“Something I’m now very much looking forward to proving to you,” he said, his eyebrows striking a come-hither pose. I nearly took an obliging step forward. “But not here, in your place of work, with your friend lurking.”
My brain schismed at that. One half dissolved into a sputtering goo that belched gagagagagaga over and over. The other half latched onto the idea of “friend” in order to save my fragile sanity.
“So what the hell did you do to Grizzie?” I managed to ask, finally.
“Oh, nothing really. Just a little glamour to help her believe what I was telling her.”
There was that bloody word again, glamour.
“Look,” I said. “I just found out about you guys last night. You really gotta quit with the supernatural jargon, because none of it makes any sense to me whatsoever.”
He grinned and threw back his head to let loose a funny barking laugh that was not what I expected. He was so smooth I would have imagined his laugh to be more “smoky chuckle” than “tickled coyote.” I smiled back at him, finally. The laugh made him less corporate bloodsucker and more nerdy chic.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s start over. A glamour is a little technique that we all use. It’s kind of like a Jedi mind trick. Basically, we nudge people’s perception a bit, so they see or hear what we want them to.”
“So, when you told Grizzie that she had heard of you, she believed you.”
“Exactly. All we have to do is back up the suggestion, and the human does the rest. It’s the nature of the human mind to fill in gaps in its perception. If it sees something that doesn’t make sense or learns something that can’t actually be true, instead of doubting what it’s seen or heard, it will fill in a story to make everything reasonable.”
“So, can you guys glamour one another?” I asked, intrigued.
He paused, considering his response. “In rare circumstances, yes. Normally we can easily feel a glamour. But sometimes we don’t.” He gave me a wily little grin. “We like to think of ourselves as far superior to humans, but there are times when even our highly evolved brains want to fill in gaps, as well.”
I mulled over Ryu’s words, giving my bottom lip a little chew as I concentrated. He didn’t interrupt me, just waited patiently, which I appreciated.
“So, what do you need from me?” I asked, finally.
“Oh, just some information. We know you didn’t have anything to do with Jakes’s murder, but I need to ask you about the circumstances surrounding your finding the body. Also, I was thinking that since you’re a native you can tell me what the humans are doing about the murder. Like, what they think happened and what information they have. Finally, I want to hear about the time Jakes spent living here. What he was doing, that sort of thing. Or if anything strange happened in that time. Were there other unfamiliar people or beings around, besides Peter?”
“Oh, okay,” I said, figuring he would want to get out of Rockabill as soon as possible. So, once again, I ignored my poor, repressed libido—which was currently clamoring for me to lure Ryu behind the counter and knock him out with an unabridged dictionary in order to make him mine—and went ahead and started in on what he wanted to know. “Well, as for finding the body, there isn’t really much—”
Ryu held up his hands, interrupting me. He tried to look professional, but there was a quirk to his lips suggesting things that could only be filed, in a professional sense, under sexual harassment. “Do you mind if we do this later? I’m not at my best during the daytime, and I’m tired from the drive. I’ve rented one of those little cottages, by where Peter stayed, for a few days. I’d like to get settled and clean up before we get to work.”
I couldn’t really imagine him getting any cleaner, nor did I really want to contemplate how much better his “best” was. I shrugged my assent, hoping that whatever kind of supernatural being he was, he couldn’t sense my libido planning things that might have made even Grizelda blush.
Unfortunately, Ryu gave me a smile that told me (a) he knew exactly what I was thinking and (b) he would see whatever my libido ponied up and raise it, fivefold.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six tonight. We can get something to eat and chat over dinner.”
“Um, okay,” I said, externally quite calm.
Shit, shit, shit, was my internal line of thought. What the fuck am I going to wear?
“Wait.” I had just remembered something. “You don’t know where I live.”
“Sure I do,” he said, slyly.I thought about this for a minute. “How do you know so much about me?”
“I’ve been briefed on the essentials by Nell.”
“Um, okay,” I murmured, suddenly terrified he didn’t know everything, and that our dinner would turn into a hasty phone conversation once he knew my real story.
He smiled at me and took my hand. His was very warm and very strong. “It really is a pleasure to meet you, Jane. I look forward to tonight.”
His eyes are almost golden, I thought. “It’s, um, nice to meet you, too,” I managed to respond.
He let go of my hand after a moment and looked toward the back of the store. “Grizzie? You can come back.”
Grizzie emerged from the stockroom, still smiling happily away.
“I’m leaving now. It was very nice to meet you. Don’t tell Tracy I came in. Let me surprise her.”
“Oh, that’s a fantastic idea,” Grizzie cooed. “It was great meeting you, too.”
Ryu gave me a parting wink, and then he was out the door and back in his car. Grizzie and I watched in silence as he sped off down the road.
“He’s as gorgeous as you said he was,” she purred.
“Er, yes. He is, isn’t he?” I couldn’t help but feel guilty about lying to Grizzie like this, but I didn’t see any other option. How could I begin to explain the truth of what had just happened?
“Are you seeing him tonight?” she said, turning toward me with a calculating look on her face.
“Yes, actually, I am. He’s taking me to dinner.” I could feel the blood running to my cheeks and I was horrified. Why am I blushing like a schoolgirl? I’m sure it’s not a date. He’s investigating a murder, fercrissakes!
Grizzie frowned, and looked me up and down. I dreaded what I knew was coming next.
I blanched as she said, “What are you going to wear?”
CHAPTER SIX
I opened the doors of my closet with trepidation. I was hoping that Nell might have secret aspirations of becoming a fairy godmother, and not just a garden gnome, and had filled it with beautiful things. But all that greeted me was my usual wardrobe of about six different Read It and Weep shirts, a few pairs of jeans and trousers, and a smattering of old shirts.
Grizzie was right to be worried. I sighed. I dress like I’m homeless. Or about seven years old.
I had only one option that was remotely dressy: a lovely red wrap dress that I’d found in my parents’ closet. My father—always hoping that mother would return—had never packed away her things. Their bedroom remained as she’d left it. But he had allowed me to “borrow” her red dress, even though I suspected that I’d never need to return it.
I took it out of my closet and held it in front of me while looking at myself in the mirror. It was, like all wrap dresses, incredibly flattering. Wedging the hanger underneath my chin, I pulled the dress tight around my waist, wondering what shoes I could wear. I didn’t really have anything that went with it, as I’d only worn it once…
To a high school dance with Jason.
I sat down, heavily, upon my bed, guilt racing through my brain. What the hell do you think you’re doing? I interrogated myself, angrily. First of all, this isn’t a date; you’re being investigated. Second, even if it was a date, you’ve lost your chance for dates. People who kill the love of their life don’t get dates. Third, Ryu, whatever he is, will probably just use his supernatural powers to run for the hills even faster than other men have once he learns the truth about you. So don’t make an ass of yourself, Jane, and dress up like you’re in some episode of Sex and the City. There’s a reason they didn’t have “certifiably crazy” as a fifth character. There’s not much scope for love interests.
I replaced the dress in the back of my closet and went to take a shower. I scrubbed my body as if I could imbue myself with self-confidence through exfoliation, and then pulled on my newest pair of jeans and, after a minute’s debate, a long-sleeved navy T that had three little buttons decorating its V-neck. It passed for fancy in my wardrobe, so it was a good compromise for the dress. Instead of my usual canvas sneakers, I pulled on my black, low-heeled, ankle-length boots. They were more serviceable than glamorous but at least they were proper shoes. To make up for the boots, I wore a minimum of makeup. Part of me recognized that my give-and-take game with my shame was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it.
I gave my damp hair one last brushing and hoped it would dry nicely… but not too nicely.