Slowly my head turned, and I looked toward the bedroom, my feet automatically shuffling forward, my mind refusing to believe what my eyes communicated. I stopped at the door of my bedroom, feeling as if I’d been punched in the gut. My bedroom, my haven against all ills, was utterly destroyed, shreds of clothing and bedding everywhere. It was as if a tornado filled with claws had ripped through, tearing apart everything in its path.
The panicked, anxious animal in my head started shrieking, and for once, I gave in to its demands and squatted down on my heels, my arms wrapped around me, rocking silently back and forth while I tried to make sense of the invasion.
Who had done this? Why had it happened? I shuddered at the idea of someone, a stranger, in my nice, safe apartment, touching my things. The destruction I could live with, but the invasion of my privacy… I started shaking, feeling myself on the verge of hysteria.
Flee! the anxious animal inside of me screamed, Get out of the tainted place! Go to somewhere safe and clean!
Where? I asked the animal, still rocking on my heels while I frantically tried to think of somewhere to go. A hotel? I shuddered hard at that thought. So many people crammed into small spaces. No, that wasn’t an option. Teresita? That thought lasted for a moment, hope gilding it into an attractive option, but almost immediately I had to discard it. She wouldn’t have room for me, not with her kids and husband. And there was the fact that my presence might put her in danger, although how, I wasn’t exactly sure. But then, I didn’t understand why someone had trashed my home. That left my mother, but down that path was madness. Even if she was out of prison, I would never be able to stay with her and retain any amount of sanity.
The image rose in my mind of a man with a nice chin, nicer chest, and lips that could make my head swim with the slightest touch. Ian, the frightened animal said with a hopeful whimper. Go to Ian. He will protect us.
I stopped rocking on my heels and slowly stood up, my skin crawling with the horror of my violated apartment, but something within me balking at the phrase “he will protect us.” I didn’t need protecting. I was a dragon hunter, dammit. I was supposed to be the one protecting innocent people. “And I will not be a victim again! I can cope with this. It is not unclean, or tainted, or filthy because some horrible person or persons were here. It’s just a mess, and I should call the police.”
The bravery of my words helped push out some of the horror, and I pulled out my cell phone only to remember that it had died a few hours before. I scanned the debris of my apartment, hoping the charger I kept in the kitchen would be sitting on the counter, but the counters were covered in trash from the bin. I took a step forward, intending on pushing the garbage to the floor in order to get the charger, but my hand froze in midair, my animal screaming nonstop in my brain.
I swallowed hard, spun around on my heel, and found myself knocking on Ian’s door even before I realized I’d left my apartment.
“Hi,” Sasha said, opening the door to me. “I figured you couldn’t stay away from Ian. You guys were practically setting fire to each other with your eyes. Ian! Your pretend girlfriend is here. You might want to give him a minute—I think he went to take a cold shower after you left.”
I shivered, fighting my brain and emotions to remain in control. Before I could say anything, though, Ian strolled out of the bedroom, a frown pulling down his brows. Part of my mind was disappointed to note he was fully clothed, but the other half was too busy being relieved to chastise me for hopes of catching him in nothing but a towel. “I thought we arranged to meet tomorrow for the second lesson— What’s wrong?”
I shivered again when he hurried over to me, his hands reassuring on my arms. With a little half sob that I was heartily ashamed of, I said, “Can I use your phone? Mine is dead and the charger…I can’t get to the charger.”
Sasha’s eyes widened as Ian led me into the room, pulling out his cell phone as he did so. “Why can’t you get to the charger?” he asked.
I took the phone. It was warm from the contact with his body, and for a moment I felt suffused with heat. I wanted to burn in the fire that was Ian, wanted him to heat every square inch of me. “Someone trashed my apartment. I…I can’t…Someone touched everything! Had their hands all over my things. My plates and my clothes and the little ceramic horses, and everything I own.”
“You were searched?” Sasha whistled. “Can I see?”
“I guess so,” I said, rubbing my arms, still fighting tears. “It’s a horrible sight, though.”
Without another word, she bolted through the door, the sound of her footsteps pounding up the stairs drifting down to us.
Ian was watching me closely, one hand still on my upper arm. I wanted desperately to throw myself against his chest, to bury my face into him, to hide away from my fears and anxieties and the world itself, but I hadn’t survived two decades of therapy to give in to such craven desires.
“I’m strong,” I told him. “I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he agreed, and released my arm. “Were you robbed?”
“I don’t know. Everything was—” I pushed down revulsion, having acknowledged it, as my therapist advised before taking the power from the emotion. “Everything was destroyed. Broken. Torn up.”
He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a normal break-in. Did you have valuables in your apartment?”
“No, nothing. Just a few pieces of my grandmother’s jewelry, and those aren’t particularly expensive. My laptop is old, and my TV is nothing special.”
He glanced at my waist. “Where is your élan vital?”
Panic flared again. “It’s in my bedroom. Holy squeegee, do you think—”
He ran past me before I could finish. I hesitated a moment, the memory of the invasion into my perfect little haven still strong in my mind, but I reminded myself that I was better than my fears, and resolutely marched up the stairs to the open door of my apartment.
“Wow. It’s like someone deliberately broke everything they could find,” Sasha said, coming out of the kitchen. She stepped carefully around the bits and pieces, the fingers of one hand doing an intricate dance in the air. I wondered if it was some sort of physical tic, or if she was even aware she was doing it.
“It makes me wonder who could be so angry at me.” I looked around and rubbed my arms again.
“Angry with you?” She tipped her head and pursed her lips. Ian emerged from the bedroom, his frown even blacker. “Oh, no, this isn’t because someone is angry with you.”
“The wanton invasion into, and destruction of, my home doesn’t say someone is angry at me?” I asked, goose bumps rippling up my arms when I looked around at the broken remnants of my existence. “Then what does it mean?”
“At best, it’s a warning,” Ian said, his voice as grim as his eyes. He took his phone from my hand, quickly typing out a message. “Your élan vital is gone.”
“Oh, no. Helen’s sword—that can’t be good.” I chewed my lower lip and looked around the mess again, hoping to find some sign of it. “Why would someone take it? You said earlier in the lesson that each sword is unique to the dragon hunter, and that only that person can use it.”
“A sword can be bequeathed to another, as mine was. And as yours was. But other than that, no, it can’t be used by anyone else.”
“So then why would someone take mine if it’s of no earthly use to them?”
“It’s of use if they can stop you from wielding it,” Ian said, striding past me to the door. He reached out and hooked his hand around my arm without even slowing down. “There’s also the matter of the esprit contained within it. If someone wished to steal that, they might take the entire sword.”
“Hey!” I said, forgetting to be freaked out by the invasion of my apartment. “What do you think you’re doing? I told you I don’t like to be manhandled.”
“No, you said you don’t like to be touched by people you don’t know well, and since your tongue was in my mouth doing things that are possibly i
llegal in at least three states, I believe I qualify as someone you know. I assumed you didn’t wish to stay here tonight.”
I shivered for the umpteenth time in the last hour. “No. Dear goddess, no. I can’t touch…I mean, I can, but just the thought…I’m going to have to work up to it.”
“Don’t worry,” Sasha called from the middle of my living room. She stood ankle-deep in debris. “I’ll help clean up. You go on down with Ian and have some dinner and sex. You’ll feel better afterwards, and by the time you are done, I’ll have things in a better shape here.”
“Are you sure?” I hesitated, part of me uncomfortable to know she would be there alone, in an area that in my mind was now tainted with the scent of danger, and the other guilty because I should be doing the cleaning, not her. Oddly, the idea of her touching my things didn’t bother me at all. It must be because the violation I’d already suffered was so much greater.
“Am I sure that you’ll feel better after sex, or sure I will clean up here?”
“We are not having sex,” I told her, sliding Ian a quick glance before adding, “I just need a little time to steel myself to get in here and deal with it.”
She waved a hand. “It’s fine. I have mad skills.”
“With what?” I asked over my shoulder when Ian tugged me to the stairs. “What a very strange girl she is.”
“She comes from a strange place,” Ian said while we made our way down the stairs to his apartment. “Although she’s not a girl. I rather doubt if she’s really female.”
“Is she transgendered or gender-neutral? If she’d prefer I use a different pronoun—is it ze or zhe that’s right to use for gender-neutral people?—just let me know, and I’ll be happy to oblige. Sasha is very sweet, no matter what her…his…gender is, and I wouldn’t like to hurt her feelings.”
Ian gave me an odd look. “I don’t think she requires gender-neutral pronouns, although you could ask her.”
I glanced around the hall when Ian pulled out his keys to unlock the door, and whispered, “You never did tell me what she was. Like…she’s from a magical place, right?”
“She’s from the Court of Divine Blood.”
“The fake heaven?”
“There’s nothing fake about it. In fact, it’s older than the mortals’ version of heaven.”
“So she’s a not-angel?” I wrinkled my nose, trying to fit that image to Sasha.
“There are no such things in the Court, just officials. Sasha is not one of them, however.”
“What is she, then?”
“She’s been acting as an apprentice,” he said, opening the door and gesturing me in.
“Yes, I know she’s your apprentice—”
“Not really. We just say that because it’s easier. She was apprenticed to someone else.”
I hesitated when he moved past me into the kitchen, wanting to know more about Ian and Sasha, but not wishing to appear rude. “Is it a secret who that person is?” I asked, moving a big marmalade-colored cat from a kitchen chair before sitting down. “I don’t want to be nosy, but if she’s not your apprentice, what’s she doing living with you? She might not be underage, but she sure looks it, and people are going to talk if they see you guys living together openly.”
“It won’t matter if you present yourself as the subject of my affections,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Which would you like first? Me helping you clean up your apartment, or dinner?”
I blinked with astonishment, a warm, fuzzy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. “You’d really help me clean it up?”
“Of course.”
“But…why?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You are a dragon hunter. You are upset. You are my pretend girlfriend. Pick any of the three.”
I couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his gesture making me a bit light-headed. “Actually, since Sasha is upstairs now and I’m starving, I’d really rather have dinner. But I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said, pulling various items out of the refrigerator.
“Can I borrow your phone again? I need to call the police.”
“The mortal police?” He pulled out a chopping board. “There’s no need.”
“There sure as hell is. My whole place was trashed— What do you mean mortal police? Is there an immortal police?”
“They’re called the Watch, and yes, people like us have our own police force.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Okay, that’s kind of cool. Are they, you know, psychics and stuff who can tell if you are a criminal just by looking at you?”
“No. They are simply a police force who are used to working with the Otherworld.”
“Great. I’ll call them.”
“I’ve already texted the local branch. They should be here before midnight.” He pulled out a knife, clearly about to start chopping up vegetables.
“Um…” I bit my lip, not wanting to sound like a lunatic, but knowing myself well enough to say something. “Would you mind if I asked you to wash your hands before you did that? And I assume you washed the veggies already? Because you have no idea how many germs those things can get in stores. People touching them, and sneezing on them, and ugh, so many other things. I once saw a woman rubbing tomatoes on her breasts before putting them back.”
He stared at me for a moment. “You are aware that as a dragon hunter, you are now more or less immortal, yes? You can’t die from common mortal germs or diseases.”
“It’s not about dying; it’s about putting unclean things in your mouth.” I gave a little shudder. “I know you think I’m crazy, but honestly, the idea that I’d eat someone else’s cooking is a huge step for me. I don’t even eat at Teresita’s place, even though I know it hurts her feelings. But she has kids, and you just never know where they’ve been, or what they’ve touched, and even if they say they’ve washed their hands, they just don’t have the concept of cleanliness down pat, you know?”
He paused while in the act of washing his hands. “The same could be said of me. You don’t know where I’ve been, yet you kissed me easily enough.”
“That’s because I assume you haven’t been using your mouth to do things like touch doorknobs.”
He said nothing more, just washed the veggies and began to chop up red and green peppers.
“Thank you.” Mollified, I sat down on a wooden kitchen chair.
“How long have you been this way?” he asked, waving a knife at me.
“It started coming on during high school. My therapist said it was a coping mechanism because my mother is an alcoholic, and verbally and emotionally abusive. Are those mushrooms?”
“Yes. Do you have any allergies or specifications as to types of food you won’t eat?” he asked after washing the mushrooms.
“I’m allergic to shellfish, and I loathe many vegetables. Unhealthy, I know, but true.”
“Ah.” He looked down at the food he’d chopped. “I was making a stir-fry, but if you’d prefer not—”
“No, that’s fine.” I settled back in the chair, jumping a little when the fat marmalade cat leaped onto my lap and settled in with a deep purr. “I can always eat around anything I don’t like. Are you actually going to cook?”
“Yes, and I assure you that the kitchen is clean. I don’t allow the animals in here.”
I looked down at the cat.
“Ringo!” he ordered, and pointed to the other room.
The cat gave a hurt look, but leaped down and wandered out of the kitchen.
“That’s some pretty impressive cat-handling skills you have there,” I commented. “Just the fact that your animals aren’t eating each other is amazing, but I’ve never seen a cat listen to a command.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s Sasha’s influence. She explained to them that they had to live in peace, and they do.”
“Wow. Girl has some mad skills. You don’t have to do that just for me. Although thank you for thinking of it.” I w
as relieved by his precautions despite the knowledge that eating somewhere other than my own home wasn’t dangerous. “What I meant by my cooking comment was…well, isn’t that a little…I mean, you’re a dragon hunter.”
His eyebrows rose as he chopped peppers, onions, and finally, chicken breast. “Yes, I am. I also eat, and that means I must prepare food.”
I was torn between the desire to talk to him about nothing in particular, just to enjoy hearing him talk (and finding out interesting things about him, like the fact that he cooked), and the need to utilize the time to the best of my ability. I had so many questions…
Helen’s voice echoed in my memory, telling me to call the numbers on her phone for help. “If I asked you to help me, would you?” I asked.
“I thought I already have. Cleaning up your apartment aside, you’d be dead if I hadn’t intervened with the demons at that mall.”
I waved that away, more than a little embarrassed by the fact that I’d been so inept at that fight. “I meant if I asked you now to help me with a problem I have finding someone.”
He froze for a few seconds, turning slowly to look at me. “Who are you searching for?”
“I told you—a woman who is leaving an abusive boyfriend. Or husband. Helen never said which. Anyway, Helen asked if I’d help her out, but didn’t give me her name or contact info.”
He turned back to the stove. “I doubt if I can be much help in that situation. Unless the woman was a member of the Otherworld, I have no abilities that would help find her. You’d do better to engage a private detective.”
“Otherworld being…?”
“The non-mortal beings.”
“Oh, man. We can’t use that word around Teresita. She’ll have Member of the Otherworld t-shirts made up for us so fast, your head will spin. You never did tell me what you’re doing here.”