Stone Cold by Devon Monk Page A

down and had kept her mouth shut about it.
    So yeah, I owed her.
    I grabbed a beer and strolled into the living room.
    Terric was helping Allie move the gifts into the nursery, and I found myself standing around with my hands in my pockets.
    Eleanor pointed at a couple of pastel bags left by the couch and pointed at the stairs.
    â€œFine.” Anything to make this parade move a little faster.
    I held up the bags as Allie walked back into the living room. “Want these somewhere?”
    â€œI can take them.” She reached out for the gifts and I took a step back. Her touching me was a bad idea right now.
    â€œI got it. Nursery’s upstairs, right?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay, Shame?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou’re helping.”
    â€œFunny. I’m aces, love.”
    â€œUpstairs, on the left.”
    I passed Terric coming down the stairs and ignored his raised eyebrow at the baby gifts in my hands.
    Hall, wooden stairs, dark wooden railing. There were a couple of pictures of Allie and Zay on the wall, and an antique table on the landing. Left, second door down to the nursery.
    It was a small room, painted a soft yellow with white trim. A couple of wooden birdhouses were attached to one wall, and the shadows of swallows in flight winged across the ceiling. A painted tree anchored the far corner, and sitting out on the branch of the tree was the silhouette of a gargoyle with his arm and wing around a child.
    Eleanor floated in and pressed her hands over her smile. She loved this stuff.
    It was . . . amazing, really. Like a little world where nothing bad could ever happen.
    I hoped that was true. I hoped this kid would have a much better life than any of us. But as long as there was magic in the world, I didn’t think that could ever be true.
    Wooden floor, wooden dresser, wooden crib. A pile of stuffed puppies—no, hounds, at least three dozen of them probably given to Allie from the Hounds themselves—was artistically stacked on top of Stone, Allie’s pet gargoyle, who held very still in the corner.
    He burbled when I came in.
    â€œHey, Stoney, you big dork. You been keeping an eye on Allie and baby Beckstrom?”
    He was roughly the size of a Saint Bernard, big round eyes, pointed ears, wings on his back. He sat on his haunches, peoplelike fingers wrapped around wolflike back feet. His gaze shifted from me to the floor just in front of his feet.
    A pink puppy about the size of a plum lay on the floor.
    â€œYou want this?” I bent, picked up the puppy.
    Stone hummed, a sort of harmonious vacuum cleaner sound. I grinned and walked up to him.
    â€œHold still.”
    His eyes followed my hand as I slowly raised the stuffed toy and balanced it on top of the other two puppies already on his head between his ears.
    I could practically feel him shiver in pleasure.
    â€œThere you go, buddy. You look fierce.”
    He pulled his lips back away from a collection of teeth that would make a shark jealous.
    I put the gifts down on the rocking chair as quietly as I could so as not to spoil the peace of the place somehow.
    I turned.
    â€œHey,” Allie said. “How about that talk?” She stepped into the little room, and I stepped back so there was some distance between us.
    â€œWhat can I help you with, Al?”
    â€œI need to ask you a question.”
    I spread my hands. “All ears.”
    â€œDid you kill Brandy Scott?”
    â€œEli Collin’s Soul Complement?” I asked. “I thought the doctors said she died of a heart attack.”
    â€œHer heart stopped beating.” Allie leaned against the crib and crossed her arms. “But she was under careful observation in the mental institution, Shame. Constant care.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd you haven’t answered me yet.”
    See, Allie knew how to get right to the point.
    â€œShe’s dead,” I said. “I don’t see that it matters