“The guy who owns this house?”
“Yes. He’s one of us. There’s many more of us, I think. We’re going to turn the tide.”
“Yay.” She’d been aiming for supportive but not too enthusiastic, but she didn’t quite commit and it came out sarcastic.
“I mean yay!,” she corrected.
Rune put her face between his palms. She tried to recoil but the back of the wooden chair prevented it.
“I know you’re not there yet. Not with me. You used to be. For years when I didn’t understand my purpose you were still there with me. But you’ve changed.”
“No, I am with you—”
He moved his hands down to hold her jaw shut, pinching her lips. “You’re not. It’s all right, child. We just have to spend some time together. I need you close until the change comes.”
Oh I don’t like the sound of that. I like me just the way I am.
“The change?” She mumbled as well as she could with Rune holding her lips shut.
He released her mouth. “So you’re like me.”
“But I am like you, Daddy, already, I mean, I never help anyone…”
Rune returned to his spot on the sofa. He sat and then bounced to his feet again. Fiona winced as he moved towards her, but he passed her to one side. She whooped as her chair tipped back.
Rune dragged the chair to the other side of the sofa, taking a moment to move a pleather recliner with stuffing poking from the seat. He positioned her chair directly beside the sofa and then sat beside her. She understood. That side of the sofa was cleaner.
“There. That’s better.” He plucked an ancient television remote from the table and the thick-bodied television sitting across from them sprang to life. It was so old Fiona was surprised to see the picture in color, but so blurry she could barely make out the people moving across the screen.
No one could see wrinkles when this television was made. I could have been a bombshell into my sixties...
Fiona cocked her head.
What a strange thought to have when my crazy father is probably going to kill me any second.
She looked at her father.
Oh my god. It’s working. I’m getting even more self-absorbed.
“So I’ll be able to eat people and heal myself?” she asked.
He seemed surprised. “You can’t now?”
She wondered if she should admit her failings and decided to go for it.
“No.”
Rune patted her knee with his creepily realistic metal hand. She noted he could move the fingers independently.
“Then soon. Of course,” he said.
“Will it make me younger?”
That might not be so bad.
He frowned. “I don’t know. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve only eaten two so far and I’m afraid both times all that energy had to go toward not dying.”
“Two?”
“Once when you stabbed me and once yesterday after the big black man pushed me out a window.”
“Black—Luther?”
Rune shrugged one shoulder. “I had to get better so I could come get you. Joseph had one, too.”
“Joseph?”
“My friend. He owns this house.”
Lucky guy.
“He fell out the window, too?”
“Sean shot him.”
“Ah.” Part of her wanted to ask more about what happened with Luther and Sean but most of her didn’t care. “You’ve been busy.”
Rune held up a finger. “No. Wait. Actually, I’ve eaten two women and a rat.”
“A rat?” Fiona’s lip curled.
Oh hell no. Not even for eternal youth.
Rune wrapped his mechanical fingers around her upper arm and pointed the remote at the television with his other hand.
“Do you like cooking shows?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“There’s a Bentley in the garage.”
Anne looked up from the pool. She’d been staring at the water, trying to find the strength to start all over again with a new, but very familiar collection of monsters, when Jeffrey spoke.
“You were hoping for a Maserati?”
“I was hoping for a driver.” Jeffrey sniffed. “I like the pool, though.”
Anne felt certain Michael had set them up in the enormous mansion to try and distract her from her misery. She had to admit, it didn’t hurt. Though part of her still wondered if Michael had created new monsters for her to kill, just to regain his place in their relationship. While he’d admitted his undying love for her, he didn’t always seem super comfortable with being a boyfriend.
Anne scanned the pool area. From the built-in outdoor kitchen to the slick wall of water tumbling into the square, dark-bottomed saltwater pool, there proved little she could fault.
A melodious chime filled the air.
“What’s that?”
Jeffrey shrugged. “Doorbell?” He remained standing behind her, his head tilted back to the sun like a daisy.
She cleared her throat and he squinted an eye at her. She stared until his brows furrowed.
“What?”
“Go see who it is.”
He rolled his eyes and disappeared into the house.
A minute later, he returned looking miserable.
“What’s wrong?”
She spotted movement behind him and tilted to see her ex, Con Carey, striding through the folding slider door with his familiar swagger. Thanks to a Perfidian attack, Con had lost the use of his corporeal form for over a hundred years, but now that he had his flesh back, it seemed he hadn’t forgotten how to puff his chest. He’d probably swaggered as a ghost, too.
“This is the spot, eh Boyo?” Con said, slapping Jeffrey on the shoulder.
Jeffrey winced and looked at Anne, his expression settling into a stone mask of disapproval. “I’m going to go food-shopping.”
“Get some salsa,” said Con. “They have good salsa here.”
“Irish ape,” muttered Jeffrey as he turned to leave.
“Poncy prick,” responded Con.
Jeffrey left without another word. Con threw open his arms and headed toward Anne like a guided missile. She hugged him.
“What are you doing here?”
