Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Roc Books by Jacqueline Carey
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
Mom’s place was tidier than usual—she hadn’t had a major commission since the Sweddon wedding last month—but there was still a hint of organized chaos about it. She rolled a rack of samples out of the way, and we trooped past it and out onto the deck, which overlooked a broad, marshy expanse of the river. We settled into a pair of Adirondack chairs that I remembered her salvaging and refinishing when I was in ninth grade, and cracked open a couple of wine coolers.
Despite having been the unwed teenaged mother of a hell-spawned half-breed, my mom’s got a very calming presence. When Sinclair met her, he said she had a tranquil aura. It didn’t surprise me. As we sat together in companionable silence, sipping our wine coolers and gazing at the river, I felt my headache dissipate.
“I would have thought you’d be out on the town tonight,” Mom said after a while, stealing a glance at me.
I shook my head. “I needed a little escape. This is perfect, thanks.”
She reached over to pat my hand. “Any time.”
“Sinclair’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night,” I admitted.
Mom gave a little sigh of relief. “Oh, good! I didn’t want to pry. So things are still going well with the two of you?”
“Yeah, they are.” I picked absently at the label on my bottle. “I mean, I think so. It’s really too early to tell, right?”
She gave me a universal mom look, one of those looks mothers give their kids when they know there’s something more going on. “Do you want me to read your cards?”
Okay, so that’s not exactly a universal mom gambit, but she’s got a knack with the cards. Which, by the way, aren’t a traditional tarot deck. She taught herself to tell fortunes using a deck of lotería cards left over from a high school Spanish class, library books, and a system of symbolism that she invented on her own.
I kind of did, but at the same time, I kind of didn’t. I already had enough going on in my head. “Not right now, thanks.”
“Okay, honey.” She used the universal mom tone for “I know there’s something more going on and I’ve given you an opening to talk about it, but you’re not ready yet. I’m here to listen when you are.” It’s pretty amazing how much moms can communicate by tone alone.