Rosemary and Rue

“No.” He was backing off, showing mercy. For once, I decided to take it. “It’s not.”


Raising my head, I looked around the room. All the same furniture was there, although the old brown couch had a larger dip in the middle now, and the same stains were on the wallpaper; even the dent by the door was still there, marking the spot where Julie tried to shove Mitch through the wall for making a crack about her latest boyfriend. I cleared my throat. “The place hasn’t changed.”

“I didn’t want it to.”

I looked at him, arching one eyebrow. “I thought change was your hobby.”

“Not here. Never here.” He shrugged, and for a moment I could see how old he really was. All the years were in his eyes. “Why didn’t you come before now? We were thrilled when we found out that you weren’t dead. We could have helped. I could have helped. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Why? So you could remind me how stupid I was to leave? How you always knew the purebloods would just use me? I’m sorry, but I’ve never been real fond of paying for my abuse. Most people are willing to hurt me for nothing.” I was lashing out. I knew it, and I didn’t care. Evening was dead, the life I’d worked so hard to build was gone, and Home . . . Home was still where I stopped, and all the old ghosts were waiting. It wasn’t fair.

His expression didn’t change. That just made it worse. “We missed you.”

“I missed me, too.” I sighed, trying to keep my temper under control. I’m not usually that touchy, but Devin always brought out the worst in me. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hard night.”

“We heard about the Winterrose. I’m sorry, Toby.” There was genuine sorrow in his voice. I frowned. Devin always hated Evening. Hearing him say he was sorry for her death was almost unbelievable.

“What was she to you?” I asked. Real tactful there, Toby.

He stared at me. When he spoke again, the warmth was gone, replaced by a bitter chill. “She kept this place alive after you disappeared. You know the purebloods would love to shut us down. All they need is an excuse—any excuse—and you seemed like a great start.

“You’re the one that went out and played the brave knight, Toby; you’re the one that started here and went on to something more. You made the Queen leave us alone, because she couldn’t rise against your home fiefdom without insulting your liege. That offended the hell out of her, and once you weren’t standing between her and us anymore, she stopped backing down.”

That was news to me. “She was going to move against you?”

“She almost did, until the Winterrose stopped her, in your name. Evening never approved of us, but she protected us anyway, and she did it for you. Did Sylvester try that hard to keep your memory alive?” He paused, expression challenging. I looked away. There were no words that could say what I needed to say to him; I wasn’t even willing to try.

There was a long pause, and when he continued, he sounded almost impossibly tired. When did the world get so old? “At first she was doing it for you, but I like to think that maybe, toward the end, she was doing it for herself. That she finally understood why we were here.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No,” he said, “you didn’t want to know. You pigeonholed her the way you’ve pigeonholed everybody else, and you ignored her when she tried to step out of the role you’d given her. You’ve done that for as long as I’ve known you, Toby, and I think I’ve known you longer than just about anyone else in this world.”

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s not much of a surprise.” He stopped and took a deep breath before flashing me a smile that managed to show all of his teeth at once. “But enough about you—let’s talk about me. Did you come here to sleep with me?”

I forced a smile, back on familiar ground. I could ignore the way his words stung until the job was over. “Sorry, Devin. Not this time.”

“Afraid that you can’t walk away from me twice?”