He slowed to make the turn in to my driveway. “Any ideas what it was?”
“It wasn’t a demon. I know that much. Skalz said it was an arcane construct.”
“What, like a golem or something?”
“Yeah, that sort of thing. Inanimate matter controlled by ‘magic’ or arcane power to be animate. Unfortunately, that’s about the extent of my knowledge.” I glanced at him. “Do you know anything about them?”
Ryan shook his head. “Only what I’ve read in stories or seen in movies. So, someone has to be controlling it, right?”
“I would imagine so, but I don’t really know how that works. I have a lot of research ahead of me.” Maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t yet summoned Rhyzkahl this month.
“I wonder if it’s someone in the band,” he said, mouth tightening slightly.
“You mean someone in the band who has it in for Lida?”
His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I was thinking more along the lines of publicity stunt.”
I considered it for a moment and couldn’t find any reason to immediately discard it as a theory. “It’s possible,” I agreed, “though Lida sure looked terrified. Either she wasn’t in on it, or she’s one hell of an actress. But at this point anything’s possible. Until I find out more about how those things are created and controlled, we’re kinda in the dark.”
“I foresee more interviews with Lida and her band mates.”
I looked back at the supposedly sleeping Zack and chuckled. “Someone’s gonna hate that.”
“Sometimes our duty is tough,” Ryan replied, mouth twitching in amusement as he pulled to a stop in front of my house. I lived nearly half an hour from Beaulac city limits, in a single-story Acadian-style house in the middle of ten acres of woods. The house was several years overdue for repainting, and the driveway would probably need a fresh load of gravel on it before the year was out, but I owned it outright, which helped make it possible for me to live on a cop’s salary. But, more important, it sat on enough of a hill to allow me to have a basement—a rarity in south Louisiana—and that feature, coupled with the privacy the location afforded, made my house absolutely perfect for someone who enjoyed summoning demons in her spare time.
He shifted into park. “You’re going to summon tomorrow night?” He made it sound like a question, but I knew it wasn’t.
“I have to,” I said quietly.
“That’s cool.” He gave a curt nod. I knew he wasn’t cool with it, not in the slightest, but I had to give him points for at least pretending to be all right with it.
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “At least it’s a Sunday and you can catch up on some sleep.”
“Then back to the office grind on Monday.” I wrinkled my nose, though I didn’t really mean it. I enjoyed being a part of the task force, but I had no desire to be a full-time fed. I liked being a “small town” cop. Even though Beaulac was the parish seat of St. Long Parish, it was barely big enough to be called a city by census definitions, maintaining a small-town feel that managed to be friendly and homey without being annoyingly insular. The city of Beaulac curved around Lake Pearl and for decades had survived primarily on an industry of sportsmen and weekend vacationers, but that was gradually changing. The area was experiencing a few growing pains as more and more people discovered the “rural charm” of St. Long Parish, especially since the parish was still within comfortable driving distance of New Orleans. But I figured that such things were inevitable, and it would likely be decades yet before Beaulac and St. Long Parish had to worry about the kind of issues that plagued the immediate suburbs of New Orleans.
Besides, this was my home, and I liked being a part of its protection, as corny as that might sound. Sometimes the fact that I was on the task force put me in a bit of a precarious position when it came to office politics, especially when there was a shift in the workload. But, then again, I knew that some of the detectives would find a reason to grumble no matter what I did. I tried to take extra cases to make up for the times when I was busy with task force things, which then earned me the grumbles that I was “sucking up and hogging the good cases.” I’d pretty much reached the point of not giving a shit.
Ryan nodded. “Okay, then we’ll starting figuring out strategy for this whole thing when we’ve all had some sleep.”
I climbed out of the car, and he surprised me by getting out and walking me up to the porch. I almost made a smart-alec remark about how I didn’t think I was in danger of getting mugged in the ten feet between the car and my door, but I restrained myself. We’d been doing a lot of “joking” back and forth lately, and it was beginning to feel forced, as if we were desperately clinging to the friendship portion of our relationship.
“Okay, you and Zack are hiding something from me,” he said, but there was a smile in his eyes. “And I figure it has to be something that the demon told you, and the only reason for you two to hide it from me would be if it had to do with my favorite demonic lord. So I wanted you to know that I’m a big boy, and I don’t want you to feel any more stress about any of this because of me.” He put his hands on my shoulders, and this time his smile was tinged with something that might have been sadness or regret, though I couldn’t tell if it was for himself or me. “I worry about you,” he said, in an echo of what Zack had said earlier, “and I fucking hate that you’re in this situation, but I also know that I have no business judging or make demands on you that will only make the whole thing harder on you.”
I blinked at him, then returned the smile. “Wow. You’re, like, being all mature and shit. That’s kinda scary.”
He laughed, then surprised me again by pulling me into a hug. “You are such a goddamn dork.”
I recovered enough to give him a return squeeze, then he stepped back. He’d started with the “friend-hug that was a little more than a man-hug” shortly after I’d made my oath to Rhyzkahl. I really liked the hugs, but they confused the shit out of me at the same time. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him to stop. Ryan was solid and muscled, and he smelled damn nice as well.
“Hey, you’re the one who chooses to hang out with me,” I countered. “And I’m not the one who watches Star Trek and all that stuff.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “One of these days I’m going to make you watch some quality television.”
I glared at him. “I like my reality shows.” One of my current addictions was a show about preschool beauty queens and their white trash mothers. It was like watching a train wreck. I loved it.
He shuddered. “The horror.”
I poked a finger at his chest. “Right, and you want me to watch some show about a cheerleader who kills vampires.”