As troubling as that had been, Divine was more concerned about Abaddon’s response when Damian had said that she was his mother and would never act against him.
I wouldn’t be so sure. If she ever found out . . .
Found out what? she wondered. What could Damian have possibly done that would make her withdraw her love and support of him? She didn’t know, but Abaddon’s words suggested he might have done something that would cause that withdrawal, and the fact that he’d flat-out lied to her about how she’d come to be injured was disturbing, as was the fact that he’d been so convincing in the lie. It made her wonder how many other lies he’d told her in the past.
Divine passed a billboard promoting the Kern County fair, and her mind turned to another worry. Marco. So his name was really Marcus Notte, and he was a spy for Lucian Argeneau. It explained why he was at the carnival. The man wasn’t rogue after all, and judging by the questions he’d asked last night, he might suspect she was Basha, but he wasn’t sure. That was a good thing at least. She also thought it was probably a good thing that she’d started dying her hair a couple of years ago. Not that anyone probably had a clear idea of what she looked like anymore, except perhaps for her uncle and some of the other older immortals who had met her when she was young.
They hadn’t had cameras back then, or portraits even, so wouldn’t have an image to go by unless Lucian had arranged for one of those sketch artist pictures or something. He might very well have done that, but if he had, he would have been depending on his memory, which was admittedly good. Still, he hadn’t seen her for more than two millennia. That was a long time. Besides, any sketch of her would show her as a blond which she presently wasn’t. She’d started dying her hair dark auburn just before joining the Hoskins Carnival and was now glad she had. It might not have completely put Marcus off her trail, but it couldn’t have hurt.
Divine spent a moment trying to sort out what to do about him. First she thought avoiding him would be best, but then that seemed useless. The man wasn’t going to leave unless she convinced him she wasn’t Basha and she couldn’t do that by avoiding him. The problem was, she was the woman they all thought of as Basha. That being the case, how was she supposed to convince him she wasn’t?
No ideas came to mind by the time she reached the carnival, and Divine decided the best thing she could do was act natural around him. If she didn’t act nervous or let on she knew anything, he might eventually decide she wasn’t the woman he was looking for. Aside from that, perhaps by talking to the man as if he were a friend rather than an enemy, she could learn just what the Argeneaus knew about her and her son. Maybe even what those risky actions were that her son and grandsons had got up to when she’d had to save him from her uncle.
Several people greeted her as she rode through the carnival grounds. She returned the greetings, but didn’t slow until she got to the RV. She made quick work of putting away the motorcycle and helmet and closing the panel, then turned and gasped, coming up short to avoid crashing into Marcus.
“How are you?” he asked.
Divine frowned briefly at the concern on his face. It was as if he knew— Dropping the thought there, she brushed past him, muttering, “I’m fine.”
“There’s blood on your clothes, and in your hair.”
Divine had forgotten about it with everything else on her mind. The part about there being blood in her hair was news to her though. She reached up instinctively to feel the side of her head, mouth tightening as she felt the crusty collection of dried blood there. She didn’t stop walking though, and as she mounted the steps to her RV, repeated, “I’m fine.”
As she entered the RV, Divine flipped on the lights. Memories of the last time she’d entered slipped through her mind. She also recalled getting hit over the head outside the door to the bedroom and moved into the next section of the RV, flipping on that light too. Not that she needed it to see the dried blood on the wall, door, and floor.
Divine took a deep breath as she peered at it, and then moved into her bedroom to fetch fresh clothes from the closet. She headed into the compact bathroom next to shower. There wasn’t much time to get ready. It was exactly three minutes before noon when she stepped under the shower; two minutes later she was out and pulling on her clothes. She towel-dried her hair, dropped the towel, and put the damp strands up in a ponytail as she walked back through the RV.
Snagging the A-frame sign from its resting spot beside the door as she went outside, Divine set it up on the dirt next to her steps and then glanced at her watch: 12:01. One minute late. Not bad, she decided, and peered along the midway to see that people were just starting to filter through the gate. Relaxing, she started to turn back to her door, her eyes sliding over and then pausing on Marcus. He was standing under an awning by the Tilt-A-Whirl controls, staring at her.
Divine finished her turn and went inside, leaving the door open so that she could see when the first customer arrived. She then settled in her chair facing the door to wait for another long day to begin. While they had been open from noon to midnight the day before, it was now Friday. They would be open until 2 A.M., and tomorrow they would be open from 10 A.M. to midnight. Sunday they would start at noon and close at six. Even so, it would be the longest day. Once the gates closed they would start tear-down. They’d pack up the carnival, which would take four to six hours, and then they’d drive to the next town on their schedule.
Divine couldn’t remember the name of the town, but what she did remember was that it was a six-hour drive from Bakersfield. Even so, they wouldn’t get to rest then, but would immediately have to set up all over again. If they were lucky they’d get done in time to catch a couple of hours sleep before opening, but sometimes they didn’t. Truly, a lot of people bad-talked carnies, but they were some of the hardest-working people she’d ever encountered.
Her gaze found Marcus through the open door. He was still at the panel, but Chapman was with him now, no doubt giving him last-minute instructions.
Divine bit her lip. She had three days to convince Marcus that she wasn’t Basha, or she suspected he’d follow them to the next town. Perhaps she needed to make up a fake backstory, a history and explanation for her being with the carnival. It would mean claiming a clan, and that could be checked though.
Alternately, she could claim she was turned by a rogue some centuries back and had fled before doing anything rogue herself. She’d have to name a rogue though, and give the name of a mortal with a birth date from the time she chose to back it up. They could always check on her stories.
Divine sighed and rubbed one hand along the side of her head. It was still throbbing a little, which meant the healing was still taking place. The major damage was taken care of, her skull repaired and reknitted into place and the majority of her brain obviously back in working order or she wouldn’t be walking and talking. Now, she supposed the little arteries and bits of tissue and synapses were being repaired. Her body would be using blood like crazy to manage the task. She would need blood again soon.
“Hello?”
Divine glanced to the door and offered a smile of greeting. Her first customer had arrived.
Six
“You’re a star, kid!” Chapman announced as he stopped at the Tilt-A-Whirl next to Marcus. “You handled the Tilter like you’ve worked it for years. And handled the kids like a pop star too. They were eating out of your hand. Never had a Friday night go by without some kind of push and shove war, or flat-out fights break out over girls or line cutters. Yes sirree, kid, you’re a star.”