idiosyncrasies of temperament with Justin, but her love life was just between her and me. Maybe it was the best friends code of honor. But also I knew what a deep vulnerability romance was for her— more so, in a weird way, than the state of her soul or her quest for atonement.
Justin was unaware of my mental sidebar. “So, you think this thing—animal or monster—has been around for a while?”
Refocusing my thoughts, I answered, “Maybe a past wave of attacks was dismissed as a cougar or a coyote. It could be what prompted someone to build the psychic fence, or whatever it is I'm Seeing.”
“And the Native American connection?”
“They were here before anyone else.” I considered theartifact in the museum, the powerful charge I'd felt even through the glass of the case. “Maybe they set up their own kind of protection.”
There was a pause, and a softly agitated sound, like the tapping of a pencil on a desk, before Justin spoke again. “You know, if that's true, maybe you should just leave it to the protections in place. It could be a surge that will abate again. You could just go on to the beach.”
“No, I couldn't.” I wrapped my arms around myself, though the evening was still warm. “What if it's not just a giant squid? What if it's even worse than a goat-sucking vampire?”
He saw where I was going. Heck, he probably had gotten there on his own. “You know, that could be the reason Lisa is in such denial about this thing being supernatural.”
“Because it might be a demon?” I leaned my head against the stair rail. “I've thought of that. But we don't know there aren't all types of freaky creatures out there. Yetis and werewolves and God knows what else. And this thing was solid enough to leave footprints.”
“Azmael was solid there at the end. We don't really know all the rules. Neither of us does.” He sighed. “I just wish I was there.”
“Me too.” I didn't point out that he could have come along in the first place. Or he could have invited me to go with him and meet his friend, see where he grew up.
The sun was setting, and the lights were coming on in the Duck Inn. “How much have you told Henry about all this?”
There was an uninterpretable pause. “He's been pretty curious about our phone conversations.”
“Does he know that you chose to study folklore of myth and magic because you believe in it?”
“Not exactly.” He clearly wasn't comfortable with the discussion. “Why does it matter?”
That was a good question. “It just seems like you keep the past, Henry part of your life separate from the present, Maggie part of your life. It's a quirk. Quirks make me”—I refused to say “insecure” even to myself—“curious.”
I'd never really pushed him to explain how he came to believe in the reality of all this, before he'd met me and my freaky intuition. But even with him helping me long-distance, we seemed separated by more than miles.
“This isn't an over-the-phone type of discussion, Maggie.” I can't say he shut me down entirely, but his redirect was firm. “Instead let's talk about how careful you're going to be tomorrow out at that ranch.” His voice became protectively chiding, something I took as an expression of his affection.
“I'll be fine. It's not like we're going to be wandering around the desert like Elmer Fudd, hunting chupacabwas.”
That made him laugh, but only briefly. “Okay. I just hate …” He chewed over his next words. “I know you don't
need
me there, but still.”
He didn't need to finish the thought, but it was exactly the right thing to say. Leaning my head against the banister, I pictured his crooked smile, his brown eyes, his hair, always rumpled. “Thanks, Justin.”
“Just be careful.” His voice was full of unspoken things. “Good night, Maggie. I'll be in touch.”
When I went back into the room, Lisa was stretched out, reading one of the library books. “How's Zeke?” I asked.
“He'll be here to
Justin was unaware of my mental sidebar. “So, you think this thing—animal or monster—has been around for a while?”
Refocusing my thoughts, I answered, “Maybe a past wave of attacks was dismissed as a cougar or a coyote. It could be what prompted someone to build the psychic fence, or whatever it is I'm Seeing.”
“And the Native American connection?”
“They were here before anyone else.” I considered theartifact in the museum, the powerful charge I'd felt even through the glass of the case. “Maybe they set up their own kind of protection.”
There was a pause, and a softly agitated sound, like the tapping of a pencil on a desk, before Justin spoke again. “You know, if that's true, maybe you should just leave it to the protections in place. It could be a surge that will abate again. You could just go on to the beach.”
“No, I couldn't.” I wrapped my arms around myself, though the evening was still warm. “What if it's not just a giant squid? What if it's even worse than a goat-sucking vampire?”
He saw where I was going. Heck, he probably had gotten there on his own. “You know, that could be the reason Lisa is in such denial about this thing being supernatural.”
“Because it might be a demon?” I leaned my head against the stair rail. “I've thought of that. But we don't know there aren't all types of freaky creatures out there. Yetis and werewolves and God knows what else. And this thing was solid enough to leave footprints.”
“Azmael was solid there at the end. We don't really know all the rules. Neither of us does.” He sighed. “I just wish I was there.”
“Me too.” I didn't point out that he could have come along in the first place. Or he could have invited me to go with him and meet his friend, see where he grew up.
The sun was setting, and the lights were coming on in the Duck Inn. “How much have you told Henry about all this?”
There was an uninterpretable pause. “He's been pretty curious about our phone conversations.”
“Does he know that you chose to study folklore of myth and magic because you believe in it?”
“Not exactly.” He clearly wasn't comfortable with the discussion. “Why does it matter?”
That was a good question. “It just seems like you keep the past, Henry part of your life separate from the present, Maggie part of your life. It's a quirk. Quirks make me”—I refused to say “insecure” even to myself—“curious.”
I'd never really pushed him to explain how he came to believe in the reality of all this, before he'd met me and my freaky intuition. But even with him helping me long-distance, we seemed separated by more than miles.
“This isn't an over-the-phone type of discussion, Maggie.” I can't say he shut me down entirely, but his redirect was firm. “Instead let's talk about how careful you're going to be tomorrow out at that ranch.” His voice became protectively chiding, something I took as an expression of his affection.
“I'll be fine. It's not like we're going to be wandering around the desert like Elmer Fudd, hunting chupacabwas.”
That made him laugh, but only briefly. “Okay. I just hate …” He chewed over his next words. “I know you don't
need
me there, but still.”
He didn't need to finish the thought, but it was exactly the right thing to say. Leaning my head against the banister, I pictured his crooked smile, his brown eyes, his hair, always rumpled. “Thanks, Justin.”
“Just be careful.” His voice was full of unspoken things. “Good night, Maggie. I'll be in touch.”
When I went back into the room, Lisa was stretched out, reading one of the library books. “How's Zeke?” I asked.
“He'll be here to
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