“Haven’t met her son,” she said. “Variance? Or the granddaughter.” She placed three strips of bacon on a small plate with bite-size fruit and a muffin-sized quiche. “I haven’t even heard of Dominick, which is odd. I eventually hear about all the supernaturals.”
Raven was out in the yard throwing bread at the birds that sat in the old fruit tree. They were squawking down at him like he was a predator in their territory. He was trying to convince them to eat the bread and laughing at their noise like he was in on the jokes. Lorde was out there with him, lying in the sun.
“I’m not saying you should know,” I said, pushing my empty plate away. “I didn’t come here to blame you. But I think…hate to admit this…I think the god had a good idea in bringing us here. Lula needed the rest.”
I nodded toward the upstairs where Lu was still sleeping. She’d gone straight to the room, taken a shower, then crawled into bed before I’d even made it up the stairs.
“And you needed some food.” She eyed my plate. “Because you haven’t eaten in a…month?”
I shrugged. “You’re a good cook.”
“That sounded like a compliment, Gauge.”
“Take it as you want,” I said, full and feeling magnanimous.
“I will. But I don’t think a sleepover is the only reason you’re here.”
“No. We need information. About the witches, the vampires, the book.”
“Lucky for you information is another thing I’m good at.” She picked up the plate and gave me a smile, like we were friends. Which, really, I thought we might be.
Lula loved her. I was grateful she’d given Lula a place to come over all the years I’d been nothing but a spirit. I was grateful she was someone Lu could talk to, laugh with, cry with.
“But first,” Ricky said, “I’m taking her breakfast. Unless you want to?”
“She’d love to see you.”
“Brogan, I…” She stopped then shook her head. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I know.” I cleared my throat and changed subjects. “You wouldn’t happen to know Lula’s favorite dessert?”
“Of course I do. It’s…wait. Do you? You don’t? Why don’t you know your wife’s favorite dessert?”
“I have reasons.”
“All those years watching her, and you never paid attention to what she ate?”
“Hey, I thought we were friends.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t find you absolutely hilarious. A hundred years. You had nearly a hundred years to notice.”
I scowled, and she laughed her way out of the kitchen.
I didn’t have anything to do, and was feeling restless, so I took my dishes to the sink and ran the hot water. I got enough soap going the bubbles reached up to my elbow.
The very ordinary monotony of scrubbing, washing, rinsing, stacking was a lot more complicated with only one working hand. But I got the hang of it and soon, the repetition calmed me.
The scent of artificial lemon mixed with the aroma of the breakfast Ricky had cooked up: eggs, bacon, gravy, salt, grease, and sweet buttered dough. I took a deep breath and felt my shoulders drop.
We were safe here. Could stay here if we wanted. I knew Ricky would let us. The house had power. Ricky had power. Enough we could withstand anything the vampires threw at us. Probably anything the witches threw at us.
But gods knew about this place. Atë could know about it, or that we were here. I didn’t want to bring a war to Ricky’s home, to her place of safety.
It might be a Crossroads, a magical point along Route 66 that contained and could access many powerful things, but it was not a fortress.
Even Crossroads could be destroyed.
No, if we were going to finish this, if we were going to get the book and help save Rhianna, if we were going to kill Dominick and bring the witches his blood, we couldn’t stay here.
