I looked up at an unfamiliar wing-clatter and got an eyeful of pixy dust. It was little Josephine, one of Jenks's youngest, with three of her brothers serving as babysitters/guards close behind. She was too young to be alone, but so eager to help maintain the garden and their security that it was easier to watch her from a distance.
'Ms. Morgan,' the pretty little pixy said breathlessly as she landed lightly on my offered hand and I blinked her dust away. 'A blue car is at the curb, and a lady who smells like you and fake lilac is coming up the front walk. Do you want me to pix her?'
Mom? What's she doing here? Ivy was watching me, wanting to know if we had trouble, and I shifted my finger to tell her we were fine. The exchange was noticed by Quen, which kind of irritated me.
'It's my mom,' I said, and the pixy girl's wings drooped in disappointment. 'You can pix the next magazine salesman, though,' I added, and she perked up, her tiny hands clapping. God, please let me survive to see Josephine pix a salesman.
'Thanks, Ms. Morgan!' she chimed out. 'I'll show her in.' Then she darted over the church to leave a fading sunbeam of sparkles. Her brothers were in hot pursuit, and I couldn't help my smile. It slowly faded as I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees. Time enough to say good-bye to my mom, I thought when the back door opened, and my mother clattered down the back porch steps with a box on her hip. I'd told her what I was doing tonight, and I should have expected she might come over. Quen stood to murmur a greeting to her before he went inside after Trent, and I stifled a surge of annoyance. I didn't like the two of them in my house. Using my bathroom. Sniffing my shampoo.
My mom was wearing jeans and a flowery top, looking younger with her short hair frizzing out all over, only somewhat contained with a ribbon that matched her shirt. Eyes bright, she took in the preparations in the middle of my graveyard with a worried cast to her.
'Rachel. Good. I got here before you left,' she said as she waved a distant hello to everyone and headed to me. 'I wanted to talk to you. The Turn take it, Trenton has finished baking up to be quite the young man. I saw him in the hall. I'm glad to see you've gotten over your little childhood tiff.'
Relief was a warm wash through me when I saw her, her thoughts clearly back together. When I'd left her this morning, she'd been distraught, half out of her mind, but I'd seen her bounce back like this before. Takata clearly knew the right words to say, and I wondered, now that the truth was out, if we had seen the last of her breakdowns. If breakdowns were what they truly were. Living a lie tore at one's being and leaked out in the oddest of places.
My thoughts went to Takata, then my dad. I couldn't be angry at her for loving two men and finding a child to love where she could, and as I stood to give her a hug, an unexpected feeling of peace took root. I was my dad's daughter, but now I knew where I got my ugly feet, my tall height…and my nose.
'Hi, Mom,' I said as she took me into a hug, but her attention was on Marshal at the picnic table.
'Marshal is here?' she asked as I sat down, her expression wondering.
I nodded, not looking at him. 'He's trying to talk me out of it. Bad case of the white-knight syndrome.' She said nothing, and alarmed, I looked up. Her green eyes were wide and panic swirled in them. Not her, too. 'It's okay, Mom,' I blurted. 'Really.'
Dropping the box with a surprising thump, she sank onto the open chair, utterly miserable. 'I worry so much about you,' she whispered, nearly breaking my heart. Her eyes started to well, and she quickly wiped them. God, this is hard.
'Mom, it's going to be okay.'
'I hope you're right, sweetheart,' she said, leaning to take me into another hug. 'It's your dad and Mr. Kalamack all over again, only this time, it's you.' Whispering in my ear as she held me, she added, 'I can't lose you. I can't.'
Breathing in lilac and redwood, I held her. Her shoulders were thin and I could feel every shift of her weight as she reined in her emotions. 'It's going to be all right,' I said. 'Besides, Dad didn't die from going into the ever- after. He died trying to get rid of the vampire virus. This is different. It's not the same thing.'
She pulled back, nodding to tell me she had known how he had died all along. I could almost see another brick in her psyche being remortared into place, making her stronger. 'True, but Piscary never would have bitten him if he hadn't tried to help Mr. Kalamack,' she said. 'Just like you're helping Trent.'
'Piscary is dead,' I said, and her breath came in slowly.
'He is, isn't he.'
'And I wouldn't go into the ever-after unless I had a guaranteed way out,' I added. 'And I'm not doing this to help Trent. I'm doing this to save my ass.'
At that, she laughed. 'That is different, isn't it,' she said, needing hope.
I nodded, having to believe it was. 'It is. It's going to be okay.' Please let it be okay. 'I can do this. I have good friends.'
She turned, and I followed her gaze to Ivy and Jenks in the graveyard, both looking helpless as Ceri directed everyone to their places. We were alone, everyone slowly milling around that weird angel statue in the graveyard and the slab of reddish cement fixing it to the ground. 'They do love you,' she said, giving my hand a light squeeze. 'You know, I never understood why your dad always told you to work alone. He had friends, too. Friends that would have risked their lives for him. Though in the end, it didn't matter.'
I shook my head, embarrassed about the love comment. But my mom only smiled. 'Here,' she said, nudging the cardboard box with her toe. 'I should have given these to you before. But seeing how much trouble you got into with the first few I gave you, it was probably just as well I waited.'
First few? I thought when my fingers touched the dusty cardboard and a faint tingle of power cramped my joints. I quickly undid a flap and looked inside, and the scent of burnt amber was almost a slap. 'Mom!' I hissed, seeing the dark leather and dog-eared pages. 'Where did you get these?'
She wouldn't meet my gaze, her brow furrowing as if refusing to look guilty. 'They're your dad's,' she muttered. 'You didn't seem to mind the first ones,' she said defensively as I stared at her, aghast. 'And not all of them are demon texts. Some are straight from the university's bookstore.'
Understanding crashed over me, and I closed the box up. 'You were the one who put the books—'
'In the belfry, yes,' she finished, standing up and drawing me to my feet. Ceri was done and we had to move. 'I wasn't about to hand them over to an unfamiliar vampire to give to you, and the door was open. I knew you'd find them eventually, seeking out high, lonely spots the way you do. You lost everything when the I.S. cursed your apartment, and what was I supposed to do? Drive over here and give you a demon-text library?' Her green eyes were glinting in amusement. 'You would have locked me up.'
Oh, my God! My dad had called demons?
Trent came out the back door with Quen, and I felt a wash of panic. 'Mom,' I pleaded, my pulse racing. 'Tell me he never used these. Tell me he was a collector of books. Please?'
She smiled and patted my hand. 'He was a collector of books. For you.'
My brief relief died, and I froze as she stood to pull out of my grip. My dad had known that I'd be able to kindle demon magic. He had collected a demon library for me. He had told me to work alone. What in hell had Trent's dad done to me?!
'Come on, Rachel,' my mom said, standing over me and touching my shoulder. 'They're ready for you.'
I stood, wobbling. A small cluster of people waited at the warrior angel: Ceri, Keasley, Trent, Quen, Marshal, Jenks, and Ivy—the people who impacted my life the most. With my mom at my side, I started walking as she chatted on about nothing. It was a defense mechanism that I saw through to the fear she was struggling to come to grips with.
David's coat enfolded me in the rich, complicated scent of Were, a distant show of support. For all his strength, he'd known he could do nothing and so had given me what he could and vanished in the way of Weres. I shrugged it closer as the hem hissed against the long grass. It needed to be cut, and the dew-wet tips turned the hem a darker brown.
Everyone turned as I approached, and my mom gave me a last hug before falling back to stand with Marshal in the grass. Ceri and Trent were already on the red slab with three concentric circles sketched on it, and eyeing the man's new outfit, I joined them. Trent had put on some sort of black jumpsuit with pockets, and if not for his fair hair poking out from under a close fabric cap, I wouldn't have known it was him at first glance.
'You look like the military guy from a B movie,' I said, and he frowned. 'You know…the token human who gets eaten first?'
