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“Yes, you do.” Agitation crept into Caelan’s voice. I didn't care we were in a public parking lot in a busy area of West Hartford. I wanted him to punch someone. But all he did was stare at the short deputy.
She licked her lip. “Go on, then, put me in my place.”
“Play nice, Winny,” August drawled, pulling her against his chest. “We’ll play rough later.”
She reached into his pocket for the keys and they kissed.
Disgusted, I set my sights on Caelan. “You can't,” I demanded in a panic, snatching his arm at a curl of serpentine ink.
He removed my hand with a gentle squeeze. “We'll meet you at the station in a couple hours.”
As Winona climbed into the driver’s seat of their truck, August rounded the far side of Caelan’s. With the pair’s eyes elsewhere, my sheriff patted the gun holstered to his hip. I glanced across to the moody deputy as she tightened her ponytail. She had the same firearm.
???
Caelan's truck peeled out of the lot, lights flashing. I couldn’t be certain, but I had a strong sense he wanted me to stop them. Caelan wasn't the grim reaper personified. He wanted me to intervene. He wouldn't have let me in on her name and given me the number of someone in the department who could get me their coordinates otherwise. He wouldn't have drawn attention to Winona's gun.
Or was I projecting my feelings onto him?
Jorge's number folded safely in my pocket, I shifted around in the passenger seat to get the hand furthest from Winona better positioned to reach for Gram’s gun. We took a side road into upscale residential apartments and homes, heading past one of the state's best golf courses.
“Does he have it all planned yet?” Winona asked with surprising cheer, glancing at me as she took a right onto a stretch of forested road.
“Excuse me?”
Rows and rows of elm and oak whizzed by. “I'm sure he knows how he wants to cook his lamb.”
I held my tongue.
“Sometimes I ask August how he'd reap me. Sometimes we take a long weekend in the forest and I have him hunt me down and take me to the edge. You ever gotten so close to death you leave your body?”
“No.”Focus on the scenery, I thought. Focus on getting back to Caelan before he’s forced to kill Rachel.
“You will. I've known those guys since Harlowe’s first and only Moonrise Hunt; they’re forged of the same steel alright. You wanna test your faith, ask the Harlowe for a glimpse of the grey beyond.” She paused. “Hard to do with a human, actually. Oh, well.”
I rubbed my temple.
A solitary car sped past in the opposite direction.
Winnie glanced sideways at me. “Say, you wanna know how he does it, your sheriff?” Both her hands stayed on the wheel, loose, casual, nowhere near her belt.
“Never asked.”
“He’s a snoozefest. Got a kindergartner’s grasp of the basics. Takes you by the throat and it’s lights out in seconds. ‘Course, he doesn’t take RSVPs. Too busy splashing around up to his eyeballs in monster guts, just how he likes it. August’ll reap you. You’re lucky.”
I rolled my eyes. “So lucky.”
Feigning disinterest, I turned my attention onto the road. Were CPA standard issue sidearms equipped with silvered bullets? I couldn't remember what if anything Caelan had ever mentioned and didn't dare gamble, not when I knew what was chambered in mine.
Winnie reached across the cup holders to swat my shoulder. “You’re an artist, right? August says a sheep in your particular field appreciates a master’s touch. Your hide’s a blank canvas, untouched, free to be detailed as he sees fit. He got inspired by that pic Sergeant McMahon sent. Not gonna lie, I’m jealous. You looked hot. A lot hotter than today.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“He’s gonna put you in a similar dress. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to do the drop off. I’ll give you some tips, but I can tell you right now, if you’re out in the wild looking like that, he’s gonna go fucking feral.”
“How do you know what they do when they hunt?” Turning toward her to block the view some, I felt for my revolver.
“Someone's gotta pick up the pieces. One day soon, I’ll be picking up what's left of you.”
