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Dad chuckled. “Calm down, Dust. I happened to mention to Gil here that you were coming over to visit, so I told him to join us. Might as well get some steaks going.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You just watch that blood pressure of yours, old man.” Then I turned to Gil and gave him the smallest wink. I liked the idea that my dad was making friends, and it made me even gladder knowing that he was choosing to hang out with possibly the nicest guy out of the entire Boneyard.
I wasn’t going to deny that there were benefits to my dad being close friends with a werewolf. That gave me one less thing to worry about, just in case my enemies decided to try and hit me where it hurt. I’d argue that there’s no better security system than a slightly intoxicated, spring-loaded werewolf.
And speaking of security systems, Herald had come over once my dad moved in to establish another series of wards. They were tied to me, in the sense that I would hear an alarm in my head if dad was ever in any kind of supernatural danger. Happily I could report that things had been silent and peaceful for a long time.
I owed Herald a lot. Truthfully, I owed the Lorica a lot, too. It was the hub that introduced me to the first few friends I needed to survive in the arcane underground. And when the front door opened again, it was just another reminder that dying in the way I did and discovering my magical talents wasn’t really the worst thing to ever happen to me.
“Sorry,” Prudence said, smiling sheepishly, giving a small wave. “Was parking the car.”
Prudence Leung was a Hand at the Lorica, a traditionally trained and highly skilled martial artist who could imbue her strikes with bursts of mystical energy. What it meant, in practical terms, was that she could make things explode with judicious application of her fists and her feet. I’d seen her pop monsters into bloody giblets with just a single blow. Crazy stuff, and crazy awesome.
It was weird, I suppose, how it all turned out, but pretty fortuitous in the end. Prudence and Gil were both good people, and their friendship with my dad really only meant that I could occasionally count on having both a musclebound lycanthrope and a spiritually charged martial artist to defend him in times of extreme need.
“The gang’s all here,” I said, pulling her in for a hug. She was dressed in a very comfortable-looking tracksuit, quite a change from the sleek leather I was so used to seeing her wear. Prudence hugged back, the little locks of dyed blue hair at her neck revealing themselves as she squeezed me in greeting.
“Your dad wanted us over for steaks, and we couldn’t say no,” Prudence said. “And you know how Gil feels about a good slab of meat.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I said. “I’m just happy to see he’s making friends at school, you know?”
Dad shook his fist at me. “Shut your smart mouth, Dustin.”
Prudence laughed softly. “Yeah. I think it’s especially important for us to have each other’s backs.” She lowered her head slightly. “I mean it’s nice that everyone in our little circle seems to be getting along, but doesn’t it feel like things are getting more dangerous in Valero by the day?”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “I know what you mean. The whole thing with Mona’s concert? Geez.”
“Over at the Gridiron?” Dad stepped over, his arms folded. “Yeah, I read about that. Terrible fire.” He rapped his knuckles by the newspaper at the edge of the table, the Comstock Times, with its weirdly eerie logo of a single open eye, as if to say they were always watching.
Gil, Prudence, and I exchanged cautious glances. This was dad, though. It’s not like I was going to hide things from him, of all people.
“Yeah. Dad, it wasn’t a fire.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Then what was it?”
“No one’s sure just yet, Norman, but we’re trying to get to the bottom of it.” Prudence gestured at me. “Dust was there the night it happened. Weren’t you, Dust?”
I nodded. “Totally
weird. Mona sang a song and everyone just started bleeding out of their eyes and their ears. They all died. It was insane.”
Dad stared at me, mouth aghast, his beer forgotten in his hand.
Prudence tutted. “I heard you met Royce. The Scion? Total hard-ass. He means well, mostly, but you gotta understand, this is a PR nightmare for him.”
I scoffed. “Those were his exact words. I’m not looking forward to running into him again. He took Mona with him, or at least he asked the Wings to whisk her away. I hope she’s somewhere safe.”
Gil chuckled in a way that I could only describe as bitter. I didn’t miss the razor-sharp glare that Prudence threw in his direction, and I didn’t miss the way Gil cowed a little under her gaze, either.
“Um. What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Prudence snapped, maybe a little hurriedly.
“Prue,” Gil said. “Babe. It’s Dust, and Norm. It’s okay. We can trust them.”
Dad blinked, licking his lips, like his body was hoping for more beer, but he was too busy and enraptured to feed it. “Trust us with what, exactly?”
Prudence shook her head, scowling. “Gilberto Ramirez, I swear.”
