Under Suspicion

“Whatnot?”

 

 

“Stay with me here. Two—the book isn’t even in print and Harley makes millions in presales.” I pointed at Nina before she could start. “Also from the website, no jewelry involved.”

 

Nina shrugged and I kept going, ticking my fingers.

 

“Three—Harley discovers that demons really exist, making his entire book a work of fiction.”

 

“Four—Harley finds out that I exist and writes another book, which sells millions,” Nina challenged.

 

“A book that he writes on spit-soaked napkins while holding a pen in his mouth and wearing a straightjacket because everyone—his publisher, his fans—believe that ole Harley, the debunker, has gone off the deep end. See my point?”

 

Nina cocked her head, raking her fingers through her long hair and examining it for split ends. “Kind of. But I still don’t buy it. Harley really has no need to pick off demons.”

 

“He does if he wants to save his contract!” I sputtered.

 

Nina put both elbows on the table and leaned in toward me. “You know what I think, Sophie? I think you’re scared.”

 

“I’m scared?”

 

Nina nodded, dark hair bobbing. “Yeah.” She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. The chill from her skin went all the way up my arm and I shivered. “But you don’t have any reason to be scared, Sophie. I’m not going anywhere. Harley won’t take me away from you. We’re a package deal, you and me.”

 

I felt my jaw slack open and I jumped up, yanking my hand out of Nina’s. “Seriously? That’s what you think this is about?”

 

“I know how you feel, Sophie. You’re like a kite without a tail. Just bobbing along in the atmosphere of love. You’re not connected to anyone, romantically—not Alex, not Will... .”

 

“You’re kidding me, right? A tailless kite?”

 

“Hell, you could be a tailless monkey without any bananas if that works better for you. The point is not what you are metaphorically. The point is what you are physically, which is afraid of being alone.”

 

I jabbed my index finger toward Nina. “No more Dr. Phil!”

 

Nina ignored me and stood up, mashing me against her marble-solid chest. “It’s okay, Sophie. You don’t have to be afraid. Harley is not going to take me away from you.”

 

I pushed Nina away. “I’m not worried about you leaving me. I’m worried about Harley killing you!”

 

Nina’s eyes were sympathetic as she pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. “You can use whatever metaphor you like, honey, but you and I—we’re in for life. And, you know, afterlife.”

 

It was hard not to trust Nina. She had never let me down before; and when it came to strong women, Nina was the strongest.

 

“Promise me you’ll think about it, okay? And maybe stay away from Harley?”

 

Nina cocked a warning eyebrow.

 

“Okay,” I backpedaled, “just think about it, and maybe only see Harley in well-lit public places?”

 

Nina grinned and gave me an icy peck on the forehead. “I’ll think about what you said, but I’m seriously avoiding the well-lit places. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Now go to bed. You look awful!”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

I wrestled myself into an oversized San Francisco Giants sweatshirt and whistled for ChaCha; then both of us flopped into my bed. ChaCha started snoring immediately—small, puppy pants of kibble-scented air. I clicked off the overhead light and stared at the pattern the streetlights flashed on my ceiling. Finally I clamped my eyes shut and willed myself to fall asleep.

 

All I could see was Bettina’s face, tormented, bruised; then Kale, lying lifeless on the wet cement, her head flopping like a rag doll.

 

I wasn’t going to let that happen to my best friend.

 

I wouldn’t.

 

I kicked off my covers and tiptoed to my bedroom door, inching it open a crack. Nina was stretched out on the couch, the silvery light from the television glowing ominously on her marble skin.

 

I slid into a pair of yoga pants, socks, and tucked my Reebok EasyTone sneakers under one arm. Hey, crime fighters need good glutes, too, right?

 

I peeled open the door again and dropped down to my knees, crawling from my bedroom doorway to dive behind our side table. If I could just get out the door, I could do in Harley myself, and Nina would never have to know. My heart was pounding in my throat, and sweat started to prick at my upper lip. I crawled from behind the side table to behind the couch; my hands and knees moving silently on the carpet.

 

Sophie Lawson, Savior, I thought with satisfaction as I crawled toward the front door.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

I stopped—rather, Nina stopped me—when my forehead banged against her shins. She was blocking the front door, hands on hips; her charcoal eyes glaring down at me.

 

“Um,” I said, sitting back on my bum, “I was looking for one of ChaCha’s chew toys.” I felt a smile of relief pushing up to my earlobes. Yes! A chew toy! That’s right!

 

Sophie Lawson, Incognito.

 

Nina cocked a single eyebrow; her smile was wry. “A chew toy?”