Richelle Mead: Storm Born

“More of them know my name. I’ve fought with two now who knew me as more than Odile. I also heard about a third who knew who I was.”

“Were the attacks specifically targeted at you, then? Like revenge attacks?”

“One was. The other was part of a job. Why? Did they come looking for you when your name got out?”

“A little. Inconvenient, but not the end of the world.”

“The weird thing here…”

“Yes?”

“Well…they’ve also sort of been, like, soliciting me…”

He arched an eyebrow. “Like for sex?”

“Yeah.” Roland undoubtedly had done all sorts of sexual things in his life-most with my mother, God help me-but he was enough of a father figure that I didn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing such things with him.

“Well, you know how they are with human women. If one were trying to get back at you…well, rape is a common enough act of retaliation.”

“Great. I’d rather they just beat me to death.”

“Don’t make jokes like that,” he warned. “If your name was just discovered, it’s probably pretty hot right now. But I imagine the hype will die down eventually. Just wait it out. In the meantime, watch your back-not that you don’t already. Do the usual things. Keep your head clear. Stay armed at all times. Don’t drink.” He cut me a look. “Stay away from the peyote.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, I haven’t done that in years.”

He shrugged. “You’ve got something else to unload. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Well…speaking of watching my back…”

I stood up from the chair and took off the loose button-up shirt I wore over a tank top. I swept my hair aside and turned around so he could view my back.

He gave a small grunt when he saw the scratches. “Those look nasty. You get in a fight today?”

“They’re from four days ago. They won’t heal.”

“Do they hurt?”

“No.”

“What gave them to you?”

“Not sure. He looked human, but…I don’t know.” I let my hair drop and turned around, putting the shirt back on.

“How’d he get you at that angle and position?” Roland looked puzzled. “Were you wrestling?”

“Uh, that’s really not important,” I said hastily. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Not exactly, no, but I’ve seen enough to not think this is too out there. If there was enough magic or whatever used to inflict them, they may just take awhile to heal.”

That didn’t really make me feel better, but I was unwilling to elaborate on my encounter with Kiyo.

I took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing.”

“I know. You’re going after the girl.”

So much for my dramatic proclamation. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know you, Eugenie. You’re foolish and headstrong with a naive sense of righteousness. You’re like me.” Not sure if that was a compliment or not.

“Then you understand.”

He shook his head. “It’s still dangerous. And stupid. You cross in your own body and-”

“And what?”

We both looked up like guilty children. My mother stood in the doorway in a wide-brimmed hat and dirt-covered gloves, further evidence of her gardening. I had a few planters out in the rock garden that passed for my backyard, but she maintained a veritable oasis. Her long, slightly graying hair streamed down her back as she regarded us. Her hair lacked my reddish hue, and her eyes were just blue, not violet-blue. Otherwise, everyone said we looked alike. I wondered if I’d age like her. I hoped so, although I would probably dye any gray away.

“What are you planning on doing, Eugenie?” she asked in a level tone.

“Nothing, Mom. Just hypothetical stuff.”

“You’re talking about going over there. I know what that means.”

“Mom-” I began.

“Dee-” Roland began.

She held up a hand to stop us both. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Do you know how much I already worry about you in this world, Eugenie? And now you want to walk right into their homes? And you.” She turned on Roland, her eyes flashing. “I spent twenty years worrying about you. I’d lie awake, wondering which night would be the one you didn’t come home. I thanked God the day you retired, and now you’re encouraging her to-”

“Hey, whoa, he’s not telling me anything here. Leave him out if this if you want to thrash somebody. This is just me. He’s not involved.”

Roland turned on me. “Eugenie, if you insist on going, I might as well go-”

“Mom’s right. Your fight’s done. This one’s mine.”

My mom turned on me. “It’s not yours either! Why can’t you just worry about keeping them away from here? Why go after them?”

I told her. She kept her face proud and stony the entire time I spoke, but I could see her eyes betray her. The severity of the situation wasn’t lost on her, even as her words continued to deny that truth.

“You’re just like him. Too noble for your own good.” She suddenly looked older than her age. “You’re compensating for some sort of lack of attention as a child, aren’t you?” There she was, slipping into therapist mode again.

“Mom, she’s fourteen, er, fifteen now. If this were someone kidnapped locally, you’d agree to any measures to get her back.”

“I’d agree to measures that involved backup, not you alone.”

“I have no backup.”

“Except for me,” piped in Roland.

“No,” my mother and I told him together.

She turned to me and used that deadliest of weapons known to mankind: the Mom Card. “You’re my only child. My baby. If something happens to you…”

I was ready for her. “Jasmine’s someone’s baby too, even if her mom is gone. That almost makes it worse, actually. She lost her parents. She has no one. And now she’s trapped, being held hostage by some asshole who thinks it’s okay to kidnap and rape unwilling girls.”

My mom flinched as though I’d slapped her. She looked at Roland. They exchanged one of those long looks that couples who have been together for ages can do. I don’t know what they communicated, but she finally looked away from both of us.

“When…you get her back, bring her to me. It doesn’t matter if it’s…gentry or humans. She’ll need the same kind of therapy any other victim would.” I knew she did that kind of counseling with patients all the time, but I’d never thought of her as helping gentry victims. It was very kind for someone who tried to pretend the Otherworld didn’t exist.

“Mom-” I attempted.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to know anything else about it until it’s all over. I can’t know.”

She left us then, returning to the peace of her garden.

“She’ll recover,” Roland told me after a quiet moment. “She always does.”

Forced to accept the fact that I would be going over now, he was only too willing to flood me with as much tactical information as possible. It grew dizzying.

At one point, after I’d refused his third request to go with me, he said, “I assume you’ll be taking your other help.”

The tone in his voice showed undeniable derision for my “other help.” I knew he didn’t approve, but he had to recognize the benefits. “You know they’re an asset.”

“So is a grenade-until it goes off in your hand.”

“They’re better than nothing.”

He scowled but said no more, instead discussing more logistics with me: where and when to cross over and what weapons to bring. We decided it would be best for me to wait until the moon was in crescent phase, so I’d have a stronger connection to Hecate. She facilitated transitions, particularly to the Otherworld, which might be useful if I needed a hasty retreat. There’d be a nice crescent in about four more days.