hauled to jail, all in the course of one day, would do that to a girl.
He handed her a small overnight bag. “I brought you some clothes. Adara helped me with the selection. I hope they are suitable.”
“Thanks.” Evie checked the contents of the bag: a new toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, a package of premoistened face wipes, a pair of baggy sweats, clean underwear, a bra, a pair of warm socks, and her favorite ratty old tennis shoes. Score. She clutched the small case to her bosom. “Turn around, please, so I can change.”
Ansgar complied. “I have checked the building and the perimeter,” he said over his shoulder. “I do not sense the presence of the djegrali.”
“Oh, goodie.” Evie quickly undressed and scrambled into the clean clothes. There. Loins firmly girded. Miss Bitsy would be proud. She shoved her dress and sandals into the empty bag. “You can turn around now,” she said, placing the tennis shoes on the floor at the end of the bed. “I’m done.”
Ansgar turned back around. “Evangeline, let me help you.” There was concern and a touch of impatience in his voice. He was frustrated with her, and she didn’t blame him. “Say the word and I will take you from this place.”
“That’s sweet, Ansgar, but I’m not running.”
He picked her up and sat down on the narrow bed with her in his lap. “I admire your courage, sweetling, but sometimes the wisest course is to withdraw and regroup until you better know your enemy.”
“If I run, then whoever’s doing this wins. That’s not going to happen,” she said. “Besides, Mr. Collier is my lawyer now. He’ll help me.”
Addy had shown up at the jail with Mr. Collier in tow as soon as she’d heard the news that Evie had been arrested. Mr. C was a lawyer and an old friend, the fiancé of Addy’s great-aunt Muddy. He was also the town drunk, or had been until a few months ago. Turned out Mr. Collier had the Eye, which meant he could see demons and other supernatural creatures. For the past thirty years, he’d thought he was crazy, and drinking had been his way of tuning out the woo woo. Until recently, that is. The arrival of the Dalvahni in Hannah and the increase in demonic activity had finally convinced Mr. Collier of his sanity, and he quit drinking.
She leaned her head against Ansgar’s shoulder. He was so strong and calm. After being alone for so many years, it felt wonderful to have someone to rely upon, even if only for a little while. She could get addicted to this. She could get addicted to him. Maybe she already was.
“Sometimes, it stinks not having a family,” she said.
“Humans set great store by the familial unit, do they not?”
“Yeah. Don’t the Dalvahni?”
“The Dal do not have matriarchal or patriarchal units as humans do, though our loyalty to our brother warriors is strong.”
Evie processed this. “No mother or father?”
“No.”
“What about a home?”
“We abide in the Hall of Warriors when we are not hunting the djegrali.”
“That doesn’t sound very comfy.”
He shrugged. “It suits our purpose.”
Evie tried to imagine what it must have been like for him and failed. No mother. No father. No real home. No love or warmth, only duty and the Dalvahni creed.
“So, you’re an orphan, like me.”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that.” His arms tightened around her. “What happened to your loved ones?”
“My mom died of cancer when I was eleven, and my dad drank himself to death after—”
She stopped.
“After . . . ?” he urged gently.
Evie inhaled deeply. A gaping hole yawned before her, a subject so raw, so painful, she never spoke of it, not even to Addy—the thing that had broken her family to bits and changed her life forever. She’d buried the pain deep, and so had her dad. They never talked about it after her mother died. Not talking about it had been a relief. Most days she could ignore it, but she couldn’t forget it. It was a little black spot, a sore,
He handed her a small overnight bag. “I brought you some clothes. Adara helped me with the selection. I hope they are suitable.”
“Thanks.” Evie checked the contents of the bag: a new toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, a package of premoistened face wipes, a pair of baggy sweats, clean underwear, a bra, a pair of warm socks, and her favorite ratty old tennis shoes. Score. She clutched the small case to her bosom. “Turn around, please, so I can change.”
Ansgar complied. “I have checked the building and the perimeter,” he said over his shoulder. “I do not sense the presence of the djegrali.”
“Oh, goodie.” Evie quickly undressed and scrambled into the clean clothes. There. Loins firmly girded. Miss Bitsy would be proud. She shoved her dress and sandals into the empty bag. “You can turn around now,” she said, placing the tennis shoes on the floor at the end of the bed. “I’m done.”
Ansgar turned back around. “Evangeline, let me help you.” There was concern and a touch of impatience in his voice. He was frustrated with her, and she didn’t blame him. “Say the word and I will take you from this place.”
“That’s sweet, Ansgar, but I’m not running.”
He picked her up and sat down on the narrow bed with her in his lap. “I admire your courage, sweetling, but sometimes the wisest course is to withdraw and regroup until you better know your enemy.”
“If I run, then whoever’s doing this wins. That’s not going to happen,” she said. “Besides, Mr. Collier is my lawyer now. He’ll help me.”
Addy had shown up at the jail with Mr. Collier in tow as soon as she’d heard the news that Evie had been arrested. Mr. C was a lawyer and an old friend, the fiancé of Addy’s great-aunt Muddy. He was also the town drunk, or had been until a few months ago. Turned out Mr. Collier had the Eye, which meant he could see demons and other supernatural creatures. For the past thirty years, he’d thought he was crazy, and drinking had been his way of tuning out the woo woo. Until recently, that is. The arrival of the Dalvahni in Hannah and the increase in demonic activity had finally convinced Mr. Collier of his sanity, and he quit drinking.
She leaned her head against Ansgar’s shoulder. He was so strong and calm. After being alone for so many years, it felt wonderful to have someone to rely upon, even if only for a little while. She could get addicted to this. She could get addicted to him. Maybe she already was.
“Sometimes, it stinks not having a family,” she said.
“Humans set great store by the familial unit, do they not?”
“Yeah. Don’t the Dalvahni?”
“The Dal do not have matriarchal or patriarchal units as humans do, though our loyalty to our brother warriors is strong.”
Evie processed this. “No mother or father?”
“No.”
“What about a home?”
“We abide in the Hall of Warriors when we are not hunting the djegrali.”
“That doesn’t sound very comfy.”
He shrugged. “It suits our purpose.”
Evie tried to imagine what it must have been like for him and failed. No mother. No father. No real home. No love or warmth, only duty and the Dalvahni creed.
“So, you’re an orphan, like me.”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that.” His arms tightened around her. “What happened to your loved ones?”
“My mom died of cancer when I was eleven, and my dad drank himself to death after—”
She stopped.
“After . . . ?” he urged gently.
Evie inhaled deeply. A gaping hole yawned before her, a subject so raw, so painful, she never spoke of it, not even to Addy—the thing that had broken her family to bits and changed her life forever. She’d buried the pain deep, and so had her dad. They never talked about it after her mother died. Not talking about it had been a relief. Most days she could ignore it, but she couldn’t forget it. It was a little black spot, a sore,
Similar Books
