13

Those first few hours together were strange and wonderful, I guess.

Strange for me. Wonderful for Adrian. Sweet but awkward for Isabelle.

She read lips quite well, and as long as we spoke within her line of sight, she understood everything we both said without any real difficulty. This was good, because although at first no one had known what to say, by the time we were back in the hotel they were ready to try.

It was like watching two people reach out to each other over a gulf of ten years, clasping hands, pulling hard, and drawing the chasm to a close. Or if not a close, then something more narrow and more easily bridged.

In an attempt at discretion, I left them alone and wandered the city by myself for a while while they got reacquainted. I poked around Five Points, moseying in and out of the bars and clubs that remained open, and sitting around a park with my eyes half closed, waiting for the sun to rise enough for me to head back and crash.

I halfway hoped someone would try to mug me so I could get a guilt-free meal for my troubles, but no. No one bothered me, and a homeless woman gave me some peanuts to feed to the squirrels. There weren’t any squirrels at such an hour; all sensible squirrels had holed up in their trees, burrows, and apartment building walls like decent, civilized creatures. But I felt like it would’ve been rude to refuse.

From my position in the very dark park, mostly alone except for a few snoozing pigeons and the feral cats who hunt them, I pulled out my cell phone and called home.

Ian answered on the second ring, and I almost imploded with relief. He was there. He was alive. He hadn’t gone back to California.

“Hello, Raylene.”

“Hey sweetheart. How’s it going there at the homestead?”

“All’s well. Or all’s typical, at any rate. The kitten has decided that your pillow belongs to him.”

“Awesome. I’ll correct him on that point when I return.”

“You might want to wash it,” he said.

“I’ll do that.”

After a moment of quiet, Ian asked, “When might that be? You returning, I mean. I … I haven’t heard anything further from Maximilian, and I don’t know what’s going on. I’m in the dark here. More than usual, that is.”

“Soon. Very soon. Tomorrow night, I hope—depending on what airplane ticket bounty the Internet is able to provide me. We’re all done out here. All done, and then some.”

I could hear him frown. “What does that mean?”

“Long story.”

“You say that a lot.”

“Well, lots of things are long stories. I always tell them eventually, don’t I? Don’t go to California, Ian. Don’t let Max talk you into it, if you reach him again. There won’t be a convocation, and I know who killed your father. Also, I know how we’re going to get Max off your case for good.”

“You still think you can fix this? Time is running out, Ray. It might have run out already.”

“No. You’re still alive, so I’m still ahead. And once I get back, I’ll explain everything. You’ll see. You’ll believe me. Hey,” I said, trying to divert the topic before I felt the need to wibble and beg. “How’s Elizabeth settling in?”

“Well enough. She’s an odd bird, but an intelligent woman. Schizophrenia, isn’t that right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Sometimes she seems perfectly normal. Sometimes she lectures Pepper in quantum theory and how magic can change the past. Every now and again, she calls Domino ‘George.’ ”

“Who’s George?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Either she doesn’t know either, or she doesn’t feel like telling us. Raylene?”

“Yes, darling?”

“She doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does she?”

“You looking to get rid of her already?” I asked.

“I’m only wondering,” he said, which didn’t answer the question. “You’re accumulating new household members at a steady clip, that’s all. We may need to renovate the next floor down in its entirety.”

“Does Pita need his own room?”

“Pita does not need his own room. He already has his own floor.”

“Next you’ll tell me I shouldn’t buy him a bed, because he already has the queen-sized Posturepedic in my room.”

“Now you’re getting the picture.”

“I think you’re right. We will need to remodel. Maybe the whole place—top-to-bottom, all four floors.”

“Are you thinking of opening a halfway house for strays?” he asked, approximately half joking and half worried.

“Not exactly. But I may as well tell you now, I’m bringing yet another new one home with me.”

“A new … person?”

“A new vampire. I don’t know if she’ll stay with us at first—in fact, I suspect she won’t. She’ll stay with Adrian.”

I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. “You found Isabelle?”

“Almost by accident, but not quite. I knew she was around, I just wasn’t expecting to find her so quickly.”

“Is she.…?”

“Deaf? Yes. I think she hears roughly as well as you can see.”

“The poor dear.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel too sorry for her. She’s tougher than she looks. It’s my favorite thing about her, so far. That’s one of my favorite things about you, too.”

“Why thank you. But now you’re buttering me up.”

“Not at all,” I insisted. “I miss you, and I’m relieved to be talking to you. You’re alive, and you’re home. It’s all I wanted.”

“I miss you, too,” he admitted, and then a moment of silence hung between us, occupying the line with nothing except the companionable knowledge that we were only a couple thousand miles apart, and we wouldn’t be for very much longer. “Tell me about San Francisco. Maximilian wants me to meet him in Chicago tomorrow night.”

“I told you already, there won’t be a convocation—in Chicago or anywhere else. And Maximilian can go jump in a fucking lake.”

“I suspect he will not.”

“His loss. A nice swim can be good for the soul.”

“Raylene? Stop beating around the bush.”

“Who’s beating around anything? I have a plan.”

“Oh no.”

I sighed. “Why does everyone always say that, every time I say I have a plan?”

“Because your plans are—”

“It was a rhetorical question, okay? I have a plan. I think you’ll like it.”

“If you really thought I’d like it, you’d have told it to me by now.”

“Untrue, my dear. I’m only withholding because I have a few minor details to iron out.”

“Oh no.”

“Stop that, would you? They are minor details—details of convenience, not details of necessity. And they aren’t worth going into, not over the phone.”

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” I pressed, and the evil smile that stretched across my face felt really fucking good. “But there’s both more and less to it than that. Things are going to change around here, Ian.”

“Around Atlanta?”

“Well, around Atlanta, too, yes. But you know what I mean. In Seattle. Things are going to change.”

“For the better, I hope.”

“For our better, yes. Yours, and mine, and the kids. And Elizabeth, Isabelle, and Adrian. Shit, better for Pita, too—what the hell. No reason to leave him out of the fun.”

“You may reconsider your charitable attitude when you see your pillow.”

“Oh Christ.”

“Raylene?”

“Yes, Ian?”

“Come home soon.”

“I will. And when I do, I’m going to fix everything.”

We hung up, and I folded the cell phone back into my pocket. Then I rolled down the edges of the brown-paper bag that held my gifted peanuts, and I left it open on the park bench before I headed back to the hotel.