Page 31 of Fear
“Not a problem. I’ll tell Dan I’m heading out, then I’ll pull my car around.”
Jake came back into the office, and Tobias tilted his head up, relief making him dizzy. “You heard that, Toby?”
He nodded, and Jake crouched down to meet his eyes. “That okay with you? Tell me if it isn’t, and we’ll work something else out.”
Tobias tried to smile, though he wasn’t sure it came out right. “’S fine, Jake.”
“Okay.” Jake rested his hand on Tobias’s knee, sending good shivers through his body that he hoped didn’t show. “We’ll be home soon.”
BY THE TIME THEY GOT into the backseat of Janet’s Honda, Tobias seemed pretty zoned out. He sat with his hands between his knees and head limp against the head rest behind him, eyes partly shut, staring out the window, apparently without registering anything passing by. Despite himself, Jake kept glancing at him every few seconds.
Janet kept up an easy monologue that required little or no participation, pointing out Boulder sights, alternately bashing and praising the neighbors and local government. When they stopped on their block, Jake leaned forward and pulled out his wallet. “At least let me tip you for being an ace tour guide.”
Janet chuckled. “Excellent. That’ll let me break even on these bagels.” She grabbed a five from Jake’s hand and handed him a heavy brown bag with a Moe’s Broadway logo. Jake almost dropped it from the weight.
“This is way too much.” No way he was holding just five dollars’ worth of bagels.
“Nope. That’s the plan, kid. Do a good deed, get the new kids addicted to the bagels. Net gain of karma and new customers. Come by the shop again when you’re feeling better, yeah?” She winked. “And if you need a fix before then, give us a call. We deliver for the cute ones.”
Despite himself, Jake chuckled. “Will do. C’mon, Tobias.” He reached back toward him, hesitating before he made contact, not sure how Tobias would react.
But the second he heard his name, Tobias jumped from utter stillness to scrambling for the door handle. He paused outside the Honda as Jake got out, and Jake lifted a hand toward Janet before he helped Tobias up their stairs and back over the salt lines.
“You look wiped,” Jake said, putting the bag of bagels on the table and resisting the urge to brush Tobias’s hair away from his eyes. He didn’t need to see Tobias flinch again today. “You wanna, uh, lay down for a while, rest up?”
Tobias blinked slowly, eyes not moving from a spot above Jake’s right shoulder. Jake wondered if he had hit his head in the fall and the effects were only now kicking in.
“Sure you’re not hurt anywhere else?”
“No—I mean, yes, I . . .” Tobias touched his forehead, looking confused, lost. Finally, he said, even more softly, “I’ll go lie down.”
“Okay, Tobias,” Jake said, a little too heartily, and winced at himself. “You do that.”
Once Tobias disappeared into his room, Jake went to the kitchen for a beer. He knew by now Tobias would be out for the next few hours at least. Hell, he didn’t expect anything less after the day they’d had (Jake’s fault again), and he might easily pass out himself if he lay down, but that wasn’t an option. He had to try to unwind a little, or he didn’t know how he’d be able to handle . . . whatever would happen when Tobias got up.
He set the beer on the counter, reached to twist the top off, and paused, looking at it. Then he put the bottle away and got out his single trusty shot glass and the bottle of Jack in the back of the cabinet. He poured himself a generous fingerful, tossed it back, followed quickly by a second. He started for a third pour, then stopped, looked at the label, and set the bottle down. He screwed the cap back on and shoved the bottle into the cabinet before deliberately stepping out of the kitchen.
There weren’t a lot of options to keep himself occupied in the apartment, but the last thing Jake could do now was step out without telling Tobias—or hell, even suggest that to him. He turned the TV on low, more for the background noise than to watch anything, and spread everything from his weapons duffel over the living room floor.
He was barely on his backup machete—damn thing didn’t need to be cleaned or sharpened, but Jake desperately needed something to do with his hands—when he heard a low thump. He froze, his senses straining to identify the source of the sound (could be a garbage truck that didn’t run in the afternoon, or neighbors above on a floor that didn’t exist), his mind running through all possible defenses. Plenty of ready weapons spread over the coffee table and the floor, salt stored in the lower shelf with the holy water.
By the second low thump, he knew it was coming from Tobias’s room.
Jake didn’t register getting up. He didn’t notice dropping the cleaning cloth or switching the machete to his right hand. He barely stopped himself from barreling through Tobias’s door at full speed and taking out whatever evil son of a bitch supernatural fucker was threatening him. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that ghosts were not the only thing that went bump in the night, and that Jake entering a room with a knife in his hand would likely be even more terrifying.
“Tobias?” he called at the cracked-open door, trying to make his voice normal, even though his throat was clenching and he wanted to growl, wanted to say something in Latin, or beg Tobias to answer him.
He got nothing. Silence. He couldn’t hear anything but his own breathing and the beating of his heart.
Cautiously, more terrified than he had been in years—since he thought his dad could beat all the monsters without breaking a sweat—he pushed on the door. “Tobias?”
It squeaked open, and Jake poked his head through. Stupid fucking move, opening his head for an attack like that from anyone standing on the other side. But he couldn’t just walk in waving a weapon. Not unless he knew for sure this was a threat and not his own late-breaking psychosis.
Tobias was on the bed, on top of the covers, the line of his back and the planes of his face unmistakable. He was curled up on his side, staring at Jake, his eyes wide.
It seemed to take a second before Tobias realized he was staring. When he did—Jake could practically see the realization on his face—he dropped his eyes, turning his head to bury his face in the covers.
“Tobias?” Jake took a cautious—and possibly fatal, he kept expecting an attack—step into the room.
