His eyes flared. For an instant I saw again the vampire he could become. Then he stalked to the door. “What are you going to do about it, mistress?” he sneered. “Kill me?”
I took a step toward him—the fury inside making me think that sounded like a damn fine idea—but he stepped into the hallway and slammed the door. I didn’t bother to follow; I knew he’d be gone.
This time I didn’t think he’d be back.
CHAPTER 31
As night came, rain pattered on the terrace. I should have packed my things and headed for New Mexico, but I was tired, and sad, and depressed. Watching the rain fall on New Orleans wasn’t helping.
I’d tried to call Luther then Summer, but no one answered. Not uncommon. Residing in the shadow of Mount Taylor often screwed up cell reception. Living in an enchanted cottage didn’t help, either. If I still couldn’t reach them by late tomorrow morning I’d start to worry, and by then I’d be halfway home.
I listened to the storm as I sipped the rich red wine I’d ordered from room service. Eventually my exhaustion, combined with the alcohol, made me nod, so I dropped all my clothes on the floor and crawled into bed. The rhythm of the rain followed me into the darkness.
I badly wanted to talk to Sawyer. Instead I got Ruthie. I should have been happier about it. I’d been wishing Ruthie back since I’d lost her.
When I spoke to Ruthie in my dreams I went to her. The house with the white picket fence wasn’t the one she’d lived in, and died in, but I knew it was hers just the same. Even before I strolled up the walk, and she opened the door.
“Lizbeth.” Ruthie spread wide her arms.
Despite being skinny, with elbows, knees, and hips like razors, Ruthie gave the best hugs in this world as well as the next. God, I had missed them.
How being hugged by a woman who was built like a bag of bones could be so soft and gentle, I had no idea. But as I stepped into Ruthie’s embrace my exhaustion fled, my sadness lifted, and I felt again like I could do anything. She’d always had that effect on me.
Ruthie rubbed my back, murmuring nonsense into my hair as she held me. As always, I pulled away first, never her. Which might just be the secret to those hugs.
She kept hold of my hand, hers thin and heavily veined—but still as strong as her heart, which I’d felt thumping steadily against my chest despite her being dead nearly three months now. She drew me inside and closed the door.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I said.
Ruthie smiled, white teeth flashing against the rich coffee hue of her face, her puffy, graying Afro swaying as she shook her head. “Been here all the time, child. You were the one who was gone.”
“Not gone. Not really.”
“Occupied?” She shrugged. “Don’t matter now. Plenty of time for me to come and visit between every full moon.” Ruthie’s eyes narrowed. “Though I don’t recall telling you it was okay to confine that demon.”
Annoyance flickered. It hadn’t been my idea, and besides—“I didn’t realize I had to ask. Isn’t that what being ‘the leader’ means?”
She lifted a brow. “You don’t think you need my help?”
The annoyance died, like a flame in a high wind. “I didn’t say that.” I needed all the help I could get.
“Come on,” she said, then moved down the hall toward her sunny kitchen.
On the table sat two cups of tea. I wasn’t a fan, but Ruthie was, so I took a seat. Beyond the big windows at the back of the house, children played in the steadily changing yard, first with a huge play set made of wood. Then a large field appeared and the kids—all shapes and sizes—chose sides for some kind of game.
Ruthie’s place today was as full of lost souls as it had been when she was alive. The only difference now was that everyone in her house—except for me—was dead.
Every time I came to Ruthie’s heaven, guilt pulsed. Lately every time I came, the kids were in residence because I’d failed to save them.
Ruthie sat. I took a swallow of tea. Refreshingly minty. I still didn’t like it.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“I thought you missed me.”
“I did, but—” I shrugged.
“You’d rather see Sawyer.”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “Thanks to Sanducci, I won’t be.”
Ruthie took a sip of tea and didn’t answer.
“Right?” I pressed.
She set down her cup then stared out the window. Her charges were kicking a soccer ball—back and forth, back and forth.
“Ruthie?” I tried again. “Why am I here?”
“Trouble’s comin’,” she said.
“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that,” I began.
“You’re gonna have to live with the choices you make; you’re gonna have to make them on your own,” she murmured. “And soon.”
“When?” I asked. “What?”
I didn’t like making decisions that saved or ended people’s lives, that could, in the long run, mean the beginning of the end of the world. Especially since half the time I had no clue what I was doing.