Feeding Frenzy (The Summoner Sisters Book 1) (24 page)

“We were scared,” Lia whispers.  “Who believes a couple of drifters?”

He contemplates us for a minute, hands crossed over his chest.  “You know, you’re not wrong.  I wouldn’t believe you right now, if your story didn’t match up so closely with Tom—Detective Kline’s version.”

The clamoring of my heart slowly diminishes.  It’s working.

“Hey, Peters, bring Kline in, will ya?” Dennison calls out to the deputy guarding the conference room door.  “And uh…call up Stroud, too, please.”

Detective Kline comes in.  He, too, seems a little worse for the wear, but generally intact.

“All checks out, like you said, Tom,” Detective Dennison says.  “The papers are gonna love this one.”

“Guess we better go warn Vice and Narcotics that the ‘war on drugs’ and trafficking are gonna be popular once this story leaks.”

“Yeah, that’s a good call.  I’ll handle that.”  Dennison gets up and leans over to shake our hands.  “You girls are true heroes, in my book.  It’s easy to cut and run when things go south, but you managed to save at least five people, and from Kline’s side of things, sounds like you kept him above water, too.  I’m going to talk to Stroud in the Attorney General’s office, see if we can work something out.”  He winks.  “We’ll take the contraband off your hands.  You can put that life behind you.  Be good!”  I sigh inwardly at all of the nice medications and probably weapons we’re about to lose, but it’s still better than the underworld, or jail.

This leaves us alone with Detective Tom Kline.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he starts with a small laugh.

“That’s okay.  I do.  Thanks for sticking it out with us down there, and for helping us out up here.  I, uh…I know we’ve caused a lot of havoc and misery for you, but that’s not what we’re here for,” I tell him.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope we never see you again.  However, if you need someone to handle any of your ghostly problems, you know who to call.”  I hand him a little piece of paper on which I’ve scribbled the same email address I gave to Dr. Morris.

“Thanks,” Detective Kline says simply.  “I’m uh…supposed to tell you that you’re not released quite yet.  They’re gonna take you to the hospital to make sure you’re all in one piece, and you’ll probably have to meet with the prosecutor so she can see if she’s comfortable dropping charges.  Oh, and they’re gonna give your gun back.  It was nice and clean.” 

“Awesome.  Thanks!” Lia says with a smile.

“Be careful with things like that, girly.  Especially when they
are
registered, to an Ophelia Thatcher.”  I had almost forgotten our “Thatcher” personas.

“Oh.  Right,” she says sheepishly.

Kline chuckles.  “Well, that’s it, really.  We expect to have you out in the world again tomorrow.”

“We’ve got no plans,” I say with a shrug.

“Somehow, I don’t quite believe that,” the detective says with a small smile.  “I get the feeling you girls are lifelong schemers, zooming around causing problems.”

“I don’t know what you could be implying,” I tease.

“Right, you can’t possibly just run anywhere,” he says quietly.  “You’re very well anchored.”

The hospital does a good job of gluing us back together.

“Thought you girls were gonna stay
out
of trouble,” Dr. Morris reprimands us gently.

“We just loved it so much here,” Lia replies from the bed next to mine.  “We couldn’t resist coming back.”

“Well, please try.  Roanoke has great parks, and restaurants, too.  You could try visiting some of them.”

“That sounds boring,” I laugh.

A knock at the door turns our attention to Detective Dennison, and a smoky-eyed woman who must be Ms. Stroud.

“How’s everyone feeling?” Detective Dennison inquires.

“Like a million bucks,” I say.

“Cash or money order only, please,” Lia adds.

Our guests laugh politely.  Ms. Stroud goes to stand by Lia and I quirk an eyebrow.  She looks like her type, apparently.  Ophelia rolls her eyes at me.

“Hi, ladies.  I’m Amelia Stroud.  After speaking with the Police Department and reading over your statements, I’m here to say that Virginia will
not
be pressing charges.  However, we will be confiscating the contraband, and should we find your abductors, we’ll want you to testify.  We’re very sorry for the experiences you’ve had here, and hope we can rely on you in the future.”

We assure them that they can do just that, and are left alone again in the ward.

“So, now what?” Lia asks when they’re gone.

“Thinking we should go see Nisha.  Did you get that gross shirt we found in the house?”

“Yeah, think it’s still in a bag in the car.”

“Good, then we can bring her a present,” I reply, shifting into a more comfortable position.

“Think it’s still necessary?  Sounds like the succubus is gonna be grounded for a good, long while.”

“More knowledge can’t be bad,” I respond.  “And maybe Nish can use it to make the world’s best aphrodisiac, and get rich, and adopt us.”

“I could live with that,” Ophelia says, leaning back.  “Man.  Could you imagine what it’d be like being rich?  I’d have ice cream every day.”

I laugh, even as I experience another twinge of guilt.  “That’s a pretty low bar,” I tell her.

“When I think ‘more money than ice cream all the time’ kind of money, my mind blanks.  What would we do?  Get a house?  What would we do with a house?”

I picture the dream that the Tree of Somnia sent me.  “Maybe a house would be nice.  Could bake cookies, have fires…a place to paint that was intended for painting…”

“Cookies do sound nice,” she allows.  “Well, let’s tell Nish first.  No use counting our royalties before she invents our drug.”

The next morning they release us, and our car is brought around to meet us in front of the hospital.  Lia takes the wheel and I get in shotgun.  Our car feels much bigger now that it’s been raided of the best parts, and is goat-less.  I toss Lia a protein bar and get one for myself.

“Hm,” my sister says happily.  “This is nice.  I missed you, car!”

I arrange my oversized sweater so that it doesn’t bunch when I sit.  “It is nice.  But you know what will be nicer?  Never seeing this town again.”

“Done!”  Lia honks jubilantly and pulls onto the road, heading for Nisha’s place.

I call our friend from the road to warn her.

“Sleepover!” Nisha yells into the phone.  “I’ll get some wine and facial masks and you can tell me all about whatever mess it is you just made.”

“Got a present for you, too, Nish.”

“What!  I love presents!  What is it?”

“Incubus sweat.”

“You know just what I like, baby girl.  See you soon.”

“Bye, Nish.”

“I love her,” Lia says as I hang up.

“Like…
love
love or?” I ask.  Ophelia starts picking up trash from our cup holders and throwing it at me.

“Why do we have so much trash in here?” she asks as she chucks the used sports drink bottle at me.

“Careful!  That’s not empty.”

“What?”

“There are a couple things I maybe…left out from before.”

“Oh,
Christ
, Summer, what
else
did you manage to do?  We were only in that town like a week!”

“Well…when I was…dealing with Gregor, it came about that I needed to place his memories somewhere.”

Lia drags her eyes off the road to look at me and my bottle.

“Are there memories in that bottle?”

“Yep.  His memories of us.”

“They all fit into a bottle?”

“No…well.  His memories of
us
do.  The rest I took are sort of…folded in with mine, now.”

Lia shakes her head in bewilderment.  “I don’t even know what to do with that.”

“Me neither,” I reply honestly.

“Gotta find that fucking faerie,” she declares.

“I know.  I am so,
so
sorry.”

“Well you, me and part of Gregor are gonna fix it, first thing.  Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So…can’t throw out that bottle, huh?”

“I’d prefer not.”

She smiles.  “It’s going to drive you bananas having it in the car, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” I admit.  I’m always the one who caves first and empties out the trash.  I hate clutter.

We drive for a little bit in silence.  “So.  Ms. Stroud seemed nice,” I speak up.  “And I didn’t see a ring.”

“Oh, my God!” Lia exclaims.  “Are you looking for details of my personal life?  ‘Cause I’ve got some juicy ones.  So, this one time, I brought this guy back to our room, while you were on a stake out and he…”

“No!  Do not want to hear this!”

“Are you sure?  Because it was the best f—”

“No!  Truce!  Truce!”

“You sure?  Because we could trade stories.  I’ll tell you about every crush I’ve ever had, and you can tell me about all the spiders I’m sure you saw with Phobos.”

“Oh, you are just the
worst
,” I say with a shudder.

“Well, you just let me know when you want to hear about it,” she chuckles.

We get to Fort Washington, Pennsylvania about the same time Nisha gets home.

She welcomes us enthusiastically, ushering us into her little suburban home, with all of her little suburban things, like tables and more than one chair.  She shows us to our room.

“Shower!” Lia blurts out as she runs for the bathroom.

“Well, all right, then.  I guess she wants a shower,” Nisha laughs.  “And how ‘bout you?  Want a drink?”

“Can I have more than one?”

“Summer, if I had half the week it looks like you’ve had, I’d keep the whole bottle and tell everyone else to get their own.”

“Well then, yeah.  A bottle sounds nice.”

She grabs some glasses from a cabinet and turns to me, drinking in my overall condition.  “So, I got us masks, but I’m’a be honest with you, sunshine, I’m not sure it will help your face much in its current state.”

“Can’t hurt to try though,” I say, taking a sip from the glass she hands me.

“That’s the spirit.”  She laughs sympathetically.  I shower, too, and come back downstairs feeling much more peaceful.  My friend and sister are already seated on the floor, applying mud to their faces and giggling.

“Hey you, your drink’s on the table.  Grab a mask and sit your butt down.  Lia says you’re a little behind on movies, so I’m gonna begin your education.”

“That was the best thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I say, doing as I’m told.

I join in the conversation, which seems to be about Nisha’s latest dating disasters, and let out a contented sigh as I relax into an oversized chair.

“Oh, we should talk dinner.  How does falafel sound?” Nisha asks.

“How about anything else?” Lia counters.

“Yeah.  We’re pretty over Greek,” I explain.

“All of it?  Every Greek food?”

“You’ll understand when we tell you about our week.”

She looks back and forth between us.  “I can tell this isn’t gonna be a wine kind of story.  Let me grab the scotch, and then I can’t wait to hear this one.”

“Deal,” I say, settling back into the soft, suburban pillows.

I look at the cozy living room, and the people I care about, a warm peace spreading through me.

There are lots of pleasures out there.  I choose to imagine that Brittany is happily adjusting to life as an attendant to the eccentric Persephone.  I can picture her anticipating her cambion, and looking on her unlikely mate with adoration.  I’ll bet she’s happy.  I think about the way the toxin felt, and how it would have been to give in to it.  I may not cherish the idea of death, but I’m not so arrogant as to think that I’ll be able to avoid it forever.  It wouldn’t have been so bad to spend the rest of my existence with something that could make me feel that good—especially if I could control it somewhat, like Brittany could.

But I’m still living life.  I contemplate Nisha’s situation, with her science experiments and pretty, painted wine glasses with outrageous sayings on them.  She is “in the know” but still manages to eke out her own path, with no monsters throwing her around.  The settled in feeling of her home speaks to her contentment.  In another life, we could have been happy here, too.  I turn to my sister, who is sipping her wine and pretending that she knows anything about wine tasting.  Nisha teases her about it as she enters the room again with an assortment of menus and a bottle of scotch.  I would have liked my dream from the Tree of Somnia.  It would have been nice to have our own homes, to be able to live independently and in comfort.  But it wasn’t quite right.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Nisha commands, pouring us generous portions of a very nice malt.

“So, we were in Idaho when we heard about these girls gone missing in Roanoke,” Lia starts, eagerly trading her wine for the stronger proof.

Happiness is an ever-shifting target.  I could have died literally of bliss, or found a family of my own by now.  I could trade my reality for the daily grind, and find comfort in routine.  I could live to watch my sister become successful in her craft, and that would afford me joy.

I look down at the stiff drink in my hands, and listen to my sister’s confused retelling of our week.  I laugh with my friend when the story turns humorous, and appreciate her ability to listen well when it gets intense.  I’m grateful to have someone with such a warm heart, ready to take us in, no questions asked.  I’m relieved to see that Ophelia seems like she will recover from our ordeal, evident from the clarity of her expression and the strength of her voice as she recounts our experiences.  I lean back further into the chair, adjusting everything so that I feel no pain, and sighing peacefully when I find the right position.  Those other pleasures offered to me would have been nice.  But of all of the heavens I’ve so far encountered, this one right here is the one that feels most like mine.