Derrick
The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.
Plutarch
Derrick didn’t think he could remember a time when he’d been quite so simultaneously annoyed and elated. One minute he’d been packing up his things at Jessica’s house, taking care not to let Pye escape outside despite the cat’s persistent efforts to do so.
And the next, he was riding a motorcycle down a closed road, narrowly avoiding striking pedestrians.
It was only when he slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt in front of Mama Giovanni’s Italian Trattoria, then looked through the wide picture window there that he had any clue as to what was going on.
That’s when he saw Jessica staring at him, slack-jawed in astonishment . . . and his mother sitting across the table from her, lifting a glass of wine in a saucy salute to him.
Of course. Gaia. He should have known.
“Hey!” yelled an angry father of three, yanking his children from in front of the cycle’s path. “Can’t you read? The sign says Road Closed!”
“Sorry,” Derrick muttered as he switched off the bike. He glanced down at himself, noticing an unfamiliar flash of white. What had Gaia dressed him in? A tuxedo?
He looked at his mother through the window and shook his head. She shrugged, smiled, and took a sip of her wine.
Jessica, meanwhile, had thrown down her napkin and headed outside. Her cheeks were bright pink—whether from the wine or seeing him drive down a closed road like an idiot, he had no idea—and her hair its usual chaotic mess of curls. She looked beautiful and warm and sexy in an oversized Fair Isle sweater and jeans, and Derrick wanted to kick himself for ever having left her side in the first place. He should have stayed last night and begged on his knees for her forgiveness.
Maybe he’d do it here, on the street, instead.
“Jess,” he began, swinging his leg from the bike.
But she didn’t let him say another word.
“Where. Have. You. Been?” she demanded, her fists on her hips.
Now he knew her cheeks weren’t pink from the wine or secondhand embarrassment. She was angry.
“I— You told me— You said to stay away,” he stammered.
“Yes,” she said. The blush was deepening. “But I didn’t think you’d do it.”
“I’d do whatever you asked me to do.” He was aware that people were gathering around them—some from the street, some from inside the restaurant, including his mother and Mark—but Derrick had eyes only for her. “Anything. You should know that by now.”
“Except wear a suit,” his mother said. She was standing on the sidewalk holding her glass of wine in her hand, thoroughly enjoying herself. “I put him in the suit, Jessica, because he’d never wear one otherwise, and I knew you’d like it. Doesn’t he look handsome?”
Derrick sent his mother a withering look. “Mom. Please.”
“Well, you do look handsome!” she cried, defensively. “Tell him, Jessica.”
Jessica grinned. Her blush was abating. “Your mother’s right. You do look handsome.”
He found himself grinning back at her.
“And the bike is for you, you silly boy,” his mother cried. “You’ve been complaining about that rental car for days, so I thought, why not give him one of those terrible motorbikes he likes so much? That way they’ll both be happy.”
Mark nodded at the Ducati. “Sweet ride there, man.”
Derrick’s grin widened. “Thanks, man.”
“Ma,” Mark said to his mother, who was standing on the sidewalk beside him, watching their little drama unfold. “Why don’t you get me a bike like that?”
“Why don’t you get married?” Mrs. Giovanni demanded, smacking him on the back of the head.
A crack of thunder sounded overhead, startling everyone. It was so long and so loud, it seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. Derrick glanced toward the square, thinking it had come from that direction, but he saw no clouds in that part of the sky. Then Jessica nudged his shoulder.
“No,” she said. “Look there.”
He looked where she was pointing. To the east, storm clouds were growing, piling up above the Sound like wrecked cars on an expressway.
He and Jessica weren’t the only people who’d noticed. Many of the tourists had seen the clouds, too, and were checking their phones, confused since the forecast for the evening had called for clear skies just seconds before.
Locals, however, used to the intemperate northeastern weather, merely shrugged and headed for the square.
“Is this Rosalie?” Derrick asked his mother, urgently. “Or you?”
“Me?” Gaia’s eyes widened. “When have I ever tampered with the weather, especially to spoil a party? I love parties.”
But Jessica was the one who knew the answer.
“It’s not Rosalie,” she said firmly. “She worked hard on this event. She’d never ruin it with a storm—especially with Lizzie there.”
“Then this is the rift,” Derrick said. “It’s starting. And it’s worse than I’d thought. Brewster intends to try to exorcise the demons.”
Jessica shook her head. “And that’s bad because—?”
“It will only make them angrier, and put the people of this town in more danger. Demons feed off negativity. What drives them away is positive energy, understanding, and justice, not attempts to cast them into eternal damnation.”
“Come on.” She seized Derrick’s hand, and before he realized what was happening, he found himself being tugged toward his new bike. “We’ve got to find Esther.”
“You two go on,” his mother called to them as they strapped on the matching black helmets he found in the bike’s storage compartment. “I’ve already involved myself more than I should. I’m staying here with my new friends.”
“Yeah,” Mark said, putting one arm around Derrick’s mother, and the other around his own mother’s. “I’ll take good care of our moms.”
“Good luck with that,” Derrick muttered, as he heeled back the bike’s kickstand.
Then Jessica wrapped her arms around his waist, and he felt her soft breasts against his back. His heart staggered as if he were a boy again.
“Is your mother really not going to help?” she asked.
“She’s already helped,” he said. “She brought you and me together. The rest is up to us. Are you ready?”
He felt her grip on his waist tighten. “I’m ready,” she said.
He flipped on the ignition. “Let’s go.”