“Hey, Mom. Dad.” Fuck my life.
“Lincoln’s in there.” The way Mom says it, that’s definitely not a question. It doesn’t help that she’s all Madam President today, what with her purple suit, platform heels, and judgy expression. Sometimes, I feel like I’m just a younger-looking version of her. Not today, though. I don’t think my face could ever make that particular frown. Clearly, Mom’s not happy about the whole love shower thing. Well, this isn’t my favorite life moment, either.
Shoot me now.
I realize my parents are staring at me. Maybe they have been for a while. At last, Dad looks contemplative in his gray suit. No judginess there. Then again, he’s an archangel who’s been alive since the dawn of time. This can’t be his first love shower type situation.
I worry my lower lip with my teeth. What was Mom saying again? Oh, yeah. The not-a-question about who’s in the shower.
“Yup, Lincoln’s in there, all right.” My face burns about six shades of red.
“I warned you about this,” says Mom. “You mustn’t place yourself in situations where you’ll be tempted to have sex until you’re ready. Verus cautioned you, too.”
“I’m well aware of what Verus said.” That meddlesome oracle angel is always ruining things. I mean, not including the part where she manipulated Lincoln and me to get together. That rocked.
“The igni want you to have the Scala heir,” continues Mom. The fact that she’s given me this speech a hundred times won’t stop her, though. “You can’t even sit on the same toilet seat as Lincoln and not get pregnant. The same thing happened to me, you know.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Your father and I used a condom and about twelve spells against fertility but—”
I raise my hand with my palm forward, the universal signal for “whoa there, partner.” “Too much information, Mom.”
“Cam,” says Dad. “Maybe we should—”
It doesn’t help. Mom’s on a roll. “Not that we don’t want a grandchild. We do.”
“That’s crystal clear.” I raise my pointer finger high. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s change the subject.” I shoot my father a pleading look. “How’s everything with you, Dad?”
“Fine.” Dad gives me a conspiratorial wink, which I totally appreciate. “Hey, I have another idea. Why don’t we visit the living room and give Lincoln some privacy? Besides, I want to hear all about your latest evidence-gathering mission about Acca.” Like always, Dad wears his gray suit with a blue tie. He’s the definition of dashing with his cocoa-colored skin, bright blue eyes, and gleaming white-toothed smile. I love him to pieces.
“You’ll adore this one,” I say. “There were demons involved.”
Mom frowns. “What kind of evidence were you gathering, exactly?”
I am so happy with this change of topic, I can’t even tell you. Before Mom and Dad got back together, my relationship with my mother was one long conversation about me wanting to fight in the Arena…And her worrying herself sick about that fact. Long story short, this is now-familiar territory: Mom kvetching about me taking risks while doing something. So much better than the whole love shower situation.
“I can’t wait to tell you.” I hightail it to the living room like my ass is on fire. One I get there, I find the familiar outlay of high-back chairs, dark tables, and velvet curtains. All it needs is Dracula and a few bats, and the look would be complete. Stupid ghouls. Who told them they could decorate?
Dad plunks down onto a high-back chair. “So, what did you kill?” As General of the angels, my father knows his demons and battles. More stuff to love about him.
“Lincoln took down a pair of dyads. I helped, but he got in the final blow.” Jerk.
“Dyad demons.” Dad’s brows rise. “Those are rare.”
All the color drains from Mom’s face. “What? Were they dangerous?”
I rub my neck. I don’t want to alarm my mother. She still gets crazy-fidgety about the idea of my fighting baddies. “Maybe.”
Mom sets her hand on her throat. “Oh, no. The Earl of Acca must have sent them against you.”
For the record, Mom may worry about me, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t right most of the time. I have lots of experience with fear and Mom-management, though. It’s best to tell the truth early and while using short, one-word sentences.
“Yes.”
“That damnable Earl of Acca.” Dad lands his fist on a nearby table with a thunk. “The man wants to rule the thrax again. He will stop at nothing.”
Another item for the record: Dad’s totally right, too. The House of Acca had the throne before Lincoln’s House took power. That was hundreds of years ago. Even so, Acca has never adjusted to the new reality.
Lincoln strides into the room. Wow, that guy can sure shower fast. He’s changed into his official prince kit, which involves a long black tunic over fitted leather pants. “Acca also sent a klepto demon to steal our evidence book.”
Mom gasps. “Not Desmond? He’s a little odd, sure. But I thought he was harmless.”