Hell to Pay (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 4) Page 6

  A few hours later, Barbie was gone, leaving Hector to take the late shift. It was quiet in the shop, so when Isaac arrived, flushed and fed and already rolling up his sleeves preparing to bake up a storm, I decided to head back upstairs and call it an early night.

  I was just climbing into bed when Gran popped in, taking me by surprise. Gran is a ghost. She passed away about seven years ago, but because my gift lets me see the spirits of the dead, I guess she didn’t see much point in moving on when she could continue to boss me around from the grave. Lately, her visits had become more and more sporadic, and while we had come to an understanding of sorts regarding her attitude towards vampires, our relationship was strained.

  “Harry!” She sputtered into view, her spectral body glimmering faintly. “Harry, can you feel it? There’s been a shift.”

  “What? Gran?” I had no clue what she was talking about. “What’s wrong?” I looked at her in concern. Usually she was able to manifest much more clearly. Something was definitely wrong. She could barely hold form. It was like watching an old TV trying to tune in, the snowy picture fading in and out, full of static.

  “The balance has…can’t stay…every…gone…”

  “Gran!” I leapt from the bed, reaching out to her, thinking I could lend her some power to help stabilize her apparition, but she popped out of sight. “Gran?”

  Shaken, I sat on the edge of the bed and pushed my senses outwards, trying to find her, but she was nowhere to be found and I was alone.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day I was still feeling unsettled by Gran’s brief visit. The weird nightmare I’d had didn’t help either. Neither did being shaken awake in the safety of Nash’s arms.

  “Harry! Wake up, minx. You’re dreaming.” His lips brushed across the back of my neck as he spoke quietly in my ear. “Wake up.”

  Thrashing in his arms, I suddenly sat up, banging Nash’s face with my shoulder in the process, and gulping for air like a swimmer coming to the surface after a long dive.

  With a groan, Nash fell back against the pillows, gingerly touching his lip where it had mashed against his teeth. “Shit, Harry. Are you okay?” He reached out to me, his hand on my elbow.

  “Nash!” I turned and fell back into his arms, snuggling up to him. His skin felt warm against mine. As usual, I had gone to bed wearing an oversized T-shirt. And, as was always the case when Nash appeared in my bed, the shirt had mysteriously disappeared. It was Nash’s super power or something. “I’m sorry. It was a bad dream. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll survive,” he replied, rubbing at his now-swollen lip. “Was it the same dream as before?”

  I let out a long breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “Yeah, or at least a variation on the same theme.” I had been having recurring nightmares for the past few weeks. While I could only remember fragments, they were always the same: I was helpless, naked and chained up like I had been when DiCastro had kidnapped me and tried to sacrifice me to Osiris. Sometimes DiCastro was there, other times it was Holly, my former friend who had betrayed us. We were always surrounded by an amorphous mass of beings, wailing and crying, pressing in towards us, the circle surrounding us getting smaller and smaller until it felt like we would be smothered under a wave of bodies. Sometimes, Nash lay dying at my feet, his body riddled with stab wounds. Other times it was Tess. “But there was more this time. I had a strange visit from Gran last night and…I don’t know. Something’s wrong. I can’t shake the feeling.”

  “You’re safe now.” Nash’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. He tucked me under his chin, turning on his side to hold me against his chest so I could hear his heartbeat. “Go to sleep, Harry. Sounds like we’ve both had tough nights. We can talk about it in the morning.” He sounded drowsy, so I stayed quiet, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull me back to sleep.

  When I woke again later, I didn’t have the heart to disturb Nash, who still looked exhausted—and that’s saying something when you consider Nash has the recuperative powers of a werewolf. The HRN case was running him ragged.

  Instead, I slithered out from under his arm and out the bottom of the bed. That I made my escape without waking him was another testament to just how worn out Nash must be. I showered and changed into workout clothes and then mixed myself a quick protein shake before heading out for a run to the gym.

  I try to get to the gym to train every other day, but truthfully it can be hit or miss. Today I had an appointment though, so I had to go. A while back Max had asked me to spar with him so he could improve his bladework. In return he offered to help me set a better no-see-me spell on my own blade. The spell I currently use relies on a person’s expectations. You don’t expect to see a sword strapped to someone’s back, so the spell just makes it easier for you to ignore what you are seeing. Now that it had become commonly known that I was often armed with my katana, too many people expected to see it, making the no-see-me spell practically useless. I wanted a stronger enchantment so that I could keep the element of surprise when needed, and so I had readily agreed to Max’s deal. Today was our first session.

  The gym is only a few blocks away from the firehall, but I usually run a roundabout route of three miles or so in order to warm up first before I get there. Today I tacked on an extra mile to make sure I didn’t get there too early. I hadn’t told Tess about my little arrangement with Max or that he would be joining me at the gym today because of the weird way she had been acting around him. If I got there too early, I’d have to spill the beans. It was better to just surprise her instead.

  As I ran along the quiet, tree-covered streets of my neighbourhood, I mulled over Gran’s cryptic message from the night before. What could she have meant? What had shifted? And who was gone? I couldn’t remember hearing about any missing-persons cases. Of course due to its attention-grabbing, tabloid-headline nature, the HRN case was hogging all of the spotlight these days. Not that Gran would have been overly concerned about missing norms. I’d have to ask Max if he knew anything.

  With my mind on Gran’s visit, I hadn’t paid much attention to my run, and I arrived at the gym with five minutes to spare. Normally, I can run a mile in about five minutes if I don’t try too hard (three minutes if I put some effort into it). But since that’s kind of fast for an average person, I try to keep my pace down to about an eight-minute mile. It’s one of the reasons you don’t see werewolves jogging, because they just don’t jog. It’s too slow. Tess could easily run a mile in about two minutes—a minute and a half if she really tried.

  I was met by the familiar sounds of the gym as I walked through the door—the grunts and groans, the clanking weights, the incessant pounding beat of whatever playlist happened to be on the go. During the day, from six in the morning until ten at night, the gym catered to norms. They were the bread-and-butter of the gym. After hours, it was werewolves only, but since werewolves don’t need to work out, it was more a time to hone skills than to exercise.

  “Harry!”

  I had a second to register Tess’s scowling face and then my arm was wrenched as she dragged me across the lobby.

  “What is he doing here?” Tess hissed at me, giving my arm another yank to pull me in beside her behind the half-wall of glass bricks that screened the entrance to the change rooms. From where we were standing we had a clear view of the front half of the gym. It was an open area filled with the usual equipment and machinery you’d find at a fitness centre. I glanced across the room to where she was pointing. The treadmills and elliptical machines were all in use. On the second treadmill on the right, running at a fair clip I might add, was Max. Oops! Busted.

  I took a moment to watch Max in appreciation. He looked pretty fine in his skimpy running shorts. They came to about mid-thigh, and from this direction, did a great job of showing off his assets. He had taken off his shirt, and it was hanging over the front of the machine. His dark-tanned, well-muscled torso glistened with sweat.

  “Damn! Max is hot!” I couldn’t c
ontain my surprise. The suits he always wore had obviously hidden how buff he really was.

  Tess scowled at me again. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “He’s here to meet me. We’re going to spar together.” I put on my most innocent face. “Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No, you did not. And don’t give me that little-miss-innocent face either.” She glared at me through narrowed eyes. “You purposely neglected to mention he was going to be here today.”

  I let out an exasperated sound. “Only because I knew this is how you’d react. What is it with you? Why don’t you like Max?”

  “I never said I didn’t like him,” Tess replied sharply. She crossed her arms and looked away, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Omigod! That’s it, isn’t it? You do like him. You like him a lot.” My eyes widened in surprise.

  “Shut your piehole, Harry.” Tess turned to glare at me.

  “Naa-na-na-naa-naa, you like Ma-ax,” I teased in a singsong voice.

  “Shut it, Harry. I mean it.”

  She said it with such vehemence that I gaped at her in shock. “Tess? Are you okay?”

  “I…I don’t know.” Tess turned away, but not before I caught the sad, confused expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong? Did Max do something to you? Did he hurt you?” I grasped her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face me again.

  “No! No, it’s not that. It’s nothing like that.” She shook her head.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding in a long sigh of relief. I liked Max. It would be a shame if I had to kick him in the balls for hurting Tess. I paused, waiting for Tess to elaborate, but she gave me a tight-lipped stare. “Listen, Tess. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but I don’t want you to be upset. I’ll ask Max to leave. We can set up another day to spar when you aren’t here.”

  I brushed past her, intending to go speak with Max, but she grabbed my arm. “Harry, wait. It’s okay. I’m just overreacting.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Tess nodded.

  “Well, okay. I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t right now, Harry. I need to work something out first.”

  “All right, I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

  Tess gave me a weak smile, and I squeezed her arm and then went to get Max. I had booked us the Kendo room at the back of the gym, so at least we would be out of sight.

  ***

  Kendo, which means “the way of the sword”, is the art of Japanese fencing, its techniques and traditions hailing from the time of the samurai. Over the years it has evolved into a fine art of strikes and blocks using a bamboo sword or shinai while wearing protective armour, bōgu. Max and I had pretty much thrown tradition out the window, however. Well, except for the bamboo-sword part.

  After a few warm-up exercises, where I ran Max through a series of movements called kata that he could practice at home by himself, we basically just decided to have at it. The only concession we had made was that we both donned the men, a stylized helmet with a metal grill to protect the face and a series of hard leather and fabric flaps to protect the throat and neck. Other than that, it was no holds barred.

  “Shit!” Max laughed and rubbed his wrist where I caught him with a quick blow past his guard. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to suit up?” I asked, pulling off my men. While I would heal supernaturally fast from any bruises I might receive, I didn’t think Max had the same recuperative powers. I had offered him the full gear in order to protect his arms and torso, but he had declined. “You’re going to be black and blue by the time I’m done with you.” I smiled at him.

  “You’re awfully cocky there, Miss Russo,” Max replied.

  I shrugged and replaced my helmet. “Your funeral,” I said with a laugh, cutting it short to bring my shinai up in time (barely) to block Max’s advance. We sparred back and forth across the floor, Max’s shouts echoing through the room. Max was a traditionalist when it came to his Kendo, employing a kiai or shout to express the fighting spirit when striking. I had abandoned that practice early on in my training, preferring to think of myself as being quiet as a ninja.

  I lost track of the time as Max and I battled around the dojo. He was rusty, but not as bad as he had led me to believe, even getting in a couple of good shots that hopefully would fade before Nash saw me naked tonight, or I’d have some ’splaining to do.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I stopped short, quicker than Max, who scored a hit across my unprotected wrist. “Ow! Damn.” It stung like a…well you know the expression.

  “Sorry, Harry!” Max pulled off his men and gave me a contrite look. We both turned to stare at the source of our interruption.

  Tess stood in the doorway of the room, hands on her hips, her entire five-foot-nothing frame bristling with anger. “Are you trying to damage yourselves? Where is your gear? Why aren’t you wearing the bōgu?” She scowled at me. “I thought you were just going to run through the kata?”

  “We did. Now we’re sparring.” I smiled conspiratorially at Max. “It’s more fun than just running through some exercises.

  Tess scowled at me again. “Don’t you have some place you need to be?” She waved her hand at the clock. It was ten minutes to one. I was supposed to be going to the bingo lady’s funeral with Nash at two. “And you.” She pointed at Max. “If you want to improve your skills, there are no shortcuts. You start with mastering the kata, or you can go somewhere else.”

  Max gave Tess a cheeky look, his eyebrows rising in question. “Are you offering to teach me?”

  “I….” Tess swallowed, momentarily uncomfortable, but then cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “Damn straight. But don’t expect it to be all fun and games.” She paused as if waiting to see if he would protest. When he didn’t, she nodded. “Call me tomorrow, and we’ll get started.”

  “This doesn’t get you off the hook for your side of the bargain,” I said to Max as Tess stormed out of the room.

  “The thought never crossed my mind,” Max replied absently. His eyes fixed on Tess’s retreating form. Now that was interesting.

  Chapter Eight

  It felt weird being at a funeral and not having to worry about the flowers. The bingo lady’s service was being held at a church located on the far side of town, so I had only been there a couple of times in the past for work. It was a nondenominational deal, set up in a nontraditional manner. The building was made up of several overlapping, circular rooms with a large worship area at the centre. The sanctuary sat in the middle of the space, surrounded by seating for the congregation on all sides. Because Nash had been at work, we had arrived separately, but we were sitting together off to one side of the main aisle. I had made it home in plenty of time to shower, get ready and drive across town. I had even dug through my closet to find a suitable LBD that Nash had yet to have seen. It was a soft wool pencil dress with a sheer silk chiffon panel at the shoulders and a black pearl ribbon across the chest where chiffon met wool. It was obviously a good choice because I had noticed several women taking note and pointing me out to their friends when I arrived, not that I cared about that sort of thing. As usual, Nash was turning heads himself in a charcoal-grey suit.

  “Yuck,” I whispered to Nash, making a face. “That is the ugliest funeral spray I have ever seen. I can’t believe they used orange carnations and yellow roses together like that. And what is it shaped like? It looks like a mutant porcupine.” I shuddered at how hideous it was.

  Nash frowned at me. “You’re here to check for ghosts, not critique the competition.”

  “I’m not critiquing the competition, I’m just saying it’s a shame that someone’s hard-earned money went to pay for that awful thing.”

  “Focus, Harry. Do you see a ghost?” He reached for my hand. We had discovered that our mate bond enabled me to share my gift with him, al
lowing him to see and hear ghosts provided he was touching me. As his hand brushed over a particularly nasty welt leftover from the morning’s workout with Max, I flinched and he frowned. “What’s this?”

  “It’s nothing. Max and I—”

  “Max?” Nash interrupted, his voice low and rough. “What were you doing with him?”

  “I told you. I promised to spar with him in return for some technical help on a spell.”

  “I don’t like it,” he growled again in reply.

  “Why? You’re not going to act all jealous, are you?” I huffed out an exasperated breath.

  “No. I’m not jealous.” Nash leaned close to brush his lips across my nape and his mark. A shiver rippled down my spine, and I gasped, heat instantly rushing to my core. Nash took a deep breath and smiled a toothy smile. “You’re mine.”

  The Neanderthal-like statement should not have turned me on, but it did and Nash, the bastard, knew it. He grinned at me again, and I rolled my eyes.

  “So what’s your problem with Max then? He’s a nice guy and he’s been doing a great job as the Coven’s new leader.”

  Nash shrugged. “I’ve got nothing against the guy. It’s just…there’s something about him. He rubs me the wrong way.”

  “It’s weird. Tess was acting all strange about him too.”

  “You should trust our instincts and be cautious around him.”

  “Actually, I think Tess has a crush on him,” I said with a snort.

  Nash grunted noncommittally and, grabbing my hand again, scanned the church.

  The conversation was obviously closed, so I huffed out a breath and gazed around, searching the room for any sign of a ghost. I looked around the nave and then towards the sanctuary in the middle where the casket had been placed.