Page 106 of Dead Heat

“I’ve enchanted crocodiles in Ecuador and Venezuela,” shesaid. “The real beauty of them is their stomachs are so acidic that they can digest bones, so there’s no mess to clean up afterward.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Have I mentioned how happy I am to have you on my side?”

Monica dropped another marble in a hole. “We’re not on your side. We’re on our side.”

“But you voted to help me when the Wild Hunt was coming to town.”

“Because we felt it was in our best interest,” Monica replied. “It wasn’t about you.” She paused, noting my expression. “It isn’t personal, Clay. Sullivan obviously likes you and that counts for quite a bit in my book.”

“And if he wasn’t part of the equation?”

She shrugged. “I do what makes the most sense for me. Same as Cedric.”

I couldn’t really blame them. Most people acted in their own best interest; it was in their nature. A survival instinct. I’d lied to everyone in Fairhaven because I’d decided that secrecy and deception were in my best interests. Granted, that message had been instilled in me by Pops, but the reason was the same. Safety. Protection. Survival. Thousands of years of evolution, yet we were still behaving like our ancestors. We’d invented airplanes, rockets, computers, brain surgery, and the cappuccino, but we’d still stampede a friend to escape a fire—maybe not all of us, but many would. And what was the point of all these enchanted marbles being planted in my yard?

Survival yet again.

What was the point of the avatar program? It wasn’t just power. For the deities themselves, it was also survival.

Maybe I had more in common with them than I previously believed.

“Lorelei?”

I snapped back to reality and listened to Cedric explain his intentions for the moat. I drew the line at reptiles, but his alternate suggestions were solid. Max even offered a few ideas of his own.

Cedric cast a curious glance at the cherufe. “How many people do you have living here?”

“Two of them are dead,” Monica interjected.

“Three of them are, technically, and Max is a temporary guest.”

“Claude doesn’t seem dead,” Monica said. “He’s got more personality in his funky pinky than most of the dates I’ve had this year.”

Nana Pratt was so impressed by the mages that, during their lunch break, she produced a tin of oatmeal raisin cookies she’d been saving for West’s next visit.

Monica examined the cookies. “I guess these aren’t gluten free.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Too bad. I’ve never had food made by a ghost before. Does it taste any different?”

“The ingredients are all corporeal,” I assured her. “Only the baker is a spirit.”

Cedric wolfed down four oatmeal raisin cookies. I was impressed by his lack of restraint. He ate as many as he wanted without apology and washed them down with a bottle of beer.

“Give my regards to the baker,” he said, dusting the crumbs from his hands. “These cookies are amazing.”

Nana Pratt beamed. “Oh, I’m so pleased. I added a handful of golden raisins this time, so I wasn’t sure how they’d turn out.”

“Her secret ingredient is golden raisins,” I told the mage.

Cedric nodded his approval. “I don’t typically likeoatmeal raisin, but these were killer. I’ll have to try that recipe at home during our next family baking session.”

After lunch, the mages returned to work in the yard. I stayed in the kitchen to rinse the plates and bottles. Beside me, Nana Pratt looked ready to burst into tears.

“Are you okay?” I asked, as I put the bottles in the recycling bin.

“Yes, dear. Thank you for asking.”

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