“Oh, Ro,” she calls, absolutely losing it. “Your face could pass for a tomato. Breathe, girl.”
She didn’t ask if I needed a muumuu.
I crack one eye open.
Then both.
I’m not naked.
Halle-freakin-lujah!
“Thanks for the run, kid,” Marius says, standing a few feet away, rocking back on his heels. “I’m headed inside.”
Yep. Awkward genes. I love it.
“See you later,” I say with a wave, then reach into my pocket. Even the jerky survived.
I toss the stick to Archie, which he catches expertly. “My apologies for ditching you last night.”
He takes a bite, then gives me a goofy, albeit creepy, ferret smile. “I found a place to call my own. It’s dark and quiet, and not far from you. Don’t worry about me. As long as you bring me more of these, we’re good.”
He’s letting me off easy, but I still feel guilty, even as I watch him scamper away with the treat wedged in his mouth.
From inside the manor, Iris’s voice rings out like a battle alarm.
“Whose dirty foot rags are these?” she yells. “Don’t you people know we’re still on DefCon One? Housekeeping isclosed. Pick up after yourselves!”
I glance at Liz. “Dirty foot rags?”
“Socks,” she says, grinning. “Definitely socks.”
She hooks her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s escape before she starts inventorying the lint.”
I don’t argue.
I follow the vampire around the side of the house, and she slips us through a back door I didn’t even know existed, but the hinges don’t creak. Of course they don’t. Iris probably threatened them at some point.
We step into a ballroom swallowed by shadows. Long tables sit abandoned beneath white sheets, the fabric draped like ghosts frozen mid-dance. Chandeliers hang overhead, dark and dormant, their crystals dull with dust.
“Does Iris like to throw parties?” I ask, my voice echoing softly as we weave between covered furniture.
Liz snorts. “Not as much as she used to.”
Something in her tone makes me glance at her. She frowns as we dodge a collapsed stack of chairs. “Your mom disappeared the night of the last big one.”
The words land heavier than I expect.
I slow a fraction, my chest tightening. I don’t think I’ve given Iris enough credit over the last few weeks. Or maybe I’ve given her too much blame. I know there are always two sides to every story, but I also never really got my mom’s. Just fragments of how Iris wanted to force my mother into a life she didn’t want. That she was protecting me from that same fate.
If only we could go back…
We manage to avoid Iris and her offending dirty foot rags and make it upstairs to Liz’s room. The moment thedoor shuts behind us, I fling myself onto her bed face-first, limbs splayed like I’ve been dropped from a height.
“I could sleep for a week,” I mumble into the pillow, “but at the same time, I feel like I could run for a week.”
Liz sits beside me, the mattress dipping under her weight, and grins. “I could give you some scientific answer about adrenaline and recovery cycles, but honestly? I’m starting to think nothing about you makes sense.” She nudges my shoulder. “I heard you saved Taren’s life this morning.”
I roll onto my back and shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
