“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Just messy. The kid in the back needs help, though.”
She took a breath, then opened the back door.
“Wait,” I said. “There’s a cat.”
But it was too late. Nola had the door open, and Jupe stuck his big bear head in the back of the car, snuffing and sniffing.
The kitten hissed and yowled. Jupe harrumphed and licked his chops. The kitten yowled again.
Served the fluffy little monster right.
“Leave the cat alone, Jupe,” Nola said. “It is not a toy. Out of there now. Out.” Nola patted Jupe’s side. He put it in reverse and got out of the way.
“Is this man hurt?” Nola asked.
I stood up out of the car, and wished I hadn’t. Everything I’d been through in the last eight hours came roaring down on me. Sweet loves, I was tired, stiff, and sore. And I really had to pee. My stomach cramped and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day, either. All of that hit me in one nauseating wave and I was glad for the cool wind against my face.
“Allie?” Nola said.
“I’ll help her,” Zay said.
I was working hard not to puke, so I kept my mouth shut. If I could have opened it to talk, I’d have told them I was fine and didn’t need any help.
“No, I’ll help her,” Nola said. “You can take him into the house. If you need me to help carry him, I’ll be back out.”
A thin, strong arm slipped around my waist and, even through the garbage, I smelled the warm yeast and butter of bread she must have been baking. It should have made me feel more sick, but it just made me hungry.
“Ready?” she asked. “Take a few steps for me.”
I opened my eyes. “Hey, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“Good. I’m getting messier the longer I hold you. Let’s get going.” Nola smiled, but her eyebrows were drawn down in a frown. She was worried about something. I hoped it wasn’t me for a change.
We got in the house, which was warm enough that I wanted to sleep right there in the hall, or right there in the living room, or right there in the kitchen. We stopped in the kitchen, and I sat at her oak table and dragged garbage-soaked shoes across Nola’s lemon-clean wood floors.
“Thanks for the money,” I said. “I hope this isn’t a bad time to visit.”
“Nonsense. I told you to come out and visit any time. Here.” She put a bowl in front of me. “Chicken noodle soup. Eat.”
She wiped her hands and the side of her face on a dish towel and then clomped out of the kitchen the way we came in.
I did as I was told, and was not disappointed. Nola was the best cook I had ever known.
While I ate, I listened to Nola direct Zayvion about where to put Cody. Upstairs bedroom, across the hall from Nola’s room, probably, so she could keep an eye on him. Plus, Nola knew every floorboard and creak in this old house. It had belonged to her husband’s parents and she’d spent a lot of time here even before they were married. If Cody got out of bed in the middle of the night, she’d know.
Zay and she had a conversation, something that involved doctor and magic and authorities and my name. It was the kind of conversation I figured I should be involved in, but I just couldn’t muster the strength to give a damn. Not with a hot bowl of soup in front of me.
I was done with the soup by the time Nola and Zay came into the kitchen. Zay walked in front of her and smiled a little, like he’d had a couple beers and could feel the buzz. I wondered when he’d had a chance to drink. Come to think of it, he’d been a lot more open and relaxed in the car. Talkative, even. I wondered if it was because of the lack of magic around these parts.
“Sit,” Nola ordered. “I’ll get you some soup.”
“Say yes,” I advised.
Zay sat down across the table from me, where I noted he could watch the doorway to the living room, and also keep an eye on the other door that led to the pantry and mud room.
“Yes, please,” he said. “Thank you.”
Nola put a bowl down for him, then took mine and refilled it. “I’ll get you some bread.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
Nola put the soup in front of me again and got busy with the kettle on the stove. Nola had a clean, modern kitchen. An old potbelly wood stove stood in the corner, but I knew she only fired it up in the winter when the snows lingered. Just because she was magic-free didn’t mean she lived without the other modern conveniences.
“This is excellent,” Zay said. He didn’t slur, so I rethought the beer thing. Still, he looked like he was officially on vacation: kicking back, eating soup, and relaxing. I think the lack of magic was good for him.
Nola pulled three cups from the cupboard. “I don’t have coffee on, but I’ll make us all tea.” Nola never asked; she just told you what she was going to do for you. I’d learned early on in our relationship that if it bugged me, I just had to speak up, and she usually didn’t mind changing her plan.
“Have you been drinking?” I asked Zay quietly.
He grinned. “No.”
“Then why are you so happy?”
“It’s quiet here.”
That so didn’t make any sense to me.
“No magic,” he said.
So I was right. Interesting. Magic was his hobby, my ass. I checked his eyes. Still brown. Just brown, like when I’d first met him, with no hints of gold.
“Okay,” Nola said, “which of you is going to tell me why that young man—and you—are covered in blood?”
I looked at Zay and he gave me a she’s-your-friend look.
Lovely.
“I found him down by the river—the Willamette,” I clarified. “He was hurt. I thought he was stabbed. Punctures in his chest.”
“We took his shirt off,” she said. “Not a scratch on him. Took down his pants too. Other than dirt and a smell that will probably take me days to get out of my sheets, he wasn’t bad off below the belt.”
“He was hurt,” I said. “I thought he was hurt. He wasn’t walking very good, wasn’t breathing very good.” I put my elbow on the table and rubbed at my face. “I don’t know, Nola,” I said through my hands. “It’s been a long day.”
She poured water into mugs, put them on the table, and sat in the chair next to me. “I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry, honey.”
Oh, great. That was the last thing I needed to hear—my best friend, who had probably heard me complain the most about what a jerk my father was—sympathizing with grief I could not feel.
I nodded, because my throat was tightening around a knot. Maybe it was the soup, maybe it was the tea, or the warmth of Nola’s house. Maybe it was because I was away from the immediacy of magic and felt safe in a way I never felt in the city. Whatever it was, I just wanted to sit there and cry. I sat back and pulled my hands away from my face.
“I think you need a doctor, Allie,” Nola said.
“I don’t need a doctor, I need a shower.”
Nola’s gaze flicked from one side of my face down to my hands, one of which was red while the other looked like I’d gone black-ink tat-happy around every joint. Then she looked over at Zayvion, of all things, and he shrugged one shoulder. Why in the world would she want his opinion instead of mine?
“Just a shower, Nola,” I repeated. “I’m tired, but I feel fine.”
Nola nodded. “Even those burns and bruises?”
“Don’t hurt.”
“Okay, let’s get you in a bath. Mr. Jones—”
“Zayvion.”
“Zayvion. You’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight. Blankets and sheets are in the coat closet in the living room. You can make up the couch while I get her in a bath.”
“I don’t need a bath,” I mumbled. “I’ll fall asleep and drown. Just shove me under a shower and hand me a bar of soap. A big bar.”
I pushed up away from the table.
“You know where the bathroom is,” Nola said. “Give me your clothes when you get out of them. They need a wash. And I’ll find you some pajamas. Did you pack before you came here?”
“I tried, but that didn’t really work out.”
Nola patted my left arm very gently as she moved past me. “After your shower, I want to hear all about it.” She tipped her head to point at Zayvion. “Everything that’s happened since I last saw you.” He kept eating soup like he didn’t notice her unsubtle hint.