Page 21 of Newly Undead in Dark River

Chapter Eight

Word of the attack spread like wildfire, and gossip about my turning was once again front and center in everyone's mind. I barely slept, despite the comforting presence of Brody in the bed next to me. Or maybe because of Brody in the bed next to me. His heart rate was slower in sleep, but warmth radiated from his body like a furnace. And he smelled delicious, like pine and earth and man.

I was sitting on the couch, eating a sandwich, and listening to what Brody called the world's best “Pirate Bluegrass Band” playing from my new stereo. The guy was smokin' hot, but his taste in music left a lot to be desired.

Angeline sounded like she was getting a bumper day of sales in the cafe as people came in to see if I was okay, and gawk. Unfortunately, they were going to be disappointed. I had no intention of leaving my apartment for the next two days.

The steady hum of voices, coupled with the bell over the door ringing nearly non-stop, was soothing to my raw nerves.

So when the noise below went silent, I knew something was happening. Actually, I had a fair idea about what had happened, and I wasn't surprised when there was a knock at my door. Brody, however, was up over the back of the couch and at the door in seconds. He ripped the door open and growled.

“Who the fuck are you?” Brody sounded menacing, but I was secretly glad that it wasn't my attacker. Obviously, Brody had never been a woman in the big city. Never open the door to someone you didn't know, that was rule #1, #2 and #3.

“Depends who's askin', Shifter. I'm here to see Raine.” I could hear a scuffle as Judge pushed past Brody and then Brody's deep rumbling growl.

“It's okay, Brody. Judge is a friend.”

Brody muttered something I couldn't quite hear. I could feel the vibrations of Judge's rolling gait walking towards me. “Oh Rainy Day, what have you got yourself into now?” He laid a hand on my knee, and I could hear genuine affection in his voice.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Wild orgies, and being attacked by psychopathic makers. Did you get some death stares from downstairs? The silence was deafening, even up here.” Judge sat next to me on the couch, making Brody growl again. I could hear his heartbeat move until it was just opposite me. Standing sentinel probably.

Judge chuckled. “I see you got yourself a pet as well. You have had a busy couple of days.”

Brody's heart beat faster, and I could almost hear his blood boiling.

“Don't be rude, Judge. Brody has been great, looking after me when he didn't have to. If you are going to be a jerk to him, you can leave and come back when you learn some manners.”

Judge rubbed my thigh, leaving behind a delicious heat in its wake. “I'm sorry. I apologize for my rudeness. I was just worried about my girl.”

I scoffed. Now I understood what was going on here. The last thing I wanted, or needed, was some macho bullshit.

“You're still being a prick. We both know I'm not 'your' girl. I'm my own girl, so you can just lay off the territorial bullshit, both of you.”

Judge just laughed. “Got me. I just came to see how you were doing, Sugar. Beatrice sent me over some dinner for you. Lasagna, if my nose isn't lyin'. I'll leave it in the kitchen. You just let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I'm always here to meet all your needs,” he purred. I'd roll my eyes at him if he could see it. Instead, I just gave an exasperated sigh and shook my head.

“Thanks, Judge. I'll let you know. Thank Beatrice and Bert for the food.”

Two hands pressed against the couch either side of my head. I could feel his warm breath on my face, and then he kissed me. Softly, but with so much heat that it could have set my panties on fire. “I'm doing my own digging into your maker. I'm close to something. Stay safe,” he whispered against my lips.

This was the Judge I knew, the one without all the bravado, the intense, passionate man with a wit so sharp, he could tear a person to shreds with it.

I nodded and squeezed his forearms. I knew he cared, despite his teasing. But he was a wild one, and I didn't fool myself into thinking that we were anything but passionate passing acquaintances. He kissed my forehead and was gone. He had his own energy, and you could feel the emptiness in the room when he left.

Brody huffed. “So that's the drifter. People are saying he did it, you know.”

I nodded. Popular opinion had him pegged as the culprit since day one. But I knew different. Judge was harsh, but he respected life in his own way.

“It's not him. His scent is strong, like cayenne pepper and bullshit,” he huffed. I could tell it seriously peeved Brody to admit my attacker wasn't Judge.

“I know. How about we slice up some of this lasagna and have a beer. We can even watch the baseball,” I cajoled. I didn't want to be stuck in the apartment with a pissed-off guy who could turn into a grizzly with a thought.

He sighed. “Fine, but only because Beatrice's lasagna is known to be the best in five hundred miles by those in the know.”

He wasn't wrong. Beatrice was a miracle worker with ground beef and bechamel. Although I couldn't see the baseball, I found that I appreciated the commentators and the sounds of the game. The crack of a home run, and the cheers of the crowd. Brody filled in the blanks, yelling at the ump, and encouraging the players. I think I enjoyed the baseball game more now that I was blind.

We listened to the news, one morose story after another. Canadian soldiers killed in a roadside bombing, an earthquake in Japan, an American tourist missing in Alberta.

I sat up straighter when I realized the news anchor was talking about me.

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