“I need at least three hours to prep a Demon Gate. Come back at five A.M. Not a moment sooner or you may distract me and that could disrupt the spell or cause it to fuck up in a way that would make Witchy-Boobs proud.” He leered at Camille, but even I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He seemed downright depressed.
“Wilbur, is something wrong?” I glanced at the clock. We’d be cutting it close before sunrise, but we’d make it if everything went right.
He frowned, staring at the floor. “I’m just pissed. Your old lady, she’s always been nice to me. Even when I copped a feel, she just smacked my hand and told me to fuck myself. But . . . she always had a smile for me, and a civil word. It’s just wrong that they took her from you.”
As he looked up into my eyes, I understood that he really did understand what it was to lose someone you loved. I glanced over at Martin.
Delilah shifted, then blurted out. “Wilbur . . . Martin . . . he’s still—”
Camille broke into a coughing fit, so loud she startled Delilah into silence. Delilah glanced at her, then at me. I gave her a subtle shake of the head. Who knew what finding out the truth would do to Wilbur? It might flood him with guilt over animating his brother’s body. It might send him over the edge.
Wilbur’s nostrils flared. “What were you saying, Puss-Puss?”
Delilah let out a long sigh. “Just that . . . Martin . . . he’s still . . . his suit needs cleaning, I think. It kind of smells.”
The necromancer gazed at her, as if trying to fathom her leap in logic. He shrugged. “I’ll take care of it in the morning. Martin cares about his appearance; he wouldn’t want to think he had a bad case of B.O.” And with that, he shooed us out of the house.
As we left the house, Roman drew me off to one side. “I will leave you here. I have business I cannot ignore, my love. But . . . if you need me, I will do my best to rearrange my meetings.” He took my hands, kissing the palms softly but with so much restrained passion that I wanted to propel myself into his arms and just stay there, safe and hoping that everything would work out for the best.
I let out a soft murmur, then said, “No. You go take care of your business. Roman . . . if I don’t . . .”
“I will not listen to defeatist talk. You will return and you will rescue your love and my second wife. I have more faith in you than I think you do.” His gaze never left me as he leaned down and gently brushed my lips with his. “Menolly, you were not my choice for princess based on looks nor on your name, nor on how sexy you are. You were made for the throne. You have the heart of a warrior and the brilliance to lead. And you have one trait I lost long ago. Compassion. These things make you fit to wear the crown. I’ll send the vampires to you. Now, go get our Nerissa and bring her home.”
And with that, he clicked his heels together, then bowed and—in a blur—was gone.
I joined my sisters as we headed across the street to our property. Vanzir had vanished ahead of us. Delilah, Camille, and I were walking arm in arm up the driveway. We had paved it because it had become a perpetual mud hole every time we got heavy rain.
The night sky looked like we might be headed into clear weather. The temps were running in the low sixties, but it felt almost balmy. On either side, brambles reached out to snag our clothes as we passed by, and huge trees shadowed over the drive. There were crystals and wards hidden in those trees, and they surrounded the entire acreage. It had taken days for Camille and Morio to supervise setting them up and then another couple of days for them to enchant the grid. For the most part it held and worked, though there were always exceptions that slipped through.
As we strolled along, it occurred to me that—if things went south—this could be the last time we’d be together. I stopped as the house came into view. The three-story Victorian was home, now. It was home, and the basement was my lair, and the thought of moving into Roman’s mansion left skid marks in my stomach. But we couldn’t freeze our lives as if nothing were changing. The world thrived on change, and without it, stagnation would rot anything from the core out.
I motioned for them to join me on one of the benches that we’d placed along the walk.
“Listen . . . I’ve been thinking. If things don’t work out—if something happens and I get stuck down there, or worse . . .”
“Don’t even say it.” Kitten was in full denial, but then she paused and a dark look washed over her face. “What do you need if that happens? What should we do?”
“Don’t come after me. Don’t try to save Nerissa or me if anything happens. Somebody has to be here to fight against Shadow Wing. Somebody has to carry on the family. I want to know that you two will be safe—following your destinies, if I meet the final death. I’ve already died once. If it has to happen again, I want to know that you’re both still alive and safe.”