Half-Off Ragnarok
Page 65
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Shelby stayed quiet as we drove out of the small gorgon community and up the winding path that would take us to the main road. Only when we were back on the highway, pointed toward Columbus, did she relax, and I realized just how wary she had actually been.
“Shelby? You all right over there?”
“I hope you won’t think less of me for admitting I’ve been scared out of my mind for the last few hours.”
“Only the last few hours?” I merged smoothly with the oncoming traffic. “’Cause see, I’ve been scared out of my mind since the lindworm tried to eat us.”
“That was about the only thing that didn’t scare me,” said Shelby, with a ragged-edged laugh. “Australia’s not all crocodiles, no matter what the movies try to tell you, but I went to university as a zoology major. I worked in animal conservation in Queensland. Giant lizards that want to eat me are familiar enough to be almost comforting.”
“I’d think less of you if you hadn’t been afraid,” I said quietly. “Fear is natural. It’s a close cousin of respect, and between the two, we don’t forget that this isn’t our world. We can police the edges, we can keep things from getting more unpleasant than they need to be, but we’re never going to belong to places like that. And that’s okay. We were born human. There’s no shame in that.”
Shelby laughed. “I think I like you better now that you’re being honest with me.”
“That’s good. I know I like you better.”
“Alex . . .” Shelby took a breath. “Are we going to get any more work done tonight?”
“It’s late. We have to work in the morning, and we won’t have a copy of the autopsy report for the second guard until tomorrow afternoon.”
“No midnight cockatrice hunts?”
“Not for me, thanks. We’ve confirmed that the cockatrice has a handler, and by now the handler is probably on his guard. This isn’t an ordinary wild animal hunt anymore.” I chuckled a little. “Because ‘ordinary’ was totally the word before this.”
“I see.” Shelby’s hand was somehow resting on my thigh, her fingers slipping a little higher than could be explained by a friendly pat. “You know, it’d probably be best if neither of us went about without backup for a little bit. Just for now, you understand, until nothing’s trying to kill us.”
“I’m a Price,” I said. “Something’s always trying to kill me.”
Shelby’s smile was a white slash against the darkness. “Then it’s a good thing we’re giving our relationship another go, isn’t it?”
I broke speed limits all the way home.
My place had my grandparents, either of whom could hold their own in a fight; Crow, whose contribution was mostly in the “making a lot of noise” area, but which could very well be enough to frighten off a cockatrice; and Sarah, who, even wounded and occasionally discombobulated, could at least confuse anyone who intended to do us harm.
It also had the mice.
In the end, there was no question of where we were going to wind up. I parked in one of the visitor spots at Shelby’s apartment complex, pausing to text Grandma with my location before I got out of the car. She sent back an immediate one-word reply: “FIGURES.” I snorted, shaking my head.
“Something funny?” asked Shelby, looking back over her shoulder as she walked up the short path between the parking area and the building. Her key was already in her hand, but she wasn’t watching the bushes for signs of movement. I’d have to talk to her about that.
Later. Much, much later. “Just checking in with home,” I said, scanning the landscaping as I moved to stand behind her. “Grandma says ‘hi.’”
Shelby laughed as she unlocked the door. “Bet that’s not exactly what she said.”
“No, but she didn’t say anything nasty, so I’m calling it a win.” I caught the heavy door before it could slam on my foot, shouldering my way past it. It slammed behind me with a bang that sounded like it should have shaken the whole building. “Oof. Has that thing ever killed anyone?”
“Don’t know, didn’t ask. The rent was low enough to make it tolerable. You know what kind of money I make.” The air in the hall was hot, with that strange pseudo-humidity that only seems to materialize in housing complexes and zoo buildings. Following Shelby up the stairs to the second floor was a lot like walking into the big cat house in the morning, even down to the distant smell of boiled meat.
“I save most of my salary by living at home,” I admitted. It made a huge difference. When I was trying to maintain my own place, I’d been calling home to ask for ammo at least twice a month. Now I could afford my own supplies, even if I couldn’t stretch my funds to pay for much more than that.
“Not an option for me, I’m afraid,” said Shelby. She opened the door to the second-floor hall, freeing another gust of hot air to slap us across the faces. “The commute would be murder.”
“And it’s best to avoid murder when possible,” I agreed.
The hallway carpet was worn so thin it provided no cushion at all; you could actually hear our footsteps as we walked the thirty or so feet between the stairwell door and her apartment. Shelby undid the locks and stepped inside, one hand going to the gun I now knew she had concealed beneath the waistband of her tan business casual slacks. She scanned the darkened living room before clicking on the light and scanning again, visibly searching for anything that had been moved or taken.
After a few seconds, she relaxed, flashing me a smile. “Come on in, then. We’re safe.”
“You realize I believed you when you told me your little ‘checking the room’ routine was born out of the fear of huntsman spiders,” I said, closing the door. I flipped the deadbolt with my thumb, and it locked with a satisfying “snick.”
“That part was sort of true,” she said, shrugging out of her jacket and slinging it over the back of her Goodwill-brand couch. She grinned sharp and quick as she unbelted the holster from around her waist. “If you’d ever seen a huntsman spider, you’d be as paranoid about them as I am. Bastards can hug your entire face with all their horrible, horrible legs.”
“I bet they’re fascinating,” I said.
“Yeah, a spider that can hug a human face, ‘fascinating’ is absolutely the word for it.” Shelby stepped closer to me, close enough that I could smell the remnants of her deodorant under the wild onion that we had rubbed all over ourselves back in the field. I’d almost stopped noticing it.
“Shelby? You all right over there?”
“I hope you won’t think less of me for admitting I’ve been scared out of my mind for the last few hours.”
“Only the last few hours?” I merged smoothly with the oncoming traffic. “’Cause see, I’ve been scared out of my mind since the lindworm tried to eat us.”
“That was about the only thing that didn’t scare me,” said Shelby, with a ragged-edged laugh. “Australia’s not all crocodiles, no matter what the movies try to tell you, but I went to university as a zoology major. I worked in animal conservation in Queensland. Giant lizards that want to eat me are familiar enough to be almost comforting.”
“I’d think less of you if you hadn’t been afraid,” I said quietly. “Fear is natural. It’s a close cousin of respect, and between the two, we don’t forget that this isn’t our world. We can police the edges, we can keep things from getting more unpleasant than they need to be, but we’re never going to belong to places like that. And that’s okay. We were born human. There’s no shame in that.”
Shelby laughed. “I think I like you better now that you’re being honest with me.”
“That’s good. I know I like you better.”
“Alex . . .” Shelby took a breath. “Are we going to get any more work done tonight?”
“It’s late. We have to work in the morning, and we won’t have a copy of the autopsy report for the second guard until tomorrow afternoon.”
“No midnight cockatrice hunts?”
“Not for me, thanks. We’ve confirmed that the cockatrice has a handler, and by now the handler is probably on his guard. This isn’t an ordinary wild animal hunt anymore.” I chuckled a little. “Because ‘ordinary’ was totally the word before this.”
“I see.” Shelby’s hand was somehow resting on my thigh, her fingers slipping a little higher than could be explained by a friendly pat. “You know, it’d probably be best if neither of us went about without backup for a little bit. Just for now, you understand, until nothing’s trying to kill us.”
“I’m a Price,” I said. “Something’s always trying to kill me.”
Shelby’s smile was a white slash against the darkness. “Then it’s a good thing we’re giving our relationship another go, isn’t it?”
I broke speed limits all the way home.
My place had my grandparents, either of whom could hold their own in a fight; Crow, whose contribution was mostly in the “making a lot of noise” area, but which could very well be enough to frighten off a cockatrice; and Sarah, who, even wounded and occasionally discombobulated, could at least confuse anyone who intended to do us harm.
It also had the mice.
In the end, there was no question of where we were going to wind up. I parked in one of the visitor spots at Shelby’s apartment complex, pausing to text Grandma with my location before I got out of the car. She sent back an immediate one-word reply: “FIGURES.” I snorted, shaking my head.
“Something funny?” asked Shelby, looking back over her shoulder as she walked up the short path between the parking area and the building. Her key was already in her hand, but she wasn’t watching the bushes for signs of movement. I’d have to talk to her about that.
Later. Much, much later. “Just checking in with home,” I said, scanning the landscaping as I moved to stand behind her. “Grandma says ‘hi.’”
Shelby laughed as she unlocked the door. “Bet that’s not exactly what she said.”
“No, but she didn’t say anything nasty, so I’m calling it a win.” I caught the heavy door before it could slam on my foot, shouldering my way past it. It slammed behind me with a bang that sounded like it should have shaken the whole building. “Oof. Has that thing ever killed anyone?”
“Don’t know, didn’t ask. The rent was low enough to make it tolerable. You know what kind of money I make.” The air in the hall was hot, with that strange pseudo-humidity that only seems to materialize in housing complexes and zoo buildings. Following Shelby up the stairs to the second floor was a lot like walking into the big cat house in the morning, even down to the distant smell of boiled meat.
“I save most of my salary by living at home,” I admitted. It made a huge difference. When I was trying to maintain my own place, I’d been calling home to ask for ammo at least twice a month. Now I could afford my own supplies, even if I couldn’t stretch my funds to pay for much more than that.
“Not an option for me, I’m afraid,” said Shelby. She opened the door to the second-floor hall, freeing another gust of hot air to slap us across the faces. “The commute would be murder.”
“And it’s best to avoid murder when possible,” I agreed.
The hallway carpet was worn so thin it provided no cushion at all; you could actually hear our footsteps as we walked the thirty or so feet between the stairwell door and her apartment. Shelby undid the locks and stepped inside, one hand going to the gun I now knew she had concealed beneath the waistband of her tan business casual slacks. She scanned the darkened living room before clicking on the light and scanning again, visibly searching for anything that had been moved or taken.
After a few seconds, she relaxed, flashing me a smile. “Come on in, then. We’re safe.”
“You realize I believed you when you told me your little ‘checking the room’ routine was born out of the fear of huntsman spiders,” I said, closing the door. I flipped the deadbolt with my thumb, and it locked with a satisfying “snick.”
“That part was sort of true,” she said, shrugging out of her jacket and slinging it over the back of her Goodwill-brand couch. She grinned sharp and quick as she unbelted the holster from around her waist. “If you’d ever seen a huntsman spider, you’d be as paranoid about them as I am. Bastards can hug your entire face with all their horrible, horrible legs.”
“I bet they’re fascinating,” I said.
“Yeah, a spider that can hug a human face, ‘fascinating’ is absolutely the word for it.” Shelby stepped closer to me, close enough that I could smell the remnants of her deodorant under the wild onion that we had rubbed all over ourselves back in the field. I’d almost stopped noticing it.
