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Chapter 13

O ne of my favorite things about Bonaventure were the endless secrets she kept. Over the years, she had slowly been revealing them to me, and I cherished every new discovery as a priceless gift. However, the old girl hadn't mentioned the tiny detail that she was a vault in more than one sense.

For the dead…

…and for Kierce.

I had expected him to produce a few wrinkly bills from his dirty pants pocket. I did not expect him to lead me to a crooked live oak with Spanish moss dripping from its twisting limbs. And I definitely hadn't anticipated the lockbox hidden behind a glamour he brushed aside the way I cleared away cobwebs.

"How much do I need?" He studied the contents of his stash. "I haven't bought clothes in…a long time."

The entire tree was hollowed out and stuffed to the brim with stacks of cash, gold, jewelry, and coins.

The old oak was dead. Lightning struck. Glamour only loaned it the appearance of life.

"It depends." I swallowed to wet my throat but choked on the dryness. "How fancy do you want to go?"

A trip to Savannah could get him everything he wanted if his usual appearance was his preferred style.

"I would like jeans," he announced with no small amount of pride. "And T-shirts."

"You're sure you don't want clothes like you've been wearing?"

Denim was a huge downgrade from his designer slacks and button-down dress shirts.

"Those clothes were chosen for me." A crease marred his brow. "I would like something different."

Once again, a mental picture of his cage—a cage —poked at me, but I tucked it away to revisit later.

"Sure." I reached into his cubby and withdrew a single stack of tens. "We'll put this in my purse, okay?"

A bank strap bound one hundred notes of a single denomination, so this gave him a grand to spend.

"I trust you." He watched me tuck it away. "Do I owe you anything for room and board?"

"No." I huffed a startled laugh. "You don't owe me anything."

His expression cleared then, he locked his vault, and he held out his hand for mine.

Thirty minutes after I dropped Pedro off for work and hit the racks with Kierce, I got a call that promised to upend our morning plans for securing necessities for him. "Hey, Carter."

"We found a body last night. It's been processed, and it's at the morgue."

Though she left it at that, I could guess where this was heading. "You want me to swing by."

"She fits the profile."

That was all she had to say to convince me, but I had one little problem. "Kierce is with me."

Poor guy was wearing his loaner pajamas to clothes shop in, since we didn't have any better options.

"That works." She must have read into my unease. "Harrow's not here."

After his weirdness last night, I couldn't decide if I liked not knowing his whereabouts. "Where is he?"

"Chief Leer wanted to speak with him." She hesitated. "He wants to make sure Harrow is bouncing back. He's aware Harrow shot and killed his uncle in the line of duty, which means Leer will be keeping an eye on his recovery. Harrow will be in mandatory counseling for the next six weeks and then he has to pass a mental evaluation to be cleared to work alone."

"That's right." I hadn't done the math. "He was due to come off training before then."

"That's not happening now," she confirmed. "He'll be stuck with me for a little while longer."

"Do you think he's okay?" I scraped my upper teeth over my bottom lip. "Really okay?"

"I don't know him as well as you do—or did. I was hoping you could tell me."

"It's not like you to volunteer so much information without his permission." Chills blasted down my arms. "It almost sounds like you're concerned about his recent behavior."

Maybe even asking me to be on the lookout for warning signs.

"He's never going to look at me without seeing his dead uncle, Frankie. He's going to hide as much of his pain and resentment from me as he can so he can keep doing his job to the best of his ability." She had a point. "He'll be more real with you. I don't need you to report back on your conversations or anything invasive. I just want you to let me know if you start worrying he's having difficulty coping."

Though it felt like a betrayal, I agreed to keep tabs on him for his sake. "I can do that."

"Is now a good time to ask if you've noticed anything concerning?"

"You don't waste time, do you?" I admired her dedication to a temporary partner. "There's one thing."

"Kierce."

"Yeah." I scanned to ensure he hadn't sneaked up on me. "Harrow blames him for Lyle."

"I got that vibe." Her laugh was tight. "Harrow would have drowned him if he hadn't been holding you."

"You're the second person to confide something along those lines."

"Could Kierce take him in a fight if it comes down to it?"

"Normally, I would say yes, but Kierce hasn't fully recovered from his injuries." A sharp pinch in my chest caused me to lose my breath. "He shouldn't be here yet, but he came back for me."

"Romantic."

"I need to finish an errand, but then we'll head to the morgue. I'll text you when we're in the wagon."

"Nice evasion."

"Coming from you?" I returned the jab. "I'll take it as a compliment."

The call ended on her breathy laughter.

Lost in thought, I didn't register Kierce's arrival until he touched my elbow. "Oh. Hey. Sorry."

Holding his arms out to his sides, he turned a slow circle. "What do you think?"

The dark wash jeans fit him like a glove, and the simple white tee hugged his trim figure.

"I like it." I stalled out at his addition to the ensemble. "Where did you get that overshirt?"

"Someone left it in the changing room." He flicked up his collar. "I don't see why."

Had I any lingering doubts someone else had been dressing him, he crushed them on the spot. Of all the accessories to fall in love with, he had to find an ocean-blue Hawaiian shirt stamped with pink hula girls, yellow surfboards, and neon-green palm fronds.

Whoever had tried it on before him must have gotten smacked down by someone with better taste and left it behind. But the childlike pride on Kierce's face at having chosen his own clothes was infectious. As much as I would rather see him in a bowling shirt or flannel or literally anything else, in that moment, I couldn't have told him no for the world. Even if I'd had the right to steer him toward better fashion choices, and I didn't, it did my heart good to see someone embrace what caught their eye without first weighing it against popular trends or public opinion.

No one should have to fear the consequences of being their truest, most genuine self.

"It looks good on you." I pressed his arms back down to his sides. "Are you ready to go?"

With a predatory gleam, he scanned the men's department. "Do you think they have more of these?"

"Nope." Okay. Fine. I'm a horrible person. "I don't see any."

Probably because I was staring at our cart to avoid any possible chance of my gaze landing on one.

"Pity." He smoothed a hand over his stomach. "Can I wear this out of the store?"

"Bring me the tags and your old clothes, and you'll be fine." I waited while he gathered his things. I had already sourced a shopping bag from behind the unmanned counter. We tucked away the pajamas, tied it shut, then headed up front to self-check. "How do the shoes feel?"

To be on the safe side, I had advised him to buy one pair of sneakers and one pair of steel-toe boots.

Just in case he decided to shadow me at work or got curious about the mechanics of modern vehicles.

"I think I'm going to like sneakers." He decided to wear those out. "They don't pinch my toes."

"Your dress shoes hurt your feet?"

"Yes."

In the time I had known him, he must have gone through ten pairs. Maybe he had been hoping that if he burned through enough of them, he would be given something else. "Then why did you wear them?"

"It was expected of me."

Expectations could build a person up, but they could tear them down just as easily. They cost the person whose shoulders strained under the burden more than the person who placed them there. That pressure conformed us. Honed us. Sometimes, it even destroyed us.

"Frankie?"

"We should get moving." I breathed through a tightness in my chest I couldn't understand. "Carter called and asked me to visit the 514's morgue."

"This is about your case." He rubbed a coconut-husk button between his fingers. "The missing girls."

"Yes." I hung back before we hit the bottleneck of shoppers. "Do you want me to drop you off first?"

"I would rather go with you." He tucked his hands into his pockets. "I might be of some use."

Subtle reminders of his powers, and how they overlapped mine, still managed to catch me off guard.

"Huh." I pushed us into line. "I hadn't thought about it like that."

"Harrow is helping you, so you might not require my assistance."

Scoffing at his fishing expedition, I started ringing up his purchases. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"All right." He started passing me items, observing how the scanner worked. "I won't."

"You're not." The pack of socks tumbled from my hands. "Are you?"

A faint smile ghosted his lips. "You told me not to tell you."

"I did, didn't I?" I couldn't tell if I wanted to punch myself or pat myself on the back. "Do you want a turn with the scanner?" Smoothest segue ever. "It's more fun than you might think."

Interest sparked in his eyes, and he selected a pack of underwear. "I scan the runes?"

"The barcode, yes." I placed my hand over his and guided him until the machine beeped. "See? Fun."

"That is rather satisfying." He selected a pair of jeans and smiled at the telltale beep. "It's like a game."

"You're right." I bit my knuckle to hold in my chuckle. "There are all kinds of toys these days for kids who like to play checkout. Little cash registers, scanners, card readers. Anytime a customer brings kids to the shop, we get a crash course on what's popular. There was this one little girl who scanned each tire on the display rack like it was her job. Her brother asked to buy one for his ‘busted ass ride,' and she told him she only sold tires to girls who drive Jeeps." I chuckled at the memory. "Kids are hilarious."

The ones who grow up with the safety and freedom to just be kids, anyway.

"I wonder if Badb would enjoy this," he mused, halfway through his cart.

"The real deal or a toy version?"

"Either." He made it sound so normal. "She enjoys a challenge."

"It's not a bad idea." I considered dashing back to the toy aisle but decided against it. "We could train her on a playset and slowly convert her from a life of crime into an upstanding citizen."

"Hmm."

That was not the sound of a man convinced his crow could be redeemed, but it wouldn't hurt to try.

After we checked out, another adventure for Kierce, who had never fed cash into a terminal, and loaded his new wardrobe into the back of the wagon, we set out for the morgue. And if my damp palms slipped, or my heart thumped harder, I could be forgiven my anxiety. To show Kierce this part of me, of my skills, threatened to intimidate me into asking him to wait in the office while I worked with the girl. But I owed the victims my best effort, and so they would get the demigod special, no matter my nerves.

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