The conversation had taken place after I traveled back in time to see my mother, seeking information. Rosier had kidnapped Pritkin and dragged him into the hells and I’d needed help to get him back. She’d been less than enthusiastic about giving it, but in the short talk we’d had, she’d made one thing very clear: waking Pritkin’s demon was a bad idea.

And when you get life advice from a goddess, it’s probably best to take it.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

My body informed me that my back was finally getting warm. I reached up and carefully tested the bath water with a pinkie. It was hot, but in the good way, not the scald-your-skin-off-and-end-your-life-screaming kind of way.

I turned off the heater, dropped the robe and climbed in.

And, okay, that was terrible, so terrible that I almost climbed right back out again, with all of my healing burns waking up to bitch at me. And then wonderful, when I persisted and they got tired of yelling and settled down. The tension in my body held for another minute, as if afraid to let up.

And then it released all at once, as if I was boneless.

It felt so good that I almost cried, and I hadn’t even added the soap yet.

I remedied that, but didn’t scrub down, because I didn’t want to wake up the burns again. There were a lot of them, although nothing like I had expected. The terrible silver scrawls were gone, and so too were the disturbing scars they had left behind. But Mircea must have run out of juice before he’d gotten to the rest of my collection, leaving me with pink polka dots all over my body from the rain of burning coal, as well as cuts and abrasions galore. I looked like I’d been in a fight, but not like I’d won.

“We are not winning.”

Shut up! I pushed the memory of what the incubus had said away, and lay back in the hot, hot, almost too hot water. And gave a deep, and heartfelt sigh.

This was nice, I thought drowsily. This was very nice. There was a little green oil slick on the water’s surface, probably from the awful salve. But it looked like somebody had sponged me off at some point, probably in order to tend to the wounds, so I hadn’t dirtied my bath too much.

Until I leaned back even more, and plunged my filthy hair into it, and got a shock.

I didn’t know where it had all been hiding, but so much dried mud, soot and grossness boiled off, as soon as I dunked my head underneath the surface, that it looked like I’d been mopping up the riverbed with my hair. There was even a small piece of seaweed in there, floating among the waves. Along with something that looked like—damn it!