Page 50 of The Rut in the Road

“No,” I agreed. I didn’t continue the thought—that experiencing someone else’s murder was pretty awful, although I imagined it was more awful if it was actually your own murder. Since I hadn’t actually died, I couldn’t say for certain, but my own almost-murder had been bad enough.

The server came by again, dropping off our fried cheese sticks. Vi immediately grabbed one, blowing on it a little before taking a tentative bite off the end.

“Oooo,” she mumbled around the bite. “Hot.”

I could see the steam rising off the plate, but I thought it might have been a little paternalistic to point it out, so I didn’t, nodding instead.

She chewed quickly, swallowing a gulp of tea to soothe her probably already-burnt tongue or roof of her mouth. “I always do that,” she said, looking a little sheepish. “Every time. Even though I know better.” She let out a little laugh. “Humans are so stupid.”

I smiled back. As usual, she wasn’t wrong. “Raj says that we’re creatures of appetite,” I told her. “And that we’re driven by food.”

Both of her brows went up. “I’m not sure he was talking about that kind of appetite,” she said, her tone of voice almost like sarcasm, but not quite.

I frowned at her. “What kind, then?” I asked.

She grinned at me. “The bom-chicka-wow-wow kind.” She half-sang the words.

Her answer hadn’t clarified anything at all. “Thewhat?”

“You know,” she said, waving one hand. “Bom-chicka-wow-wow. Like—” Her cheeks were bright red and she didn’t meet my eyes. “Sexy-times.”

Oh. I felt my cheeks heat up as a blush flared across them. I wondered whether or not Raj had actually meant that, or if he’d been talking about food, as I’d assumed. Or both, possibly, since I knew that was a thing people did—talk about two things simultaneously—although I generally missed at least one of those levels.

Was that why Raj had taken our physical relationship so slowly? Because I’d missed the innuendo and he thought I wasn’t interested?

“Maybe,” was what I said out loud to Vi.

“And we are now totally changing the topic of conversation,” she said, picking up her mozzarella stick again and taking a bigger bite now that it had cooled down. “Because you’re my brother, and ew.”

I left late enoughthat the traffic was mostly clear, a straight shot once I got on the highway all the way back to Richmond. It gave me time to think about a lot of things, although I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, given the things I kept coming back to.

Vi had come back to talking about the MFM over dinner, which made sense, since she was going to be working gigs just like the rest of us to provide if not extra ‘security,’ exactly, then at least one more person who could call for help if things startedto go wrong. Since she’d not actually officially started working at Beyond the Veil yet—her first day would be Monday—she had a million questions about Ward, Mason, Beck, what we did, what a séance was like, and so on. I’d tried to answer all of them, but there had been more than a few things I’d had to tell her to ask Ward or Mason.

But it had me thinking about the MFM. The last time they’d staged protests in Richmond hadn’t gone as badly as the time before that. Nobody had died the last time, which had been about a year ago, although there had been quite a few injuries and arrests, some vandalism, and thefts from cars and businesses. The time before there had been several fatalities, and it had led to Hart working at Beyond the Veil because he’d been attacked by some of his own colleagues in the police department.

The question was how they were going to go this year. I knew Ward was worried that they were going to be much worse this year because of the current bills being promoted in the Senate by Simon Adams, who had been galvanized by his wife’s death to promote anti-discrimination laws designed to protect Arcanids. The debate was getting heated on Capitol Hill, and there were lawn signs posted all around the neighborhoods in Richmond for or against the bill, telling people to contact their senators and representatives. I’d even seen a few ads online attached to videos and streaming shows telling people to support one side or the other.

It was constant.

I’d never paid particular attention to most of the people around me on a day-to-day basis. Not the people I knew—I paid attention to them, of course. But the people I passed on the sidewalk or in the grocery store aisles or alongside whom I stood in line for coffee when Ward sent me to pick up fancy coffee for the office. The people in the restaurants where Raj took mefor dinner, both those who waited on us and our fellow diners. Would they have been as polite if they’d known that I was a witch and an Arc-human or that Raj was a shifter?

I didn’t like the fact that now I wondered that. That the endless commercials and signs askingDo you want your children taught by a monster?or telling me thatEveryone is our neighbor, fur and fangs and all!I didn’t want to have to wonder if someone would spit in my food if they knew what I was. If they would want to do worse.

I hated thinking about it, especially because it made me realize that it probably wasn’t just the hit-and-runs that were making Raj worried about my safety—since that didn’t make sense. I wasn’t an Arcanid and I never walked home late at night. But when I considered things in the light of the current divisions over Arc and Arcanid rights and the fact that nearly anyone I interacted with might want me dead… Well, his worry seemed a good deal less paranoid and more realistic.

We weren’t at the point where open violence in the streets against Arcanids was tolerated, but glares and hostility and mothers herding their children to the other side of the street were fairly typical, at least from what I’d observed going places with Sam or seeing orcs or vampires just going about their business. I knew it bothered Sam, and he’d admitted to me once that sometimes he just desperately wanted someone to smile at him instead of looking away or scowling. So I tried to at least do that. Offer a smile, even though I wasn’t generally someone who smiled much.

Thinking about it now, it felt silly. A foolish gesture in the face of hatred and bigotry.

But I didn’t know what else to do. What else Icoulddo.

I sighed, even though it was just me in what was apparently my new car.

Raj would probably love the fact that I now had a car. A car I’d have to now swap the title of, get insurance for, and register to the city of Richmond, which meant I’d have to pay taxes on it. To say nothing about paying for gas and maintenance.

My next sigh was a little annoyed. Yes, my sister had been extremely generous, and, yes, it would be really convenient tohavea car for a lot of reasons, but I was running close to my monthly budget as it was, although the occasional case with the FBI did help to bolster my income. And now I’d have to cover more expenses, even if I hadn’t had to pay to buy the car itself.

I knew if I’d pointed any of that out to Vi, she’d have offered to pay for them herself or give me the money to do it, but I didn’t want to do that to her. First of all, I was an adult, and financial responsibility was part of being an adult. Second, I got the sense that Vi didn’t actually have a solid understanding of financial responsibility—not surprising, since she was almost twenty and had been raised by an extremely wealthy family. And that probably meant that she wasn’t making particularly good economic decisions and might need whatever money she’d give me.