Walking Dead

Phoebe’s silence rang out a few long seconds. “Don’t any of the rest of you take this wrong, but I’ve seen you naked, Jo. You don’t have a scar.”

“I healed it.” That came out surprisingly easily. “That genetic condition, it’s…I’m a shaman. I can do magic.” I looked up, because suddenly it was worse to imagine her expression than to actually see it.

She had that tremendously neutral look people get when they’re trying to be polite about hearing something so outrageous they can’t believe it’s been said. She also had a stranglehold on her staff, knuckles practically glowing white.

I winced. “Healing’s easiest, but I can send my spirit to the astral plain, and between what a lot of Native American mythology calls the Upper and Lower Worlds. Earth is the Middle World.” I brightened a little, distracted by the details of my studies. “Actually, that’s really pretty Norse, too. That kind of world structure is more common than you’d…” Phoebe’s expression was getting more strained. I was not helping my case by lecturing. “You remember the dead girl in the locker room? Cassandra Tucker? You couldn’t get me to respond after we found her, even though I looked like I was awake. I’d gone to the astral plain to see if I could find her ghost and talk to her, but instead I got caught and was bargaining…with a giant…snake…”

I put my hands over my face. I was doing my best, but it sounded ridiculous. I honestly had no idea how to present my life in terms that didn’t sound insane, and I was once more incredibly grateful for the handful of friends who either believed to begin with, or who, in the face of irrefutable evidence, ground their teeth and accepted that my wonky reality was in fact real. Demonstration was the only possible way I could convince anyone I was on the level, because telling them made me sound like a lunatic. I mean, really. Bargaining with giant snakes? I looked up again.

Phoebe’s eyebrow was beetled. “Morrison got you to wake up.”

I nearly groaned. None of the rest of them had known that, and Melinda’s face brightened with interest. “I’ve known him for years. I’d only known you a few months. He had a more…”

“Intimate connection with you?” Melinda chirruped.

I muttered, “I’m sure the same thing would’ve happened if Billy’d been there to wake me up.”

Melinda widened her eyes and nodded sagely. I refused to look at Edward, afraid doing so would somehow seem guilty. Instead, I locked my arms around my shins and scowled at Phoebe’s knees. “You remember when the lights went out in January? Whole city blacked out for a few hours?”

“…yeah.”

“That was me. I was, uh, fighting a god. Then when I passed out at the dance club in July, that was kind of the aftermath. Mark was sort of possessed by a god. A different one.”

“A god. Two gods.”

My shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

Billy, mildly, said, “She’s telling the truth.”

Phoebe eyed him, but before she spoke, Thor said, “So what just happened here?”

Billy, Melinda and I all said, “Ghosts,” at the same time.

Phoebe threw her hands up, turned around and walked out.

I crashed my forehead against my knees. “That went well.”

Thor crouched beside me and the sleeping dancers, jerking his thumb after Phoebe. “Want me to…?”

“No. I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow.” I pressed my eyes shut, then exhaled noisily. “Did somebody call the paramedics?”

“I did.” Morrison spoke so unexpectedly I flinched all the way to my feet, gaping across the cauldron at him. He’d taken his Don Johnson sunglasses off and was frowning. “They’ll be here in a couple minutes. You okay, Walker?”

I was better than okay. My chest was tight and my eyes were hot and so was my face, for that matter, but it turned out that for some reason, I was absolutely great. “I thought you’d left with the rest of the smart people.”

His frown reversed itself, but only at one corner of his mouth. “Not when my people are in trouble. You okay?”

“Yeah.” I pulled a tentative little smile up and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good, Captain. Thanks.”

Morrison nodded, then glanced at Thor, who’d stood up beside me and was hovering protectively. “Take care of her, Johnson.”

Edward slipped his hand against my waist. “I’m trying, sir. She’s stubborn.”

Morrison, dryly, said, “Really. I hadn’t noticed. The paramedics are going to want to talk to you, Walker, so don’t go far, but you look like you could use some air. Holliday and I will hold down the fort.”

I said, “Thanks,” again, and Thor shuffled me past the cauldron and the captain toward the door. I broke every rule in the book and looked over my shoulder as we walked out. I knew it was a bad idea. I’d only be disappointed when Morrison’d already turned away.

He hadn’t. He nodded just slightly when my gaze found his, and I went out into the crisp October night wondering what it was I’d hoped to get from that momentary meeting of eyes.

CHAPTER FIVE

Thor slid his arm around my shoulders, surprising me with his warmth. He was wearing more than I was, true, but I’d have had to lie on the beach for six hours to radiate that much heat. He guided me through the lingering crowd—there were quite a few of them, given that it was only about forty degrees—and when we were a decent ways down the street, said, “I guess we’re okay.”

“Okay” wasn’t one of the words I’d have chosen for much of anything right then. “We are?”

“Yeah, you know. Coworkers dating and all that. Gets frowned on, but the captain looked okay with it.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what I thought of Morrison being okay with me dating. I mean, obviously he shouldn’t think anything of it, and I shouldn’t think of him thinking anything, but—I cut myself off before I got caught in a recursive loop and said, “I guess so. How many people are staring at me?”

He twisted to look over our shoulders, then came back to me with a grin. “About thirty. Should we give them something to look at?”

“I think they’ve already got something.” That sounded meaner than I meant it to and I gave him a lopsided smile of apology. I wasn’t very good at having a boyfriend.

He squeezed my shoulders and put a kiss on my forehead. “You’re not a freak show, Joanne. Don’t worry about them.”

My smile got less lopsided. “Yes, I am, but thanks. And thanks for staying, back there. I appreciate it. It was probably dumb and dangerous, but I appreciate it.”

“You really know how to lay on a compliment, Walker.” Thor sounded like Morrison, all dry and faintly amused. I made a face and he laughed before his expression faded into something more serious. “I can’t run out when things get weird or dangerous if we’re going to make this work. I want to be there to help. To keep you safe.”

Warm fuzzies collided with bemusement to give me indigestion. “It’s hard to keep me safe from things you can’t see. I don’t need that much protecting.” It was true. Typically, what I needed was information, which—much as he might want to—I doubted Thor was in any position to provide. On the other hand, he really was making an effort to fit in to my life, and I didn’t want to push him out just because the dangers I generally faced were one step removed from the reality he was grounded in. I nudged my hip against his, hoping I hadn’t sounded ungrateful and that I didn’t now sound patronizing: “But if I run up against Loki, you’re the first one I’m calling, okay?”

“Sounds like a date, especially if you’re going to wear that costume when you start fighting gods.”

I said, “I’m usually in jeans and a sweater,” without thinking, and he looked a little nonplussed. See, this was the problem with starting to accept my own surreality. It made me say things that sounded as if they’d been brought to you by the new brand of azure giraffe.

Sirens and flashing lights heralded the ambulance’s arrival. I stopped beneath a leafless tree, trying to avoid drops of water from its black branches, and watched paramedics jump out of the vehicle and run into the hall. “I should go back.”

“To give a report or to help?”

Only half listening, I said, “Yeah,” and Thor slid his hand to mine and tugged my fingers, a shy and sort of charmingly little-boy action.

“You heard the Hollidays. You need to check for—”

“Ghost riders,” I supplied, then ground my teeth. “Yeah. Okay, so to give a report, then, though I don’t know what I’m going to say. Still, I…” I turned away, but Thor caught my hand a little harder and pulled me back. I looked up, surprised, to find his expression much like the gesture had been: shy and sort of charmingly hopeful.

“It’s a kind of spirit quest, right? You’ve got that drum. Do you need somebody to play it for you?”

My heart and stomach took a quick drop toward my feet and left my cheeks burning. The question itself was fairly innocuous, but what lay under it ran a hell of a lot deeper. Thor had seen the skin drum that held place of pride on my bedroom dresser, and I’d seen his curious gaze linger on it more than once. He’d never touched it, apparently—and correctly—regarding doing so as an intimacy he hadn’t yet been granted.