chapter 8
Case of the Mondays
“Whose truck is that?” Gavin asked as we pulled up next to it. He hovered over the steering wheel, tried to peer into its windows. “Who would be at your place this late?”
My stomach churned while I frantically scanned the front yard for him. “Um ... I think it might be a neighbor.”
“Are you expecting someone?” He looked at me instead of the truck now.
“Definitely not.” But he was right. This night was officially bad. I was about to pay for keeping Andrew a secret. Things were about to get much, much, more complicated. I sighed loudly, reached for the car door handle, resigned myself to facing it head on. “I know who it is. Just let me handle this, okay? I’ll explain afterward.” I left him sitting there and trudged out of the car, made my way up to the porch, grinding my teeth.
“Camille?” Gavin called after me, stepped out of the car. I didn’t turn around to look at him, just stormed up the dimly lit porch steps to find Andrew sitting on the rocking chair, a smug look on his face and a bouquet of my favorite flowers propped on his lap. I clenched my fists, glared at him.
“What are you doing here, Andrew?”
“Aw, now what kind of welcome is that, sweetheart? Don’t break my heart and tell me you haven’t missed me, now.” His lips curled into a malicious smile, and he stood up and held out the flowers.
“Is everything all right, Camille?” Gavin’s voice came first, then his body as he came to stand beside me.
“Ah, who’s this? You have a guest tonight, I see,” Andrew assessed Gavin from head to toe. “He’s more than welcome to join us, if you’d like,” he said to me, keeping his eyes on Gavin.
“That won’t be necessary,” Gavin snapped, nostrils flared.
I sighed. “Andrew, this is Gavin. My boyfriend. Don’t you dare start. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here at eleven-thirty at night, but I think it’s time you go the hell home before I call the cops.” I stepped closer to the front door.
“Wow! Look who’s all brave now! I’m very impressed, darlin’.” He moved closer to me. “Last time I checked, we were still together. I don’t see anything wrong with stopping by my girlfriend’s house to bring her flowers. Care to explain what’s going on here?” He gave the bouquet a dramatic shove toward my chest as I reached for the door.
“I think you should take her up on her offer.” Gavin moved in front of me to block him. Andrew examined his face for a moment, laughed before he took a step back. “You leave now, she won’t call the cops and report you for trespassing.”
“Now wait a minute.” Andrew pushed his hands up to defend himself. “I do believe you’re entitled to an explanation as well, don’t you agree?” He looked past Gavin’s face to glare at me, smug. “Or hasn’t she told you about me yet?”
Gavin shifted his eyes toward me, waited for me to respond. “You don’t have to do this, Camille. We can go inside.”
I stuck my house key into the door. “Andrew, this is none of your business. You know we’re over, and you know I don’t want you here. I will call the police. I mean it.”
“Well, I must say, this is awfully rude of you to treat your guests like this,” he gestured to Gavin. “But if you insist, I’ll come back at a better time. When we have a little more privacy.”
“No—”
“Absolutely not.” Gavin shifted, but retained his protective stance.
“Look, Mr. Devereaux,” Andrew rolled his eyes, “I appreciate your effort to try and be the hero here, but do yourself a favor and back off. You might be involved in this,” he pointed to the three of us, “but what Camille and I discuss is our business. And I’ll speak to her about our business whenever I like.”
“Camille is my business,” he gave Andrew a hard stare, “and I think it’s clear she doesn’t want you around. Stay away from her, understand?”
I glanced at Gavin as he spoke, wondering if he had any idea how much worse he’d just made this. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know the half of it. And that was my fault.
“I see how this is going to be.” Andrew chuckled to himself, turned his attention back to me. “Camille, sweetheart, when your watchdog isn’t around and you have some time to yourself, give me a call so we can chat, okay?”
“Leave, Andrew,” I ordered him gritted teeth.
He turned just long enough to place the flowers at the doorstep, then casually stepped around Gavin. “For you, Camille. I’ll be seeing you.”
He began to whistle, but stopped and leaned over to peck me on the cheek. I smacked him across the face the minute his lips touched my skin and he jerked his head back, a phony look of surprise on his face. “Oh, so feisty! That’s what I love about her.” He pointed to me, winked at Gavin. “She always knows how to show a guy a good time.”
Gavin grimaced, and I shut my eyes, disgusted. I opened them when I heard him on the porch steps, and watched while he strolled off, stopping to take a speculative gander at Gavin’s Maserati before he hopped into his truck. “And they say money can’t buy love....” he sang while he pulled the door shut.
“I told you to let me handle it. I said I would explain everything afterward. You didn’t have to get in the middle of this, now you just made it ten times harder than it already is.” I realized I was rambling, and that Andrew could probably still hear us out here on the porch. I unlocked and opened the door, stepped inside and waved at Gavin to come with me. Gavin remained on the porch, his face stubborn and unwilling to follow me.
“I was trying to watch out for you, Camille. He’s dangerous,” he replied calmly.
“You don’t need to remind me.” I dropped my keys on the table and turned to him, folded my arms. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you about him, and this was not at all the way I intended for it to go.”
The door still wide open, he stared off at Andrew’s truck as it drove away, watched as it left a trail of dust behind it. He tightened his fists and it looked as if he were cutting off his circulation.
“Are you listening to me?” I walked closer to the front door, tried to get his attention.
“I have to go,” he said. “It’s getting late, it’s almost midnight. Get some sleep, okay?” He glanced at me, but immediately moved his eyes back to the long dirt road in front of us. “Don’t worry about all of this. We can talk about it tomorrow.” He kissed me, picked up the flowers Andrew had left on the doorstep and turned to leave.
“What? Talk about it tomorrow? I thought you’d want to know what’s going on—”
“I don’t care who he is, Camille. Or who he was to you, for that matter. Not right now. Look, lock the doors and keep the phone by you. I have to go.” He rubbed my shoulder, then made his way down the porch steps.
“Please don’t leave, can’t you stay?” I called after him, “I feel bad you had to meet him like this.” I stepped out the front door, hoped he’d turn around. Instead, he stepped farther away. He had to hear the truth, and I couldn’t afford to be left alone now. Andrew knew about the spell, and apparently, it really pissed him off. And it was too late to go see Vivienne for help tonight. “Gavin, I’m afraid. Listen, I need to tell you something.”
“I can’t stay, I’m sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, already hurrying toward his car. I stood there on the porch, crushed. I knew meeting Andrew would upset him, but I didn’t expect him to shut down and refuse to talk to me.
He tossed the extravagant bouquet of pastel-colored roses next to his car, stepped on them as they struck the ground. The roses trampled and lifeless on the ground, he sped away.
I locked the doors and checked the windows, then set the phone on the bathroom counter while I took a hot shower. Listening to the thunder as it shook the house, I tried to sleep. The hard rain became a downpour and it hypnotized me, as did the old creaky shutters that banged back and forth against the house in their grappling with the elements.
Listening to the rain didn’t help me calm myself, so I tried distraction, playing with the new, beautiful necklace around my neck, marveling at the locket’s inscription while I pondered visiting Gavin’s house for the first time. The Duval house. I pictured the elegant plaque in my head, stationed next to the home’s front doors, saddened at the thought of his mother. I admired her maiden name, thinking how much it suited her, a woman I never even knew.
A memory flashed through my reflections, an intrusive rupture in my thoughts. In their confrontation, Andrew had called Gavin “Mr. Devereaux.” Had known his last name. How was that possible?
I sat up in bed and ran my fingers through my hair, my mind spitting out a thousand possible theories to explain his knowledge, but only one had prevalence over the others: He must have known about Gavin, must have been digging up details on him.
I would get up early and go see Vivienne one last time, before I went to the police. She knew something I didn’t, and perhaps it was time to start listening to her.
My mind raced, but the wind outside picked up and I felt my eyelids grow heavier and heavier as the storm coerced them to close, encouraging my brain to shut down for the evening. The shutters continued to rattle, the rain soothing the roof with its repetitious rhythm. I felt myself begin to float to the quiet place between deep sleep and a vague alertness.
A muffled noise echoed in the distance, glass breaking in slow motion. The sound smothered me and I tried to break through the limbo sleep–state of being awake, but not being able to move yet. My mind sent signals to my legs to move while my fingers twitched. At last my eyes shot open wide and I sat up, found I was sweating profusely. “What the…”
I cocked my head to the side to peek at the alarm clock. Two thirty. I’d been deeply asleep for almost two hours. In disbelief, I looked out the window to find the rain still coming down in soft sheets.
Standing up—I had to change out of my damp clothes—I wondered why I had awakened in a sweat. I didn’t remember any dreams, and I knew I wasn’t sick. I walked over to the dresser to grab a nightgown, when the sound of breaking glass echoed through the house once more, followed by a soft creak on the wood floor. Door hinges groaned and I froze in place, goose bumps forming on the back of my neck and arms. After grabbing the phone from the bedside table and the Glock from the bottom drawer, I steadied myself and moved into the hallway toward the kitchen, listening for any other sounds of intrusion. Gun in one hand, phone in the other, I scanned the kitchen, peered at the back door and out the kitchen sink window.
Turning to investigate the living room, I felt a sharp sting on the bottom of my foot. “Damn it.” It made me wince and I crouched down to examine it in the dim light, afraid to flick the lights on just yet. My foot tensed and began to bleed as I plucked a shard of glass from it. Still crouched down, I pivoted around to look at the floor, stopped when I saw the scattered trail of broken glass.
Body frozen, my eyes followed the trail and zoned in on a fist-sized chunk of glass surrounded by small puddles of water, the base of a drinking glass that had toppled from the counter. Ignoring the distraction, I grasped the gun tighter and quivered when I sensed his presence moving in on me.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t be needing that.” He appeared from the shadows near me—too near—and I shot up to stand, aimed the gun. Wondering if the dark was playing tricks on me, I blinked when I saw him. He looked astoundingly different: Flawlessly luminous, his pale, glassy skin cast a contrasting glow in the darkened room, lighting it up. His wicked smile intensified when he saw my expression.
Taking hold of the gun, he ripped it from my grasp and tossed out the ammunition with a few swift motions, then chucked the unloaded weapon across the room while he tore the phone from my other hand. Terror crept across my chest when I felt his overwhelming strength, and worsened when he squeezed the phone to pieces, crushing it in its entirety with ease. Aware now that my life was in danger, I sprang to the counter to grab a cutting knife, but Andrew beat me to it, clasped his hands viciously around my neck.
“You could have made this a lot easier, Camille. It truly is a pity to have to watch you die,” he let out a sigh. “You give me so much life. It’s such a waste.” I reached my hands up to try to fight him off, but the effort failed and only made him angrier. His eyes turned a cold, dead black, and his body shook as he flung me across the room and into the kitchen table. I heard the impact of my body hitting the table, then falling to the ground, but couldn’t feel it.
I stumbled and tried to stand, but couldn’t make it onto both feet and held onto the table for support. Andrew stood still, scowled as I fell, his eyes frigid coals. Lunging toward me, he flew through the air, pounced like an animal moving in for the hunt. A sinister hiss escaped his mouth as razor sharp fangs came into clear view and my eyes zoned in on them, fought to reject the reality in front of me. He slammed into me and grabbed my shoulders, pinned me to the wall. With one swift slam to my face, he knocked the wind out of me. My jaw was on fire, though I didn’t have time to feel the pain that followed; he took hold of my torso and slammed me backward again. Drawing on one last breath, I let out a scream as I felt a rib snap.
“Just think darlin’, this is the last time you’ll ever have to feel this kind of pain,” he whispered, and sniffed the side of my neck before he let me slump in agony to the floor. “Your blood is intoxicating,” he inhaled again. “Don’t ask me how I refrained from it for so long.” I shuddered when he crouched down to take in my scent again, let out another loud cry as I tried to pull away. “Truly, it was nothing short of torture,” he said, and grabbed my aching jaw with his fervent hand. His piercing fangs inches from my neck, he breathed one solid, steady breath. “Hold still, sweetheart. It’ll all be over soon.”
With a victorious expression, he moved in. His black eyes beamed, and I noticed a hint of the familiar green push through the blackness, glowing. I felt his teeth graze my flesh, then halt before they punctured my neck, as though savoring the final instant before they tore through the flesh there.
He was there, and then he wasn’t, as simple and as instantaneous as that. A resounding and invisible force had suddenly thrown him away from me and was hauling him straight into the kitchen window. A loud bang, and with my head pounding, I saw the windowpanes shatter and heard Andrew growl, enraged at this obstacle. Repositioning himself to attack, he sprung to his feet, his eyes now glued to something near the doorway. Shock was making me light-headed, but I scanned the room with hopes of seeing whatever force had momentarily repelled him from me.
Senses hazy, I rolled my eyes to the left, near the doorway, following Andrew’s icy stare. I worked to focus through the dizziness and spotted the dark, blurry figure of a man in black. My heart stalled, ready to die a dreadful death, right there in my body’s core. My heart sank when I saw Gavin, as though knowing it didn’t have the strength to survive this.
There stood my beautiful contradiction, glaring at me, warning me not to move. The same harsh, onyx eyes and terrifying, serrated fangs that Andrew bared. I came to the sobering realization that I was not making it out of here alive, no matter what. I was bruised and bloodied in mind and body, surrounded by the most literal interpretation of monsters, and a final nail in the coffin—I was in love with one of them. The love and loss alone would kill me, if not for the mythical creatures standing in front of me, ready to beat love and loss to the punch.
Andrew shifted his eyes from me to Gavin; I cringed and reached for my broken rib when I met his gaze. Faster than my eyes could follow, both men flew forward and collided in front of me. Gavin managed to fight Andrew up against the kitchen counter, his hands clutched around his shoulders. “How dare you!” he roared, in a way I never thought possible. “You violate the laws and mock them, with the nerve to end it like this?”
Although I thought it inconceivable, I became more nauseated when I saw Gavin reach to his side and withdraw a long silver blade. He aimed the weapon at Andrew’s chest, clearly ready to end his life.
“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Devereaux,” Andrew singsonged, raised his eyebrows as he struggled against Gavin’s death lock. “Samira knows what you’re doing, you know. Knows about your precious pet,” he smirked, held up his hands and peered down at the dagger that threatened his life. “You know killing me would only make things far worse for you and your …” The smirk widened. “Your damsel in distress.”
“Your scare tactics won’t work with me, you worthless leech, what about you?” Gavin tested, provoking him. What does Samira know of you and Camille? Does she know how you’ve manipulated her laws, abused your powers, using and abusing a mortal like this?”
“Ah, the stench of hypocrisy.”
Gavin ignored the jab and inched the blade to Andrew’s chest, pressed it against his skin. A sizzling sound followed a faint trail of smoke that radiated off Andrew’s chest when the blade made contact. Andrew’s face flinched and Gavin stuck his forehead to his, infuriated.
“I highly doubt Samira would have more of a problem with my dinner for the evening than she would with your alternative lifestyle and forbidden love affair, Romeo.” Andrew leaned forward to let the blade burn his skin further, meeting Gavin with a menacing challenge. “That goes for good old Gabriel, too.”
Without a second thought, Gavin thrust the knife forward, ready to send a hard jab to Andrew’s chest. Dodging the deadly blade, Andrew jumped back and shoved his body onto the counter behind him for leverage, then kicked Gavin into the wall I cowered before. Gavin dropped the knife but caught it before it hit the floor, then rebounded. By then, Andrew was armed with his own shiny blade, ready to attack. Their postures animalistic, their stares lethal, they crept toward one another.
“Gavin. Think of Camille. Focus.”
My mind was barely processing what I was seeing, but I had enough sense left to realize this low, husky voice was a new one. A familiar one.
A blurry vision of Gabe came to stand near Gavin, a third monster now hovering in my kitchen, with the same alien eyes and deadly canines. My eyes struggled to bring the inhuman version of Gabe into focus.
“That’s right, Gavin. Focus,” Andrew mocked, still dancing toward Gavin, ready to kill. Gabe hissed loudly and tightened his fists, placed one arm in front of Gavin to hold him back.
“My words are more than some petty scare tactic. You know what I say is true.” Andrew spit out the words even as he relaxed his defensive posture, letting the knife fall from his hand to the floor with a thud. He strolled toward the kitchen door, his back to his enemies. “I must say, you are right, Mr. Devereaux. I might have defied the laws. Might have disobeyed beyond the point of exception,” he pointed to the ceiling, giving credit to Gavin’s accusations. “Ah, but you,” he turned to peer at Gavin, his eyes restored to their natural green color, fangs no longer visible. “You’ve done so much more than that,” he glared at Gabe, including him in his condemnation. “You’ve changed the order of things. You’ve not only defied the laws, you’ve rewritten them entirely! I believe it’s safe to assume that’s something that is strictly forbidden by our kind, wouldn’t you say?”
Gavin clenched his jaw, fury burning in his eyes as he leered back at the monster that threatened him. “I shall truly enjoy watching Samira destroy you herself.”
Slowly opening the door to make his escape, Andrew grinned at me one last time. Gavin hissed, resentfully following his gaze, while Gabe’s arm still held him in place.
“Bonne chance,” Andrew said, winked at me, then flew out the door.