--
The guys arrived a few minutes later. Well, Ricky did, Gabriel not fitting through that crawl passage. Ricky took one look at the situation and said, "Everything under control?" and as soon as I nodded, he hugged me and whispered, "Better run and tell the big guy you're okay, or he's going to squeeze into that tunnel and get stuck."
I kissed his cheek, and then took off to find Gabriel.
--
Melanie was banished. Banished from Cainsville. Banished from Chicago. The Cwn Annwn agreed not to pursue her if she left the state altogether. Pepper would stay in Cainsville indefinitely and that was, for Melanie, both blessing and curse. She got what she'd wanted most...in the worst possible way.
Aunika returned to Chicago after a night in Cainsville and Dr. Webster making sure she was physically sound. Melanie had kept her healthy. Mentally, though? Her sister was dead, her brother-in-law was dead. Most of the lamiae she'd cared for were dead or exiled. If I could help her get back on track, I would, but this wasn't the time for her to plan a new life. First, she had to mourn the old one.
I'd refused to go to a hospital. That had not gone over well, but my reasoning was far more sound than "I don't like them." I'd been shot. I'd need to report that. If I was in serious condition, we'd have worked things out. But Ricky examined the wound and confirmed it was little more than a graze. Well, a gouge. A deep one. I was not in mortal or even serious danger, though, so they agreed I could be treated in Cainsville. We just didn't mention the gunshot part to Dr. Webster, and if she knew, she said nothing, just cleaned and plastered the gash and gave me painkillers.
The first night, I stayed at Rose's with both Gabriel and Ricky there, as if I needed three people to ensure I got my ass to a hospital if my situation deteriorated. Fortunately, it did not. I rested the next day. That night, I insisted on tending to the bodies in the tunnel, taking the lamiae to the forest and burying the boy in consecrated ground.
Afterward, Gabriel and I went to the Carew house, but without painkillers to keep me asleep I tossed and turned, plagued by memories and nightmares. When I woke with a nightmare-induced cry, Gabriel was in my room so fast you'd have thought I'd been shot again. I assured him I was fine--just startled by waking up in an unfamiliar place. I lay in bed long enough for him to fall back to sleep, then I slid out and crept down the stairs to the living room with a book.
I'd intended to grab a blanket and pillows from my room but forgot, and once I was down there, all I could do was collapse on the couch and stare out the window, book in hand. I'd been there a few minutes when I caught the squeak of bare feet on hardwood, and I looked up just as Gabriel was walking away, having apparently come to check on me and decided all was fine. Another minute later, though, he returned with a blanket and pillows, and I managed a smile for him.
"Thank you."
He nodded at the novel as he handed them to me. "You'll need light to read that. If you actually intend to. I certainly hope you don't feel obligated."
I glanced down to realize it was Patrick's book. "No, I'll try it. Which isn't to say I'll finish it, but I'll give it a go."
He motioned to the table lamp.
I shook my head and set the book aside. "Can't sleep, and I wanted to do something instead of just staring at my bedroom wall, but..." I shrugged.
"If it's the pain, you should take something. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't like relying on medication."
Another wry smile for him. "We're tougher than that, right?"
"No, simply more stubborn."
I laughed softly. "True." I looked over at him, his face cast in shadow. "I'll be fine if you want to sleep. But if you'd like to stay..."
I motioned at the other end of the sofa. He sat, and I moved my feet out of his way, but he lifted them and put them on his lap.
"If it's not the pain, is it the house? Or the case?" he asked.
"Of every murder we've investigated, I hate this solution the most. I mean, obviously, finding out Pamela was an accomplice to James's death hurt the most. But I understood it. This one..."
"You don't understand?"
"I do and I don't, and it keeps going around and around in my head, like a conundrum I need to solve, and I just can't."
"If you're at all concerned that Melanie wasn't responsible--"
"No, she was. The problem is how I feel about it. What she did. What Ciro did. Terrible things because they loved someone. Melanie to protect Pepper and ease her suffering. Ciro to get Lucy back and ease his own suffering. There was guilt there, too, in both. Melanie blamed herself for sending Pepper on that job. Ciro blamed himself for not getting Lucy farther away from the lamiae. I hate what they did. I want to write them off the same way I did Edgar Chandler and Macy Shaw and Tristan. Cold-blooded killers." I glanced at him. "You're right, you know."
"About what?"
"Motive. You said it wasn't important. It shouldn't be. Judge them for what they did, not why they did it. I know that isn't what you meant, but motive it muddles everything, and I want cut-and-dried. I want..."
"Monsters."
I twisted to look at him. "Yes, damn it. I want monsters."