8. Mabel

Chapter 8

Ibarely have time to assure Tamira I'm on my way before Phineas is already heading for the door.

I stare at him. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Something is wrong at your house," he replies like it's obvious.

"How did you hear that?"

He gives me a dry look, and it takes me a second to place why.

And then I just feel like an idiot.

He's… whatever the hell he is in Hyde form, and with ears like that, his hearing must be amazing. So much so that maybe it carries over to his Jekyll form too.

But apparently he's the only one with that advantage. "What's wrong at her house?" Zeb demands.

"Not sure. We need to go."

Zeb heads for the door, but Huck hesitates. "Shouldn't we give her some better clothes now that she's awake?"

I pause, obscurely grateful he pointed that out. I'm panicking a little bit, but that doesn't mean I should just rush over there in this dress, looking like roadkill doing the walk of shame.

Zeb nods. "Right. Yeah." He disappears out the bedroom door, only to reappear a moment later with a bundle of clothes in his hands.

I give him a skeptical look. "You just happened to have clothes here to fit me?"

He grins. "What? We couldn't make sure the beautiful lady asleep in Phin's bed had something else to wear?"

I falter, glancing at Phineas. "That was your bed?"

The enormous Jekyll gives a single nod, but the heat in his gaze belies the controlled motion.

It makes my mouth go dry and my insides twist. I genuinely do not know what to say to that—let alone how to feel at the teasing, flirtatious look that's now taken up residence in Zeb's eyes—so I just start to go take the clothes.

My leg doesn't like that plan.

Gasping, I catch myself on the side of the bed as pain rockets through my thigh.

The guys rush toward me immediately.

Before they can get more than a few feet, I've already slapped my palm to the ache and snarled a healing spell under my breath.

They all stop as I straighten. Phineas's eyes narrow with curiosity.

I stalk over and grab the clothes from Zeb. "You have a bathroom or something I can get changed in?" I grit out.

The guy nods his head toward a door I'd assumed was a closet. "In there."

I whirl and hurry toward the bathroom, avoiding all their eyes.

Doesn't mean I can't feel them watching me.

The bathroom is like the bedroom—ornate and vaguely sterile with a feeling of belonging in a hotel. The countertop is marble. The faucet is gold. Little bar soaps sit by the sink. They smell like cinnamon spice, and in spite of myself, the brief thought flits through my head of whether I'd smell these on Phineas if I got close to him, given that this is supposedly his room and all.

"Not helpful, Mabel…" I mutter to myself as I strip off my dress. Still scowling, I unfold the clothes they gave me.

And pause.

There's a pink skirt. A white tank top and cardigan with little pink skulls stitched into it, so tiny they look like flowers until you get close. The clothes aren't what I expected, but they're also fantastic, and they're going to look pretty damn great with the pink streaks in my hair.

"Maybe they won't fit," I caution myself, not even sure why I care. It's kind of strange, though, to think these guys got me clothing.

And it's just plain uncomfortable in a not-so-uncomfortable way to think they wanted to see me in this.

I don the skirt and then get the tank top and cardigan into place before looking at myself in the mirror. "Dammit."

They fit perfectly.

This is too bizarre. I need to get home now.

Bundling my dress under my arm, I pull open the bathroom door.

Huck is standing on the other side, an eager grin on his face. "You look amazing!"

There's something so innocent about him I feel bad staying irritated, especially when I'm not entirely sure why I'm upset in the first place. But the idea of hurting his feelings seems a bit like kicking a puppy.

A sexy, blue-haired puppy.

Okay, now I'm just making it weird.

I give him a tight grin as I step past him. Zeb and Phineas are waiting by the door.

"Ready to go?" Phineas asks neutrally. "We had the driver bring the car around."

"The driver?" When they don't answer, I make an exasperated noise. "Okay, look, who said anything about you guys coming with me?"

"You expect us to simply wait here for you to get shot again?" Phineas replies.

Creepy rouses with indignation, and I'm right there with her. "You don't get to speak to me like that. I'm hardly helpless."

He takes a step forward and I'm suddenly aware of how much smaller I am than him, even in our Jekyll forms. When he speaks, his voice is a low, possessive rumble that I swear has a hint of his Hyde's growl in it. "And you don't get to die on us."

My body burns at the intensity in his tone, even while Creepy and I both pause at the strange response. It's not just his words. It's the look in his eyes. Like my death would be the worst thing in the world, so awful he won't ever allow it.

Weird doesn't cover this. "I didn't almost die." I hate how thready my voice sounds.

"An inch to the side, and the bullet would have hit your femoral artery. You would have bled out in the alley before we could save you."

In spite of myself, I swallow dryly. I have no idea how to respond to that.

"Is it such a bad thing to have a few allies at your back?" Zeb offers into the tense silence.

My eyes dart to him. I know what the answer should be. Of course not.

Except I've never had anything like that. I've been on my own since Mom and Dad died, and the closest thing I have to allies are the supernaturals who work with me in the underground, rescuing captives of traders and the like.

But my associates in the underground rarely come by, and when they do, they're always on their way someplace else, never sticking around more than a day or so at a time.

It's not the same.

"I need to go." I step around Phineas and reach for the door handle.

"You also need a car," Phineas says, putting his hand over mine.

I pull away. Dammit. "Fine." A new thought occurs to me. "But if my friend asks, no, we did not spend the night together. Got it?"

Zeb chuckles, and Huck blinks as if in shock.

"If that's what you wish to say," Phineas responds evenly. "So be it."

He opens the door and leaves the room. As they follow him, Zeb grins at me and Huck still looks taken aback by what just happened.

Gods, what have I gotten myself into?

It turns out we're not in a hotel after all. At least, not any kind I've ever seen.

Beyond the bedroom, there's a kitchen and patio and a view of the skyline that says we're quite a few floors up. The front door opens to a hallway with carpet so thick it could be another mattress, and at the end, there's an elevator that descends with barely even a whisper of sound to hint that it's working at all. The polished brass door reflects us all like a mirror.

Most of us.

My eyes dart to Huck in the reflection. Maybe it's a flaw in the metal, but he doesn't show up the same as the others. There's something blurry about his image. Parts of it even seem to be missing entirely.

The door whisks open before I can ask about it, and the guys move past me, heading into a parking garage that looks like it should belong to a luxury car show.

Lamborghinis. Aston Martins. Things I can't even identify but they look expensive as hell. The guys ignore them all, striding toward a vehicle parked by the exit that looks like a sliver of midnight on wheels. Zeb opens the door with a flourish, motioning for me to climb inside, and Creepy giggles in my mind, pleased by the display.

I keep my face blank while I climb in. I realize Creepy likes them. I have to admit, if I let myself, I could too.

But this is all happening so quickly, and I have no idea what's waiting for me back at the house.

It's hard to relax.

The leather seat wraps around me as comfortably as an easy chair, and any residual ache from my leg or head fades entirely. I stop myself from glancing at Huck as he slides into the other back seat, and I also ignore Phineas when he gets behind the wheel.

"So what's your address?" Zeb asks as he buckles his seat belt.

I tell him. Without a word, Phineas starts the car.

Sunlight filters past the dark smoked windows as we pull out of the parking garage and onto the road. I glance around, trying to orient myself, and I consider calling Tamira again just in case I can get more information.

But I'm not sure it would help. Whatever's going on, there might not be anything I can do until I actually get there.

Worry tangles in my stomach. My hands knit themselves together, just to give them something to hang onto.

Zeb turns in the seat, smiling that too-damn-confident smile. "So do you work?"

I blink at him. "What?"

"A job."

I struggle to focus for a moment. "Um, yeah. I have a job."

His brow climbs, curiosity written all over him. "What is it?"

I'm lost. "What's yours?"

"This." He twitches his head toward the others.

"I don't understand."

"We hunt things. Bad people. We track them and, well…" He grins.

"It took us a few months to track down the one your Hyde killed," Huck adds. "He'd been busy all over the east coast before coming here. We only arrived in town a few hours before you took care of him."

"I've never been to New Orleans before," Zeb says conversationally. "Gods, am I glad that trader bastard chose this city."

His eyes lock on mine, full of meaning, when he says that. I look away fast.

But then logic kicks in. "Wait, you've never been here? But what about your apartment?"

Zeb makes a dismissive noise. "Oh, that's just some place we rented for our stay."

Holy shit. "Hunting bad guys pays well, I take it?"

"Old family money pays well. Means we can come and go as we please. But we never stay anywhere long. Few days, few weeks tops. Then it's time to chase the next bad guy to wherever they might be hiding."

I can't imagine that. Not the money part or the hunting—well, maybe the money part a bit. But how can they not have any place they call home?

It seems vaguely awful. Like being uprooted forever, living like a dandelion seed with nowhere to land. My house has history. My block and my neighborhood do too. Years and decades and centuries of it, and it always leaves me feeling grounded and stable in a world where who I am is only half the story anyone can ever be allowed to see.

And more than that…

Reality sinks over me, turning my stomach to lead. No matter what attraction I feel for these guys, it can't ever grow into anything more. Not when our lives are this wildly different. I never want to leave New Orleans. And soon—maybe very soon—they'll do exactly that, and I'll return to being the only Jekyll for who knows how many miles around.

"So what do you do?" Zeb prompts again.

I blink, pulling myself away from the thought. "I… I run a magical apothecary. It's been in my family for four generations."

Phineas glances up at me in the rearview mirror.

"What?" I ask.

He returns his eyes to the road. "Nothing."

Yeah, that's a lie. "What?"

Zeb looks between us. "Pretty sure he thinks it's interesting, is all. Phineas's parents ran a shop like that in New York when he was a kid."

He makes the information sound like it's barely noteworthy, but now I'm the one staring at Phineas. Or at least the back of his head, considering he doesn't glance away from the road again.

"So if your family was in New York," I start, "and you all met in college… how many of our kind are out there?"

Silence follows, and my stomach sinks at the awkward tension in it.

"Not many," Zeb says finally. "We've only come across a handful over the years."

"It's part of why we stick together," Huck adds. "So we're not alone and all that."

And gods, if that doesn't cut me right to the bone.

Huck's hand twitches toward me like maybe he wants to reach out and take mine, and the ache inside me gets worse. Creepy presses at my skin, reinforcing that pain with the desire to touch him and to tell them all how much she hates being alone too.

But I don't move, and I push her back with a reminder that whatever we say, it won't actually help anything.

We don't want to go. And they don't want to stay.

"We're almost there," Phineas says, breaking the silence.

I look up, craning my neck to see out the front windshield. The turn to my street is ahead, and for a moment, everything looks normal.

Then Phineas steers the car around the corner and my blood goes cold.

Fire trucks block the road. Ash coats the concrete. Crowds of people stand on the sidewalk, gawking, while fire crews pack up their equipment and police try to keep any civilians from coming closer.

To the charred and blackened shell of my home.

"Gods…" Huck murmurs.

It's more than I can say. A strangled cry is trapped in my throat, choking me, and my eyes sting. In my head, Creepy keens with horror.

I tremble, trying to send her comforting thoughts. The structure isn't a total loss. The walls are still mostly standing. Admittedly the bricks and the teal shutters are covered in soot, while the windows are like black pits into nothing, but maybe our home can still be repaired.

Whimpering, Creepy snuggles around the comforting thoughts, hugging them close like teddy bears.

"Pull over," I say to Phineas.

He shakes his head. "We need to go."

"What? No! That's my house."

He slows but only to start turning around.

Screw that. I shove open the door.

"Mabel!" Zeb protests.

Phineas hits the brakes as if in surprise, and I take advantage of the brief pause to get out and race toward the police barricade.

I hear swearing behind me, followed by door slams and hurried footsteps a moment later.

"Mabel! Oh god." Tamira runs up only to slow with shock at the sight of the guys coming up behind me. "Wait, uh… hello." She chuckles breathlessly at me, though the look she gives the guys is more confused than anything. Her eyes linger on Zeb, her brow furrowing. "You…"

"It is not what you think," Huck announces immediately, the words sounding far too rehearsed for my liking.

Tamira blinks, obviously hearing that too. "Oh, yeah?" A grin hovers around her lips, though it doesn't quite dispel the confusion on her face.

I can't deal with this right now. "I'll explain later." Maybe. "What happened here?"

"Right." She clears her throat, refocusing. "They don't know. Seems like it might've been a gas leak, but…" She splays her hands like she can't think what else to say.

I head for the barricade.

"Dammit, Mabel," Phineas snarls behind me.

"Officer?" I walk up to one of the cops currently keeping an eye on the barricade. "I need to get in there. That's my house."

The cop skims his eyes across me, Tamira, and the guys behind me with that look all police officers seem to have. The one that says he's trying to slot us into his grid of guilty, innocent, or a threat.

"Come with me, miss." He nods toward the collection of emergency vehicles nearby.

I start after him, but then Phineas grabs my arm. I look back in alarm. "What?—"

Zeb steps up beside me smoothly. He smiles at the police officer, but it's not like any expression I've seen from him before. It's cool. Professional. Radiating a sleek aura of threat and money, like a shark with a trust fund.

"Excuse us, officer." Zeb extends a creamy-white business card he's manifested from the gods know where. I catch a glimpse of an embossed logo that looks like the head of the two-faced god Janus. "Zebedee Chesterton, attorney with Chesterton, Fitzgerald, and Ebers. This young lady is my client. Is she under arrest?"

The cop glances at the card, turning it over briefly as if searching for the trick, and then he fastens his gaze on me again. "You brought your lawyer to a house fire."

It's not quite a question, but I can see the gears clicking and turning in the police officer's head, rearranging that grid to move me squarely into the "suspicious" column with a good chance I'm well on my way to "guilty."

Meanwhile, Tamira is staring at Zeb, Huck, and Phineas like she's not sure what to make of them.

I try for a smile. "I?—"

"Don't say anything else, Mabel," Zeb interrupts smoothly. "If she's not under arrest, then we'll be just a moment."

He glances to Phineas and Huck, something unspoken passing between them. Huck takes Tamira's elbow with a smile, and Phineas doesn't let go of my arm while he pulls me back with them. I go along because breaking his hold feels borderline impossible, and because whatever's got these guys on edge, it can't be good.

But I can feel the cop watching us the whole time.

"What the hell?" I hiss at Zeb. "You're a lawyer?"

"Told you I had family money." His normal grin flashes at me for all of a heartbeat, but it disappears fast back into the cold, careful expression he wore only a moment ago. "You see any faces you recognize here?"

I glance around. "I…" I throw a questioning look at Tamira, and she shakes her head. I do the same when I turn back to Zeb. "No. Why?"

"We need to get out of here," Phineas says.

Huck nods fast. He's let go of Tamira, and his hands are stretching and flexing like his long-fingered Hyde is trying to emerge. With short, sharp movements, he's scanning the street and the rooftops.

"What did you all see?" I demand of them.

"That's not the problem." Zeb is glancing around too. "This is too convenient."

"Convenient?" I retort. "How the fuck is it?—"

Understanding catches up to me, and dread sinks down into my gut. Oh, hell, he's right. Of course he's right. If I hadn't been so upset about my home, I would've seen it right away.

I nearly get grabbed by a trader who said he was hunting for me, and then a few hours later, my house burns down? And now we're all standing around like a convention of "here be supernaturals" when any number of traders could be getting set to catch us right now.

Gods help me, I'm an idiot.

"You need to get out of town," I say to Tamira. "Right now. Don't go home. Did you bring your car?"

She's staring at me, wide-eyed, but she nods.

"Good. Just drive, okay? And keep an eye out for anyone following you. I'd have you come with us but—" The grim looks on the guys' faces are the only confirmation I need about that being a bad plan. "These bastards are tracking me. If we're lucky, they'll think you're…" I don't want to say human. Not where someone could overhear us. "You know, not worth tracking too."

Her mouth moves for a moment. "Mabel, what's going on?"

"You know that work I do on the side sometimes?"

She nods.

"It's catching up to me."

"But—"

"Please just go. I'll call you in a bit, okay?"

Her face is ashen and she's clearly scared, but she nods again all the same. "Okay." She hesitates again. "Be safe."

I nod. Echoing the motion, she gives a last worried look at the street and my house, and then she hurries to her little yellow coupe, climbs in, and speeds off.

"Miss?" the cop calls from behind me.

"Time to go," Zeb says.

Phineas doesn't wait. Hauling me with him, he strides over to the car while Zeb flashes that rich-shark smile back at the cop. "My office will be in touch."

Ignoring the policeman's protests, the guys bundle me into their car and race away.