“Snail Crossing? Why would you follow me out to Snail Crossing?”
I was confused. Snail Crossing was the name of the ranch house Jake had bought in Carmel Valley, then convinced Jesse to move into with him after Jesse got his fellowship at St. Francis (thank God, because I’m not sure how much longer even someone as religious as Jesse is could have taken living with Father Dominic, who’d supported him—with the help of the church—in the first year Jesse had found himself suddenly alive, before getting accepted to medical school).
Dubbed Snail Crossing because the front yard was so deeply tree shaded that snails crept across the pavers at all hours of the day and night, Jake’s house had become our primary social hangout, the sight of many an epic barbecue, pool party, and deep intellectual conversation around the backyard fire pit.
But that didn’t mean I had any intention of going there tonight. I’d ignored Jake’s text about “brews and za” and his current crush, Gina, for a reason.
“You need to go there for your own safety, Susannah,” Jesse said. “I know you’ve taken every precaution with your place, and it’s probably one hundred percent secure against paranormal attack. But Jake’s is even more secure right now, because that little hellion hasn’t figured out where it is. And you know the kind of security system Jake has.”
Did I ever. As soon as medical marijuana had become legal in the state of California, Jake—whom I’d always referred to in my head as Sleepy, because he’d seemed so out of it—stunned us all by revealing he’d parlayed his pizza-delivery earnings into the purchase of a plot of land in Salinas and modest storefront in Carmel Valley.
The result—Pot-Ential—does amazing numbers. A national newspaper recently named Jake one of the top business owners in the Monterey Bay area.
But just because marijuana was legal at the state level didn’t mean banks were allowed to accept transactions involving the drug. This caused Jake to have, at any given time, hundreds of thousands dollars of cash sitting around in the safe at his house, because he didn’t want to risk the lives of his employees by keeping it at the shop. He’d been forced to install a state-of-the-art security system—and purchase a large number of firearms—in order to fend off individuals who might mistakenly think that a hippy-dippy dispensary owner didn’t know how to protect himself and his cash.
So in addition to having a large swimming pool, fire pit, and terrestrial mollusks, Snail Crossing was almost as impregnable as Fort Knox.
“It’s better for you and Gina to stay there,” Jesse said, “until we get this thing sorted.”
I dropped his hand. “What?”
“I know you don’t like it, but—”
“Don’t like it? Jesse, I thought we agreed you were going to cut out the overprotective nineteenth-century macho man bullshit.”
“That was before I saw that devil child coming after you tonight. Don’t try to pretend that what happened didn’t frighten you, Susannah. If I hadn’t come along when I did—”
“Fine, she frightened me,” I interrupted, shrugging loose from the arm he’d lain across my shoulders. This was not a good development. How was I going to get to Home Depot before closing to buy salt if I had to pack up and go to the Crossing? Especially with Jesse following me. “But not enough to drive me from my own home. For God’s sake, Jesse, she knows where I work, too. What am I supposed to do, not show up to school tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow Father Dominic will be there,” Jesse said. “He’ll know how to handle her.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, right! Jesse, no offense, but Father Dominic is the one who failed to notice her in the first place, and allowed all this to happen.”
“Please.” He laid both hands on my shoulders. “Susannah. How am I supposed to be able to work knowing you’re here alone with that thing looking to harm you? And I know you would never allow Gina to risk her life for you. At least at the Crossing, there’s Max.”
“Max?”
Now fairly ancient, the Ackerman family dog lived with Jake and Jesse, padding around the house in search of bits of stray food to eat and sunny spots in which to fall asleep.
“Yes, Max,” Jesse said. “You know he’s always had a preternatural ability to sense when spirits are around. Look how he avoided your bedroom when you were in high school.”
“Because you were there.”
Funny how now that Jesse’s soul was back in his body, Max was quite affectionate toward him. The dog certainly didn’t seem to sense any kind of evil in him. Let Jesse’s cat, Spike, walk into the room, however, and all hell broke loose.
“You know the safest thing to do right now is what I ask,” Jesse went on, ignoring me. “If not for me, for the children.”