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I shook my head. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
9
After putting the dog—Hisname is Taavi, I reminded myself—in the car the next morning, I climbed into the driver’s seat and just… stared straight ahead at absolutely nothing. Beside me, Taavi whined a question.
I let out a long breath.
“Sorry, bud. Just…” I trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain. “Sometimes things just get… fucking heavy.”
He headbutted my shoulder, and I reached out to run a hand over his skull and back. He whimpered, then put his front paws on the console between us and touched his forehead to mine. I let my hand rest against the warm, soft skin of his back and closed my eyes.
I know damn well the front I show to the world is one that says nothing bothers me. One that says I’m ice and snow, cold and untouchable unless you want to walk away with chilblains and frostbite.
I have to be that way because any sign of weakness presents an opportunity for the barely-civilized vultures in the force to tear me apart. That, and if I let every body, every victim, get to me, I’d have had a breakdown a long time ago.
And yeah, I am fully aware that my not-coping coping mechanism is probably the result of a culture of toxic masculinity and years of trauma, but that’s the only goddamn defense I’ve got, so I’m going to stick with it. And when the blood and pointless violence get to be too much, I’m going to sit in my cold car for fifteen minutes and do absolutely nothing while some part of my soul screams silently inside my head.
Or, maybe, I’ll end up with my forehead leaning against a dog’s, definitely not crying because this is the most support and affection anybody’s shown me in fucking years.
I sniffed, rubbing the back of my free hand under my nose, and leaned back into my seat.
“Thanks, bud.”
Taavi let out a soft whine, then settled down in the seat, although he didn’t take his brown eye off me.
Trying to pretend that hadn’t just happened, I started the car and drove to the Beyond the Veil offices, where Raj had arranged to meet me and Ward to summon the dead shifters who might be tied to Shelby. I was already slightly late, but I decided they’d forgive me for being later if I brought coffee and Sugar Shack donuts, so I took even more time to swing by both. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to self-soothe with sugar, fat, and caffeine. At all.
Loaded up with the best unhealthy breakfast in the city, I pulled into one of the spots behind the office and tucked the little parking pass that Doc had given me—because I’m here a lot—into my dash, then helped Taavi out of the car before grabbing the donuts and coffee and heading inside. I didn’t bother with a leash because Taavi wasn’t going anywhere, and Ward, Doc, and Raj all knew what he was, anyway.
I was not prepared for the extra person I ran into in the hallway. He was about average height, but rail-thin, with sandy-brownish-blond hair that swept around his face to just brush the bottom of his jaw and eyes that looked so dark they might have actually been black. His skin was fair, although slightly kissed with pink across his nose and cheekbones as though he’d recently been outside for a little too long.
His face animated immediately. “Hi! I remember you. You brought the doctor.”
I gaped at the lanky young man, trying to place him.
“Rayn, leave Detective Hart alone, please,” Ward called from the doorway to the big conference room.
The young man turned around, a frown on his features. “I didn’t do anything to him,” he objected.
My brain finally filled in the gaps for me—Rayn Alverno. The last time I’d seen him he’d been butt-ass naked and covered in filth on the floor of a shitty room in the basement of an asylum that had been trying to suck his magic out of him. He was a witch and a contact psychic—he could tell things about the origins and use history of objects just by touching them. Well, ‘could’ might be the wrong word. ‘Was subjected to’ was probably a bit more accurate, and it had made him nearly insane when I’d last seen him.
The man in front of me was a world of fucking difference from that poor, broken creature. It was a good reminder that sometimes people actually do get happy endings. Or happy new beginnings, anyway.
I knew that Ward and Doc had been helping him acclimate to life outside of Tranquil Brook—the asylum—but I didn’t realize that he’d come to work at Beyond the Veil. It had only been a couple weeks since I’d last been here… although a lot of shit had gone down in those couple of weeks.
“We’re good, Ward,” I called back to the warlock in the wheelchair. “How—How are you, Rayn?” I asked, directing my attention to the psychic.
He turned to me and beamed. He was a lot taller than I thought I remembered. Sure, I still had a handful of inches on him, but in my head he was a kid. I mean, okay, he was probably in his early twenties, so hewasstill a kid, but definitely not a child.
“I’m doing very well, thank you for asking, how are you?”
I blinked a couple times, thrown a little off balance by the speed and even monotone of his response, like he’d memorized it instead of actually meaning it.
“Um. I’ve been better,” I hedged, not particularly wanting to engage in a conversation about the current shitty state of my mental health.
Rayn’s slightly creepy black eyes studied me. “Better how? Are you sick?”
“Rayn.” Ward called him again, an edge in his voice.
