Chapter Forty-Two – Lucy

 

I wrapped my arms around Carter’s waist, pulling myself close to his giant warmth. Despite our layers and layers of clothes and winter wear, I still wanted to be close to him.

We were only back in town for a few days to get the last of my apartment cleared out, but I’d really wanted to see this Shamrock tradition one last time. Especially since Bunk and I had gone to so much trouble to convince the city that the electrical issues wouldn’t be repeated, and that it was completely safe.

He winced a little as my hand accidentally squeezed the sore spot on his side, where Lazarus had gotten him with the silver knife so many times. “Don’t squeeze too tight, babe. Still got a couple weeks yet before I’m shipshape.”

“Sorry,” I said, cringing a little. Even a couple more weeks was better than I could have ever imagined for anyone. Of course, Carter wasn’t just anyone. He might have been lucky to be alive, and only saved through the grace of Tabitha and Ryder coming down ahead of the snowstorm in a private plane with medical supplies like they had, but he was still a shifter. And, apparently, shifters didn’t die easily. But, still, thank God they’d decided to charter a last-minute flight up here when they couldn’t reach him on his burner phone.

He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry, you’re forgiven.”

Together, we looked out over the crowd of Shamrock citizens that had assembled a relatively safe distance from the base of the giant Thuja evergreen, its lights dim and waiting. All around us, people seemed to be holding their breaths. Waiting for when it would come up, to see if they’d all have to run, or if they’d just be cheering.

“Surprised so many showed up,” he said. “Especially after the last one.”

“I’m not,” I said as I looked out over the crowd, the grin on my face making me feel like a child on Christmas when she realizes Santa brought her that Xbox she wanted. “It’s a good tradition. Pulls us all together as a community.”

“Well, we can come back every year to see it, if you want. I don’t have any problems with that.”

“I’d like that,” I whispered, squeezing him tightly again, but this time careful to avoid the remnants of his wound. I pulled back a little and turned my face up to his.

He leaned down, gave me a peck on the lips.

The last few weeks had been nice, even if they were hectic. Finding a new place for Carter and me, moving what little I had that was really worth keeping all the way down to St. Louis. It felt like I’d closed a chapter on my life, and started a brand new one, with a completely different set of characters and stories to tell.

“Skinner!” called a familiar voice behind me. “You’re here!”

“Of course I am, Bunk,” I called right back as he came strolling up, hands stuffed into his pockets. Carter and I both turned to face him, his arm still on my back, and one of mine still around his waist. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Carter,” Bunk said, extending his hand to my boyfriend.

He took the offered hand. “Bunk.”

“Heard you and your agency stole my best fire investigator.”

Carter grinned. “It was my boss’s decision, not mine.”

“Well, I was suspended at the time,” I added.

When Carter’s boss had offered me the job at Full Moon Security as their newest fire investigator, how could I turn her down? After all, they gave great benefits, plenty of time off, and it was an opportunity to work side by side with Carter. Not to mention that I’d get to keep helping with the hunt for supernatural creatures that might be harming people.

Oh. And she was a dragon. You don’t turn down offers from dragons.

“But,” Carter continued, “we’re glad she accepted.”

“Well, we’re not, despite the suspension,” Bunk said with a grin that belied his words. He turned his eyes to mine. “Got a minute to talk?”

I exchanged looks with Carter. “You going to be fine alone?”

“I’m injured, not an invalid. Go, talk to your boss. I’ll keep an eye out for demons.”

I rolled my eyes, turned back to Bunk, and nodded. Together, he and I walked out of the swirl of Shamrockites, to just beyond the edge of the crowd.

Bunk pursed his lips a little as we turned back to the spectacle, to the dark tree, and the crowd of revelers sipping hot chocolate and cider. After a short moment, he spoke. “Wanted to give you a heads up before the press gets wind, and you read it in the papers or online. We finalized your reports on the cases and turned them in.”

“And?”

“Officially? Cassidy had sparks from Sandy Jenkins on his clothes, and he must have gotten some kind of fuel on him beforehand while he was trying to save her.”

“Not his cigar, then?”

“No, not his cigar. Not the truth, either, but it’s being chalked up to shitty luck. Not incompetence. Cassidy’s memory is safe. And no one thinks we’re crazy.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Even after we’d managed to stop the rat shifters, I’d known we were still at risk of my old mentor’s name being ruined. But, hearing from Bunk that he was in good standing in the history of the town, brought me a little bit of relief. Even if it didn’t come anywhere close to filling the hole in my heart. “Thank you, Bunk.”

He nodded as we stared out at the tree together, at the slowly growing crowd that seemed to swell organically. Despite the accident three years earlier, or perhaps because of it, the event’s attendance was the largest the city had seen in more than a decade. Maybe it was the city of Shamrock wanting to move on from the traumas of the past. Of the fires just a few weeks before.

“That’s good,” I said, after a minute or so of companionable silence had passed. “Anything else?”

He sighed. “Just that I wanted to say I’m sorry. Again.”

“Bunk, you don’t have—”

“No, I do. I do have to say it. Because, maybe, if I’d been honest, and the stories had leaked, this guy Carter would’ve showed up. Or someone like him. And maybe more people wouldn’t have died.”

I nodded along, let him finish. I’d thought long and hard about this, and Carter and I had discussed it as we hid out in his cabin outside St. Louis, just soaking up the night sounds.

“Well,” I said, “don’t worry. He wouldn’t have. He and his firm weren’t working anything stateside three years ago. And there wasn’t anyone like him—that’s why they went private like they did. To help, rather than just get sent on missions.”

“So…it wouldn’t have mattered?”

I shrugged, my eyes still out on the crowd ahead of us. On all the people who looked relieved, happy, or excited. Or all three. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know, Bunk. But, what’s done is done. You helped us when we needed it, though, and that’s what matters.”

“But…that poor girl.”

I turned to him. “You saved my life, Bunk. And, as to Amber’s, there’s nothing we could have done anyways. Doctors gave her a few months to live, at best. If the phoenix hadn’t killed her, the cancer would have. At least, this way, she gets to live on. Even her mother understood, once we laid everything out for her. So don’t feel bad about her. Just feel good about the fact that you did make a difference…in the end.”

As I spoke, his head drooped forward till his eyes were on the snow-packed ground between us. When he looked up again, the crusty old codger had a tear in his eye. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

And then, for the first time since I’d known the man, we hugged. Just two people, sharing a moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered again.

When we finally broke apart, I was wiping a tear from my eye.

Bunk cleared his throat, seeming like he was trying to brush off our moment. Like he was trying to convince me his hard-ass facade hadn’t just chipped or cracked. “You should get back to Carter. Thanks for taking the time to speak with me. And, good luck in the future. You’re going to do great.”

“Thanks, Bunk. You, too.” I headed off into the crowd, but stopped and turned back when Bunk called my name again.

“Skinner!”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll keep your number around in case we get anything spooky again.”

I grinned. “Yeah, look me up.”

A minute or so later, I was back in Carter’s arms.

“What was that about?”

“He just wanted to say sorry, and tell me he’d keep us in mind if anything creepy happened around town.” Just as the words left my mouth, a low rumble of anticipation seemed to suffuse the crowd. A murmuring, like the sound of water just before it’s about to boil on the stove.

“Ten,” I heard a shout from a brave soul at the front, where the stage had been set.

“Nine!” joined others, nearly the whole mass of Shamrockites getting into the spirit.

The crowd, including me, and even Carter, continued from there. All of us shouting at the top of our lungs as we brought a town tradition back. Because it wasn’t about Christmas, or the holidays. Not necessarily. It was about community, and about celebrating the fact that we were almost through one hell of a tough year. Because every year was tough, if you thought about it. Even the good ones.

We all cheered as we made it past one, and the lights blazed to life on the tree. A beacon of hope against the darkness that’s always at the edges, no matter who you are, or where you are.

Carter and I found each other’s hands with our own, squeezed tight.

My boyfriend turned to me and pulled me into his strong arms. “I love you, Lucy Skinner,” he said, his voice just barely audible above the crowd around the tree.

I leaned back and looked up into his dark eyes, grinning from ear to ear. “I love you, too, Carter Grant. And I won’t stop.”

“Don’t worry,” he said as he leaned down for another kiss, “I won’t, either.”