“Everyone out,” he commanded. Barking and growling and commanding. Cleo could see the indecision on everyone’s faces, and made the choice for them. She told them she needed to sleep, no, they didn’t need to stay. Yes, she’d call. She was fast running out of energy again, and when she slid down and closed her eyes, that ended the conversation. She wished she could end all conversations like that. Less ‘bleeding from all her orifices’ would be nice. Can’t have everything, she supposed wistfully.
“You too,” she murmured to Ian, who sat in the folding chair someone had dragged into the room.
“No,” he said. Cleo opened one eye. He still looked angry, and his eyes were trained on her face.
“This isn’t a choice. I want to sleep by myself, in my own house, alone” she said. They hadn’t broken the curse. She hurt all over. Mother Moon, even her nostrils hurt. Her fatigue seeped into her bones. “I don’t want you here, Ian.” She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face.
She slept restlessly, her aching body waking her when she shifted during the night. She got up to pee, too, and discovered the location of all of her joints in one painful motion as she stood up from the bed.
The next morning, Cleo woke to the radio humming in the kitchen. Probably Siobhan, she figured, and didn’t bother with pants. To her dismay, her kitchen table was occupied by Siobhan, Dante, and Ian.
They all looked up when she walked in. Cleo squeaked in surprise, then turned as fast as she was able to get dressed. One pair of loose pajama pants later, she made her way back into the kitchen.
“Let’s pretend this is the first time we’ve seen each other this morning,” Cleo said. Ian stood and pointed to the empty chair.
“Sit. I’ll get you breakfast.”
Cleo wanted to scream. She wanted a cup of coffee in peace, and not to pretend that she understood, let alone followed, social norms. What she wanted wasn’t relevant, unfortunately, and not even in her own damn kitchen.
She smiled at Ian, but her eyes stayed flat. “No. I’ll just get it myself.”
He ignored her and got her a cup. It was the one with daisies. Orlaith had given it to her. The coffee in it was its only redeeming quality.
She turned to Dante, and attempted civility at the man Agnes said saved her. “Hi. Thank you. Please leave my house.”
Dante looked bemused. “I heard you were cranky.”
The only possible response to that, of course, was to be even crankier. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he took a nonchalant sip of his coffee. It was the mug that looked like it was wrapped in branches. Its handle was weirdly perfect for her hand.
Siobhan, weirdly, hadn’t said a word yet. She had a chair in the corner of the kitchen, tucked in the corner. She stared at her hands with a hunted expression.
Dante took another sip of his coffee and pushed himself back from the table.
“Ian will help you stay flush with supplies, Cleo. See you later, Siobhan,” he said. He and Ian exchanged nods of goodbye. Ian followed Dante out of the kitchen.
Cleo managed to hold her tongue until she heard the front door close. “What the fuck does that mean, he’ll see you later?” she asked her sister.
Siobhan closed her eyes. “It means I’ll see him later, girl genius,” she said. Her voice was hollow. She opened her eyes to assess Cleo. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Sort of hungry. What happened last night? What did Dante do?”
“Why didn’t you ask him before you kicked him out?”
“Give him that satisfaction? I don’t think so.”
Siobhan half-cocked a smile at that. She slid her plate of toast and grapes towards Cleo, indicating she should have it. Cleo liked how Siobhan made toast and ate it gladly. Her sister never ate much when she was upset, so Cleo wasn’t surprised to get Siobhan’s plate.
“What happened?” Cleo asked again.
Siobhan sat perfectly still, her shoulders rounded. Her eyes went back to her pale hands. “Dante…” she started. She cleared her throat. “I came home after… whatever happened to you. I saw Dante... Jesus, I don’t know the words for this shit. Anyway, after it was all done, I agreed to help Dante with something. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Siobhan couldn’t have made Cleo more curious if she tried. Now Cleo needed to know about what was going on, but Siobhan looked fragile in that moment. And Cleo was tired. Cleo finished the toast and started on the grapes.
“I need to borrow your car for a couple of days,” Siobhan muttered.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Just,” Siobhan sighed in disgust, “just let me borrow your car, please. A couple of days.”
Maybe if Cleo was feeling better, if her brain was processing things a little faster, she might have pressed Siobhan more. But her brain was still dragging, and Siobhan had the mulish jaw of someone who wouldn’t be moved.
“Okay,” Cleo said simply.
Siobhan looked shocked momentarily, then her eyes shuttered. She muttered her goodbyes and left the room. Cleo didn’t know if she planned on leaving now or where her sister was going. She’d call her cell later, when she was more together. She closed her eyes, suddenly weary again. She needed to go back to bed. Cleo knew she should get up, check her garden, have a big discussion with Siobhan, and eat more breakfast. But she didn’t have the energy for any of that.
Ian came back into the kitchen, and something in Cleo tensed. She nibbled on another grape, and tried to organize her thoughts.
“You look exhausted,” Ian said. “Want to go back to bed?” Cleo did. She desperately did.
“Dante left a different tea, and some cream, too,” Ian added. “He said you’d need it.”
“Why?” The question made her queasy.
“He’d explain it better than me. This is his wheelhouse. Basically, though, he said that,” Ian’s breath rushed out, and the words sped together, “when
