Hollow Back Girl Read online

  “Why were you in the area?”

  “Just sorta worked out that way, I think.” Izzy frowned, considering as he chewed. “Is it Thursday?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked, genuinely curious whether or not that mattered to whatever he was. Absently, still frowning at the ceiling of the car as if it had wronged him, he handed me a small stack of foil-wrapped candies, delighting me and ending my train of thought. We snacked in silence for a moment, before I considered the scene as a whole. The hotel seemed quiet, though I couldn’t feel the far end of it. The whole town felt quiet, actually, which was strange. Sure, it could have been that I was used to the emotional hustle and bustle of Seattle, but something still didn’t feel right to my empathy.

  Holding my hand out for more candy, I jerked my chin at Izzy.

  “What’s up? Why are you here? Why’s Chloe here?” Reconsidering, lifting a brow and hoping for the best as he set two more chocolates in my palm, I pressed on. “Why’s Owen here?”

  “He likes you,” Izzy said, as if it were the most obvious answer.

  “He’s not here for me,” I said, stuffing both chocolates into my mouth.

  “No,” Izzy agreed, before scrunching up his face as if trying to remember something. “But you’re the deer with the bullethole.”

  “What?” I demanded, horrified by the mental image. Izzy shook his head.

  “No, that’s not right. What’d she …? The—you’re the whatzit. Um.” He seemed to genuinely consider his words for a while, but Chloe’s reappearance distracted him and he grinned at her with chocolate-stained teeth as she climbed back in.

  “I knew the candy would keep you two from coming to blows,” she said, pleased at her genius.

  “It’s dark chocolate, though,” Izzy and I said at the same time. I glared his way, not sure if our shared reaction had been genuine or some trick he and his foresight were playing. Chloe laughed, starting the car, and pulling out of the temporary spot.

  I didn’t dare head upstairs with Chloe and Izzy, even though she swore they were just going to drop some stuff off and be right back down. I hid in the car with the rest of the chocolates rather than risk seeing them give in to their constant desire to get carnal. I’d accidentally walked in on that show one time too many already.

  They were back before long—though not before I’d eaten way too much of the chocolate, according to Chloe—and we were on our way. I’d been somewhat disappointed to not feel Owen’s low-key emotions from my seat in the car, but it hadn’t really surprised me. He was there for work, not just to be ogled by me and my hormones, despite what Izzy had suggested.

  Around the time we were in a normally crowded section of downtown, I looked around, curious about the lack of activity. Balanis had never been a bustling metropolis, but it had its share of activity, if only kids skipping school and hanging out in parks or in front of convenience stores aiming to buck expectations and flaunt their rule-breaking prowess. Since getting back, though, it all seemed off, slower somehow.

  “Is it quiet or is it just me?” I asked, not really expecting Chloe to know the answer, but feeling the need to vocalize my question regardless.

  “I don’t know, it seems like a typical small town to me. Why?”

  “It just … it feels weird.”

  “Maybe you’re used to Seattle,” Chloe suggested, before slowing slightly and leaning forward to scan one of the buildings across the street. “Should we get your mom flowers?”

  “Why?” I asked, still stuck on the idea that maybe I’d just gotten so used to Seattle’s constant emotional hammering of my empathy, wondering if it was just that simple.

  “Because she’s a lovely woman and she had to feed Izzy this morning.”

  “Hey,” Izzy said, though he didn’t sound insulted exactly, more like he was concerned she’d misunderstood the situation. “She didn’t have to, I can survive without food.”

  “You can?” I asked, shocked both because that in and of itself was a revelation and because Izzy had a nasty habit of eating everything in sight as if he’d wither up and die the instant he didn’t have food in his guts.

  “I’m getting her flowers,” Chloe said, pulling into a parking spot with an adeptness that never failed to amaze me. The rental car was compact, but she managed to fit into a space that looked like it would have had trouble accommodating even a fat Labradoodle. “You coming in?”

  “Sure,” I said, as Izzy announced, “nope.” He got out of the car alongside us, but veered off toward an alley down the way, perplexing me as he always did. Chloe ignored his strange behavior, and headed straight for the florist. We got all the way to the door before Chloe noticed the small, hand-written sign on it that said, “Closed due to family emergency. Thank you for your understanding,” in bright red marker. The writing was just barely legible, a downward-sloping scribble on a piece of printer paper that looked like it had caught the edge of a coffee spill at some point.

  “Aww, man,” Chloe said, genuinely bothered by the fact that she couldn’t bring my mom a gift. “I can probably grab something from the grocery store, you think?”

  “Yeah, probably. I wonder what the emergency was,” I considered aloud, turning to look at the street with the same concern I’d churned up when we’d been driving. “You think it’s the zombie apocalypse?”

  “Starting conveniently here in your home town?” Chloe asked, leading me back toward the car. “Maybe that’s why Owen’s here.”

  “You think?” I asked, alarmed. She laughed and shook her head.

  “No, I think someone’s dad had a heart attack or someone’s mom fell down some stairs. Come on, show me where a grocery store is.”

  Izzy was already back in the car as if he’d never left, whistling a tune I didn’t recognize, and didn’t acknowledge us as we climbed back in. I didn’t say anything as Chloe pulled away from the curb, still lost in my worried suspicion that something was fishy in Balanis.

  Luckily for all of us, my father had disappeared out into his shed, which he’d configured years before as his own, temperature-controlled man cave. I’d never ventured inside myself, but Thomas had assured me it’s basically just a television, a comfy chair, and a perch for Dorian.

  Mom loved the flowers, hugging Chloe tightly and showing them off to everyone as if they were made of platinum and not petals. When Chloe offered to help out with cleaning the kitchen and making lunch, mom got excited, diving into a deep discussion of Chloe’s veganism and healthy eating—blaming me for her knowledge of both. She didn’t outright say I’d complained ad nauseum about Chloe’s insistence on feeding me vegetables, but the implication that I whine about it a lot was there.

  No one except Jake and me seemed to mind Izzy’s presence; in fact, the kids loved him. Not only could he make interesting sounds and voices, but he also didn’t mind the fact that half their toys were sticky and smelled funny. In fact he probably added to both, which made him an ideal companion for children.

  I got a call from Owen around noon and I was only too happy to escape the emotions of the house and flee out front to speak to him in private.

  “Please say you’re calling to tell me you’re on your way to pick me up,” I answered. Owen chuckled, and I had no doubt that his aforementioned resources had already fed him my parents’ address and, hell, maybe even their favorite foods and social security numbers.

  “I was, though not for what you’d hope. Unless something changes, I will be free for that tonight, but in the mean time, I have some things to take care of. I’d still like to see you, though, and you’ve got that helpful skill so I’m hoping you’ll join me.”

  “What is it this time? More mercenaries? Another succubus? Shoe-cobbling goblins out to destroy every high heel in the land?”

  “Goblins don’t—”

  “Hush,” I warned. His laugh was low and it made me think sexy thoughts. I hadn’t found any painkillers, but I was sure my ribs wouldn’t bitch too much if I just stayed on top during sex.
/>
  “I’m just going back into the forest,” he said after a moment.

  “Brushing up on your Swahili?”

  “I don’t believe I know Swahili, nor any creatures that speak it. I’ve got a hypothesis to test.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound dangerous at all,” I said, considering his offer.

  “Thus the invitation. I like to live on the edge and danger follows you like toilet paper stuck to a shoe.”

  I sighed dramatically, making it known the accusation didn’t exactly make me feel charitable. He laughed again and I had to admit he was right. Even at work it seemed I was running into open drawers and clipping doorways with my shoulders more often than I had throughout my entire childhood.

  “Fine. Can I meet you at your hotel again?”

  “No need, I really am on my way to pick you up.”

  “That might be a bad idea,” I said, thinking of my mother’s penchant for interrogating any men in my life. Robin’s three kids are not enough for her; my mother wants a hundred grandbabies to spoil and I just happen to be of childbearing age. She was still unhappy that I’d let my ex-husband Stan slip away; if she caught sight of Owen’s blue eyes and straight teeth she’d be three florists and a caterer deep into planning the wedding.

  “Let me know when you’re close and I’ll meet you on the corner.”

  “You have to sneak out at your age?”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” I admitted.

  “Well, we can work out a complicated series of signals. I’m sure I can find a flashlight to blink through your bedroom window—or maybe I should bring some flags? Can you understand semaphore?”

  “If that’s not a delicious chocolate dessert, I’m not interested. Just send a text when you’re nearby.”

  “Are you sure? I may be able to get hold of a carrier pigeon.”

  I hung up on him.

  Chapter Seven

  As I buckled myself into Owen’s car, he reached a hand out, tucked it into my jacket and tugged the fabric away from my chest. I blinked over at him as he inspected the skin beneath.

  “That’s looking suspiciously good,” he said as he shifted to put the car into gear. I grinned.

  “Oh,” I breathed. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “I was talking about your bruises, but your knockers are nice, too.”

  I chuckled, shifted forward to turn the heater up. Owen ignored my action, driving us out of my neighborhood at a nice, grandfatherly pace.

  “My niece is apparently a healer.”

  “Nice. Which type?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. He glanced over at me long enough to see if I was serious.

  “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

  “I’ve only met two. There isn’t exactly a clubhouse where humans with minor powers go to hang out and talk shop.”

  “Of course not; that would make it much too easy to take you all out at once.”

  “Ha ha,” I said, squinting over at him. His smirk turned into a full on smile when he realized I didn’t find his joke funny.

  “There are, as far as I’ve come across, two types of physical healers. There are psychic healers, but they don't apply here. One takes on the pain that they heal, though not the injury itself. So, if you break your leg and they fix it, they feel the pain for a few hours—sometimes days. They are much better at healing and can often handle much more, but it takes its toll. The other sees the injury they fix and experience the emotional impact of what it was to get hurt. They can generally sense when those around them are hurt, too.”

  “That one, I think.” I jabbed a finger into the air next to him, as if that would help make my point. “After she healed the bruise at my collar, she said she could see a furry hand hit me. She didn’t seem too bothered by it, though.”

  “Were you?”

  “Bothered by being beaten down by a sasquatch? Damn straight I was.”

  “I mean,” he said through a laugh. “That you were more shocked than anything. Did you even realize what had happened as it hit you?”

  “Ah,” I murmured, thinking about it. “I guess not.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “And where we go?” I asked, deciding it was time for a change of subject. “What are we doing today?”

  “Like I said, we’re investigating.”

  “What are we investigating? Is it dirty?”

  “Not in the fun way.” Owen went quiet for a bit, before looking over at me with a lifted brow. “Can you be discreet?”

  “Who am I going to tell?” I asked, throwing up my hands. “I haven’t even told my sister I work in the same building as a werewolf, and my father and I can’t even look at each other. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  “Hmm,” he considered, as if he didn’t believe me. Then, after another few seconds, he continued. “About three months ago, four campers went missing. One was found a few days later, but he conveniently had amnesia.”

  “Conveniently?”

  “For him and the doctors trying to figure out what’s wrong with him, no. For me, yes. It’s sometimes how you know something otherworldly is up. Recently, another pair of hikers disappeared, though no one’s shown up with missing memories, yet.”

  “So we’re going to search for an amnesiac wandering around the woods, alone and confused?”

  “Alone, yes; confused, hopefully not. If I can get someone to just tell me what I need to kill, we can just go straight back to the hotel and do that catching up we missed out on last night.”

  “I’m not completely healed, Romeo.” When he looked over and gave me a small pout, I grinned. “But I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “Well, then keep your empathy out for any half-dead hikers.”

  “Sad image,” I said. “But good band name.”

  Half an hour of walking through the woods had netted us nothing. I felt the usual bunnies, birds, and other small, furry creatures around us, but there was no sign of a befuddled backpacker or malevolent monster that I could pick up.

  “What do you think this thing is?” I asked. Owen shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, even as a slice of worry cut through him. He grabbed my arm and tugged me away from a patch of leafy plants before I could put my sockless, loafered foot right down into them. I eyed the mess of leaves as we walked by, deciding I’d almost stepped in poison oak.

  “I have a few theories, but without knowing more, I can’t pick one. Hundreds of things live in the forest and eat humans if they get a chance. The only reason we know it’s not a mountain lion or a bear attack is that one person survived with amnesia.”

  “What did the bigfoots say about the situation?” Owen shrugged but before he could answer, another question popped into my brain. “And how do they know sign language?”

  “As far as I know, one of your types taught them in the seventies—eighteen-seventies, that is.”

  “An empath?”

  “Not necessarily,” he said, stopping for a moment to grab a metal bottle out of his backpack. He took a swig and offered it to me. He waited for me to finish drinking before speaking.

  “Just a human who could sense them. Here, they’re ASL exclusive, though; as far as I know the sasquatches in other countries wouldn’t be able to understand me.”

  “That’s nuts,” I said, thinking about the fact that a human had just decided one day to teach a bigfoot a new skill and the bigfoot had been not only keen enough to learn, but game enough to teach others.

  “It’s not that unusual. All sorts of fae creatures who can’t speak like humans learn how to communicate. Some are multi-lingual, some learn the basics and just flail through getting their point across. Sorta like you when you’re sleepy.” I ignored the dig.

  “So don’t travel to Austria and try to talk to a Chupacabra, got it.”

  “There aren’t any—”

  “I don’t care,” I said, leaning close with a smile. He let me kiss him but finished his sentence before he let me pull completely away.


  “Chupacabras in Austria.”

  “What if one is on vacation?”

  “Then it’s going to have a hell of a time getting directions to the bar.”

  I shook my head at him before stepping back and turning to survey the area around us. He grabbed the bottle from my hand and stuck it back into his pack.

  “Have you done your testing yet?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” he said, without elaborating. I waited a moment, before realizing he wasn’t going to.

  “Okay. Should I be looking for something specific?”

  “Just evidence that someone was here. I don’t know the exact trail the hikers may have taken, but I know from their friends that they usually entered the forest somewhere around where we did.”

  “So we’re hiking blind?”

  “I will be able to get us out. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m going to keep worrying. The outdoors and I don’t get along so well.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, turning a smile on me that probably read as condescending but that I chose to take as curious.

  “It is. Last time I was left alone in the forest I ended up glued to a wall with spider poop.”

  “Stop, you’re getting my engine revving.”

  I laughed at his deadpan tone, whacking him with the back of my hand lightly, and he chuckled, catching my hand and giving my knuckles an absent-minded kiss.

  “You feel anything?” he asked after a moment. I shrugged a shoulder and he pressed on. “Just uh—feel out, see if something reads off one way or another. If something’s eating people, it probably doesn’t garner the love and trust of other creatures. Good chance that wherever it hangs out will be pretty empty.”

  “Nothing’s really empty,” I argued and he glanced my way as if expecting me to explain. “There are always … things around. Birds, gophers, moles, bugs, you know.”

  “That’s my point,” he said, his speaking slowly as if talking to a child. “If this thing is grumpy and angry, it could scare off anything that might normally hang out. Look for empty pockets that should have some sort of life but don’t.”