We did it. Somehow, Laszlo and I made it to the ledge below the tunnel. We even made it into the tunnel, crawling through the pitch darkness without saying a word.
Because I had no words. I had only this choking, consuming fear that my dad was dying. There had always been a sliver of space in my heart reserved for the hope that somehow, some day, he and I would build a better relationship.
The sliver was empty.
Chapter 18
Bright sunshine greeted us when Laszlo and I stopped, cold, soaked and muddied, at the front door of Needles and Sins. I couldn’t figure out a simple thing, like how to turn the door handle. I did think to ask the demon how he was going to disguise his horns if we needed to go to the hotel before we figured out where Alabastair had taken my dad.
“Like this,” the demon said, pressing his hands to the sides of his head. The horns disappeared under his long, thick hair.
I wanted to disappear too.
I learned my father had succumbed to his injuries while I was cleaning up in our room at the hotel. Before I finished showering, while Laszlo was out buying me clothes at a nearby shop, my phone had rung. My aunt was on the line. She told me in the calmest, simplest way possible that my father had not survived being stabbed. The fae’s blades had introduced an anticoagulant into his system. My father bled out, on a gurney, in a treatment center that catered to a magical clientele.
Tía told me she had good news too.
I told her I had no bandwidth for more news of any kind and that I would see her later.
I was sitting on the bed nearest the door, one towel wrapped around my torso and one wrapped around my freshly washed hair, when Laszlo knocked. The expression on his face when he opened the door told me he already knew. He dropped the shopping bag, rolled the bed’s coverlet around me, and held me against his chest. I’d been waterlogged for two solid days and I had no tears to give. Only one long, ugly hiccup of a sob.
Later, Laszlo told me I passed out and slept for hours, until dinner. I kind of remember people coming in and out of the room. I definitely remember the demon stayed with me the entire time. He might have growled when it was suggested he take a break, have a shower, meet the others in the restaurant.
I was just surfacing for the third or fourth or twelfth time when a soft knock sounded at the door. Laszlo brushed the tangled hair out of my face and asked if he should see who it was. I already knew the person on the other side of the door was my aunt. I was very ready to see her.
“Querida,” she crooned, crawling onto the bed and spooning me into her front. “What a sad and happy day.”
“Yeah.”
“I brought someone with me.”
“Who?”
“Why don’t you get up and put on the clothes your demon has bought for you. I shall brush your hair. Then you can meet our special visitor.”
Laz brought the bag to the bathroom and left me alone. I unfolded a cotton camisole and a matching set of underpants, and swooned a little when I put them on. I liked cotton. This was extra, extra, extra fine cotton. Expensive cotton.
I went from a giggle to a chuckle when I unwrapped a jumpsuit and a pair of striped socks. I oohed over the boots and teared up when I opened the jewelry box to see a shiny silver chain with three charms—a button, a dagger, and a demon’s horn.
I dressed and brushed my teeth, flicked off the bathroom light, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Maritza and Laszlo were talking in the other room. I was almost ready to step out. First, I had a couple of things to say. And the people I most wanted to say them to—well, the ghosts I most wanted to say them to—were hovering right outside the closed bathroom door.
At least, I was pretty sure it was them.
Velvet ribbons.
Silk. Hemp. Linen.
Old Spice.
“Mom? Dad?”
I stood still, shook out my legs, and waited. I called them again, even softer this time, and when that didn’t work I went for the big guns. “I miss you,” I said. “I miss you so much and I need you to promise me you’ll stick around for a while. Rosey and Beryl need you too.”
Two ghostly figures hugged me from the sides. One stroked the side of my face and tucked a thick strand of hair behind my ear. Or tried to. My hair was stubborn. And their fingers technically had no mass.
“Are you coming to dinner?” I whispered. I had to ask, even though I knew the ghosts of my mother and my father wouldn’t come with me. It was too early yet. Alderose, Beryl, and I needed to grieve the loss of our parents in our own ways, then we could figure out how to work together. As a family.
Or not.
Whatever we decided would be okay. I had a demon to get to know, an aunt to study with, and clients waiting for me to pick up the threads my mother had gathered long ago.
DEMON LINES: A Sister Witches Urban Fantasy #2, releases on March 31, 2020. Preorder today:
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DEMON LINES - Chapter One
Having a pair of ghosts for parents was going to take a little getting used to. Especially as it was becoming clear I was the only one of the three Brodeur daughters to whom Moira and Heriberto Brodeur were willing to reveal themselves. That honor added another sack of rocks to the emotional weight I already carried around.
It would be just my luck that my witchy magic—which involved seeing floating threads that wove themselves into scenes from other people’s lives, put me into trances,
