Page 87 of Throwing Shade
After Laurent made me stop so he could scarf down a couple of subs, because shifting used up a lot of calories, he rubbed his perfectly flat stomach, then reclined his seat.
I ate a single wrap and a cookie and looked five months pregnant. I seriously got the short stick on magic metabolism.
The closer we got back to Vancouver, the more the clouds rolled in, dark and heavy, but they had nothing on Laurent’s mood.
I turned down the music. “Does it bother you? Killing dybbuks?”
“No.”
“But they’re in human bodies.”
“They’re not human.” He looked out the passenger window.
I’d felt buoyed by our success and our bond, especially after Laurent’s compassion in showing me that Jude wasn’t among the dead.
My mistake.
I changed radio stations from classical music to one playing hits of the 60’s and 70’s. I’d killed my first dybbuk, and he didn’t get to sulk and ruin that victory for me.
“Care to comment on how kickass I was?” I said.
He finally looked at me, and I wished he hadn’t because his green eyes had darkened to the color of a stormy tropical sea. “You killed it,” he said, accusingly.
“You’re the one who told me that Banim Shovavim could do that in the first place. So what’s the problem?”
“I send them back to Gehenna through a portal. They can always break out again the next time they’re free.” He tapped his fist lightly against the window. “I’m putting a Band-Aid on a bleeding artery. But you didn’t send the dybbuk away, you ended it. Forever. The spirit imploded and disappeared. I’d never actually seen a Banim Shovavim kill one and I didn’t realize. . .” He pressed his lips into a tight line.
I laughed. “Are you jealous?”
He crossed his arms. “No.”
“Liar.”
He glared at me a moment before giving in to his curiosity. “How’d you finally figure out what to do?”
“I extrapolated from its meaning of ‘one who cleaves’ to get the scythe, and then when I went berserker on it, I heard this voice in my head say ‘mut.’”
“That’s Hebrew for ‘die,’” he said.
“I figured, though I only know a few words of Hebrew.”
He was silent for a minute, a thoughtful expression on his face. “That was really clever of you. How did it feel when you succeeded?”
I curled my fingers around the wheel as if I could physically grasp hold of his compliment before the words blew away. Even when sulky, he saw my worth in a way no one else had, and had no problem telling me. In my head, a cog in the machine representing our partnership fell into place with a well-oiled click.
I grinned. “Great. I mean, I literally vanquished evil. Hey, maybe I’m the vorpal blade.”
Laurent chuckled. “Snicker-snack.” He paused. “Don’t you want to keep feeling that way? You solved how to deal with the fully possessed, you can save the enthralled.”
My mental image of our partnership broke a timing belt, shuddering and grinding as it fell into discord. Had he only complimented me because he wanted something?
“Please don’t start that again,” I said. “Not now.”
Laurent didn’t speak until we’d pulled into Nav’s carport out back. Since it was daylight, it would be better to smuggle Emmett out through the yard. “Figure out your magic, Mitzi.”
“Why?” I cut the engine.
Rain pattered down on the carport roof.
