Blood of the Demon

Chapter 17

I dumped my bag by the front door and immediately headed down to my basement. An uncomfortable sense of urgency nagged at me—heightened now by the oddities of Tessa’s house and her possible mystery visitor. And screw Kehlirik and his suggestion that I replace the wards on my own. Next full moon I’m summoning someone to do it for me. My wards sucked ass. I had no problem admitting that.

I carefully sketched out the next section of the diagram, resisting the desire to rush through it in order to get the damn thing working sooner. It would take only one incorrect sigil to render the entire thing useless, and I was fairly sure that I didn’t have the luxury of time to try this again if the first attempt failed.

I opened my backpack and arranged the items carefully within the diagram. The teacup, the comb, the scarf. I also added the picture of the two of us dressed like Purple People. The glop of blood, hair, and fingernails had dried into a nasty dark-brown crust around the inner circle, and I had to be very careful not to touch any of it in case a crucial aspect of it flaked away.

Inhaling, I pulled potency, weaving it into the runes in a careful progression. The power came in uncomfortable sputters thanks to the waning moon, and after just a few minutes I was sweating with the effort of feeding it into the diagram.

I finally released the potency and stepped back, eyeing the diagram nervously. It remained quiescent, and dismay began to knot my throat as seconds ticked by. I made a mistake somewhere. Shit. I’m going to have to start over from the beginning. But where the hell had I screwed up? Starting over wouldn’t do me any good if I repeated the mistake.

Then the diagram gave a sudden pop, which I felt more than heard, and began to resonate. Relief washed through me, and I had to bend over and put my hands on my knees for a few seconds. Okay, crisis averted. I hope.

I made my way upstairs, legs shaking from exhaustion. I collapsed into bed, but, despite my fatigue, I slept badly—worry about my aunt and her house crowding my dreams and waking me repeatedly.

I was also apparently still angsting pretty heavily over my argument with Ryan, judging by the number of unsettling dreams that featured him. I woke with a headache a few minutes before my alarm went off, then stared morosely at my bedroom ceiling as the sun speared annoying fingers of light through my blinds.

It bugged the shit out of me that we’d had a fight—a strange and stupid one at that—and the thought that we might not still be friends left me with a dull ache in my chest. Okay, so he might never be interested in me beyond friendship, but that was better than nothing at all.

Right?

I was in no mood to go in to work, but I still possessed enough shreds of pride that I didn’t want to waste a sick day on wallowing in self-pity. Not that I wasn’t unspeakably tempted to do so as I huddled under my covers. But I suspected that I was turning into one of those horribly needy people who cling far too hard to people who are nice to them. I liked Ryan. Quite a bit. But how much of that was simply because we shared knowledge of the arcane? I wanted very much to think that there was more to our friendship than that, but maybe I’d misread the signs out of my deep desire for there to be more.

I groaned and stuffed my head under the pillow. It was true. I did want there to be more. “I am so pathetic,” I mumbled into my pillow.

On the other hand, why would he be so overly protective of me—even if it was rather insulting—if he didn’t consider me to be a good friend? And how much of my reaction to him the other night had been fueled by a fair amount of guilt that he was right—at least partially? I’d certainly jumped right into Rhyzkahl’s arms on our first encounter, though the reasons for that were far too layered for me to begin to peel apart. But, in my own defense, I hadn’t succumbed to his thrall, or whatever Ryan was afraid of. I was still me.

Right?

And for that matter, who are you, Ryan Kristoff? I thought, feeling suddenly defensive. How the fuck do demons know who you are?

I threw off the covers and practiced a few choice curse words. This entire line of thought was a sure way to drive myself nuttier than I already was.

It was barely six a.m. After a moment’s thought, I pulled on workout clothes, packed a gym bag, grabbed some work-quality clothes, then headed to the gym. I was the kind of member the gym loved: My dues were automatically debited from my checking account once a month, and I showed up about half as often as that. But I felt a deep need to sweat some annoyance and frustration out, and this was a better option than cleaning my house.

To my surprise, the gym was fairly crowded, and I realized belatedly that everyone else was also trying to squeeze a workout in before work. I saw a number of familiar faces, though after a few minutes of racking my brain for names, I realized that they were familiar because I’d seen them recently, at Brian Roth’s funeral. Elected officials, or people in the social scene. No one I actually knew.

I didn’t have much of a workout plan in mind, which was probably a good thing since most of the equipment was occupied. I finally settled for a workout that consisted of: Wander around until you see an open machine and then do that exercise. Amazingly, at the end of twenty minutes I felt like I’d accomplished something. I put in another twenty minutes on the elliptical trainer, and then showered, changed, and made it in to work barely on time.

I didn’t see Boudreaux or Pellini in their offices as I headed to mine, but somehow I doubted that they were out tracking down leads in the deaths of Carol and Brian. More likely, they were conducting a thorough investigation of the breakfast menu at Lake o’ Butter Pancake House.

I allowed myself to feel virtuous as I settled in at my desk, pleased when my lieutenant walked by my office and gave me a nod in passing, and doubly pleased when I heard him inquire a few seconds later as to the whereabouts of everyone else.

Now that I’d successfully established to the rank that I looked like I was working, it was time to actually do the work that would hopefully give me some results. It was, unfortunately, boring, but after three hours I had managed to type up subpoenas for the Sharps’ financials, so I could verify for myself everything Elena Sharp had told me.

Definitely action-movie material.

The courthouse was only a block away from the station, but it was already hot enough that my blouse clung to me after just that short walk. I breathed a sigh of relief as the air-conditioned climate of the courthouse enveloped me, not even caring that in about a minute I’d be covered in goose bumps as the sweat dried.

I gave a nod to the officers working courthouse security, giving an extra smile to Latif—the tall dark-skinned woman holding the metal-detector wand. She was an amazon, with hair cut so short she might as well have shaved her head, but on her it totally worked and made her look like a gorgeous badass. We’d been in the same class at the academy, finishing one-two in the academic portion. She was number one. She’d have been a terrific road cop, in my opinion, but she was a single mom and had told me that not only did she need the more normal hours of courthouse work, but she also couldn’t put herself in a position to leave her daughter without a mother. I could totally respect that.

Latif gave me a wide smile as I passed through the security area. “Hey, woman. Whatcha got going on?”

I lifted the manila folder with my subpoenas. “The exciting side of investigations. The paperwork.”

She chuckled. “Warrants?”

“Subpoenas.”

“Woo. The really fun stuff!” she said, as she peered at a piece of paper on the desk by the X-ray machine. “Well, Judge Roth is supposed to be the duty judge today, but he’s not in.”

“I’m not surprised. The funeral was only the day before yesterday.”

Latif grimaced. “Yeah. He’s been out since it happened. That whole thing sucks. Oh, here we go. Judge Laurent is taking duty today.”

I’d had warrants signed by Judge Laurent before, so I knew where his chambers were. I made my good-byes to Latif, then headed up to the second floor.

His secretary sat behind the desk out front—a curvy brunette who managed to look lush instead of pudgy. I envied this ability. She gave me a smile as I closed the door behind me. “You need something signed?”

I lifted the folder containing the subpoenas. “If he’s not too busy?”

She took the folder from me. “Well, he’s always busy,” she said, “but I’m sure he has time to take care of this. Let me run this back to him.”

She exited through a side door and returned about a minute later, motioning me to go on back. I gave her a smile of thanks as I went through the door and walked down the short hallway to the judge’s chambers.

I’d been in Judge Laurent’s courtroom several times, testifying in various cases. He’d been on the bench for at least twenty years and would probably be retiring in a few more. He looked like a crotchety wizard, and every time I saw him I couldn’t help but think that he needed only a pointed hat and a staff to go with his judicial robes.

So far I’d managed to refrain from offering that suggestion.

He gave me a crinkled little smile as I entered, then went back to perusing the subpoenas. “Financial stuff, eh?”

“Yes, your honor. I want to verify some information given to me during an interview.”

His lips twitched as he glanced up at me. “What, you don’t believe everything that a suspect tells you?”

“I guess I’m the suspicious sort, sir,” I said, smiling.

He chuckled as he began to page through the documents. “This is for the Davis Sharp death? I didn’t realize it had been ruled a homicide.”

“The final ruling isn’t in, but there’s some evidence of blunt force trauma that’s inconsistent with a simple fall in the shower.” I wasn’t telling him anything that a press release wouldn’t contain.

“Hunh. His wife is a suspect?”

“Well, she hasn’t been completely ruled out, but there are other possible suspects as well.” It was beside the fact that I had no idea who those other possible suspects might be.

He snorted in derision. “Sharp was too used to having his fingers in every political pie. Just because he knew everyone from that damn restaurant of his, he thought that meant he could get away with anything.” He scowled as he scanned the papers. “And unfortunately, he usually did.”

Now, this was interesting. “What sort of things?”

Judge Laurent glanced up at me, then leaned back in his chair. “Well, like his two kids. Both complete pieces of shit. Both have been nailed for misdemeanor drug charges or simple battery several times. And I can’t count the number of times Sharp has called me up, wanting me to pull some strings to ‘fix’ things.” The scowl etched itself deeper onto his face. “I’ve taken only one campaign contribution from him.” He chuckled. “Actually, he only ever gave me one. After I finally told him to fuck off, he never contributed again. Go figure.” Then he shrugged. “Not that it made much difference in the end. He found other people to clean up his shit.” He gave me a telling look. “Campaign contributions are a matter of public record. You can look it all up online.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “That’s very good to know, sir.”

He gave me a grave nod, but his eyes were twinkling. He carefully read through the documents, then finally picked up his pen and signed his name to each subpoena. “Good luck with your investigation, Detective Gillian,” he said, as he handed the papers back to me.

“Thank you, your honor.” Well, that had turned out to be more productive than expected. I exited his chambers, giving a wave and smile to his secretary.

My cell phone rang as I neared the courthouse doors. It was Ryan’s number. I looked at the blinking display, trying to decide whether to be mature and answer it or pleasantly childish and hit the ignore button.

Maybe he’s calling to apologize. I sighed and hit the answer button. “Hi, Ryan.”

“Where are you?”

My finger twitched toward the disconnect button, but I managed to restrain myself. “I’m doing just peachy, and thank you for asking,” I replied. “I was getting subpoenas signed. I’m just leaving the courthouse.”

“You hungry?” His tone was clipped and stiff.

I was, but did I want to be subjected to more of the same judgmental crap? I screwed my face into a grimace. “Yeah, sure, what the hell.” I was such an optimistic idiot.

“Okay, meet me at the Ice House in fifteen.” Then he hung up. I stared down at the phone, debating whether I should call him back and tell him to fuck off. But maybe he’s the type who’s lousy with apologies. I sighed and clipped the phone back onto my belt. Yes, I was definitely an optimistic idiot. But the alternative was to write him off completely, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that.

I walked back to the station and to my car, jamming the air-conditioner control to the max as soon as I had it started and rolling down the windows to allow the broiled air within to escape.

The Ice House was only a few miles from the station, along the street that ran parallel to the railroad tracks. I’d been to this restaurant only a couple of times before, but I remembered it as being a quiet, dark place with deep booths. It had been an actual icehouse a few decades ago, and then it was converted into a family-style restaurant a few years after the real facility had shut down. They’d converted the vats into large round booths and left all the piping visible. It was a pretty neat interior, but the food hadn’t measured up, and the Ice House restaurant closed a few years later. Since then it had been a Chinese restaurant, a seafood buffet, another family-style restaurant, a barbecue house, and still another family-style restaurant, all maintaining the same interior look. It had suffered through a variety of names, but everyone always just called it the Ice House.

Ryan was waiting for me right inside the door. He looked a bit haggard, but he flashed me a quick smile when I entered, then allowed the hostess to lead us to one of the vat/booths in the back. I scooched into the booth and took the menu from the waitress while Ryan got settled in.

I looked across the table at him, more relieved than I could say aloud that he was here, that he’d called me. I was still angry and hurt, but his friendship was important to me. Too important? a small voice inside worried at me, and I pushed it down as best I could.

“I was a dick,” Ryan said without looking at me as soon as the waitress walked away. “Sorry.”

Well, it was better than no apology at all. “It’s all right. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I am. I slept about ten hours and woke up feeling human again.” His eyes met mine briefly, then dropped down to the menu, flicking over the offerings. “What’s good here?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who picked it. I figured you’d been here before.”

He shook his head. “Nope. I just heard it was a cool place.”

I gave him a sharp look, but his attention was on the menu, so I decided that the pun was unintended and unnoticed. I’d let that one slide.

“I don’t go to restaurants very often,” I admitted. “I’m a microwave girl.”

“Yeah, well, you need to start eating more,” he said with a slight scowl as he looked up again, eyes raking me.

“Fine. Then you can pay.”

“Deal,” he said, a smile lighting his eyes.

I laughed. “Hey, that was easy.” The knot of tension in my shoulders began to unwind. Apology offered and accepted.

The waitress came to take our drink orders, and since the menu wasn’t complex—or all that interesting—we went ahead and ordered burgers. After she walked away, I looked back at Ryan. “So is this an apology thing, a make-Kara-eat thing, or one of these we-need-to-talk things?”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “All of the above, but don’t make it sound so damn ominous. I was a dick. You do need to eat. And we do need to talk. But not a we-need-to-talk kind of needing to talk.”

“Uh-huh.” I picked a pink packet of sweetener out of the container on the table and started to toy with it. “So what do we need to talk about?” Good, I’d managed to make that sound casual and not as angsty as I actually felt.

“Jesus Christ, Kara,” he said with a scowl. “Not that kind of we need to talk, just a we need to talk to each other more because we’re friends. Plus, as far as knowing shit about the arcane, neither of us has too many people we can be open with.”

I made myself smile, but old doubts churned within me. “Yeah. Friends,” I said. “And we can talk about the arcane.” Would we even be friends if not for that? “Though Jill knows now. About the arcane and the summoning.”

His eyebrows lifted. “How the hell did that happen?”

I gave him a quick rundown of Jill’s encounter with Kehlirik. “And she was okay with it,” I said, still feeling the relief that she hadn’t run screaming. “Or at least okay enough with me to accept it.”

He leaned back in the booth. “I like Jill, what little I know of her. Haven’t seen much of her since the Symbol Man case, of course, other than at the funeral. And my present case isn’t the kind that has me working with any local agencies. But she seemed pretty cool.”

A stupid spike of jealousy jabbed at me, and I fought the juvenile urge to scowl. What am I, in third grade? It’s just Jill. “Yeah, she’s cool,” I said, deliberately bright.

“Any progress on finding your essence-eater?”

I made a face. “No. I’m pretty much fumbling around blindly right now.” I paused while our food and drinks were delivered. “I still need to do a lot of research,” I said as soon as the waitress left. I picked up my burger and took a bite, then grimaced. Now I knew why this place was deserted on a Friday afternoon. It wasn’t horrible, but it certainly wasn’t great.

Ryan’s expression mirrored my own as he swallowed his first bite. “I’m not sure I want to know what kind of animal was put into this burger.”

I took a long swig of my diet soda to wash it down, then tried the fries to see if they were any better. Overly greasy, with too much salt. I sighed and blotted at them with my napkin. “Anyway, the reyza was able to remove the wards, so now I can get into my aunt’s library.” I made a face that had nothing to do with the quality of the food or lack thereof. “Now my only challenge is finding the right book or paper or scroll. If she has a system in there, it’s way beyond me.”

He was quiet for a moment as he continued to work on his burger. “Have you been to see her?”

“My aunt?” I sighed and shrugged. “I’ve been a few times. But it’s not her. I mean, she’s not there, and it feels really weird sitting in a room visiting the empty shell. It’s like visiting a chair.” I toyed with a limp fry, dragging it through the ketchup. “But I know it’s expected of me, so I go every now and then, enough to keep people from saying I’m a lousy niece.”

He surprised me then by reaching across the table and gripping my hand. I looked down at his hand on mine and then up at him. “Not everyone’s against you,” he said. “Give it time. Like you said, stuff blows over.”

I forced a smile. “I know. It’s cool.” A busboy entered through the back door, and I had to breathe shallowly as the smell of rotting garbage from the alley wafted in with him. “Okay, I’m officially blaming you for choosing this place.”

“It’s pretty vile,” Ryan agreed.

I looked up as the busboy came over to the table, and I pushed the barely eaten burger away from me. “You can take that,” I said, gesturing to the plate. “I’m finished.”

The busboy scooped up the plate but nearly dropped it again as a din of barking and snarling erupted from beyond the back door.

The waitress looked up from her lethargic table-wiping. “Tommy, go chase those damn dogs away. I told you to stop feeding them scraps.”

Tommy dumped my plate into a plastic bin, then set the bin on a table near our booth, casting a black glare at the oblivious waitress as he slumped out the back door.

“Next time you can take me to someplace really classy,” I murmured to Ryan. “Like maybe the fried-chicken stand at the gas station.”

Ryan laughed and opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden nauseating roil of potency swept past us, momentarily robbing us both of breath before it was gone, leaving what felt like a taint of sewage in the arcane. “What the fuck was that?” Ryan gasped, gripping the edge of the table.

“The parking lot … by your office,” I managed to say, fighting back the taste of bile. “Feels the same.” A heartbeat later, a shrill scream of pain and terror came from the alley.

“That’s the kid,” Ryan said, already out of the booth and moving to the door. I wasn’t as fast but managed to stumble after him, only a few steps behind. It was hard to move quickly when you were trying hard not to throw up. Obviously Ryan hadn’t felt that awful surge of yuck as intensely as I had.

Ryan yanked the door open—not bursting through like an idiot but taking an instant to assess the situation in the back alley.

Not that it made a difference. In the split second that it took Ryan to finish pulling the door open, a sleek black shape hurtled through the door, striking Ryan square in the chest and knocking him flat. I caught a flash of teeth and claws as Ryan twisted as he landed, throwing off the … dog? That was the closest analogy I could come up with in those rushed seconds. Caninelike head and snout, lots of teeth, four legs, but with a slick, reptilian way of moving.

I yanked my gun from its holster as the thing launched itself at Ryan again. But Ryan reacted with a speed that impressed me, getting his legs up in time to catch the creature in the chest, shoving it away.

“Shoot it!” he yelled over the shrieking of the waitress. I didn’t need the encouragement. I squeezed off three quick rounds, the sound of the shots slamming through the restaurant, setting my ears ringing. The dog-thing jerked and shrieked as at least two of the shots found their mark, but a heartbeat later it was back on its feet, snarling at the two of us. Now I could get a better look at it, but it didn’t help. It was still vaguely doglike and really fucking scary-looking.

Ryan was breathing hard. “Did you hit it?”

“Yes! Shoot it some more!”

We both lifted our guns and started shooting, but this time the demon dog was ready, twisting to evade with unnatural speed that allowed only a few of the rounds to find their mark.

“Sonofabitch! Is it a demon?” Ryan demanded, as it appeared to shake off the effects of being shot as easily as shaking off a mosquito bite.

“Not one of the kinds I know,” I shouted, probably louder than necessary, but my ears were ringing from the shooting. “But it’s definitely other-planar.” I could see the telltale light instead of blood streaming from the wounds. I tried to remember how many rounds I’d fired. I didn’t have a spare magazine on me. I’d been going to lunch, damn it!

It launched itself at us again, in a blur of red eyes and white teeth. We both dove in opposite directions, as if we’d rehearsed it, but the dog-thing had apparently missed that particular rehearsal and twisted in midair to rake its claws at Ryan.

Ryan let out an explosive curse, then, in an act that was either incredibly courageous or incredibly stupid, grabbed the dog by its lower jaw and jammed his gun into the creature’s side, angling down and squeezing the trigger repeatedly until the slide of his gun locked back on his empty magazine. The dog-thing let out a howl of pain and rage, but a gut full of lead still didn’t seem to slow it down much. It snarled and twisted its head free of Ryan’s grasp, and I could see it poised to snap those deadly jaws onto something vital. I let out a yell and copied Ryan’s technique, jamming my gun against the creature and firing until the gun was empty. It had the desired result—at least partially. It screamed and lost interest in Ryan, turning that crimson gaze on me.

Okay, this is bad, the thought flashed through my head. I was out of bullets, and even with what had to be more than a dozen rounds in it, the thing wasn’t dead. Or, rather, it wasn’t dead enough. White light streamed from it in several places, but it didn’t look as if it would be discorporeating in the less than a second I probably had before the jaws clamped down on me. Given more time, I could possibly dismiss it back to whatever sphere it was from. But, then again, I didn’t think I’d be able to open a portal in the very short amount of time I had to work with.

Before I had a chance to enjoy the last split second of life as a whole person, another shot slammed through the room. The dog-thing’s head exploded in a burst of blue light, and then the body dropped heavily to the floor. I crabbed back, struggling to catch my breath as sparkles began to crawl over the body. A few seconds later the sparkles had completely consumed it, leaving behind nothing but a foul-smelling stain on the floor.

I looked up, past the arcane stain, then smiled weakly in relief.

“Good to see you, Agent Garner,” I said, voice only a little shaky. “That was some mighty fine shootin’, Tex.”

Zack grinned and gave me a mock salute as he lowered his gun. “Why, thankee, ma’am.”

I managed a wheezing chuckle, then got to my feet and looked to Ryan. “Are you all right?”

Ryan scowled and lifted his shirt, revealing a set of rippled abs that would have been incredibly nice to gaze at for a while if not for the four parallel scores across them that were just beginning to ooze blood.

“Barely got me,” he said, tugging the shirt back down. “I’ll be fine.”

I gave him a small smile of relief, then stepped over to crouch by the stain on the floor. I stayed there for a few heartbeats, absorbing the feel of the lingering residue, then straightened.

“That’s what we felt the other day by your office,” I said to both of them.

“So it’s been stalking us for a few days,” Ryan said, expression grim.

“I think so,” I said, then looked back to Zack. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because your timing was fantastic, but what are you doing here?”

A slight smile touched his lips. “I, uh, get ‘feelings’ sometimes. I’ve learned to listen to them. And I had a feeling I needed to see what Ryan was up to.”

So Zack had a touch of clairvoyance? I had a hard time being surprised, especially since I knew that he was sensitive to the arcane. “Well, I’m quite grateful to your feelings right now.” My gaze shifted higher. “And even more grateful that your hair is no longer orange.”

He laughed and ran a hand over his head. “Yep, surfer blond again.”

Ryan’s gaze swept the restaurant, taking in the waitress cowering under a table. “We have bigger problems right now.” He jerked his head toward the back door. “Zack, check the back. There’s a busboy out there, possibly hurt.”

Zack met his eyes, a strange expression on his face. “You’ll take care of the rest?”

Ryan’s face went stony and bleak, and he gave a stiff nod. Zack slipped out the back door.

What the hell was that about?

Ryan stepped over to the table the waitress was hiding under and crouched in front of her. He placed a hand on hers and I thought he was going to help her out from under the table, but instead she went very still and quiet when her eyes met his. I watched the bizarre tableau, perplexed, as Ryan continued to hold the woman’s hand, eyes fixed on hers while a strange and terrible smile curved his lips.

After perhaps half a minute, he took a breath and looked away. The waitress blinked, then gave Ryan a smile as he gripped her hand more firmly and helped her out from under the table.

“Here you go, ma’am,” Ryan said. “The dogs are all gone now.”

The woman let out a normal chuckle that completely unnerved me, considering what she’d just witnessed. “Oh, I knew they’d get in here someday, the way Tommy likes to feed those darn strays! Thank you for chasing them off, darlin’.”

“It was no trouble,” Ryan replied, giving her a charming smile. His eyes flicked to me and he gave a slight motion of his head toward the door. I glanced over to see Zack coming back inside.

“Ryan, the boy was bitten, but he’ll be all right.” He gave Ryan the strange look again. “You’ll see to him?”

Ryan’s face could have been carved from iron. He didn’t nod, just stepped past Zack and walked outside, returning less than a minute later supporting a limping Tommy. “Ya gotta be careful of those feral dogs, kid. You never know when one might take a snap at you.” He eased the boy down to a chair. “You gonna be all right?”

The boy bit his lip, clearly doing everything he could to be manly and not cry about the wound in his leg. It wasn’t gaping or anything, but it was big, and I knew that the kid was going to need some serious stitching. How anyone could think that a stray dog with a normal-size jaw had made that injury was beyond me.

But at the moment there were many things that I felt I wasn’t quite grasping.

“Ryan—” I began.

He jerked his hand up in a keep quiet gesture, eyes unfocused. I wanted to shriek, but I forced myself to hold it in. About a dozen heartbeats later, he blinked and looked back at Zack.

“Okay, the cook is the only other one in the place, and he wears an iPod turned up loud enough to drown out a nuclear explosion.” He scrubbed at his face, hand shaking slightly, then his eyes met mine. “Some stray dogs got in the back door and caused a big mess. That’s … that’s what they remember.”

I could only stare at him for several heartbeats. “What did you just do?” It came out much more calmly than I had expected.

An expression of true pain flickered across his face, then was gone. He gave me a smile that looked terribly sad, then gripped me by the shoulders, eyes quickly scanning me up and down. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” I said, voice strangled. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He squeezed my shoulders and then released me. “Okay, go now. Go back to work.” He turned and walked to the front door of the restaurant. I watched him through the front window as he climbed into his car and drove off, then I turned to Zack, who was carefully picking up casings.

He didn’t give me a chance to speak. “Kara, don’t. Please.” His eyes were troubled as he straightened. “There’s a lot about Ryan that’s … complicated.”

“Complicated?” The word nearly exploded from me. “Those people just forgot about everything that happened! How often does he do this? How does he do this?”

“He doesn’t do it often at all.” Zack looked miserable, but I wasn’t feeling very sympathetic at the moment. “No one else knows he can do this. Not even the FBI.” He paused. “Especially not the FBI.” He shook his head. “I know only because I’ve seen him do it before … when there was no other choice.”

I had to tighten my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “How much do you know about him?”

“Not enough. Please, Kara. If we cause a scene here, it will undo everything he did. Please. Just go back to work.”

He turned away from me and started walking toward the front door.

I did the only thing I could think to do, and let him go.