“Hey, stranger,” Tao said from the kitchen as I slammed the front door shut. “Sounds like you need coffee.”
“I need coffee, sleep, and a shower, and not necessarily in that order.” I headed for my bedroom, stripping my clothes off as I went. “Did the electricians and gas people come to the café today?”
“Yeah. Everything has been checked and cleared. I pulled a few strings to get the council inspector in tomorrow, so we should be able to reopen on Friday.”
“Fantastic.”
I kicked off my shoes as I entered my room, then noticed a pale blue envelope sitting on my bed. It didn’t appear to be a bill of any sort, and while the address was typed, there was no return address on either the front or the back of the envelope. I raised it to my nose and sniffed, but couldn’t smell anything more than crisp paper, ink, and the faintest wisp of exotic wood and oriental spices—Tao’s scent. Whoever had handled this envelope before him had done so very carefully.
I half wondered if this was yet another letter from my father and flipped it over, sliding a nail under the rim to open it.
The sheet inside was the same blue color as the envelope. Obviously, whoever sent it liked matching stationery.
I tugged the sheet out and unfolded it. And discovered it wasn’t a letter, but rather a warning.
I know where you live, it said.
And I know what protects you.
Chapter 10
For a minute, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Then fear set in and I began to shake so badly that my legs wouldn’t support me and I dropped onto the bed.
He knew where I lived!
Fuck, oh fuck.
I stared at the letter for several more minutes, then, without warning, started to cry.
Fiercely.
Uncontrollably.
The sobs were so bad my whole body shook with them and though I was gulping down air like a fish, it caught in my throat and made it even harder to breathe.
Tao was suddenly on his knees in front of me. He wrapped his arms around my body, making soothing noises low in his throat as he pulled me onto his lap and rocked me as gently as a father would a terrified child. It felt like a furnace had wrapped itself around me, and it went a long way toward chasing away the chill that had enveloped my body.
But the tears continued to fall. In anger, in fear, and in frustration. For everything that had happened, for everything I’d lost, for all those who had died because of me, and for all those who might yet die because of me.
Because I was sick of monsters chasing me and sick of people using me.
And because I knew, no matter what, there was no going back. This path, this journey, was leading me inexorably into darkness, and I knew with every fiber of my being it was a darkness from which I would not escape.
My mother had sensed this destiny long, long ago. Had, in fact, told Aunt Riley when I was still a child that I would be involved with angels and demons and god knows what else, and she hadn’t been sure if that involvement would be for the side of good, or for evil. She’d never actually said anything to me, of course, but I’d known. She’d had her secrets, but this was one I’d uncovered fairly young—too young to understand the true depth and cost of such darkness.
I understood it now.
Understood, and feared it.
I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but it was certainly long enough that Tao’s legs had to be cramping. He never said anything, just continued to hold me long after the tears had stopped falling. Eventually, I lifted my head from his shoulder and said, “You wouldn’t have a tissue on you, would you?”
“No, but I can produce a handy sleeve.”
He offered me his left arm. I made an odd sound that was caught between a laugh and a sob. “Thanks, but it’s too nice a sweater to ruin with snot.”
“Snot can be washed off.” He gently thumbed away a remaining tear, then placed his hands on my hips and lifted me onto the bed. “Now, do you want to tell me what that was all about?”