Paper Stars(8)

“All right, hang on.” I wracked my brain and glanced at Jean again.

“Somewhere off of Highway 20 near Three Fingered Jack.” Jean’s fingers were flying. “Emergency services are stretched thin. There’s no way a vehicle can get through that. Highway 20 is closed under snow and ice. I’ll see if I can contact Santiam Ski Patrol. But that’s a lot of terrain to cover.”

“Hey,” Ryder’s voice was rough and whispery. “Thought I got a story?”

“Right. Hold on, I’m thinking.”

Jean speared me with a look. “We need to call on something other than emergency services if we want to find him quickly.”

That was one advantage to being a small town full of supernatural beings and vacationing gods. We could call on people with unusual abilities when things got bad.

Of course, most supernatural beings wanted to be compensated for their effort and time. And some of them, I thought as my soul-losing deal with Bathin sprang to mind, set a pretty high price.

“Get someone,” I told her. “Now.”

I turned all my attention back to Ryder. “Okay, you have to answer every time I say your name. Got that, Ryder?”

“Affirmative. Roger that.”

I started pacing again, envying the dragon and dog who were curled up and comfy in front of the fire as the storm raged outside.

The tree lights caught my eye, and I gazed up at the star. I knew what memory I should share.

“When I was little, my mom read me a book about a Christmas star. It was supposed to be a sweet story about the little star that fell to earth and got lost. Finally, with some help from forest creatures, a snowman, and a couple children, the star was set upon a Christmas tree to shine brightly and bring joy to all. Are you listening, Ryder?”

“Star. Tree. Snowmen. Riveting.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, you wanted me to share. I could just read you the phone book.”

“You don’t own a phone book. Get back to the star. What happened?”

“First, you need to know I hated that story.”

“This is supposed to be a happy memory, Delaney.”

“Shut up. I’m getting there. I hated the story because it always made me sad.”

He grunted. “Why?”

“Dad asked me that one night when he found me staring at the Christmas tree and crying. I tried to lie. I was never very good at lying to him.”

“No,” he agreed, “you weren’t.”

I liked that Ryder knew that about me. That he had been there in my life, known me that long.

“I told him the story made me sad. I was sorry for the star because when it fell, it had to leave behind all its family and friends. Even though it got to shine bright as a Christmas star for a few days, after that it would be all alone, stuck down on earth and looking up at the friends and the place it would never be a part of again.

“Still with me, Ryder?”

“I’m here. Little lonely star far away from home and friends. You know, you could have come up with a less depressing story to take my mind off my situation.”

“There’s more to it. Dad told me distance couldn’t keep us from the ones we love. He said we are all made of stardust, all a part of each other. Even though the little star was stuck here on earth, it carried its friends and family in its heart because it held the memory of the things they had shared, the laughter, the sorrow, the joy. He said we can’t lose those we love, because the sky, the earth, and everything between—including us—is part of the same thing: love.”

A pause ticked by.

“I miss him,” Ryder said. Still a little slurred, still a little slow. “Your dad.”

“I do too. But when he told me that, it didn’t make me feel better. I was still sad for the little star.”

“Such a softy. How did you end up a cop?”

I laughed. “A lot of hard work. Dad knew I was still sad. I could never hide that from him, either. So you know what happened?”

“Mmmm?”

“I woke up on Christmas morning and the living room was filled with stars. Paper stars hung from the ceiling, from the windows, from the branches of the Christmas tree.” I swallowed a smile remembering.

“He’d cut a hundred paper stars out of gold, silver, white, and blue. Must have taken him hours to hang them all. Written on every single one of them was one word: love.”

I was quiet while I tried to corral the emotions that came along with the memory. I hadn’t thought about that Christmas morning in years.

“He told me the stars had come down from the heavens to visit the Christmas tree star so it wouldn’t be lonely. He told me it was a Christmas wish come true.”

“Delaney,” he said, as if just talking was taking every ounce of energy he had. Or maybe the story had touched him, a little bit of my remembered joy and sorrow now his.

“I need to say something. I should have said it a long time ago. Thought I’d have time. Thought we’d have time…”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, afraid that if he said something, if he said he loved me, he’d really be saying good-bye.

“Just save whatever you have to say for when you come home. Because you promised you’d come home, Ryder.”

“Laney…I’m sorry.”





Chapter Six





“You promised.” I wiped at my stinging eyes and straightened my shoulders.

I was not going to lose him before Christmas. I was not going to lose him at all.

“Delaney?” Jean said. “Myra should be there in a minute.”

As if summoned by her voice, there was a knock at the door. Myra must have been close by.

I jogged over, glanced through the peep hole, then let Myra and the demon who stood beside her into the house.

“Bathin is going to find him and bring him back,” Myra said before I’d even shut the door.

“This is news to Bathin,” he said. “We do remember Bathin is a demon and doesn’t like to do helpful things?”

Myra’s eyes went hard and glittery while her eyebrows lowered. “We know Bathin will do this because it’s an order and requirement if he wants to remain in Ordinary.”

“As if you would let me leave, Myra Reed. I own your pretty sister’s very pretty soul.”

Yeah, like I said, sometimes the supernaturals named a high price for a favor. I still hadn’t found a way to get my soul back, though I was working on it, and so was Myra.

“Don’t care,” I cut in.

“Ryder is injured, in his truck, somewhere near Three Fingered Jack. The highway’s blocked, and Jean hasn’t had any luck getting hold of search and rescue. Name a price, Bathin. Let’s get this rolling.”

Finding people and moving them was one of Bathin’s powers. He’d already rescued a kidnapped vampire who’d been sunk beneath the ocean in a crate.

Finding a truck in a snow storm shouldn’t be nearly as difficult.

“What will you give me if I do this little favor?” he asked.

“No,” Myra said.

“A favor in return,” I offered.

“No,” Myra said again.

The corner of Bathin’s mouth slid up into a sexy grin. “Choices, choices ladies. Yes or no?”

“One favor,” I said again, “from me, to be collected within one year’s time. It can be anything you want, as long as it doesn’t break any of Ordinary’s laws, nor go against my own moral code.”

“Anything I want?” His grin turned a little predatory.

I had to wonder how I always ended up bargaining away parts of myself for the good of others. I’d like to say it came with the job of being Chief of Police in this oddball little town, but I knew better.

I would bargain away almost anything for Ryder.

“Don’t.” Ryder’s voice was distant, but still clear. I pressed the phone harder against my ear.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Myra’s here. She won’t let me break the don’t-do-anything-stupid rule.”

“Bargaining with a demon is the reason we made the rule,” he reminded me.

The last few words faded a bit, as if he was having trouble getting enough breath in his lungs to speak. “It’s stupid.”

“I know. But it’s going to be okay. You just stay awake and keep breathing. You’re going to be home soon.”

“I’ll do it,” Myra said. “For you.”

Bathin straightened as if everything in him was suddenly awake and laser focused. Then he turned, all fire and heat and wide shoulders and muscular body crowding into her space.

“You’ll do what, exactly? For me.” His voice was more rumble than words.

For a moment, Myra’s eyes lost that edge and something else filled them. Desire? Lust? Surprise?

The look he was giving her should have had a combustible warning on it.

“For Delaney,” Myra said all soft and breathy. “Not you.”

He smiled, lifted one hand as if to touch her face, as if to stroke her skin.

And never got the chance. Myra took one strong step back, her cheeks flushing red, her eyes cool and hard again.

Her breathing was a little faster than a moment ago, but that could just be adrenaline from anger.

It wasn’t adrenaline from anger.

“I’ll offer the same terms as Delaney,” she said.

“One favor, to be collected within the year. I’ll do what you want as long as it doesn’t break any of Ordinary’s rules or laws, nor go against my moral code or free will.”