Page 51 of The Rut in the Road

I wondered briefly whether or not she had some sort of financial trust or investments that would actually control what was now her wealth, but it really wasn’t any of my business. I’d accepted the car, and I would figure out how to pay for it. Maybe by getting some sort of gig job or remote part-time work that I could do on the weekends when I wasn’t needed by Beyond the Veil, although that would take away from the few hours I already had to spend with Raj.

At least I could drive places to meet him now. And he’d probably try to insist that I drive to work, which was just ridiculous if I only had to go into the office. Gigs, sure. It would, in fact, be easier if I could drive myself or even myself and Ward than if we had to coordinate with Mason to borrow his truck. Atleast the car, for all its small size, had a back seat that would fold down so I could fit Ward’s wheelchair. Hopefully.

I’d text Raj when I got home, even though I knew he was probably working late—again.

9

He really hatedthese fucking cases. The hit-and-runs. Hated every fucking thing about them. Hated the fact that this goddamn case had him fucking paranoid to shit. Worried about Taavi, even though nobody could tell he was a shifter just by looking at him.

The fucking fact that Raj was losing his goddamn shit wasn’t helping.

He resented a bit the fact that Raj was worried about Rayn, for fuck’s sake. Not because of that, exactly, but the kid was going to befine. For one thing, he wasn’t a Nid. For another, Raj wasn’t giving him even remotely enough credit for self-preservation. The kid had lived through a hell of a lot scarier shit than this. And, if he had to, he could probably give a hit-and-run driver a fucking heart attack if anyone tried to run him down.

Alright there,sport?Archie asked me, and I twitched, causing the ghost to cackle, although I was actually rather pleased I hadn’t jumped more or let out any sort of shriek. I’dlet myself get sucked into Hart’s thoughts, mostly because I’d wanted to know more about what Raj was thinking.

I shot a glare in Archie’s direction.Perfectly fine, thank you, I replied, irritated.

Don’t get yer knickers in a twist, he told me, floating over to hover in front of my desk.

I deliberately and slowly set the pencil down, meeting his transparent gaze in silence.

He got uncomfortable first. Most people did.Thought we might try some practice today, he offered.Seein’ as it’s fairly quiet.

It was quiet because Ward, Mason, and Beck were trying to keep their schedules as close to calm as possible on the days that we didn’t have major events to conduct séances for, mostly to preserve Beck’s and Ward’s energy levels, and Mason’s, my, and Violette’s sanity levels. Mason was in his office catching up on paperwork, but Ward was coming in late and Beck had taken the day off.

Since, as far as I knew, nobody else had been hit and murdered with a car, that left me with very little to do, since I’d already done and triple-checked the inventory stock for the rest of the month and into November. I might as well take the dead man up on his offer.

Alright, Archie.I tried to sound a bit more enthusiastic than I felt.What do you want me to start with?

“Rayn?”Mason’s voice echoed down the hall, sounding… I wasn’t sure. Worried? Upset?

“Yes?” I called back, my fingers stilling on the keyboard. I’d been working on a paper, having spent two hours working withArchie until he’d decided I’d probably had enough and ordered me to go have lunch. I’d eaten half my homemade turkey, mustard, pickle, and swiss sandwich as I worked.

“Are you the reason there is a rat in here?”

“A rat?” I got up, heading for Mason’s office. I stopped dead in the doorway when I saw it.

It was, indeed, a rat.

It was also very obviously dead.

And still moving.

“Oh, shit,” I hissed.

“Is that… yours?” Mason asked, again, his voice tight.

I couldn’t stop staring at the rat, which was cleaning its undead little whiskers in the middle of the dog bed that Alma, Mason’s dog, sometimes used. “I… don’t know,” I replied, my own shaky. “How—how would I tell?”

“Not sure,” came the response, although his voice was becoming less tense. “Try… calling it?”

“Calling it?” I repeated, struggling to figure out how I would go about doing that. Was I supposed to give it a name? Treat it like a cat or dog?

“Summoning it, more likely,” Mason clarified, pushing himself to standing, his big green hands on the top of the desk. He was still looking at the rat, but he seemed to have regained control over himself.

I hadn’t.Wasthe rat my fault? I certainly hadn’t intended to… resurrect anything. The most complicated thing Archie’d had me attempt was being able to tell if something dead was in the room. A few spiders, a house fly, a bunch of fruit flies. I hadn’t noticed any rats.

But if it hadn’t been me, then who?