1. Here's to My Ex
Merry
The tricky thing about exes is that some of them never go away. Take Jason, for example, my last boyfriend of three years. Good hair. Nice to his mom. Moderately capable in bed.
Also, as it turned out, a piece of shit.
I think I figured it out two years in, but by then I had moved in with him, I fell in love with his dog, and I was just...I don’t know. Tired, I guess.
Plus, I mean it. I really loved that dog.
The breakup was messy and mean. He was hurtful, as I knew he would be, and I didn’t really have a plan. But the moment I walked out of the apartment with the last of my things, I felt better. A few weeks after that, I felt like a version of myself I’d forgotten existed. A few months later, I was content, if a little lonely.
And almost a full year after our breakup, Jason has turned up at my door again.
“What do you want?” I say on the stoop of my apartment building. I refuse to let him in, and I also endeavor to find whoever gave him my address and beat the shit out of them.
He smiles what I’ve dubbed his “Hollywood press tour” smile. Very pretty and very false. “I just want to talk, I swear.”
Something about his voice is wrong. It doesn’t have the same cadence. And why is he standing like that? Straight and weirdly formal with his hands clasped behind him.
I cross my arms over my chest. It’s cold outside, the city settling into winter. I’m standing in the fluffiest hoodie I own, sweatpants and house slippers. I decide I’ll let him say his piece and then walk back inside and make myself a hot chocolate.
When he realizes I’m not going to say anything to prompt him, he cocks an eyebrow. “I’ve come to give you a job, Merrilyn.”
A chill races down my spine. My full name is what he called me when he was play-angry with me, which, deep down, ended up being actual anger. But today, he doesn’t say it right. The emphasis is all wrong. Mary-space-Lynn, rather than running the syllables together to sound like Marilyn.
“Since when do you get into my line of business, Jason?” I flick my eyes up and down the street behind him. Stupid of me not to check before coming out here. And I have nothing to protect myself, not even a decent pair of shoes.
“Wouldn’t you rather discuss this inside?” he asks.
And there—just behind his brown eyes, I see a swirl of something, like a pale fog. I almost groan.
Fucking paranormal bullshit.
“Who are you?” I demand.
The thing that looks like Jason smiles again, and it’s too wide, a rictus expression as if the muscles are stiff from disuse. “Clever you,” he says. A trace of otherness weaves with the voice as if someone is whispering the words with him, but just a hair too late. “They call me Lucan.”
I raise my brows, even as alarm bells start sounding in my head. It’s a name that has managed to make its way into my circle, and the stories tied to it don’t bode well for this visit.
“Ah,” he says, inclining his head. “You’ve heard of me.”
“Get on with it,” I say. “Not all of us have the luxury of an extra body to huddle into.”
The smile doesn’t falter. I want to look away from it, but what does it matter? It would already haunt me for a long while after this. He offers the envelope that he’d been holding behind his back. “There is something I’d like you to retrieve for me.”
I take it from him without looking inside. “What is it?”
“An item that I’ve lost. It’s very precious to me, and the being who has it is not inclined to return it.”
“Can’t imagine why. You seem like a real treat.”
The dim smoke in Jason-Lucan’s eyes swirls across the irises. “Take the evening to review the details. Call me when you’re ready to discuss further. I believe you still have my number.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why wait? I won’t do it.”
The thing in Lucan tilts his head, grin painfully stretched. When he speaks again, the voice tumbles out, full of panic.
“Merry? Merry, can you hear me? Oh my god, you have to help me!”
I rear back in confusion. “Jason?”
His body remains unnaturally still, but I can see the strained cords of his neck, hear the terror that spills out of that smiling face. “Get him out of me! I can’t—I’m gonna die in here! Please!”
I lean forward, my hand reaching out automatically before Jason’s words get cut off and Lucan has control of his voice again.
“He’s very loud in here, as you can see. Despite all he’s done to you, I do believe he cared for you as well as someone like him could.” He winks. “And you, Merrilyn? How much do you care about Jason’s life?”
I’m ashamed that I hesitate. Then Lucan adds, “Or perhaps the life of his annoying dog?”
Goddammit.
