“Sleep, love,” Derek whispered, and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
Two hours later, I woke up to find Gabriel and Robson seated at the dining room table with Derek. It was an oddly sweet picture to see these three powerful men sitting in the charming, old-world-style room. Lace café curtains framed the casement windows, and, outside, geraniums grew in profusion in window boxes. I loved the view from that room, but my head was still too achy to get up off the couch to join them. I did manage to overhear their conversation, though, despite its unhappy subject matter.
Guru Bob insisted on paying for Amelia’s funeral.
“Does she have relatives in the area?” Derek asked.
“Trudy will know,” Robson said. “As soon as she is able to speak, we will obtain the information and begin the preparations.”
He sounded tired, but it was probably because he was so sad.
“I will attempt to persuade Trudy to move into my home,” he continued. “There is plenty of room.”
“You know she won’t go for that,” Gabriel said. “She’s still feisty enough to fight you on it.”
Guru Bob smiled, despite the lines of worry across his forehead. “Yes, I know. And I admire her lively spirit. But I am beside myself with worry, and I simply cannot bear the idea of her remaining in a home where such violence occurred. But if she insists, I would appreciate it if you would increase the security levels at her house.”
“No problem.”
“She knows her assailant,” Derek said, not mincing words. “She saw the person aim the gun and kill Amelia. The killer knows this, so Trudy is in danger. However, I don’t think moving her from her home would be the best thing for her. Especially not to your house, Robson. We don’t want to endanger you, too.”
He thought about that. “Then what can we do?”
“I’ll move into her house,” Gabriel said easily. “She’s got an extra bedroom or two, and it’ll only be for a few days, until she’s well enough to tell us what happened.”
I sat up on the couch and said, “I could move in with her. I could protect her.”
Derek whipped around. “No.”
Just no. What the heck? But the other men shook their heads in agreement with him.
“Sorry, babe,” Gabriel said. “You’re already on the injured list.”
“I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
Robson smiled. “I am grateful for your generous offer, Brooklyn, but I must agree with Derek. I will not jeopardize your health and safety any more than it already has been. And forgive me, but I have Trudy’s safety to consider as well.”
“I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t be much help in my current condition.” But I glowered at Derek anyway.
Derek glared back until I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You win.”
Maybe he was right, but did he have to give me such a dirty look? I wanted to help. I knew I’d totally blown it when I arrived a few seconds too late to help Trudy or Amelia. Hell, I didn’t even get a look at the killer. It was infuriating.
The front door swung open, and my mother and father charged into the room. Mom was carrying a heavy case.
Maggie jumped up and barked with delight. She ambled over and allowed Dad to pet her vigorously.
“Where is she?” Mom demanded as she whirled around, scanning the rooms. “Brooklyn? Oh, there you are. Thank Buddha.”
Dad left Maggie and came to the couch, where he leaned over and gave me a light kiss on the good side of my head.
“Hi, Dad.”
He sat down and held my hand as Mom set the briefcase she’d been carrying on the coffee table. She immediately pressed the back of her hand against my forehead.
“What’re you doing, Mom?”
“Just checking that you don’t have a fever.”
“The killer didn’t sneeze on me,” I grumbled as I settled back against the pillows.
“Very funny.” She pressed her hands to her stomach and breathed in and out. “You took ten years off my life, missy.”
“Mine, too, kiddo,” Dad said, sniffling a little.
They were obviously distraught, so I grabbed both of their hands and gave them a squeeze. “I’m sorry. But really, I’ll be fine. I just got a little bump on the head.”
Since my head was wrapped in yards of gauze and bandages, I didn’t blame Mom for rolling her eyes at me.
“It looks worse than it is,” I mumbled.
“Just stop talking,” she advised, and opened her case to reveal a veritable pharmacopoeia of vials and potions and tinctures and God knew what else. Probably a tube of fairy dust and some eye of newt.
Heaven help me, the Grand Raven Mistress of the Celtic Goddess Coven was on a mission. And her mission was me.