dru and her friends had been forced to fight countless sorcerers who transformed into giant animals, including a bat, a snake, a panther, and a particularly huge tarantula that still gave her the heebiejeebies. The idea that Rane was casually hanging out with one of them was absolutely inconceivable. And yet, here he was.

From behind the concrete pile, a thick, brown arm reached up and grabbed a bright pink piece of clothing. A few seconds later, a tall, well-built guy strode out from behind the jumble of broken concrete. Tribal-looking tattoos twined up the bulging muscles of his bare arms and scrolled across his well-defined chest. He was completely naked, except for a pair of bright pink shorts that exactly matched Rane’s.

In fact, they were Rane’s shorts. Dru’s jaw dropped open, and it took a concentrated effort to shut it. As he walked up to her, smiling broadly, she managed a faint, “Hi.”

“Hello,” he boomed, squeezing her hand. “I’m Feral.” His grip was unbreakable.

“Dru.” This close, she was very aware of the fact that he was dotted with sweat and possessed pecs nearly the size of her face. Awkwardly, she leaned to the side and peered past him to make eye contact with Rane, who was loudly unwrapping a protein bar.

Rane glanced up. “We met at a party,” she explained, even though that didn’t really answer any of the questions that were pinballing around Dru’s brain. “You were there. The Volvo party. Under the mountain.”

“You mean the volvajo,” Dru said, remembering the masquerade ball full of costumed sorcerers all competing with one another in spectacular displays of magic. That night had been so crazy that it had literally almost destroyed the world.

Feral cocked his head at Dru. “You were there that night?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Dru nodded, trying to maintain eye contact with him and not get distracted by the naked man chest standing right at eye level.

He shook his head, smiling. “I doubt that. Definitely would have remembered you.”

Rane bit off half the protein bar and chewed. “Remember the evil mastermind red skull dude?” she said, her mouth full. “Dru danced with him.”

“Oh, so you’re that sorceress.” His smile grew even brighter and more friendly. Too friendly for comfort. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh…kay,” Dru said quietly, feeling more than a little overwhelmed at Feral’s near-nudity. An awkward silence descended between them. Before Feral could fill it, Dru hesitantly pointed to Rane. “Can we just…Um, we really need to . . .”

Rane chewed for a long moment, looking puzzled, before she finally understood. “Oh. Yeah. Hey, Feral. Get lost for a minute, will you? Go take a run or whatever.”

He gave her a look that said, You must be joking. And then he winked at Dru as if they were sharing a private joke. “Actually, I’m feeling the need to stay hydrated,” he said a little too loudly. “Being a wolf makes me thirsty.” He picked up Rane’s big water bottle and shook it. It was nearly empty. “Be right back.” He headed inside with long, slow strides.

Still chewing, Rane watched him walk away. Dru wasn’t sure if she was checking him out, or just checking his muscle tone. Or both.

Dru rushed over, close enough to smell Rane’s sweat, and whispered, “Is he wearing your shorts?”

Rane glanced down at her own pink shorts and nodded. “Yeah, dude. I can’t focus on my reps if he’s walking around wagging his junk.”

Momentarily speechless, Dru pointed in the direction Feral had just disappeared. “What? Why is he wearing your shorts?” She studied Rane’s flushed cheeks and slowly added, “So…what’s going on with you two, exactly?”

“Nothing.” Rane crammed the rest of the protein bar in her mouth and crumpled the foil wrapper. “Feral lives in the woods, dude. He doesn’t have any pants.” She stated it like an obvious fact.

Dru made a very deliberate decision not to try to unpack the logic of that particular statement. “Never mind. Listen. Do you remember borrowing a book from me last winter? A book by Tristram, about the kingdom and the key? About dispossessed spirits? Does any of this ring a bell?”

Rane shook her head. “Why would I want a spirit book?”

“You said the pictures were hilarious.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She chuckled. “Did you see the one with that thing poking up?”

Dru waved for her to stop talking. “I just need the book back. It’s urgent.”

“Yeah, I got it inside. You want it?”

“Yes!”

Rane looked over her shoulder as Feral came strolling out with the newly refilled water bottle, still dripping from the faucet. “Hey!” she called. “There’s a big old book underneath the microwave. Grab that for me?”

“Grab anything you want,” he said with a sly smile, and headed back inside.

Frowning, Dru watched him go. “So…are you sure there’s nothing, um, extracurricular going on? I’m asking as a friend. Because I have to know.”

“Maybe just stop asking questions, okay?” Rane snapped. “Maybe I’m just sick and tired of being cooped up with Mr. Mopey Face and his freakin’ moods. So maybe I’m just out here in the sunshine, getting a pump, getting a tan, getting some R and R. That all right with you?”

Dru held up one finger. “And by pump, you mean…?”

Rane shot her a long, annoyed look. Then she lifted her arms and flexed them, pointing her fists at her head and making her biceps swell up like inflatable lawn ornaments. It was moments like this, when Rane got a steely gleam in her eye and showed off her bulging muscles, that made Dru just the slightest bit afraid of her.

Feral came strolling outside, still wearing only the pink shorts, carrying a sizable brown leather-bound book embossed with an elaborate pattern of cryptic symbols. The edges of the covers were scuffed, and a round dimple was depressed into each corner. From the microwave’s rubber feet, presumably.

Feral held out Tristram’s thick book as if it weighed nothing.

“Um, thanks.” Dru took it. To Rane, she said, “So why was this under the microwave?”

“So that it can hold it up,” Rane said slowly, as if there could be nothing more obvious in the world. “See how thick that thing is? Oh, hey, there’s a little cheese on there.” She reached out and scraped at a waxy orange blob with her fingernail. “There you go.” She turned to Feral, eagerly. “Okay, let me see ’em. Do it.”

Feral widened his stance, shifting his weight side to side as if trying to find perfectly level ground. Then he slowly brought his fists together near his belly button, as if he was hugging a huge barrel. Two by two, muscles popped out all the way up his tattooed arms and down his chest. His pecs ballooned out at the top of a tall V-shape that led down into so many little abs that Dru lost count.

“Yeah, that’s it. Work it.” Rane appreciatively patted his pecs with both hands, making loud slapping sounds. “Check you out. Getting all swole.”

He grinned right back at her, showing all of his teeth, looking like he wanted to devour her. Then he turned to Dru, apparently for her approval. “That’s what I’m talking about. Right? Here, feel these.”

She took an involuntary step back. “Actually, no. I just washed my hands.”

He looked a little wounded.

Rane chuckled and spanked him. He didn’t even seem to notice. He just grabbed the plastic bottle and strutted away through the yard, squirting a stream of water into his own mouth. Some of it missed and ran down his chest.

Dru stood there clasping the Tristram book tightly, feeling like now was a good time to leave. But her gaze kept ticking back and forth between Feral and Rane, as if her eyes had a life of their own, trying to read the situation.

Rane caught the look, and was obviously annoyed by it. “What?”

“Nothing.” Dru knew the best thing to do was go, right now, and say nothing at all. But some sort of weird friendship gravity anchored her to the spot, and she couldn’t help blurting out, “Did you just spank him?”

Rane waved off Dru’s concerns. “Dude, it’s not a thing. I’d spank anybody.” Then, with lightning reflexes, she reached out one long arm and soundly spanked Dru.

“Hey!” Dru backed away.

Rane looked around. “Aaaand where’s Greyson?” Dru pointed an imperative finger at her. “No! You will not spank Greyson!”

At that exact moment, Greyson walked in through the open gate in the chain-link fence, eyeing the two of them warily. One of his eyebrows lifted up.

Dru struggled to come up with some sort of intelligent explanation, which wasn’t immediately forthcoming. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. Luckily, Rane just stayed where she was and stretched her arms behind her back, making no sudden moves to spank anyone.

Feral came strutting through the yard toward them, shimmering with sweat. He stopped between Dru and Rane, subtly creating the impression that the three of them were all together. Which was exactly the sort of message Dru did not want to send.

Her discomfort level, already sky-high, shot into orbit as Greyson’s expression darkened. Facing Feral, he seemed to puff up. Something unspoken passed between the two men, primal and dangerous.

“Hey, you know what? Got the book right here!” Dru said with forced cheer. She held up the heavy leather-bound book. “All done here. Now we can head back to the shop. Ready?” She hustled toward Greyson, hoping to steer him right back outside, but his flinty gaze was still locked on Feral.

Rane called after her. “You need a hand at the shop, D?”

Dru hesitated. The only thing keeping them safe from the wraith right now was daylight. And that wouldn’t last forever. Come nightfall, she would need all the help she could get.

Before she could answer, Feral started to follow her, his bare skin glistening in the sun. “Maybe I’ll come on down to the shop with you, give you a hand.”

“No,” Greyson said firmly. It came out like a command. “We’re good.”

Feral stopped where he was and nodded curtly, barely even lifting his chin. The muscles tightened in his neck as he stared back at Greyson.

No one spoke. The tension in the air was so electric that it felt like it was about to spark a fire.

Dru suddenly had visions of two of them coming to blows, with her caught in the middle. She didn’t like that idea one bit.

Meanwhile, Rane’s head kept turning from one guy to the other, as if she was watching an invisible tennis match. An eager smile lit up the corners of her mouth. Clearly, she couldn’t wait for their next move.

Dru didn’t waste any time. She took Greyson’s broad hand in hers, feeling the subtle tingle of the magical connection that bound them together. “Hey,” she said softly but firmly, getting his attention. “There are only so many hours until sunset. We need to get this back to the shop. Fast as we can.”

He nodded. With one last hard look at Feral, he let her lead him outside. She had the book she needed, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that the wraith wasn’t the only dangerous problem headed their way.