Chapter Twenty – Lucy

 

I pulled out jeans, a button-up sport shirt, and an old sweater Jason had left behind all those months ago. We’d gotten into an argument about how he was using my place as a storage closet, and why he didn’t ever let me come over to his place. I mean, he had a toothbrush here, and extra outfits hanging out next to my wardrobe, so why the hell hadn’t I even seen his place?

But then it had come out about his living with his mom.

Which, don’t get me wrong, wasn’t attractive.

But it wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker, either. Everyone had different financial circumstances, and I understood that. What had been one, though, was the fact that he’d told me he lived one city over, instead of just a few miles from my apartment.

Now, as I laid Jason’s stuff out on the bed for Carter, I couldn’t help but think about how much time I’d wasted with Jason. How I could have just moved onto someone more interesting, more secure. More, I don’t know…right for me.

In the next room over, my cell phone began to ring.

I stopped at the bathroom door on my way out of the bedroom, and knocked two times. “Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“Clothes are on the bed, all right? This time, I’ll make sure I keep the bedroom door closed.”

“Thanks.”

Shutting the door behind me as I headed into the living room, I grinned a little despite how awful and serious all of this was getting. It was kind of hilarious that I’d caught him just standing there naked like that, uncertain of what he was going to do for clothing. Of course, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it all the night before, when I’d dragged him first into the Jeep, and then into my bed. Hell, there weren’t many things more personal than a fireman’s carry, especially when the one being carried was in their birthday suit.

What had really gotten me was his blush, the way it reddened his cheeks beneath his thick beard, giving him a ruddy glow. It almost made him seem human, and not just some secretive security agent.

I picked up my ringing phone from the coffee table, where I’d dropped it the night before, and checked the screen. Clarissa.

“Shit.” I answered the phone and put it to my ear. “I am so sorry,” I said, drawing out the “o” on my “so.”

“Well,” she said, a note of surprise to her melodic voice, “I’ll be damned.”

“Clarissa, I don’t even know how I can make this up to you.”

She paused, seemed to want to say something further, but caught herself mid-word, and just breathed out through her nose and into her phone’s receiver.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. “I-I-I would have called earlier, but I didn’t want to say anything or do anything that might get you into more trouble in case the cops were around. I figured you could deny knowing I was there if I didn’t force you into the spotlight on this.”

She didn’t reply at first, just kept that weird silence. Finally, though, she spoke up. “I’m just calling,” she said in an even, measured tone, “to let you know I’m safe, in case you read the story about the bear and the circus performers. That damn article must have gone viral, because my mom’s already called me this morning from Florida to see if I’m fine.”

“The…circus performers?”

“That’s right,” she said. “Circus performers. And a bear. Somehow they snuck into one of our rooms on the third floor, and the bear ended up jumping out of the window after attacking one of the carnies, or circus people, or whatever they call themselves. At least, that’s what they think happened, since there’s no security footage to go on.”

“Oh,” I said as I collapsed with relief onto my couch and dropped my face into my hands. “So you’re okay, then? Not in any trouble?”

“Why would I be?” she asked. “According to our files, there wasn’t anyone staying in those rooms.”

“And there’s really no camera footage?”

She swallowed hard, so hard I could hear it as clear as day on my end of the line. “I don’t know what happened up there in that room,” she replied. “But, whatever it was, our security cameras for the whole night were wiped. Entirely. Someone who was involved with it removed all the footage from everywhere.”

“Wait, someone erased them?” I paused, uncertain, as I looked back in the direction of where Carter was showering. I pictured him, briefly, lathering himself with my body wash, but quickly shook my head and dispelled the intrusion.

Had he somehow disposed of the footage? No, he wouldn’t have had time to do anything like that. And, besides, we’d been in the room together the whole night until he went out the window. More than likely, it was the man and woman, the rat shifters, who’d somehow cleaned the cameras.

I shivered a little bit as the memory of the man turning into the giant rat came to mind, and tried to force it back down.

What was worse than a rat? A rat the size of a large dog, that’s what.

I closed my eyes, pictured a beautiful nature scene that could at least temporarily replace the writhing, furry mess of a rat that had leaped on Carter’s bear face. Something Bob Ross would’ve been happy to paint. Happy little clouds, friendly little trees, and a nice cozy cabin.

There’d be time to unpack all this stuff and deal with it. Later.

“That’s what I’m saying,” she replied. “Crazy, huh?”

“But you’re okay?” I asked. “Right?”

“Yeah, Lucy,” she said with a little chuckle. “Like I said, I don’t know what happened up there. And, if I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think I’m really too keen on finding out, either.”

“So we’re good?”

“Sure,” she said. “Why wouldn’t we be? You didn’t sneak a bear up into one of my hotel rooms, did you?”

I laughed an uncertain laugh. “No, of course not. How would I do something like that?”

“Well, I’m not sure how you’d do it, but someone clearly figured it out.”

“Okay,” I said. “As long as you’re fine.”

“And I don’t have anything else to worry about, do I?”

“No, of course not. No, just, you know, keep being normal, I guess.”

She laughed, the sound like a beautiful wind chime in a light summer breeze. “You should really try some of your own advice sometime.”

“Thanks, Clarissa,” I said, pushing my hair back behind my ears. “For everything.”

“Thanks for what?” she asked. “Remember, I didn’t do anything.”

I smiled into the phone. “Right. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Okay,” Clarissa said, stifling a yawn. “Well, it’s been a long freaking night, and I’m gonna hit the hay. You be careful, all right?”

“Yeah,” I replied as, back in the bathroom, Carter turned off the shower and pulled back the plastic curtain, “you too.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ll be just fine. My bed’s just calling my name. You’re the one I’m worried about.”

“Thanks, Clarissa. You’re a good friend.”

“You know it, girl. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Tell your mom hi for me,” I replied.

“Will do.”

She was gone, the line disconnected, and I was placing the phone back on the table.

I sat there, considering the last twelve hours of my life. Of how the world had seemed to turn itself upside down and inside out. Supernatural creatures were real, not just myths and legends and folktales. Demons existed, and hurt people.

In the heat of the moment, it was easy to accept. For your brain to shut down, and for the adrenaline to take over and just put you through the motions. The same as with a fire.

But now, sitting here, listening to the man in my bathroom drying himself off, it all felt like a bad night of heavy drinking. Something you could barely remember. But something you could definitely feel the effects of. Because this was real. As real as the man in the bathroom driving up my water bill.

I hung my head forward, cradling my face in my hands. Hands that had been covered in blood just hours before. Covered in the blood of a woman who’d been wanting to use me as a hostage. A woman whose foot I’d nearly shattered with my heel.

“Jesus,” I whispered, before sucking in a sharp breath through my nose. “This is all just so fucked.” I sat back on the couch, eyes closed, and rested my head on the cushion behind me as I turned my face up to the ceiling.

I’d seen men and women burned alive, watched them die in front of me. I’d been burned by Cassidy, even, as he went up in flames.

“Lucy?” Carter asked from behind me.

I exited my reverie with a start, twisting around to look back at him. I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even heard him leave the bathroom or come into the hallway. “Yeah?”

He stood there, wearing Jason’s clothes, his arms akimbo for inspection. The shirt I’d put out for him barely stretched over his massive form, with the sleeves two inches short, and the buttons on the front of the shirt straining for release. He looked like a scarecrow. Actually, he looked worse. Like the scarecrow the other scarecrows made fun of because his clothes were too shabby.

“Jeans were like spandex,” he said as I looked him over, trying to stifle my laugh. “How do I look?”

I grinned, oddly satisfied that Jason’s clothes didn’t work on him. “Like you’re wearing clothes that don’t fit.”

He ran a hand back through his wet hair, down over his thick beard. “Well, like I said, any port in a storm, right?”

“Yeah,” I said as I rose from the couch and walked past him on the way to the bedroom, “you said something about that.” I went into the bedroom, started to close the door behind me. I stopped at the halfway mark and stuck my head through the crack. “Get some coffee in you, big guy. We’re going to Kent Marten’s house first to talk to his widow.”

“Any chance we can stop by a store on the way there? I feel like I’m going to split a seam if I breathe wrong.” He shook his head, seemed to think better of what he’d just asked. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll just learn to breathe right.”

“That’s the spirit!”