I didn’t know what to say, except the obvious. “You’re mine, too.”
And then I got choked up, because my emotions were all over the place, lately. I abruptly decided that I’d had enough snow gazing for tonight and went back inside, closing the French doors firmly behind me. Billy, of course, floated on through without needing an opening.
“I owe you big for helping with everything lately,” I told him, and meant it.
He grinned. “I’ll add it to the list.”
“Where have you been all day, anyway?”
“Watching the crazy. Making sure they had him locked down. And then swinging by here, once I figured out where they put you, but you were busy.”
“Doing what?”
He made a kissy face. “Oh, Pritkin! Oh! Oh!”
“I do not sound like that.”
“You sound exactly like that. You know it’s weird that you use his last name when you’re having sex, right? I’m just saying.”
I looked at him impatiently. Billy could go from tender to an ass quicker than anybody I knew. “Did you need something?”
“Yes, a draw, if you want me to keep babysitting lover boy.”
“I don’t. We’re going back to court tomorrow. All of us.”
“Thank God.” It sounded heartfelt. “This place is creepy as shit; you know that?”
I glanced at the impatiently chiming mirror. “Don’t worry. I think we’re going to be persona non grata around here for a while.”
“Works for me,” he said, and dove into his necklace. A moment later, a little voice drifted up from inside. “I hereby declare this adventure to officially be over.”
Works for me, too, I thought, and went back to bed.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I tried going back to sleep, but my brain wasn’t having it. It wanted to watch snow dance on the ceiling instead, where the flutter outside was casting shadows. Shouldn’t have had that nap, I guessed.
But this was nice. I snuggled down under the covers, once I managed to liberate some from the bed hog, and just enjoyed a rare moment of calm. If I could trap time in a bottle like Gertie, I’d choose this, watching snow dance on the ceiling and listening to Pritkin breathe.
It was as close to perfect as my life got.
After a while, my own breathing evened out, but I still didn’t sleep. I watched the indistinct little blobs above through have closed eyes, in no rush to let go of this feeling. They looked like tiny moons, all speeding by with places to go. They reminded me of being a child in Tony’s farmhouse, and watching the shadows of tree limbs on my ceiling, their skeletal fingers grasping the real deal.
Of course, I didn’t know that it was my mother’s symbol then. Didn’t even know that she’d had a symbol, or that weak, perpetually frightened Cassie Palmer had a goddess in the family. I’d have probably laughed at the very idea. Yet I’d stared at it anyway. And, sometimes, when I stared too long, I thought I glimpsed a face in the blankness.
Everyone called it the man in the moon, but I’d always imagined a woman’s face up there, one who smiled back at me because she loved me. She hadn’t wanted to leave me with Tony the Bastard, but she hadn’t had a choice. She would have been with me if she could, and things would have been very different . . .
Or would they?
Pritkin and I had compared families once, to see who had it worse. He had pronounced himself the winner, and he had a good case. His father was Prince of the Incubi, the infamous Lord Rosier, who had a less than perfect grasp on his throne and wanted a son to help him hold it. The idea had been to pimp Pritkin out, using his abilities to make new alliances for the house and to keep the often-quarrelsome nobles in line.
Rosier had never asked what Pritkin wanted, or probably even thought about it. Like Pritkin’s mother had never bothered to wonder about the possible consequences of screwing a demon lord for knowledge and power. I’d always felt bad for the boy who had mostly grown up without either of his parents, just like me.
Only, it hadn’t been just like me, had it? His parents might have been thoughtless and neglectful, rarely if ever thinking about their son. But at least he knew who they were. The good and the bad, which must be a little reassuring. Something to come to terms with anyway, to rationalize, and, eventually, accept: that they were flawed people, just like everyone else, who had made mistakes.
But what did you do when you didn’t know them at all?
I didn’t know why I was thinking about my mother, all of a sudden. Maybe it was the moon outside tonight, which had been so beautiful. She had been, too; I knew that much about her. And little else.