I rode home in silence. The cabbie was listening to the news on the radio. I was pretty beat, having tossed around a bunch of magic at the building. Magic can be awfully cool, but it’s exhausting. What was left buzzing around me wasn’t enough to screw up the radio, which was already alive with talk of the explosion. The cabbie, who looked like he was vaguely Middle Eastern in extraction, looked unhappy.
I felt that.
We stopped at my apartment. Martin had already paid him too much for the ride, but I duked him another twenty on top of that and gave him a serious look. “Your name is Ahmahd?”
It was right there on his cabbie license. He nodded hesitantly.
“You have a family, Ahmahd?”
He just stared at me.
I touched my finger to my lips in a hushing gesture. “You never saw me. Okay?”
He grimaced, but dipped his head in a nod.
I got out of the cab, feeling a little sick. I wouldn’t hurt the guy’s family, but he didn’t know that. And even if he did, that and the bribe together wouldn’t be enough to keep him from talking to the cops if they came asking—though I suspected it would be enough to keep him from jumping up to volunteer information. Buildings were exploding. Sane people would want to keep their heads down until it was over.
I watched the car drive away, put my hands in my coat pockets, and shuffled wearily home. I’d cut into my physical and psychic resources pretty hard when I’d turned all that energy loose on the vampires, and now I was paying the price. I’d unintentionally poured soulfire into every blast I’d leveled at them—which was why I’d had the nifty silver-white blasts of flame instead of the red-orange of standard-issue fire. I felt like falling into bed, but it wouldn’t be the smart move. I debated doing it anyway.
I had time to get a shower, take Mouse out for a much-needed trip outside, put on a pot of coffee, and was just finishing up cleaning the debris and trash from my leather duster with some handy-dandy leather-cleaning wipes Charity Carpenter, Molly’s mother, had sent over, when there was a knock at the door.
Mouse lifted his head from where he lay near me, his brown eyes wary and serious. Then his ears perked up, and his tail began to wag. He got up and took a step toward the door, then looked at me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’m going.”
I got up and opened the door. It stuck halfway. I pulled harder and got it open the rest of the way.
A woman a little more than five feet tall stood at my door, her face weary and completely free of makeup. Her hair was golden blond, but hanging all over her face and badly in need of attention from a brush and maybe a curling iron. Or at least a scrunchie. She was wearing sweat-pants and an old and roomy T-shirt, and her shoulders were hunched up in rigid tension.
She stared at me for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and her shoulders relaxed.
“Hiya, Murphy,” I said.
“Hey,” she said, her voice a little feeble. I enjoyed the moment. I didn’t get to see Murphy’s soft side often. “Do I smell coffee?”
“Made a fresh pot,” I said. “Get you some?”
Murphy let out a groan of something near lust. “Marry me.”
“Maybe when you’re conscious.” I stepped back and let her in. Murph sat down on the couch and Mouse came over to her and laid his head shamelessly on her lap. She yawned and scratched and petted him obligingly, her small, strong hands making his doggy eyes close in bliss.
I passed her a cup of coffee and got one for myself. She took it black with a couple of zero-calorie sweeteners in it. Mine came with cream and lots and lots of sugar. We sipped coffee together, and her eyes became more animate as the caffeine went in. Neither of us spoke, and her gaze eventually roved over my apartment and me. I could hear the wheels spinning in her head.
“You showered less than an hour ago. I can still smell the soap. And you just got done cleaning your coat. At four in the morning.”
I sipped coffee and neither confirmed nor denied.
“You were at the building when it blew up,” she said.
“Not at it,” I said. “I’m good, but I don’t know about having a building fall on me.”