We agreed that we needed to learn if this witch or group of witches involved in binding demons was being coerced by the Brotherhood or acting of their own free will. Given the Rasha fingerprint on the metal spine that had been used to modify the gogotas that had attacked us in Prague, there was definitely a connection with our organization.
The line-up for the coaster was fiendishly long, and we couldn’t exactly discuss demons and secret societies, which was fine by me. I continued paying up the bet I’d recently lost, and recounted more of the fanfic I’d written about Ro’s band, while forced to listen to all the factual details I’d gotten incorrect. He delivered them in the driest, most professorial tone imaginable, with his editorials on the sex scenes particularly hilarious. The time flew by, and soon we were safely ensconced in the front seat of the car.
Though in Ro’s opinion, “safely” may have been a bit of a stretch. He tugged on the slender metal bar across us, the only thing keeping us from cannonballing out of the coaster. “It’s not even flush against us.” He shot me a suspicious glare. “Is this going to be like that damned mini-train in Prague?”
I snickered. The car moved forward, clacking against the wooden rails in a familiar rhythm. Slowly, it bumped its way up the first big incline, taking us higher and higher above the park. Riders on the swings flew out as if to greet us, while The Beast ride soared and dipped by our heads.
I flung my hands in the air as the car paused on the precipice. It hurtled down the tracks and I screamed, wind streaming over me. My body half-pitched over the bar, my stomach dropped into my toes, and my ass lifted off of the seat.
“Fuuuck!” Rohan gripped the safety bar, his eyes screwed closed, but his grin wide with glee.
Over and over, we climbed and plunged, every part of me bouncing and rattling. The coaster curved sideways and I slid into Rohan, jabbing his side with my hip bone.
I didn’t stop laughing until the coaster finally slowed with a jolt that snapped our heads back. I hopped out, pulling Rohan onto the platform with me. “Didja love it?”
“Not one bit,” he said, hustling me back to the start of the line.
We went three more times, until our bones clanked as badly as the coaster. I cracked my neck, inhaling axle grease and hot concrete, and pointed to a nearby trailer. “Now you may buy me mini donuts.”
“I’m gonna need a second job to feed you,” he groused.
We stepped up to the cash. “Two bags,” Ro said to the young employee. He glanced at me and added, “With extra cinnamon and sugar.”
I squeezed my boyfriend’s arm. “You’re working out just fine.”
We drove back separately that evening, Rohan beating me back to Demon Club. By the time I pulled in, he was already parked, sitting on the hood of his car, Skyping with someone.
“Your mom threw that shirt out years ago.”
I pulled up short at the Indian-accented man’s voice coming out of Ro’s phone.
Rohan clutched his T-shirt possessively. “She can keep thinking that.”
His dad laughed. “Coward. Are you coming home for the golf tournament?”
Another man, this one with a mild Irish accent chimed in. “We need you, son. Don’t leave me alone with Dev.”
“You can’t get enough of me, Liam,” his dad replied.
“You play golf?” I whispered. How many secret talents could one guy possibly have? Was this all rock stars or just Rohan being an over-achiever?
Rohan looked up from his phone. “Badly, under protest, and only for charity events.”
“Who’s that?” Dev said.
I pointed from myself to the house, trying to tiptoe away. Rohan grabbed my hand before I could escape, but I refused to be pulled into visual range.
“Nava,” Rohan said. That was a nice neutral answer, right? Nothing to tip off who I was to these people, when I had yet to meet anyone from his family because it was waaay tooo soon.
“The girlfriend!” his dad announced in glee. There was a chorus of “oooohs” from the men.
I ducked my head to hide my hot blush. Ro had told them about me?
“You’re embarrassing yourselves,” Rohan said. “Please stop.”
“Put her on,” Dev demanded.
Rohan laughed at my impersonation of a fleeing cartoon character, legs pumping. He dropped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me in front of the screen.
I smoothed down my hair and waved at the camera. “Hi.”
“You’re even lovelier than your photo,” Dev said.
I blinked. Ro had sent a photo? “Thank you. I see where Rohan gets his good looks.” His dad, mid-fifties, was incredibly handsome with his twinkling brown eyes, nice biceps, and dark hair shot with gray at the temples.
My boy was going to age well.
Dev shook his head from side-to-side. “I’m generally considered the better looking of us.”
“In your dreams, old man,” Rohan said.
“I see it,” I said, nudging Ro’s hip with mine.
“You, I like,” Dev said. “Him, not so much.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Liam,” I said to Ro’s godfather, and the source of his middle name.
Liam pressed a hand to his heart, cramming Dev to one side of the screen, a sliver of golf course visible behind them. “Ah, sure look it, she knows who I am. Nava, I too, have a son. A wonderful Irish boy with eyes like the Emerald Isle itself. He’s a doctor, working with the less fortunate.” He threw me a “what do you think?” wink and a nod.
I laughed, instantly taking to this man with his crazy shock of pale blond hair and smattering of freckles.
“Faith and Begorrah, but you’re slathering it on, Liam.” Rohan deadpanned in an Irish accent.
I grinned at him.
Onscreen, the two men nudged each other. “I like how she looks at the lad,” Liam said.
I screwed up my face, barely resisting the urge to hide behind my hair.
“Maya will be sorry she missed meeting you,” Dev said.
I praised all the gods and goddesses I could think of that I hadn’t gotten an impromptu first meeting with Rohan’s mom. That shit was going to require epic preparation. And possibly Ativan. Maya Mitra was one of my idols. An Indian-Jewish woman who’d smashed through the music industry boys’ club to become a top music producer. Whether being her only child’s girlfriend was going to make her less or more enthused about me remained to be seen.
“Is my son treating you well?” Dev fixed an expectant eye on me.
Rohan tilted his head, trying not to smirk.
“He is,” I said brightly. Then, for Rohan’s ears only I added: “Dependent on his remembrance of certain cosmically important imminent events.”
“Maybe when Rohan comes back for the tournament, you can accompany him,” Dev said.
“Great idea,” Rohan said as I gave my best non-committal smile.
The other men laughed. We said our goodbyes and hung up.
I facepalmed. Then groaned and rubbed my face. “I can’t believe you let me meet your dad and godfather with cinnamon sugar on my nose.”
“Relax.” Rohan tugged my hand away from my face. “They loved you. I know it was unexpected, but thank you for being so nice.”
I brushed the remaining sugar off my nose. “I wasn’t being nice. I liked them. Hanging with them is probably like watching a comedy routine.”