“Your true nature knows I am right. It longs to be realized.”
“If I give in to this nature, I’ll become gentry.”
“You’ll never be fully gentry or human. That you must accept. You must simply take the best of each.”
“Even if I wanted to do this”-I swallowed, still uncertain if I wanted the kind of power he was talking about-“I wouldn’t know the first thing about tapping it. Roland can’t teach me about gentry magic.”
“Then you’ll have to find a gentry teacher.”
“Where will I find one who won’t try to rape me first? I don’t really have any friends over there.”
“Don’t you?” He looked at me expectantly.
“You mean Dorian.”
“Of all the rulers in the Otherworld right now, only he has ordered his people to leave you alone.”
“Seriously? But why? He told me himself he wants to see Storm King’s invasion happen.”
“Most believe he gave the order simply because he wants you for himself. I, however, suspect he also probably acts out of some ridiculous sense of altruism-and his own pride. Of course, some of his people won’t heed the warning, but you will find less of them attacking you than others. Like Aeson and his followers, for example.” Apparently Aeson was alive after all. I’d forgotten to ask Kiyo about that in the wake of all the other drama.
“Still…Dorian made the attempt, huh?” I thought back to my encounter with him. Of all the gentry, he had been the one I almost felt comfortable with, which was startling, considering how odd he was. And he had helped me. “But I know he wants to have sex with me too. He didn’t really make that a secret.”
“Of course he does. Which is why he’ll help you. He’ll help you because he thinks it’ll bring you to his bed. And because being close to you will impress his rivals and allies alike. They’ll think you’re lovers, even if you aren’t. He’ll like that.”
You’ll return to me. You won’t be able to help yourself.
I shivered, and Volusian continued: “You’ll benefit as well. Go to him as an equal, and he will treat you as one. His attitude will go a long way to influence others.”
“If I do this, I’ll have come a long way from being feared by the gentry to cozying up with one for political reasons. That’s quite a leap.”
“Not really. Not if you consider how far you’ve come since your trip to Aeson’s.”
“That’s an understatement.” I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know, Volusian. I still don’t know if I’m ready to approach Dorian. I need to think about it.”
“As my mistress wishes. But I would advise you to think fast. Decide before Beltane. Siding with Dorian will offer both magical and political benefits.”
“Noted. Thanks for the update. And the advice.”
He bowed, and I stood up to send him back. Before I did, I couldn’t help messing with him. I was still naked, after all.
“Hey, Volusian, you haven’t been checking me out, have you?”
He gave me his trademark bland stare. “I assure you, mistress, the only allure your bare flesh has for me is to remind me how easy it will be to slice open.”
I laughed. If not for the fact he was actually serious, he’d be so much fun.
Chapter Fourteen
I saw Kiyo a few times in the next week. One of those times I was out on a job, doing an exorcism that turned out to be a setup. The house I’d gone into had no spirit but rather an asag: a demonic creature that literally had a rocklike body. Kiyo had shown up in the midst of the fight, and while I’d thought I had things well in hand, his help sure expedited matters. He didn’t use any weapons like I did; he was all body and physical force. Watching him move was almost hypnotic, like admiring a dancer.
His other appearances were similar, showing up when needed and then retreating if I wanted. Once, I reluctantly agreed to lunch after a fight. He watched me with those hungry eyes the entire time, but everything else was friendly and easy between us. It was like when we’d met in the bar, all breezy banter and connection-underscored with simmering sexual tension.
All the other times I saw him, he trailed me around as a fox. And, as much as I hated to admit it…he was right. He was pretty cute.
Life was busy now. Whereas before I’d had maybe only one or two jobs a week, I now had at least one every day. Apparently the gentry and other creatures hoping to get a piece of me realized they no longer had to seek me out; I would come to them if they bothered the right human. It was annoying, to say the least-and exhausting. Of course, since these fights occurred through clients and contracted jobs, I got paid for them. It became a very rich few weeks, though I felt a little bad since my clients never would have needed to pay in the first place if not for me.
I woke up a couple weeks before Beltane, aching and exhausted. I’d had two jobs and an “unscheduled” fight last night. Staring at my ceiling, at the way the late morning sun filtered into funny shapes through my blinds, I drowsily wondered if I was going to be able to keep this up. I’d lose to the Otherworld not through any one encounter, but simply via my own fatigue.
I trudged to the kitchen and found no morning offering from Tim. He must have stayed the night with one of his groupies. Forced to make my own breakfast, I put two chocolate Pop-Tarts in the toaster and fixed coffee while they cooked. Glancing at the table, I saw that my cell phone displayed four missed calls. I’d taken to turning it off, because the calls were always from Lara, and I didn’t feel like hearing them anymore. She’d either want to offer me a new job or tell me that Wil Delaney had left yet another message.
I was halfway through my second Pop-Tart when my mom showed up. I hadn’t seen her since the confrontation. For a moment, I considered not letting her in, but I promptly dismissed the thought.
She was my mom, after all. She loved me. No matter what had happened, I couldn’t let go of that intrinsic truth. She was the one who’d doused my scratches with antiseptic when I was little-and not so little-and tried unsuccessfully to interest me in shopping and makeup as a teenager. She’d tried to protect me from the ugly truths that everyone has to discover growing up. She’d tried to protect me from the path Roland had set me on. And now it seemed she’d tried to protect me from my own past.
Looking back, I tried to piece together things she’d said on the rare occasions I could get her to acknowledge my biological father. You’re better off without him. He wasn’t the kind of man anyone could count on. We didn’t have a healthy relationship when we were together. There was a lot of emotion, a lot of intensity…but it ending was for the best. He’s gone-just accept he’ll never be a part of your life.
She’d never exactly lied, I realized, but I’d interpreted the story in a completely different way. I’d read it as a whirlwind affair, one in which her emotions blinded her. With all the bad things she’d implied about his character, I’d just figured he’d up and left one day, unable to handle the responsibilities involved with taking care of me. Little did I know he’d desperately wanted me back.
I offered her a seat at the table, handing her a cup of coffee at the same time. She held it with both hands, lacing her fingers in a nervous gesture. Her hair was braided down her back today, and she wore a red blouse.
“You look tired,” she said after a long stretch of silence.
I smiled. It was such a mom thing to say. “Yeah. It’s been a busy week.”
“Are you sleeping enough?”
“I’m sleeping. Sort of. I’m just too busy when I’m awake, that’s the problem.”
She looked up, nervously meeting my eyes as though afraid of what she might find. “Busy…because of…?”
“Yeah,” I said, knowing what she meant.
She looked back down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this.”