6 Under The Final Moon (19 page)

If blood could rush through Nina’s veins, it would have. Instead, she shot me one of her even more terrifying dark-eyed glares.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I held up my hands placatingly. “It was just a question.”

Nina softened then, rolling off her knees and onto her butt beside me. She grabbed my hand and gave it an icy squeeze. “I just hope you know that if there was something I could do—anything to help you find your father sooner—that I would do it. You know that, right?”

Nina had been in my life for only a few years, but she was the closest thing that I had to family. She was like a sister to me, and soulless or not, the depth in her eyes made me certain that her feelings, our sisterhood, went beyond her afterlife.

I squeezed her hand back. “I know, Neens.”

The flowers had been gathered up and stuffed in a coffee can with a few splashes of water. Nina and I had gone back and forth on whether I should toss them or enjoy them, and we decided on a sort of halfway, which was why the sweet-smelling blooms sat just outside the bathroom window.

I had studiously avoided them while I brushed my teeth and washed my face and tried to put them out of my mind when I crawled into bed. Minutes later I was in the bathroom again, window cracked as I stared at the bouquet as though there were some secret to them, some message that would let me know what Lucas meant—what he wanted.

I exhausted myself and went back to bed eventually, ChaCha snoozing by my side while I watched the red numbers on my digital clock shift hour after hour. Everything that I had compartmentalized so well came crashing down in an earthquake of unease: Armentrout.
Find Her
. The murders in the Marina.
It’s time.
The fire. Oliver.

Nothing made sense.

I may have slept, but it didn’t feel like it. Everything ached as I trudged into the dining room the following morning, only for my sleepy, droopy face to be met with Will’s grinning, charming face. He was seated at our table, feet up, crossed at the ankles, half of his body hidden behind a newspaper. He poked his head over the top, glanced at me, and gave me a slight grimace.

“You don’t look so well, love.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples. “I don’t feel so well. I got—”

“The flowers, I know.”

“How did you know?”

He shrugged folding up the paper and laying it on the table. “I’m your Guardian. It’s my job to know. And Nina told me.”

“You’re welcome,” Nina called from her room.

“You okay?” Will asked.

“Should I be?” I sighed. “I honestly have no idea. I mean, my father is back? Does he want to see me or is this all part of his elaborate scheme?”

“With all due respect, love, dear ol’ dad is the devil. There’s a pretty solid chance he’s up to something.”

I don’t know if I’d expected—or hoped—the flowers to be an innocent attempt to connect from an arcane father to his daughter. But they seemed even more tainted and hideous now.

“What could he want with me?”

Will’s eyebrows went up.

Face palm. “Right. Vessel of Souls. But what about this ‘he’s looking for you’ and ‘it’s time’ stuff? Does the Vessel have some kind of time limit? Am I supposed to like, spit it up on my thirtieth birthday or something? Does he want to be there to catch it? I don’t get it.”

“If we could understand pure evil, love, then it wouldn’t be so scary.”

Will’s statement was simple, but it fluttered something like butterflies in my stomach.

I bit into my lower lip. “Have you ever wished you could do something else, Will?”

He turned and looked at me, his expression confused. “I’m a fireman, love. That’s pretty much every little boy’s fantasy.” He smiled salaciously. “And every big girl’s.” He waggled his eyebrows and, when I didn’t react, rolled his eyes. “I get to spray shit with a hose. It’s good fun, pays the bills.”

“Not do something else instead of firefighting. Do something else instead of being my Guardian.”

Will kicked his feet off the table and clapped his palm over his chin, considering. “Not be your Guardian? I guess I’d never considered it.”

“How could you not? You’re saddled with me and your job is to protect me by fighting to the death.
To the death
, Will. You can’t tell me you’re totally cool with that.”

He shrugged, as nonchalant as if I had just described the duties of a hot dog vendor. “I suppose it would be nice to do something a little less punchy.” His fingertips gently brushed over the wound on his chest. “And a bit less shooty.”

“And to not be stuck with me.”

He slung an arm roughly over my shoulders and pulled me to him so that I was half balancing on his lap. “Ah, but come on. Hanging out with you is the only perk I get on this route.”

It was sweet, but I couldn’t help but hate the fact that every ache Will had gotten since he walked into my life was because he was protecting me. And this last time, he had nearly lost his life because of it.

Thoughts and ideas were percolating in my head.

I was curled up on the couch starting my second sleeve of chocolate marshmallow Pinwheels when Nina came through the front doors like a tiny, well-dressed hurricane. She was loaded down with shopping bags that were leaking glitter and streamers, and I was immediately suspicious as Nina was both anti-party, and anti-cheap decorative cut-outs and confetti.

“What’s all this?”

“Oh! Remember how I found my calling? You know, because I’m so giving and so good at helping people?”

I remembered most of those words being thrown around. Not in that particular order, but I nodded anyway.

“Well, I was talking to Vlad and he just seemed so sad and everything. I mean, everything that has been going on has been pretty heavy and”—she made a cut-throat motion and stuck out her tongue—“blech. So I thought, what would Vlad want?”

“A girl Vlad with boobies?”

Nina rolled her eyes. “The world may be ending, Soph, and you know what—”

“Wait, wait, time out. We’re going with ‘the world may be ending’ now?”

She blinked at me and went right on talking. “So I thought, what does Vlad not have that every other kid his age—you know, his littler age—have?”

“Blood, a heart, life, breath, the ability to pick up socks or go to the beach, a reflection . . .”

“No.” She upturned the Party City bag. “A birthday party!”

I scratched my head. “A birthday party?’

“Uh-huh.”

There was a quick rap on the door and then Will came strolling in. “So, any news on the big bad?”

I shook my head. “Not having the greatest luck contacting my father.”

“So we’re having a party?” he asked skeptically.

“Nina apparently bought the whole store out.”

She slapped at the air. “He’s my nephew! And this is his first birthday party in almost a hundred years. It has to be special.”

“A birthday party.” He shrugged. “Well, seems like as good a time as any to break out the noisemakers. Come to think of it, as all signs are pointing to imminent doom, maybe I should go out and buy a lottery ticket or something.”

“Why? It’s going to be useless if you win. I’m pretty sure the great overlord Papa Satan won’t allow you to run around with extra bills in your pocket.”

Both Will and Nina turned to stare at me.

“What?” I said, pulling a packet of Pop Rocks candy from the melee of party supplies on the table. “I’m on edge. Give me a break.”

Will poked through the plastic-wrapped contents on the table and flipped up a stack of plates. “Cowboys? You went with a cowboy theme?”

Nina put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “What did you expect?
Twilight
?”

I pressed a hand over my mouth but couldn’t hide my laughter. “That would have been awesome.”

Nina swung her glare to me and I snatched up some cocktail napkins emblazoned with a giant cowboy boot. “But this is even more awesome . . . er.”

“I know it’s a little bit juvenile given his age and all, but I just wanted something really classic. And red looks great on me. See what else I got?” She produced another bag and pulled out a fitted red plaid blouse, some brand-new worn-looking denim shorts, and a pair of red leather cowboy boots. She topped the whole ensemble off with a hat, shiny silver sheriff star glistening in the overhead light.

Will grinned, swigged his beer, and leaned back into his cheer. “That’s brilliant.”

I yanked a red plastic cowboy hat from the Party City bag and smacked Will with it. “Get your mind out of the feed trough, you ass.”

Nina pointed at me and nodded appraisingly. “That’s getting into the spirit. And to get you further into the spirit, you”—she handed me a notecard with an address written on it—“are getting the cake. And invite Alex, too. And you.” She cut her eyes to Will. “You’ll be picking up the kegs.”

Will waggled his eyebrows. “Keg service? That I can do.” He tossed his empty bottle into our recycling. “Just don’t expect ’em to be full when they get here.”

“They’ll be O-neg, Vlad’s favorite.”

Will paled and tucked the notecard Nina handed him into his back pocket. “Noted.”

She handed him a twenty. “Why don’t you grab a six-pack for the breathers?”

“Brilliant.” He skulked across the room and right out the door.

I sat down. “I’m really excited about this. I don’t think we’ve ever had a party here.”

“Not a good one. I figure we’ll get balloons and hang the streamers from there.” She pointed to our IKEA bookshelf. “And we can hang the piñata from that sword you left stuck in the door. It’ll be so festive!”

Cowboy hats, a keg full of blood, and a piñata hung from a long sword. Oh yeah, apartment 3B really knew how to party.

I headed downstairs while dialing Alex.

“Lawson?”

“Grace?”

He signed into the phone. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Nina is on a new kick. She has decided now that her reason for being brought back—”

“Brought back where? To San Francisco?”

I snorted like that was the dumbest thing I ever heard. “No, for being brought back to life. It’s to make people happy.”

Alex was silent on his end of the phone for a beat. “Did you tell her that she was brought back to life because some vamp saw fit to open a vein for her?”

“No, weird, I didn’t think of mentioning that because I like being alive this time around. Anyway, the first stop in Nina’s happy-go-round is a birthday party for Vlad.”

“A birthday party? For Vlad?”

“I know how ridiculous it sounds, but it’s tonight, you’re invited, and we’re supposed to pick up a cake.”

Alex blew out a breath. “I seriously don’t know why I let you talk me into these things, Lawson.”

“So, you’re on your way?”

Alex pulled to the curb not more than twenty minutes later, and I was reminded that that was one of the things I truly loved about this city: at seven square miles, it was always bound to take twice as long to get anywhere.

I jumped in the passenger-side door and started reading from the note Nina had written for me. “Apparently, it’s at a bakery in Noe called La Su-crene and it’s a horse cake. I really, really hope that the cake is shaped like a horse and not made of one. Especially since we’re likely to be the only ones eating it.”

Alex pulled off into traffic and I poked at his shoulder. “You’re supposed to turn there. Noe Valley, Alex. It’s that way.”

“We have to make a stop first.”

There was a tight set to Alex’s jaw so I folded the paper in half and stayed quiet while we zipped through the city, lights flashing on his unit, siren quiet.

“Is it an emergency? Crime scene? Shouldn’t we”—I raised my hand, making the universal motion for a siren going around—“whew-whew-whew?”

He finally cracked a grin and cut his gaze to me. “Is that supposed to be your impression of a police siren?”

“Yes. And it’s obviously pretty good because you got it right off the bat.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you weren’t making those finger sirens, too.”

I slugged him in the shoulder. “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going? Oh! Is it a stakeout? Are we going to watch a drug deal go down?”

He didn’t answer me.

“Pick up your dry cleaning, what?”

Alex maneuvered the car through a choked street on the outskirts of Japantown. I craned my neck to see where he was going and tried my best to predict his next move as I was always keen to work my own investigative skills. From the looks of it, we were either going to a McDonald’s or the Orchid Emporium. I deduced it was probably the McDonald’s as there was likely more crime happening there. It wasn’t very well lit and it backed up to a semi-shady area.

And then Alex turned into a church.

“We’re going to church?”

He pulled into the first parking space and stopped the car, then leaned back in and said, “You can stay in here if you want.”

I paused for a half second and kicked open my own door. “Okay, but is this investigative or . . . ?”

“Biblical?” That smile played at the edges of his lips again. “It’s about the case.”

I’d never gone to church as a child, what with my mother not claiming a significant religious affiliation and my father being the devil, but I had always been fascinated by the buildings, the old, stone structures that held more whispered prayers and theological knowledge than anything a half-evil orphan could ever conjure. The buildings were hallowed, and I had long since gotten over my fear of churches imploding on me should I set foot inside, like Shirley Maxwell had said was going to happen back when we were in the third grade.

I followed close behind Alex when he walked in and strode directly up the front aisle toward an older man who sat praying in the first pew. The man turned when we approached, and he and Alex shook hands and embraced. I felt completely awkward and out of place so I attempted to blend in by waving like an idiot to a priest in a Catholic church.

At least I didn’t give him a high five.

“Thank you for coming,” the white-haired man said, nodding to both Alex and me. “This is what I want to show you.”

The man retrieved a thick envelope from the pew beside him and slid out a sheaf of papers. I inched closer to see that they were crayon drawings—bright slashes of waxy crayon done by kids. I felt a little warmth when I thought about what the children must have been drawing—their interpretations of peace or love or God—and then I squeaked like an idiot when Alex paused on a drawing.