Eye of the Tempest (Jane True #4)

Eye of the Tempest (Jane True #4) Page 26

Which is why pants are a plus, my virtue thought smugly, a statement my libido heartily disavowed.

“No,” I said. “It’s okay, Iris. I can talk about it.” The succubus looked back at me, concern etched on her features. Caleb’s face, which I could see in his rearview, looked confused.

“The Grays are the aunt and uncle of my… friend, Jason. The one who died.”

Caleb’s lips parted as he made an eep face, thinking he’d put his foot (or rather, hoof) straight in it.

“Jason and his grandparents were extraordinary people, and they were Wiccans. But they weren’t supernatural at all.” Unless kindness isn’t really human, which I’ve sometimes thought might be the case. “As for the people who live there now, these Grays are definitely not supernatural. They’re assholes, but they’re not supernatural. It makes no more sense that they’d be attacked than it made sense Gus was attacked.”

“So maybe it’s not them but their land,” Blondie said. “Maybe they’re sitting on top of something like we found at Gus’s.” We sat in silence, mulling that over for a bit.

“If I’m turned into a goat, I’m going to be very irate,” Caleb rumbled from the front seat. It was such an unexpectedly flippant comment coming from the usually sober satyr that we all sat in shock for a few seconds before tittering like school kids.

“If Jane becomes a seal, I’m gonna club her and make a hat,” Blondie added, making us all giggle harder. My laughter choked off, however, when she punctuated her joke by raking her nails over the top of my thigh.

“You’re just jealous because you’re an Original. You can’t get any more devolved,” I jibed, trying to recover my equilibrium as I poked the Mohawked woman in the ribs with a finger. She squirmed, and then poked me back.

“But what would I become?” Iris whined from the front. We all thought about that for a second.

“Vagina dentata?” Blondie hazarded. It didn’t make sense, but it didn’t matter. We were all laughing hilariously as we made our way to my once-and-former home.

I, for one, was grateful for the distraction.

Everybody got out of the car except for me. Caleb and Iris walked hand in hand together up to the edge of where Jason’s house had once stood. I simply stared, in horror.

I also noticed, with that weird attention to random detail that characterizes traumatic events, that the swishing of Iris’s hips beat almost in time with the flicking of Caleb’s goat tail.

Meanwhile, Anyan went to pee on some trees and then sniff at his own urine. Then Caleb moved to where Sheila, Herbert, and Stuart all stood, staring down at their house. Caleb pulled Sheila and Herbert aside, while Iris talked to Stuart. Blondie stood outside of the car for a moment, before noticing I hadn’t gotten out. She climbed back in to confront me.

“What’s up, babydoll?” she asked. “Something’s wrong. C’mon, spill.”

I turned to face her and, to my horror, tears welled up in my eyes and flowed down my cheeks. It was stupid to cry in front of someone I was having investigated, but I couldn’t help it.

Blondie leaned over to close her open car door, and then turned back to me. Next thing I knew she was hugging me, her arms like steel despite their slenderness. But she was warm, and her long-sleeved shirt was soft. I accepted the hug gratefully.

“Cry it out, babycakes,” she purred. So I did. Then I cried some more. And then I kept crying, until even I was beginning to think it was a little bit ridiculous.

It’s just that seeing Jason’s house gone had shaken me up, badly. So badly, in fact, that it had taken a few moments to register.

“What h-h-h-happened?” I finally managed to choke out, my voice snotty.

“I dunno. You lost your shit before I could find out,” Blondie said, her smile taking the harsh edge off her words.

“It’s gone,” I said, finally iterating what had been going through my head since we drove up Jason’s former driveway.

“The house? Yep, it appears to be. Now are you going to tell me whose house it really was?”

I sat back rubbing my face on my sleeves until Blondie handed me a tissue she found in Caleb’s glove compartment. Blowing my nose noisily, I tried to think of where to begin.

“The house used to be owned by my boyfriend,” I said, finally. “Well, by his grandparents. His name was Jason. And we grew up together.”

How lame does that sound? I thought, hating having to tell this story. Because it always sounded lame: a bad episode of a bad teen drama. Girl and boy love each other, like, for real, yo! But then they, like, lose each other and it’s wicked sad. Seriously. Cut to awesome new song! Rock out!

“So what happened?” Blondie prompted.

“You have to understand. We were… we were everything to each other. I don’t know if I can explain it…”

“You were lovers?”

“Yes. But also siblings. Gods, that sounds creepy. But it’s true. We were together pretty much all the time, from the moment Jason moved here to when he… when he died.”

Blondie grimaced, putting an arm around me so we were cuddling side-by-side like necking teenagers.

“When did he die?”

“Years ago. I was just eighteen. We were still in high school. It was an accident, but also my fault.” Even now I couldn’t believe how easily I said that, and how I could say it and know it without feeling like I needed to go bury myself alive in order to repent.

“How was it your fault, if it was an accident?”

“He caught me swimming. I’d kept it a secret, even from him. Everyone growing up around here knows you can’t swim in our waters, let alone anywhere near the Sow. But he saw my clothes. And he went in after me.”

Blondie and I were silent for a long while.

“Wow,” she said, eventually.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You do know it wasn’t really—”

“My fault?” I finished for her. “Yes, I understand, now, that I didn’t cause Jason’s death, in the sense that I didn’t push him in. I had no idea he’d find me. But it doesn’t change the fact that he died that night, and it was because he found my clothes on that beach.”

She frowned at me, and I sighed.

“I do understand that it’s not entirely my fault, now. I’ve come to terms with that. But his death and the circumstances aren’t something I’m gonna forget either.”

“That’s intense, babydoll. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“And you still have a connection to the family? The house?”

“The family, no. His grandparents died pretty soon after Jason did. Their hearts were broken: It’s like all the life went out of them. The people who took it over are Grays, but they’re not family. At least not to me. But the house…” I trailed off, unable to finish.

“The house was something,” she said, her turn to finish my sentence.

“Exactly. It feels sometimes like Jason’s been wiped off the face of Rockabill. Nobody talks about him anymore. Nobody seems to remember. I know people do, and most of them are avoiding the subject because they’re trying to be nice to me. But it feels like he never existed, sometimes.” Blondie nodded, letting me talk. “And sometimes, when that feeling got really bad, I’d drive by here. Or walk from my house, just like I used to when I would meet him. It was… something,” I said, echoing Blondie’s words.

“Those ‘somethings’ are important,” she said, squeezing me gently with the arm she’d wrapped around me. I nestled closer, instinctively, before remembering I wasn’t supposed to trust her.

She’s either a master con artist or she is trustworthy, I thought.

We sat for a few moments, looking at where Jason’s house used to stand. I was grateful for Blondie’s silence, and for her being there. I still believed she was up to something, but I had to admit I felt I could trust her, deep in my bones. Meanwhile, her sitting with me right then, so patiently, made me want to believe that instinct rather than question it.

“Well,” I said, after scrubbing my hands over my face, “it looks like I’ll have to find me a new ‘something.’ In the meantime, we need to find out what happened.” And with that, I pushed gently away from Blondie and got out of the car. I didn’t regret losing it like that, it was bound to happen with anything involving Jason, but the clock was ticking.

Blondie got out with me and together we walked forward to where Caleb was questioning Sheila and Herbert Gray. As we got closer, we could see that the house was still there, sort of. It had just fallen through the ground into what appeared to be an absolutely enormous sinkhole.

I didn’t think they came that big in nature, I thought, grimly. At least not around here.

Sinkholes were common around Rockabill, but nothing so large it would swallow a house whole.

As for the Grays, they’d been responding eagerly to the satyr’s questions. Undoubtedly Caleb had glamoured them to believe he was a journalist or a policeman, but when they saw me they clammed up. A look like she was sniffing vinegar passed over Sheila’s face.