Hidden Moon (Nightcreature 7)

A thinker and doer, Grace made a decision and then she executed that decision. Sometimes - hell, most times - I wondered why she wasn't the mayor. Except in Lake Bluff, people followed the path of their parents, and if they didn't want to, they got out of town.

"There's a caravan of Gypsies camped at the lake," Grace said.

I blinked. "I'm sorry. I thought you said 'caravan of Gypsies. '"

Her lips curved. "Nothing wrong with your hearing. "

The way she said it made me think there was something wrong with other parts of me. There was, but Grace didn't know that. No one did.

"Claire. " Grace sighed. "What happened to you in Atlanta? You used to understand sarcasm, give as good as you got. You used to be fun. "

"Now I'm the mayor," I muttered.

"There you go. " My eyes met hers and she winked. "We'll have you back to yourself in no time. "

I'd never be the self I'd been before I'd left, but maybe I could at least stop jumping at shadows now that I was home.

The shrill brrrring of the phone made me start up from my chair, heart pounding.

Or not.

Grace made an impatient sound. Had she ever been afraid of anything in her life?

"Don't answer it," Grace ordered. I lifted a brow. "You'll only have to deal with some bum-fuck nonsense, and I need you to come with me. "

"Bum-fuck nonsense?" God I'd missed her.

Grace shrugged. "You know how it is around here. Jamie's cow got into Harold's corn. Lucy's cat beat up Carol's dog. Some dumb-ass kid got his head stuck between the bars of the jungle gym and screamed bloody murder for an hour. "

"That sounds more like your bum-fuck nonsense than mine. " I stood, relieved when my phone stopped ringing at last and went to voice mail.

"Fine. " Grace opened the door. "Then you won't have to listen to someone whine about their property lines, their taxes, or the unfairness of the city bylaws. "

That would be my bum-fuck nonsense all right.

Pausing at Joyce's desk, I scribbled a note, checked my cell phone to make certain it was on, and jerked a thumb toward the rear exit.

We'd almost reached the back door when someone called, "Mayor?" I began to turn, and Grace shoved me between the shoulder blades.

I stumbled in my off-white pumps, the perfect complement to my pale peach summer suit, then nearly fell on my face when the back door burst open, spilling us into the summer sun.

"Ah. " Grace cast an amused glance around the parking lot. "Remember when we smoked pot out here in high school?"

"Grace!"

"What?" She slid dark sunglasses over her light green eyes.

"Someone might hear you. "

"So what if they did? It's not like we got high yesterday. We were sixteen. "

"It would leave a bad impression," I said stiffly. "You're supposed to be the law around here. "

"You want me to arrest myself for something I did ten years ago? Sorry, but the statute of limitations on that crime is over. "

Grace set off, her long, lithe legs eating up the distance more quickly than mine ever could. Not that I was short, just shorter, three inches shy of Grace's five-ten. And I wasn't lithe by any means; I was more. . . round. Not fat - at least not yet. But I had to work at it - low-fat yogurt, low-fat dressing, dessert only on very special occasions, like the Second Coming.

Grace reached the squad car and slid behind the wheel. I clambered into the passenger seat, snagging my hose on the door and cursing.