Ever Shining: The Chain, #4

Chapter One

Tammy couldn’t remember how she’d gotten into the tunnel, but she knew she wanted to get out. Now .

Each scuff of her boots kicked up sand and dust, filling the air with a sulfuric scrape that left her throat raw. She seemed perpetually caught between sneezing and vomiting. The darkness was so intense it almost had a physical presence—cold and clingy. The darkness and the cold were intermittently broken by the wet cough of something far below that vomited rivers of fire through the tunnels. She stumbled forward when that happened, slowing as the glow faded, then moving cautiously, hands running along the coarse stone walls.

She paused to brush back damp hair and to knuckle sweat away from her eyes.

How the fuck am I supposed to get out of here? One wrong turn and I could fall into a pit or get burned to a crisp! This place sucks!

Boots scraped to a halt against the sand-covered floor somewhere behind her. Somewhere close. She spun and got a face full of blinding light. She started to scream, but whoever held the light was on her too fast, a powerful, rough hand covering her mouth.

Shh! Tammy, don’t—

She bit into the meat of one of the fingers.

"Ow! Tammy! The light spun into a vertical beam that washed over the ceiling. And over Elliot’s face. It’s me!"

Tammy fell against the tunnel wall and nearly lost her footing. Stone chafed her hands as she righted herself. The flashlight caught the chrome sheen of Elliot’s armor, an ornate chest piece with three interlocked rings across its center. More armor segments, each as shiny as the chest piece, covered his arms and legs. A deep, dark blue cape hung from his shoulders. Elliot had let his hair grow long so that it seemed to disappear into the cape. He sucked at his wounded finger, then rested his free hand on the hilt of a sword. Not Jeddo’s takoba, but something straight out of one of the European museums she’d visited as a little kid.

How the hell did you get here? Tammy shook away her momentary confusion. Elliot had been there with her earlier. And he’d had—

Sunshine whinnied and squeezed her head past Elliot’s broad shoulders.

Oh, shit. Tammy launched herself off the tunnel wall and squeezed Sunshine’s beautiful, golden neck. Tears spilled down Tammy’s cheeks. Sunshine.

Elliot gave Sunshine a gentle pat on the head. Did you find a way up?

No. I lost my lamp and… She turned, eyes squinted. Why are you wearing that ridiculous armor? And what’s up with the sword? Is that really practical if we’re…if we’re— She backed away from Sunshine. Shit, what’re we doing here, El?

As if in answer, a rumbling filled the tunnel, then the wet coughing bubbled up from somewhere below, and the tunnel was bathed in the amber glow of flames that pushed a wall of heat into Tammy and pressed her into Elliot’s arms.

Elliot blinked the dryness from his eyes and nodded toward the receding flames. The dragon.

Tammy took a moment to breathe in Elliot’s scent—the Paul Sebastian cologne’s lavender and sage, a touch of sweet, salty sweat, and the armor’s oil and metallic tang. Beneath the armor, Elliot’s powerful muscles flexed: He could hold her weight.

She pushed away. That dragon’s spitting up enough fire to burn this whole dungeon down.

It’s a cave and tunnel system.

Whatever. It feels like a big prison.

And it’s all stone. It can channel the flames—

El! Listen, okay? That armor and sword thing, it’s not gonna work. And Sunshine’s useless in tight spaces like this. We need something else. Didn’t you bring…I don’t know, a bulletproof vest and a gun?

Elliot looked down at the assault rifle he held at the low-ready position. His arms and shoulders were bare in the Kevlar vest. A sleeveless black T-shirt clung tight to his thick pecs.

Sunshine was nowhere to be seen.

Perfect! Tammy ran her hands over his coppery skin, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. She gasped softly when he shifted the assault rifle, and his arms flexed.

I kind of feel naked in this.

You’ll be fine. She waved his concerns away and took a flashlight from his web belt. She played the beam off the tunnel walls. You did bring silver bullets, right?

Elliot popped the magazine from the rifle and inspected the rounds. Yeah.

Tammy’s lips ticked up mischievously. Let’s go kill this dragon.

Heat still rolled off the walls ahead of them, but it was manageable. She’d counted the time between fire blasts. They had about a minute to find a safe way down. The way the flames had gushed up and rolled along the ceiling toward her, she was pretty sure the passage they wanted was close, maybe just...

There. She ran the flashlight over a black hole in the tunnel floor. It was going to be a tight squeeze, something better managed by her. Give me the gun. I’ll take care of this.

Dressed like that? Elliot handed the assault rifle across, but the way the right corner of his lip curled up said he didn’t approve of her plan or her outfit.

Tammy checked the magazine and felt the weight of the weapon, then she looked at herself. Daisy Dukes, dusty boots with thick wool socks, and a skintight white tank top that had somehow managed to remain damp with her perspiration without picking up any of the ochre dust and sand that coated everything. No bra, she noticed.

I’m just shooting a gun, El, not kicking in its teeth. She jogged forward, twisting back suddenly at the hole to see if Elliot was checking her out. He was. I’ll be back, she managed in a completely unconvincing bass that probably drew attention away from her wretched attempt at an Austrian accent.

It was enough to get Elliot to snort, and that was what mattered.

Squeezing through the hole presented a bit of a problem. She lowered the assault rifle by the sling as far as she could before dropping it, then she squeezed into the hole so that Elliot got an eyeful. It was going all sorts of sexy. For a moment. And then her arms gave out, and she slipped down the hole.

Her butt hit hard, but it handled the worst of the impact. She grimaced as she felt around for the assault rifle. Seconds ticked by as she grabbed the weapon and levered herself up. The tunnel ceiling seemed lower and the walls closer in than she’d expected. She banged hips and elbows a few times while moving around, and then the floor suddenly sloped down, and she found herself again on her backside, this time sliding. The assault rifle caught on something, and she lost her grip on it.

Then the sliding was over, and she was surrounded by columns of stone that rose to a ceiling thirty feet above. Beyond the columns, a long, sinuous form snaked toward her, brilliant jade scales flashing in the amber glow of fire. Magenta whiskers whipped about an alien face, the marriage of fish and serpent. The thing wriggled to a stop and raised its head. Flame licked along grotesque lips and into an almost cat-like nose.

It was getting ready to breathe fire on her, and she didn’t have the assault rifle!

Hey, ugly, pick on someone your own size! Elliot dashed from behind one of the columns, assault rifle raised.

A red dot danced over the dragon’s face, came to rest between the furious, gold eyes, then gunfire roared in the cavern. The dragon breathed, but only for a second, and then its face became a red, ruptured mess, and it collapsed to the ground.

Elliot! Tammy shoved herself up from the cavern floor, pushed away the pain of scrapes and bumps, and ran for the column Elliot had been hiding behind.

He stepped out from cover, assault rifle lowered. The Kevlar vest fell from his chest and settled to the ground at his feet, a smoking heap. The last pieces of black T-shirt smoldered on his chest. He tore the cloth away, revealing the thick, powerful muscles. Sweat glistened coppery in the light of the dragon’s still sputtering fire. Elliot breathed in, and his chest expanded out. He dropped the weapon and held his powerful arms out, beckoning her forward.

She ran to him and let him squeeze her against him, oblivious to the grit of sand and her own aching wounds. He whistled, and the clop of hooves announced Sunshine’s approach. Elliot whisked Tammy off her feet and set her on Sunshine’s saddle.

I need to get you home and give those wounds a look. Elliot whipped a black cape over his shoulders and tied it around his neck. I think an aggressive massage might help.

He whispered something to Sunshine, then he leapt into the saddle behind Tammy. Sunshine quickly accelerated into a gallop, taking them through the darkened cave for a short while before they exited the caves. Seconds later, they were clear of the rocky ground and into the pasture behind their castle. Beneath them, grass whipped by, blue in the moonlight. The castle in the distance was gray, rising from the black of night, grand and daunting. A light burned in the lone tower that was Elliot’s home, eternally bright and welcoming. The stone walls protecting the grounds were a comfortable familiarity, and the clattering of Sunshine’s hooves were a hollow drumbeat on the drawbridge, amplified inside the gate passage. In the courtyard, Elliot dismounted, clanging and ringing in the silvery armor that had returned without her noticing. He pulled her from the saddle and gently set her on the cobblestone path that led to the front entry.

Home, dearest Tamment. Elliot bowed.

Yeah, you can drop that act. And lose the armor again, okay? Something’s wrong. She stumbled past him, suddenly aware of just how badly she’d landed in the dragon’s cavern. Her leg hurt. Bad. Like maybe she’d broken it.

Up close, the castle walls weren’t as familiar as she had thought. The castle was much larger and less vibrant, more like an old European palace left abandoned and forgotten, even by tourists. Vines climbed the lichen-coated stone walls. Leaves—brown and brittle—crunched beneath her boots. She shouldered through the heavy wooden front door and stopped, gasping. The stale, musty scents of antiquity and abandonment clogged her sinuses. Dust coated the inside of her mouth. She licked her teeth and tried to spit the ancient grime away, but she couldn’t muster enough saliva.

The foyer was dark and empty. She shivered in the chill that oozed from the walls.

Elliot rested his hands on her shoulders and let out one of his worried sighs when she trembled. I should get a fire going.

Something’s definitely fucked up, El. She turned to hug him. His chest was bare again, but he didn’t seem to be affected by the cold. While she squeezed herself against him, she sneaked quick kisses in, starting with his chest, then neck, then his full, dark lips. I’m scared. This place isn’t home. It’s wrong.

But it’s our home now, Tammy. Elliot returned her kiss, and her knees nearly buckled from the combination of intensity and tenderness behind his embrace.

I want our old place back. Tammy twisted to look down the length of the dark foyer and let her hand drift across Elliot’s taut muscles until she’d found his calloused hand. She squeezed that hand, feeling the power there. That power and the intensity of Elliot’s embrace made her question her sanity for her infidelity with Sir Heath.

No. Just Heath. Pretty little Heath, the Abercrombie & Fitch model. No. Not that either. Archaeologist. A storm in the mountains, a death goddess and her psychotic, butchering vampire bitches. Tammy had only wanted to have a little fun, to feel alive.

And maybe to make Elliot appreciate her a little. To want her.

But something had happened.

El, I don’t feel so good. She stepped deeper into the darkness of the foyer, pulling Elliot behind her.

Isn’t this what you’ve dreamed of? Elliot’s voice was gentle and sweet, as if he finally understood the importance of establishing an emotional connection with her and placing her needs first.

As if. Tammy twisted sharply on him, chin thrust forward. That’s bullshit, all right? If it’s a dream, it isn’t mine.

But you know how to control dreams. You taught me how to control mine.

"I didn’t dream of a big castle in the middle of nowhere. Ever. And I didn’t dream of you being my little subservient bitch, either. Are you listening? Don’t you feel it? This is fucked up, and I don’t get it. It’s like there’s—"

She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to feel the twisting halls, vast gardens, and spacious chambers within the palace walls. It was there, definitely. A presence. Something watching and waiting from the shadows. In the shadows. No, creating the shadows.

There! I can definitely feel it.

Feel what.

There’s a presence here. It’s why it’s so dark. We’ve got to get out of here. She hobbled back toward the faint sliver of gray that marked the entrance, yanking on Elliot’s hand, but he stayed planted where he was, and she lost her grip. Come on!

Leaves rattled in the courtyard, and the door groaned closed, sealing off the last of the light.

Tammy backed away from the door, hands stretched out behind her in search of Elliot. She needed his strength and bravery now. Her hands brushed against smooth cloth, satin or silk. She couldn’t imagine Elliot wearing something remotely like it, but the cloth stayed the same. And the body beneath it was equally soft. And small. Lean.

She twisted around and caught a face full of the man’s breath, a foul, ancient stench of tea and cigarettes and spices and meats, an entire history of elegant consumption blown out from deep within, then gone. Replacing the stench was a cologne she couldn’t place, but it smelled exquisite and was almost overpowering, but there were still subtle, musky undertones mingled within. It reminded her of walking through a mausoleum.

Not my dream. No fucking way is this my dream. She backed away. Who the hell are you?

"Dear Tamment, why don’t you tell me who I am?" It was an elegant accent carried by a tender and trained voice. It made her think of all the stupid vampire movies where the bloodthirsty vampire hid behind the image of a mysterious, sophisticated European noble.

Fuck that. Vampires were undead killers who preyed on stupid, emo girls.

The shadows whispered, a susurration, and the form was once more a nearby presence.

Okay. I’ll tell you who you are. You’re Creepmondous Fuckface? Did I get that right? She hopped back on her good leg until cold stone stopped her.

The shadows clucked a tut-tut admonishment. Such language. Fear not, sweet Tamment. We shall assist you in overcoming the limitations of your crude upbringing.

I don’t think so. This is just a dream, and that means I can end it any time I want. Tammy willed herself to wake up.

Of course you can bring this to an end. The shadows pressed against her, and the hands—soft and weak—gently played across her white tank top, finally resting on her belly. At any time. It is you who are in control.

Tammy recoiled, but the hands were still there, one caressing her breasts, the other running across her belly before dropping lower to undo the snap on her Daisy Dukes. She suddenly wished she’d dressed in the combat gear she’d purchased. She wished she had the takoba or even El’s Commando knife. Anything to get the rape creep off of her. Then again, his touch was gentle, and there was a definite heat building where his fingers now rubbed.

Tell me, Tamment. The shadows kissed her softly on the lips and cheek, then nibbled on her ears, sending little sparks across the flesh of her face. Why do you not end the dream? And then his fingers were in her, rubbing her slowly.

Tammy groaned. It was just a soft sound, not a huge, orgasmic, oh-my-god-Elliot sound. It was closer to a gasp. But she did shudder. A little. And she wished maybe Elliot could do something like the shadow guy was doing. It was fine to be all hot and passionate and sometimes a little rough, but Elliot could…Elliot could...

No! Tammy pushed the shadows away. Elliot was dead. It was all a dream, and it wasn’t a dream she wanted. She needed to wake up!

I will be waiting for you, the shadows whispered, and then they released her.

Tammy jerked awake with a gasp. She looked around, trying to make sense of everything revealed in the faint sunlight leaking through her bedroom window. She was naked, tangled in sheets that couldn’t hide her protruding belly. Her breasts were balloons she barely recognized. She felt bloated and sore and useless. Her right leg ached and itched, and it came back to her: Another week of physical therapy, and she was done, the last of the old wounds healed.

Except for the loss of Elliot. That wound would never heal.

Something shifted in the bed beside her. Yuki. The luxuriant spill of black hair covered her face, but everything else was visible. Unlike Tammy, Yuki still had her ripe body, still perfect after putting on a little sympathy weight that went to all the right places. Heat radiated from her, driving off the late-winter chill. Her scent—their scents—hung in the air and on the sheets. Yuki was demanding, insatiable, but she was always present and protective. The sex wasn’t necessarily passionate, but it was something Yuki required, and Tammy had grown to need Yuki in other ways.

Yuki shifted so that they were facing each other, and her round, dark eyes fluttered open. She wiped a tear from Tammy’s cheek. You dreamed of him again?

Yeah. Tammy rolled away and sat up in the bed. She needed to pee. She needed to shower. Before her feet were on the cold, hardwood floor, Yuki was there, gently lifting and caressing, her musk replaced by gentle wildflowers. It made Tammy feel strangely weak and useless. Tears erupted suddenly.

Yuki held Tammy close, rubbing the small of her back with one hand, patting the crease between her shoulder blades with the other. Tammy. I am sorry.

"I miss him, Yuki. He was in my dream, and it was so real. It just felt so right. Tammy squeezed Yuki until the crying passed. It’s just the hormones. The baby. It’s changing everything."

Babies do, Yuki said. She hooked an arm around Tammy’s waist.

What the hell was I thinking, sleeping with Heath? Flying down to Mexico... Tammy shook her head. How fucking immature could I possibly be? I’m always mad at everyone. No matter what happens, it’s always someone else’s fault. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I take responsibility for my own actions?

Yuki squeezed Tammy but said nothing.

I think I just wanted El to love me, you know? But I just drove him away.

Everyone makes mistakes. Yuki helped Tammy into the bathroom, then left long enough for Tammy to pee. When she was done, Yuki returned, and they stepped into the shower together.

It was the life Tammy had now. She and Yuki and Aunt Bea and Aaron, all hunkered down in Harrison Mansion. With a baby on the way. It was a family, just as Tammy had always wanted. But as the hot water washed over her, the sense of loneliness punched her with all the power of a heavyweight boxer.

The tears came again as Tammy thought back to the dream and the Elliot she’d created there.

She missed him.

Chapter Two

It must have been something about working in the kitchen at Harrison Mansion that turned people cranky. That was the only explanation Tammy could think of to justify the racket coming from Aunt Bea. Saucepans and pots splashed and clanged with the force of cruise ships ramming into each other at full speed. Bubbles foamed over the sides of the sink and sloshed onto the tiled floor, and all the while, Aunt Bea’s right arm pistoned in and out of the dishwater. Sunlight highlighted the white bun of her hair. A black line of sweat traced the spine of her broad back beneath the loose gray cotton of her plain winter dress. The dress hem hovered just above hideous, black shoes. Tammy could only imagine that Aunt Bea found her outfits at some Mennonite Surplus Store .

Tammy sucked down the mush of pancake and syrup she’d been chewing on and stabbed at the mound of pancakes in front of her, barely registering the sweet maple awesomeness. The movement cracked the thin layer of congealing bacon grease at the edge of the syrup pool slowly soaking into the pancakes. The aroma of bacon hit her just as somewhere up on the third floor, Luis began hammering in a perfect, insistent rhythm.

In an instant it all came together: Luis’s hammering, Aunt Bea’s furious scrubbing and clanging, the sweet maple syrup and smoky bacon. Tammy looked around the table at Aaron and Yuki, panicked, certain that Mount Tamment was about to spray steaming hot, partially digested breakfast everywhere.

Tammy? Yuki reached across the table and took Tammy’s hand.

Energy, and maybe even love, jolted up Tammy’s arm. The nausea passed, and the world settled again.

Tammy took a deep breath, smiled, and squeezed Yuki’s hand. Thanks. How the hell am I going to do this? I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m eighteen. I mean, I have a place to live and money for food and…

How the hell do kids do this? My whole life is just a mess, and I’ve got it good!

Aunt Bea straightened at the sink and stared out the window, brushing back stray white hairs with her wrist. If y’all are done eatin’, maybe I c’n clean the table. Wash away some o’ the filth.

Aaron sipped at a delicately held mug, his eyes twinkling in the light reflected from the coffee’s black surface. More than ever, his soft, pretty face and long, black hair reminded Tammy of his mother, whose exotic beauty Tammy only knew through photos. That beauty had been taken by Professor Thomas McShane, a twisted old man.

Elliot’s murderer.

But it was Aaron’s eyes that were painful to look at. They were the same shape as Elliot’s, a reminder that Aaron was William Big Bear’s son. Elliot’s uncle.

She couldn’t look at those eyes for long.

Aaron set the mug down. The table’s not all that dirty.

‘The table’s not all that dirty, Aunt Bea,’ if you please, young mister. And it’s not just the table what needs scrubbing. Some filth requires more than detergent and God-blessed effort. Aunt Bea fixed a withering glance on Aaron, and then on Yuki.

Yuki tried to hold Tammy’s hand, but Tammy pulled it free, then rested her face against it. Aunt Bea’s judgment was never welcome, but today was really a bad time for it.

That’d be the morning sickness got you feelin’ that way, Aunt Bea said. Her tone was matter-of-fact observation, Southern Baptist judgment, and condemnation, all rolled into one, as if she hadn’t foisted the greasy bacon and buttery pancakes off on Tammy to begin with. You’ll need t’ watch what you eat, else you’ll grow fat as your grandmother and never catch another man’s eye.

I’m okay. It’s just all the noise. It’ll be better when Luis finishes up the last of the ductwork.

Aunt Bea harrumphed. Could’ve paid to have professionals do it in half the time.

Luis is a professional. Sort of. He says he worked in construction after…you know. After Glen Stone killed our entire family, and Elliot laid him off.

Ain’t never seen no need for no central air.

Yeah, the mansion’s a little bigger than your place was, Aunt Bea. It gets really hot in the summer and cold in the winter.

God made the seasons, and we should appreciate their beauty.

It’s not... Tammy felt her lip jutting out and her pulse racing. It’s not ideal for a baby.

God protects his children. The wicked git taken, along with the innocent, all part of His divine plan. As Aunt Bea spoke, she rinsed the dishes she’d washed, then dried her hands. The motions were all harsh and broad, another show of contempt and righteous anger.

Tammy scanned the kitchen through fingers flared wide. She couldn’t recognize it anymore. It hadn’t even been three months since they’d held the service for Elliot, and all his fingerprints had been scrubbed away. The wine and spice racks, his favorite pans and plates, the faux rustic oven mitts and matching pot holders—all relegated to the basement to make room for Aunt Bea’s true Americana rustic notes. Even the cultivated aromas that his cooking had left behind were gone, smothered beneath a gravy-thick layer of Deep South fried food.

It’s gonna be okay. I still have the mansion; it’s still enough to protect us. There’s still room for more students. I can do this. We can do this.

But she didn’t believe that at all. Not really. McShane killing Elliot pretty much killed the dream of his grandfather William Big Bear and the rest of the Elders. Elliot’s death had hollowed out the soul of Harrison Mansion. Tammy could feel it.

To her right, Yuki picked at her plate of food. Across the table from her, Aaron finished his coffee. While Tammy felt bloated and constrained in maternity jeans and a heavy sweater, they both seemed comfortable in tight T-shirts and tighter blue jeans. Necklaces sneaked from out of Aaron’s long, black hair, curving around the copper skin of his slender neck. One was the silver chain with crystals he’d worn when they’d first met outside the Burlington Police Department building. The other was a gold chain with a pendant based on a design by William Big Bear: a gold circle with twelve equidistant, colored crystals. Eleven of the crystals were colored quartz, small, cheap; but at the top of the circle, each pendant had a larger crystal, authentic. Aaron had chosen the one modeled after William Big Bear’s pendant, with a golden beryl stone set at the top.

The way Aaron dressed and behaved, and the way he kept the necklaces on constant display, irritated Aunt Bea, and it was obvious he enjoyed that. A mischievous smirk played across his moist, agile lips, and he began rattling the crystals on the silver necklace. Tammy, when do you think we’ll get our next student? It’s awfully lonely in the mansion, isn’t it? His eyes merrily bounced from Tammy’s warning look to Aunt Bea’s stern glare. I think what we need is someone handsome, like Praveen was. When Aunt Bea’s hands clutched at an imaginary throat, Aaron giggled.

Why don’t you head up and clean your room, Aaron? Tammy tried not to notice Aunt Bea hovering just within peripheral vision. Please?

What we need in this house is some true adult supervision and the word of the Lord! Aunt Bea loomed over the table, voice rising as Luis’s hammering intensified. Only through prayer can we drive out the darkness! Only through God’s ever-shining light can we hope to lead lost souls back to his grace!

Tammy slumped. Not now, please. I thought we talked about not judging, Aunt Bea? The world outside Arkansas is a lot more complicated than—

Aunt Bea turned on Tammy. It’s that exactly what drives a little boy t’ sin such as his. The Lord’s word is clear on the matter! Living in sin, knowin’ the flesh of a she-devil, a baby out of wedlock! How d’you expect a little boy to know better?

Yuki’s head shot around at the she-devil accusation. Her black eyes locked on Aunt Bea’s silver-gray eyes, then Aunt Bea froze, and Yuki’s full lips turned up in a smile Tammy knew too well: Yuki was playing with Aunt Bea’s senses.

Fuck! Tammy needed to see what Yuki was doing, but that would mean opening herself to the spirits, dropping the defenses so carefully built up since Elliot’s death.

Tammy opened herself.

Yuki was suddenly naked in her chair, the syrup bottle held over her chest. Syrup streaked over the swell of her breasts and onto the curve of her belly. Aaron rose from his seat and circled the table until he was next to her. He pushed the syrup bottle away and slowly licked the syrup from her flesh, lingering on her breasts. Yuki threw her head back with a loud moan as Aaron ran the fingers of one hand through the syrup and slipped his other hand down her back—

Yuki! Tammy shook the illusion away.

Aunt Bea gasped and staggered back, searching the room as if she expected to find what she’d just seen. Finally, she wagged a finger at Tammy. It’s devils and demons what work in deception, child! You’ve wrapped your legs ’round one of Satan’s own. Your Grandmother Grace’s heart would be broken, and I don’t know that I can much tolerate such sin m’self.

Please, Aunt Bea. I need you. We all need you.

What you need, child, is the Lord God Almighty! Aunt Bea lumbered out of the kitchen, and seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut, sending a shuddering boom up the stairs.

Luis’s hammering stopped, and nausea stabbed at Tammy’s guts again.

Aaron pointed a finger at Yuki. You’ve got a fat butt! He rocked in his seat, giggling.

No judging, Tammy whispered. I’ve seen your browser history. You’re way too curious and kinky to judge, especially for a 9-year-old kid.

Yuki snapped at Aaron as if she were a serpent striking, then she stuck her tongue out. It was flat and long and forked. Aaron’s giggles turned into a full-on laugh.

Tammy squeezed her eyes shut and tried to wish away the nausea. It was stubborn, though. It dawned on her that Aaron was referring to Yuki’s butt as if he’d seen it for the first time. She watched him through a squinted eye. The sense of knowing, of having seen too much for his age, was there, plain as day, where there should have been innocence. You saw what Yuki showed Aunt Bea?

Aaron shrugged nonchalantly. Yeah.

Elliot could do that—see through her illusions. Sort of. Tammy looked at Yuki. She was still a voluptuous woman, pale-skinned and dark-eyed. Before Glen Stone’s and Simirita’s murderous rampages, Tammy had barely scraped the surface of her abilities. Elliot had been even more in denial. Even with all they had learned before Elliot’s death, Aaron seemed to have a more natural gift. Aaron, some point soon, we’re going to need to test you. You know, see where you are and all that. And then we’re going to have to really start your studies.

Okay. Aaron slipped out of his chair. After you and the baby are all taken care of, and we’re all a family. He hugged Tammy, the smell of coffee and syrup dangerously strong, and then he skipped past her. "Hola, Luis!"

Tammy turned in time to see Luis smiling, head turned to watch Aaron bounce up the stairs. Luis turned back, and his smile faded. "¿Dónde está la abuela?"

English, Luis. I’m too fried to keep up with you.

Yuki gathered up the plates and scraped the remains into the garbage. Luis’s dark eyes tracked her movements. "Eh, where is de pelo blanco señorita?"

"Blanco, white? Tammy looked from Luis’s eyes to Yuki’s. The way the two of them sort of just stared at each other sometimes was major league creepy. You mean Aunt Bea?"

"¡Sí! Yes!"

Tammy sighed. Along with the nausea, she felt a headache coming on. She’s just blowing off steam. No big.

"¿Senorita Bea está enojado? She is... Luis’s eyes glazed over momentarily. Upset?"

It’s just everything going on in the mansion, Luis. It’s nothing.

Señor Elliot me quería hacer el trabajo. Debemos respetar los deseos de Elliot.

Jesus, Luis. English, okay?

"Sí. Elliot, he ask for the air conditioner. For you. We should respect Señor Elliot’s wishes."

Yeah, tell me about it.

Luis’s eyes lit up, and he pulled out his cell phone. It was an ancient clamshell model, but he’d become very good with it. He turned it so Tammy could see a photo on the grainy screen. It showed the heater Luis had installed in the basement. The heater, she is—

Tammy’s phone vibrated, and she stood to wrestle it out of her maternity stretch jeans. Luis was at her side with remarkable speed for someone so old. She gave him a thankful grin and made the mistake of locking eyes with him. It was always an unpleasant moment for her when she did