“If the voice is a child of Cenera, then he’s a warlock that specializes in fire.” I waited for Jordskote to reply, even though I knew she wouldn’t. “That’s a power I hardly possess at all.”
Still, Jordskote said nothing.
“Why is he in my head? What does he want with me? Why does he hate me so much?”
“My child, this is a path you set yourself upon. As with the choices your demon lover made, the end result will be the same, but you chose the path with the most obstacles to reach the destination.”
I’d already pushed my luck more than I should. Why not a little more? “And I don’t suppose you could help me understand where that path is leading?”
“You know I cannot.” She offered me another kind smile. Her smile was motherly in a way. Not quite as full of adoration as when my own mom looked at me, but more kindly than the rest of the nymphs. My father had always been more comfortable in Amalphia’s presence, which made sense, as his dominant power lay under more of her domain. I, on the other hand, seemed to possess more of earth tendencies.
Leave it to me to choose the most difficult path I could, intentional or not. “Have I let you down, Lady Jordskote?” I looked at the ground. My peripheral vision caught the irises, and my eyes glazed over with moisture.
“No, my child.” This time, her hand reached out, her palm cupping my cheek as she raised my face to look fully into hers. “It is your path to take. Not mine. I only offer you my love and support.” She smiled and glanced toward the flowers, then back to me. “The pain you feel will always be within you, like the rain will reside in the willow. Let the rain allow you to blossom.” With that, she leaned forward, placed her lips on my forehead, and planted a warm, firm kiss on my skin. Before I realized she was leaving, her form sank back into the earth. The grass shimmered where she had disseminated, then returned to its typical muted radiance. The branches of the willow straightened and fell back into place, letting the sun streak into the hideaway.
Through the willow leaves, the sun sparkled off the waves on the distant sea. Sunrise long over, the day had begun, and it was time for me to leave.
I stood, dusting off my pants from where I’d been sitting. I looked at the five delicate irises and thought of Brett. They were beautiful like him and fragile like our love had been. They were perfect. I wondered if Jordskote meant for them to fade and die like normal irises, or if they would stay there, marking the spot where I’d buried our love. I guess it didn’t really matter. All that really mattered was that they were here now.
Twenty
FINN DE MORISCO
We crowdedaround our booth in Taberna de las Brujas. The massive round table, with the booth curving three-fourths of the way around, left enough room for three chairs on the outermost edge. Ricky and Christina sat in two of those chairs in case they needed to get up to help with the staff or customers. Peter, who had turned nine, had been sitting in the other single chair, but he’d already run off to his and his brother’s playroom behind the kitchen. Saul sat in the booth next to Caitlin, who was, without a doubt, his favorite person in the family. The circle followed around to Dad, Mom, myself, and Cynthia on the end.
At just past seven, a line of salivating customers stretched out the door of the jam-packed restaurant where people occupied every chair, table, and booth. To make sure the chaotic noise didn’t drop below party level, the seven-man mariachi band continued to squeeze their way through the crowd, singing and playing as if it was the most exciting night of their lives instead of a typical Thursday.
After leaving Jordskote and the cliff, I’d gone home, fallen into bed, and slept a solid seven hours. I’d woken up a little after three in the afternoon, showered again, and called Mom. That, of course, led to a family dinner—with the entire de Morisco and Medina family. If one of us had to talk, all of us had to talk.
Dinner was fairly tense, at least for the first ten minutes or so. Everyone hugged me and said how much they missed me and how they’d been so worried and they were there for me—everyone except Caitlin, who just glared. Then we settled into an uncomfortable silence, no one really sure what to say or where to begin.
Soon enough, the food arrived, and eating, as it always does, made everything a little better.
I devoured my entire platter of pork Michoacán-style carnitas and started snagging some of the tortillas off Cynthia’s plate to sop up the meat’s juices and the beans. Cynthia gawked at me out of the corner of her eye. “What?” I had to hold the back of my hand over my mouth to keep the mound of food in. Ricky made tortillas nearly as good as Mom.
Cynthia looked from me to my plate and then back again, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re eating like you again.”
I shrugged, embarrassed she’d noticed.
Caitlin looked up from coloring the placemat with Saul and glanced in my direction. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna pack on that weight you lost. What good is heartbreak if you can’t use it to stay skinny?”
Ricky puffed up his chest in his typical friendly bravado. “Even heartbreak can’t stand up against Ricky Medina’s Mexican cuisine. Isn’t that right, Finn?”
I laughed. “You got that right, brother.”
Mom looked at me but didn’t say anything. She remained even quieter than the rest.
Christina rolled her eyes and performed a small hand flourish toward Ricky. “My husband, therapist-chef extraordinaire.”
He managed to puff up a little more. “Hey, I got you, didn’t I? I know I married up.”
Christina blushed but gave a playful grin. “Damn right, you married up!” Her eyes widened, and she glanced down at her youngest. Saul didn’t pay any attention, just kept right on coloring.
“There you have it, folks, mother of the year.” Ricky leaned over and gave Christina a peck on the cheek. “Speaking of… should we tell them?”
I heard Mom’s quiet intake of breath beside me.
Christina’s eyes widened even further, and she slapped his arm. From the sound of it, hard enough to hurt. “We said we were going to wait.”
