Her attention went to the wolf standing at her bedside.
“Chet,” she whispered.
He pressed his pointed wolf nose into the side of her hip. His breathing was ragged.
“I'm okay,” she said, reaching up to stroke the top of the wolf's head. “I'm back, and everything's going to be okay now.”
Chapter 32
ONE WEEK LATER
“Just do your new closet spell,” Zoey said. “It works great, and I love watching your closet magically reveal the perfect outfit for the day.”
“Not yet.” I cinched up my bathrobe and continued to manually dig through the sea of garments in my closet.
Zoey stood in my doorway, watching me with amusement.
“How about paisley?” I asked. “Nobody pulls it off quite like Frank, but I could get away with paisley.” I waved the shirt at my daughter.
“That's not paisley. It's plaid, with bleach stains. Remember, we had a laundry accident, but you kept it as a crafts-and-hobbies smock. It was during that phase you were obsessed with gluing googly eyes onto things.”
“That was a weird phase,” I said, putting the shirt back.
“You're going to be late for your meeting with the triplets,” Zoey said, leaning against my doorframe. “And if you show up late, they'll turn you to stone.” She cradled her stone hornet in the palm of her hand and spoke to it. “Isn't that right, Fuzzy?”
“Then I'll risk being late,” I said. “Aunt Zinnia always says we shouldn't become reliant on spells. Even after you master something like blue fireballs, you never know when someone's going to whip out a regular gun. We have to be prepared for anything, with or without magic.”
Zoey came all the way into my bedroom and flopped back on my bed with a weary moan. “Who is this we you speak of?” She raised one arm and waved her hand limply. “Hello, I'm the one who was supposed to be a Soul Catcher before something went haywire and you stole my witch powers. I only wish I had powers that I could abuse.”
“Be patient, and you'll get your wish,” I said for the umpteenth time.
Without sitting up, she said, “Your emerald-green shirt dress. That's the right thing to wear to this baby shower. And if you're worried about showing too much leg, you can pair it with leggings.”
I pulled out the shirt dress. It would be perfect, and she was right about the leggings. “Who needs magic when I have such a brilliant daughter? Now, about jewelry—”
“Grandma's pearls,” she said. “Because pearls are always appropriate for afternoon tea parties with ladies, plus they're treasures from the sea.”
She was right. Again. I pulled on the leggings, green shirt dress, and vintage pearls. I tucked Chessa's sea-glass bracelet into my chest pocket, then I twisted my damp hair up into a loose chignon and fastened it with a silver clip decorated with mother-of-pearl.
“Are you sure you won't come with me?”
She waved her hand for me to go. “I love having the house to myself so I can catch up on my weekend reading. Get out of here, Mom. And try not to get petrified.”
I grabbed the wrapped baby-shower gift from my bedside table, blew a kiss to my daughter, and left for the baby shower with the triplets.
* * *
The party was at Chessa's. She'd gotten out of the DWM hospital within hours of regaining consciousness. After a year lying dormant in bed, she wasn't going to let a little thing like being barely able to walk keep her there another minute.
Her brother-in-law, along with Knox and Rob, had tackled the cottage behind the larger Taub residence. They removed two interior doorframes so that Chessa could get herself around in a wheelchair. She would regain her strength quickly and be able to walk on her own soon, but the changes would allow her to recover in the comfort and security of her own home.
Today's afternoon party wasn't the typical baby shower. The baby we were celebrating, Jordan Junior, had been honored once before, but Chessa had missed it due to her coma. The sisters had tried to organize a Welcome Home party, but Chessa refused that, saying it rubbed her the wrong way to be the focus of attention. She was, however, willing to host a second baby shower.
The baby had been conceived using Chessa's egg, with Chloe's husband as the father. Chloe had carried the baby and birthed it. Jordan had been kept in the dark, as had all of their family and friends. It was a complicated, sticky situation. He'd believed the egg was from an anonymous donor. The laboratory at the DWM rushed a test on the baby's DNA, and confirmed that Jordan was, indeed, the father. The parents loved and accepted their child no matter what, but had been relieved to find that Dr. Bhamidipati's dark plans had their limits. Jordan was still shocked about having been lied to, but the Taubs were working on restoring their trust.
That sunny afternoon, I walked past the concrete statues in Chessa's yard with the knowledge that they were exactly what I'd suspected them to be—wild animals petrified by Charlize. I didn't feel great knowing she'd turned living creatures to stone to practice her control over her powers, but on the plus side, at least she had some control. Also, I had eaten bacon at breakfast, and I did own a leather jacket. I wasn't vegan, so I couldn't dwell on my feelings of judgment too much.
Chloe opened the cottage door for me. Her blond curls were tight and bouncy. Festivities had already begun, as I could see by the silly paper-plate hat she wore on her head.
Before we joined the others, I whispered, “How are things with Jordan Senior?”
She was slow to answer. “He's gotten over being angry that I kept it a secret. Now I think he's glad the baby might have inherited some of Chessa's powers.”
“We all want what's best for our children.”
“How's your daughter doing?”
I held up my hand and wavered it to mean so-so.
“Still no powers?”
I shook my head no.
Chloe gave me a sympathetic look and twirled one of her golden ringlets. “I was hoping she'd come with you today.”
“She's only sixteen,” I said. “I tend to think of her as a little grownup, because of how mature she is for her age, not to mention how she lectures me about forgetting to use the plastic lid thingy in the microwave, but the truth is she's still just a kid. She does want to meet all three of you, but not just yet.”
“In time,” Chloe said. Brightly, she added, “She can babysit Jordan Junior, or help out at the bakery, or both!”
“I will certainly float the idea by her,” I said.
Chloe's gaze went to my vintage pearl necklace. “Those are real,” she breathed. “And they're breathtaking.”
I thanked her, and was about to explain their origin when we were interrupted by Charlize, demanding we join them in the cottage's living room for the next baby shower game.
We joined them, and I took a seat on the edge of a pure-white ottoman. Who has a pure-white ottoman, anyway? They're literally for putting your feet on.
The baby shower was a small party, with just the triplets, me, and the baby. Supernaturals only.
Chessa was seated on her white sofa, her wheelchair folded to save space and leaning against the arm of the sofa. The scratches on her face had healed completely. She gave me a warm smile, moving her mouth in a silent hello. I waved back. We'd not spoken much since her return to consciousness, which was fine by me.
What do you say to a woman whose most intimate memories you've been reliving for the past few weeks? I didn't trust myself to open my mouth long enough to let out a joke about having sex on the beach with Chet on the evening of their engagement, getting sand in unmentionable places.
No, it was better that we communicated in polite smiles only.
Charlize handed out miniature chalkboards and explained the rules of the next baby-themed game. Jordan Junior was present, watching amiably from Chessa's lap. The two had evidently wasted no time bonding. Both split their time between watching the action in the living room and interacting with each other. Seeing them together like this, the mother-son resemblance
was striking. Jordan Junior was a different skin tone—gingerbread to her sugar cookie—but he had Chessa's grace, and the same catlike eye shape. The boy's maternity was our little secret. To the rest of the world, Chessa would remain his aunt.
Chessa took the miniature chalkboard from her sister, gripping it easily. She was already stronger than she'd been just two days earlier, when we'd met at the DWM for a second debriefing and she'd barely been able to hold a pencil. She'd gained a few pounds, thanks to her sister and brother-in-law's delectable cooking. Unlike her sisters, with their corkscrew curls, Chessa wore her hair in the soft, undulating waves of a mermaid. Was she some type of mermaid? I still didn't know if it was true, what Chloe told me the previous week, about Chessa being so terrifying a creature my mind would melt if I laid eyes upon her.
Chessa noticed me staring at her. “Zara, you look stunning today. That green brings out your eyes.”
“This old thing? Thanks. I don't know about stunning. More like stunned, maybe?” I laughed self-consciously. There's nothing quite like being in a room with a trio of gorgeous blondes to make a redhead feel weird.
Chessa waved her free hand. “You're beautiful, because no beauty shines brighter than that of a good heart.”
I thanked her and took the compliment with grace. Where had I heard that expression before? Ah. From my own lips. I'd said it to Chet when he was driving me home right after Frank shifted for the first time. How many times had I quoted Chessa without knowing it for the past few weeks? Or months? Her spirit had been floating around for a year. Where did she end and I begin?
I leaned forward to get a soft pretzel. The bracelet in my shirt-dress pocket fell out. I scooped it from my lap and handed the piece to Chessa.
“Here's your bracelet back,” I said apologetically. “I borrowed it to strengthen our connection. It's a lovely piece.”
Instead of taking the silver-and-sea-glass bracelet, she closed my fingers around it.
“You should keep it,” she said. “Don't stop strengthening our connection just because I'm awake again.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly.
“Put it on. I'd love to see it on you.”
I tried to unhook the fiddly clasp. Chessa chuckled as she leaned around Jordan Junior and pointed to my feet. “Zara, it's meant to be an anklet. It's awfully chunky for your wrist, don't you think?”
It was an anklet. And Chet never told me.
“If you say so.” I leaned down and put the silver-and-sea-glass piece around my ankle. It did fit perfectly, and I was able to work the clasp easily with two hands. I pulled up my black leggings and admired my ankle. “That does look neat.”
Charlize snorted in her bratty manner. “Don't let Chet see that, Zara. He has a weird thing for ankles.”
Chloe chimed in. “He's so weird.”
Charlize scrunched her face at Chessa. “What's with your fiancé and the ankles?”
Chessa didn't respond, except to smile.
“Probably a wolf thing,” Chloe said with a shudder. “Blech.”
I pulled the hem of my leggings back down over the anklet. “Don't worry. I won't be showing Chet my ankle.”
“You'd better not,” Chessa said with a laugh.
“I would never,” I said, a bit too vehemently. “He's a dirty wolf boy. Blech.”
The girls stopped laughing and glanced at each other the way only triplets could.
I shoved the soft pretzel in my mouth and chewed quickly. “This is good,” I said around the mouthful. “Are we expecting more people? You've got enough food here for a dozen hungry lumberjacks. Not that I'm complaining.”
Chloe beamed. “You like the soft pretzel? It's a new recipe. We're going to fire up the old wood oven at the bakery so we can do pretzels and bagels.”
“Consider me sold,” I said, reaching for a second one. I dipped it in hot mustard and let the spicy heat fill my sinuses.
“Not bagels,” Charlize groaned. “You're trying to make me gain a million pounds, Chloe.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. A bagel isn't going to ruin your figure. Try running a bakery and having a baby.”
“As if!” Charlize glared at her sister in mock outrage. “Your waist is already smaller than mine. You always had the skinniest middle, and your complaints are just requests for compliments.”
I looked at Chessa, who gave me a weary look while her sisters argued over who had the better hip-to-waist ratio. “Some things never change,” she said. “Can you believe these two are almost thirty years old?”
I smiled. “When do you all turn thirty?”
Chessa kissed Jordan Junior on the top of his head. “Those two turn thirty in a month, but I'll be turning twenty-nine again. Since I was in a coma for a year, that whole year doesn't count.” She winked at me.
The other two were still bickering and didn't hear what their sister said. Once they heard about Chessa's plan to become a year younger than them, they'd have something new to argue about.
Eventually, the bickering settled down and we got back to the baby-shower games.
We played the classics, as well as a few that were new to me. We dabbed a selection of bright-hued baby foods onto sheets of paper, folded them, and created abstract art that doubled as Rorschach inkblot tests.
When asked what the pictures resembled, Chloe named off types of baked goods, Charlize saw clowns or squirrels, and Chessa named sea creatures.
I tried to play along, but everything looked like splattered food to me.
“That looks like the inside of the plastic thingy we use in the microwave,” I answered when it was my turn.
Charlize said, “Not fair. You said that the last three times. Tell us what you really see, Zara. Is it something dirty and sexy?”
I made a gagging face. “Dirty, but not sexy. Not really.” I tilted my head and looked again. “Okay, maybe a bit sexy.”
Chessa looked at the unfolded waterproof paper, with its smears of vanilla and chocolate pudding that resembled naked flesh, if you squinted.
“Yes, I see what Zara sees,” Chessa said smugly.
“No, I don't think you do,” I said, giggling.
Chloe and Charlize demanded I tell them what I saw, but I demurely refused. “Get Chessa to tell you,” I said.
From there, the conversation devolved, moving to a very strange place. All four of us were talking and saying the most outrageous things about the splotchy image, trying to one-up each other. I laughed so hard, I nearly cried.
And then we opened up some sparkling wine and loosened up even more.
At one point, I said something silly, and Charlize pretended to be offended. She prodded me on the shoulder, her touch stinging. My skin under the green shirt dress crackled into stone, and then back to flesh with a dull ache.
I cried out, “Ouch!”
Everyone stopped talking and stared at me.
I pointed at Charlize, who was covering her mouth and snickering. I grumbled to the other sisters, “Charlize keeps poking me and turning me to stone because she thinks it's funny.” I rubbed my shoulder. “I know my powers turn it back again, but it still hurts.”
Charlize stuck out her tongue and sassed me. “Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do?”
I lifted both hands and sent her a little petrification of my own—two blue fireballs.
She froze, turning the color and texture of carved marble, from top to bottom.
And then, after a heart-stopping moment for me, she slowly melted back into her human appearance.
“Intense,” Charlize said with admiration, rubbing the center of her chest where I'd struck her.
I turned to look at the other sisters. Chloe's hair snakes had shot straight up in the air, her golden snakes doing their best impression of blasting rockets.
We all started giggling.
Then, when I looked over at Chessa, I saw nothing.
Nothing.
Now, I don't mean I saw nothing unusual. I mean I saw nothing.
Where Chessa had been sitting on the white sofa, there was an abyss, malignant and unnatural. Reality ripped apart. It was as though all the world were being sucked into a void, and I sat at the torn, raw edge of it, the precipice of something impossible yet theoretical, like the square root of a negative integer. My breath whooshed out of me, swallowed by the gaping maw of the black hole.
As I stared into the yawning void, it stared back at me.
With eyes.
They were Chessa's pale-blue eyes, yet they were impossibly large and inhuman. As I gazed in horror and reverence upon her face, it brought to mind an octopus, then a dragon, and then a head with no body, and at the same time, a body with no head. Impossible wings sprung from its back, a sharp beak from where it might have had a mouth. This monstrosity, this deity, clung to the seams of the world, at the edge of the void, with long tentacles that hissed like snakes and flashed teeth like razor blades, the silver metal glinting despite the absence of light or goodness or anything else.
My shoulder stung. Words resonated somewhere within my frozen body: Spirits of the Deep.
I whipped my head to the right, a reflex reaction to the pain of my flesh becoming molten lava and then stone.
As I turned, my eyes would not obey, and stayed fixed upon the writhing, soul-destroying vision before me, but then the pain intensified. The monster in the void crawled inside me, through my optic nerves, and into my mind, where it gnawed on my last shreds of hope and humanity.
I heard someone's voice, far away. “Get her some water.”
Another voice, “What did you do?”
“You were the one poking her!”
A baby was wailing.
I could see nothing now. I was, mercifully, blind. My mind turned in on itself, folded, and went black.
* * *
When I became conscious again, my head was throbbing.
Three blondes sat across the living room from me, watching nervously. In tableau, they looked exactly like Mizaru, Kikazaru, and Iwazaru, the Three Monkeys.
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