Chapter Twenty-Five

Taking Control

The weight of my best friend’s broken heart rode us all the way back to her house. It settled on top us, something solid and alive. I felt like I could have extended my hand and met resistance, water in a pool, the air between us a solid wall. She said nothing else to me, barely looked at me. Instead, she cast her dark eyes out the window. My chest burned for her, but I didn’t know what to say.

Any of the millions of suave, earnest characters I’d played over the years would have ready-made speeches for just such an occasion. I’m ashamed to admit that I considered it for a moment, slipping into one of those slick skins and smoothing everything out. I knew what Milly wanted to hear. All I had to do was say it.

I couldn’t. I loved her too much, even if I didn’t know how to say it. She deserved the truth, though I had no idea how to voice that, either. So, in the end, I said nothing.

When we pulled up outside Milly’s house, I expected her to jump up and leave right away. She was made of stronger stuff than that. We sat there quietly, silence drifting like smoke around us. She looked at me.

“What will you do now?” She asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Probably drive around. I need to process and plan. Do that best on my own.”

“Okay.” Milly opened the door, and got out.

“Wait,” I tried to say, but the door closed on it. She walked inside the house without looking back.

I sighed, my head falling back against the seat. My hands tightened restlessly against the wheel in frustration. I wanted to race inside and take it back. Instead, I headed for the mountains. With cold, ruthless hunter practicality I shut down the part of me that ached for my best friend, and turned my mind to the job.

Simple fact was, I’d been sloppy since I’d rolled into town. Hadn’t been in the hunter mindset. I’d been tossing all of my firmly-held personal rules out the window left and right for reasons I couldn’t even put into words. Hadn’t been anticipating doing a job, so when I had tried I’d done it half-assed. For God’s sake, I’d pointed Milly out to Ira when Zo had been standing just around the corner. It was only by a miracle that the conniving bitch hadn’t figured out who she was already. Well, that ended now. From now on, Milly’s safety would be priority one.

That was only half my problem, though. There was still the matter of Ms. Zo Williams, and what I was going to do about her. The solution my mind kept coming up with was preposterous, and didn’t bear thinking about. And yet, nothing else would present itself.

Strangely, I wasn’t all the surprised when I found myself parking outside the Library, sun glowing pink and orange above mountains purpled with distance. I’d been out driving around longer than I’d meant to, and now I wanted a distraction.

“God, this is such a straight-man moment,” I mumbled. But I left my car to go drown my sorrows, anyway.

Fake ID in hand, I blew past the partition in the wall, and into the alcoholic section. I wanted something fruity, like a Skittles or Appletini, but figured something that tasted awful was what I deserved. I compromised on bitch-beer in the form of hard lemonade. At least I could hunch over and nurse a bottle in proper brooding fashion.

Jesus, St. James, I said to myself. Are you really feeling that pathetic? I told myself to go to hell, wrapped my fingers around the bottle neck, and took a swig.

The thing about alcoholic lemonade is that it’s pretty much universally nasty. I grimaced at the taste, and the bartender smirked. Probably thought it was too alcoholic for me instead of just god-awful. I glared at him until he went away, and took another sip just to spite him. Yup, still disgusting.

I sighed and pushed it way. God, I was just too gay to function. Couldn’t even crawl down a bottle properly. Propping my chin on my hand, my fingers drummed the counter-top. It was rapidly becoming clear this whole bar thing was a no go. I felt the tingle down my neck of someone approaching, and didn’t even care. I wasn’t in the mood to be hit on.

Imagine my surprise when a voice I’d recognize anywhere said, “Hey, Little R. Rough night?”

Jerking upright, I turned to see Harley St. Andrew resting an elbow on the bar, hip cocked. It had been some time since I’d seen him last, and his hair was longer. Not as long as mine, but the shaggy, sandy-colored strands of it were hanging around his face. I couldn’t see them in the dim bar lighting, but I knew his eyes were a more chaotic hazel than mine, blue and yellow speckling across each other. Suddenly, I realized that I was taller than him now. He looked out of place in the bar, the collar of his leather jacket turned up like Elvis, the plaid of his flannel shirts visible beneath. I knew without looking his sturdy jeans would be tucked over reliable work boots.

I couldn’t stop myself from frowning. “What are you doing here?”

Harley laughed, an easy, kind of surfer-dude sound. “Well, gee, Regan. Is that how you treat your favorite cousin?”

Maybe it was unnecessarily bitchy, but I turned away from him. “You haven’t held that position in some time.”

He shrugged, pulling out a stool and plopping down next to me. “Guess that’s fair. Haven’t talked in a while.”

I snorted. That was the least of it, but I didn’t want to toss around family grievances in a public place.

“To answer your question,” Harley went on, “I’m on a job.”

“None of the hunters in the area mentioned you when I called around,” I said.

“They wouldn’t have, just got in.” He snagged my lemonade, and tipped it back. I wasn’t going to drink it anyway, but it annoyed me. He wiped his mouth when he was done. “You know, I’m pretty sure you’re not legal yet.”

“So, what’s this job?”

He looked around and then leaned in. “Human smuggling.”

My brow arched. “Beg pardon?”

“Just like it sounds, Little R,” Harley said. “Vamps are snatching inner city kids that nobody’ll miss, and selling them to rich, bored, country cousins for a considerable sum. Contact of mine told me the source is in this neck of the woods somewhere, so I’m investigating all the Houses in the area.”

“I see.” Mulling it over, I could see the possibilities. “How long’s this been going on?”

Harley shrugged. “No idea, long time. All I know is I’m gonna stop it, if I can. ‘Course, it’s not easy. Vampire bites can be addictive.”

I took in his long sleeves and raised collar, but said nothing.

“I heard you were around, so I thought I’d come see what you were up to,” he continued. “Not ready to infiltrate the House in town yet, but it wasn’t far out of my way.”

Despite myself, I felt relieved. Having Harley around could seriously jeopardize my own mission. Hopefully I’d be out of town before he rolled in to work his case.

“Working a case of my own,” I said. “Also got a school thing.”

“I see your old man hasn’t changed much.” Harley grinned.

“Guess not.”

The grin slowly slid off his face. He sighed. “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I thought you’d at least be—”

“What?” I cut in. “Happy to see you?”

His cheeks tinged red. “Well, yeah.”

“Harley, do you even know?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice down. “How selfish you’ve been? How careless? You’ve done your very best to rip my family apart, broke Unca’s heart, did you even care?”

He snickered. “You still call Roscoe ‘Unca?’”

For a moment, my world went red. I shot to my feet, the stool almost overturning. Harley flinched back out of reflex, and it wasn’t a mistake. I was about two seconds away from wiping the bar with his face.

“You know, Harley,” I said. “Funnily enough, I’m glad you showed up tonight. Seeing you again was a real wake-up call.”

I nodded toward the lemonade bottle. “I haven’t paid for that, yet. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

With that, I pushed passed him and headed for the door.

“Milly?” I rapped against her closed door. “You awake?”

There was a beat, and then, “Yeah.”

I reached for the doorknob, and then thought better of it. “Can I come in?”

The door opened, and she started past me. “I was just about to jump in the shower.”

“Milly, wait.” I reached for her wrist. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Please?”

She shook her arm from my hand, but nodded.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and try to explain.” I didn’t usually say things like this, not and mean them, but I had to. I had to fix this. “I can’t change who I am or what I do—not even for you. Everything I told you was true. I didn’t intend to save your life, but I—”

“Regan, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Milly said.

“Yes, I do,” I insisted. I could have slipped into one of my hunting personas, had the words fall easy and silky-smooth from my mouth. But that would have been a lie, and the truth was harder. “I’m not a good friend, I know that. I disappear for months at a time, I’m not subtle or tactful or delicate. Sometimes I’m selfish and rude, and I don’t try nearly hard enough to fix those flaws.”

I took a deep breath. “But I love you, Milly,” I said softly. “I may not have intended to save your life, but I’m glad I did. I’m glad you’re alive, and I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Finally, finally, Milly reached for my hand. “I’m glad you did, too.”

Relief made a smile splash across my face. It was a pretty awful speech—I must have used ‘glad’ a hundred times, but I’d meant what I said.

“I know I’m a bad friend,” I went on. “I take you for granted a whole lot of the time, and I don’t put enough effort into our relationship, but I’m gonna do better. I promise.”

Milly shook her head. “You’re not a bad friend.” She smiled. “Just a blunt one. I may not have liked what you told me, but I needed to hear it. I had this stupid, childhood-fantasy image in my head of what you were and what you did. It was time to grow up.”

“I know what you mean,” I said softly.

She looked at me questioningly, and I explained. “I ran into Harley tonight.”

“Harley? Your cousin?”

“He’s not really my cousin,” I said. “But yeah. It was quite the eye-opener. We used to be like brothers, and now I barely know him.”

I looked into Milly’s eyes. “I’m not gonna be like that. I’m not gonna just toss people aside on the way to my next fix, or next job, or whatever.”

“Harley is the hunter you never wanna be,” Milly said.

“Yes.” I nodded. “Exactly.”

“So what kind of hunter do you wanna be?”

“Well, I have to—” I stopped. “Talk is cheap, how about I show you?”

I dug my phone from my pocket, and searched through my calls.

“Hello?” A calm voice rumbled in my ear.

“Hey, Ira,” I said, and Milly’s eyebrows rose. “It’s Regan. We need to talk.”