Wicked Appetite (Lizzy and Diesel 1)

“You’re right,” I said. “You can sit wherever you want.”

I wrapped half a roll of paper towels around my arm to keep from bleeding on everything and secured the towels with Scotch tape. I plucked my cell phone out of the soapy sink water and tried to dial Diesel. No luck. The phone was dead. I could call him on my kitchen phone, but I didn’t know his number. It was locked up in the dead cell phone. Blood was beginning to ooze through the toweling on my arm, so I grabbed my purse and went to the front door. I cautiously looked out and measured the distance to my car. I had keys in hand. I stepped out, quickly closed and locked the door, ran to my car, and drove to the hospital in Salem.

______

The whole hospital procedure had taken just a little under an hour. I’d been fortunate to get injured in the lull between rush-hour fender benders and late-night bar brawls. I’d also been fortunate that most of the cut hadn’t required stitches, and I was already up to date on my tetanus shot. I drove the short distance back to my house and found Diesel and Carl standing at the open front door. Carl was looking curious, as always. Diesel was uncharacteristically grim.

“Have you been home long?” I asked Diesel, dragging myself out of my car, suddenly exhausted.

“Only long enough to see the broken door, the blood on the kitchen floor, and the saber. I was about to have Gwen start calling hospitals.”

“I’d explain it all to you, but I’m so tired I can barely stand.”

“My heart stopped beating for a full five minutes when I walked into the kitchen,” he said. “The instant I saw the saber and the broken door, I knew it was Hatchet. If I’d found him before I found you, he’d be dust.”

“I tried to call you, but my phone got dumped in the sink during the scuffle and died.”

“As long as it was just the phone that died,” Diesel said, following me into the house, looking at my arm bandaged from wrist to elbow. “How bad is it?”

“I caught the tip of the saber. It didn’t slice especially deep, with the exception of a small part in the middle. It only required seven stitches.”

“And Hatchet?”

“Cat attacked him and scared him away.”

Diesel smiled. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Cat was awesome.”

“I’ll never begrudge him another muffin.” He looked over at the door. “Since your door got kicked in, I assume Hatchet was acting without Wulf.”

“Hatchet was having delusions of greatness. He had a fantasy of presenting Wulf with the charms.”

“I have a fantasy,” Diesel said. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“I already know about fantasies number seven and eight. How does this one stack up?”

“This one is much better.”

“Maybe you want to save it for when I’m not doped up on painkillers.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to waste this one. You look like you’re done for the day.”

I took the burnt cake out of the oven, trudged upstairs, brushed my teeth, changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed. I turned the light off, and ten minutes later, Diesel slipped under the covers next to me. One minute after that, Carl climbed under the covers and inserted himself between us.

Diesel flipped the light on.

“Out,” he said to Carl.

“Eep?”

“Where do monkeys usually sleep?” I asked Diesel.

“Trees, cages, Dumpsters. The last time I had to live with this one, he slept on the couch.”

“So get him settled on the couch. There’s an extra pillow and quilt in the hall closet.”

Diesel slid out of bed and pulled Carl out from under the covers.