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Julie stared at me in outrage. “My mom is nice!”
I threw the bottle away.
Two hours later we dropped Ninny off at the Order’s stable. The magic, after holding off for a good few hours, resumed hammering Atlanta in short bursts. The afternoon bled into the evening. I was tired and hungry. We headed north through the tangle of streets, to the small apartment that used to belong to Greg and was now my home when I stayed in the city.
I CLIMBED THE NARROW STAIRWELL TO THE THIRDfloor, Julie in tow. The magic happened to be up, and the ward clutched my hand as I touched the door and opened it in a flash of blue. I let Julie into the apartment, bolted the door shut behind us, and pulled off my shoes.
Julie wandered past me. “This is nice. And there are bars on the windows.”
“Keeps the bad guys out.” The lack of sleep finally caught up to me. I was so freaking tired. Worn out.
“Take your shoes off.”
She did. I rummaged through the closet and came up with an old box of my clothes Greg had kept since the time I had stayed with him after my father died. Fifteen-year-old me was a lot bigger than thirteen-year-old Julie, but the clothes would have to do.
I tossed the sweatpants and a T-shirt at her. “Shower.”
“I don’t do showers.”
“Do you do food? No shower, no food.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “You suck, you know that?”
I crossed my arms on my chest. “My house, my rules. You don’t like it, the door’s over there.”
“Fine!” She headed for the door.
Good riddance. I clamped my teeth, hoping I didn’t say it out loud, and went into the kitchen. I washed my hands with soap at the sink and searched the fridge for vittles. The only thing I had was a big bowl of cold low country boil. Me, I’d eat it cold: corn on the cob and shrimp were good cold anyway, and I was hungry enough to stomach the cold potatoes and sausage. Julie, on the other hand, might want it warm, preferably with butter.
To warm up or not to warm up? That was the question.
The sounds of rushing water announced a shower starting. She’d decided to stick around. I put a big pot of water on the gas burner. Magic did screwy things to all sorts of ordinary objects, but thankfully, the natural gas still burned. If all else failed, I had a small picnic heater on top of the fridge, together with a jug of kerosene for it.
I had almost finished picking out all of the shrimp, when a very thin, angelic-looking child walked into my