“Yes, Harry?” he said, looking up at me.
“Get in touch with Carter LaChaise,” I said.
“Who’s that?”
“King of the Ghouls, more or less,” I said casually. “Tell him that he’s going to have a talk with me.”
Chapter
Twelve
October came, still warmer than it should have been. The days were blazing hot, though the nights came with the chilly promise of winter. The city cleaned the dead cars from the street in front of the castle, and we started seeing occasional traffic. They’d gotten about half of the L lines repaired and one could occasionally hear the rumble of trains, unusually loud in the quiet of the wounded metropolis.
The castle had settled into an evening routine—training on the roof with Bear from early evening until sundown, then board games and music in the great hall. Matias played a twelve-string guitar at a semiprofessional level, and he would settle down by the fire and start playing from the time the sun went down until his wife called him to bed. The ladies had a knitting circle going, though they called it crochet. I wasn’t sure of the difference. I did learn to crochet a little, enough to make a red-and-blue scarf for Maggie for the coming holidays. It was an incredibly repetitive and soothing task, and when I did it I found my stomach settling for a while. Plus, I liked making things.
Bear and I folded up the mats and put them into waterproof storage boxes that lived on the roof now, one night after practice.
“So how was Sunday dinner?” she asked.
“You were there,” I said. Bear at the Carpenters’ table had been a sight to see. She made the room look small.
She shrugged, pulling on her enormous black leather jacket against the coming chill. “You should be around the little girl more.”
“Maybe you should keep your opinions about Maggie to yourself,” I said. “I can get a little touchy about other people making decisions about her.”
“I’m not talking about her,” Bear said. “I’m talking about you.”
I squinted at her. Then grunted, closed the plastic storage box, and locked it. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”
“She’s good for you.”
I closed my eyes. It had been hard, at several points, not to start crying when the kid was around. She was just such a tiny thing. And when I was there, she stayed in physical contact with me as much as she could arrange. Sitting on my lap. Holding my hand. She never left the room. Like she just couldn’t get enough.
I just…gave her all the love I could, while I was there.
And saved feeling terrible about it until it wouldn’t spill onto her.
“I can’t have her here,” I said quietly. “Hell, freaking gremlins tried to blow the place up within three weeks of me moving in.”
“The castle’s security enchantments are active now,” Bear pointed out. “It hasn’t happened again. And you have other people’s kids here.”
“The other kids don’t have anywhere else to go, and don’t have me for their dad,” I said. “My enemies have already shown me that they’ll take her from me. Keeping her at a distance keeps her safer. She’s got freaking angels protecting her there. And she knows and loves Michael’s family. They’re good to her.”
Bear spread out her hands in acknowledgment of that. “Maybe her dad would be good for her, too.”
“They’re not quite so broken as me. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to be around when I get the screams,” I said. “I need more time.”
“Children can be a trial, even at the best of times,” Bear said. “But you won’t get better by sitting still.”
“You don’t say that when I’m meditating,” I said.
Bear scowled at me.
I smiled. I rarely scored a point on the Valkyrie.
“The roads are mostly clear between here and the Carpenter home now,” she said. “Pick a night of the week. Go see her.” She turned andpicked up her enormous duffel bag. “Work your way up to every day. Start with two.”
I frowned and thought about that for a moment.
