Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

“Something protected you from the memory loss others suffered.” He was winding one strand of her hair around his finger. “Whether it was the toltoi or the mate bond, clearly something kept your memory from being damaged.”

“Probably the mate bond.” Lily wanted her mysterious protection to be the mate bond. If it could protect her, it ought to protect Rule, too.

“We don’t know enough to say for sure. Whichever it was, I’m very glad you have it.”

Trying to get Rule to agree with her wouldn’t make it so . . . but she wished he had. “I wish Drummond would show up again. And that’s something I never expected to say.”

“No sign of him?”

She shook her head and shoved her hair back from her face. And winced. She’d taken the elastic bandage off her wrist after supper to let it breathe, but maybe that had been a mistake. It was pretty tender still. “What would you do if I cut my hair?”

His eyebrows went up. “Do you want to?”

“Thinking about it. I don’t usually let it get this long. It takes forever to blow it dry these days.” And when she was one-handed, doing anything with her hair was a bitch. Rule had washed it for her that morning.

“It’s your hair, so it’s your choice.”

“The way you’re always playing with it, I thought you might go into shock or something.”

He smiled. “I think I could cope if there were less hair to play with. As long as you don’t decide to shave your head.”

“Not going quite that far. Maybe I’ll wait until after the wedding, though.” Her mother had been happy Lily had let her hair grow out, thinking she’d done it for the wedding. Mostly Lily just hadn’t had time to mess with it.

That reminded her. “I meant to tell you earlier. My father called this afternoon.”

“Did he?”

“At first he wanted to know about the wedding, if we’d postponed it. But then . . . he’s sorry he said that about not wanting to hear from me. He . . .” Tears stung, making her feel foolish because this was good news. “He said cutting himself off from me was both wrong and stupid. It was like he’d had his foot amputated and decided to blame his hand for that and cut it off, too.”

Rule pressed a kiss to her hair. “Like I said, he’s a good man. What did you—”

“Did not!” Toby cried, indignant.

“Did so!” That was Julia, very loud. “You’re always bragging—‘my dad this , my dad that , my dad is soooo wonderful’—”

“I just said you didn’t need to be all scared because Dad is here, and it’s true! He killed the dworg and kept us safe and—”

“What do you know? You’re just a stupid little kid!” Julia’s voice rose to shrill, but Lily could hear the tears in it. “Too stupid to be scared when there are monsters that want to eat us! They wanted to eat us!”

“But Dad didn’t let them.”

Julia shrieked in rage. A chair scraped, then clattered.

“Julia,” Grandmother said crisply. “Pick up your chair.”

“No!”

Julia came racing out of the room. She jerked to a stop when she saw Lily and Rule. Her face flooded with a mixture of loathing and longing, then crumpled as she spun and headed for the stairs, thudding down barefoot.

Lily shoved herself out of Rule’s lap.

“I’ll go,” he said, standing.

Grandmother stood in the door to the office. She shook her head. “A bad idea. She will either kiss you or hit you, and either way she will feel worse.”

“How come everyone’s worried about her feelings,” Toby said, “when I’m the one who got called names?”

Grandmother sniffed. “And your feelings are so hurt, are they?”

“Well, no, but . . .”

“Then perhaps this is not about you.”

Rule’s phone picked that moment to chime. It was his father’s ring tone.

“Take your call,” Lily said. “I think I know what this is about.” Not Toby, and not monsters. Not exactly.

Lily found Julia sitting on the front porch, her arms curled tightly around her legs. She didn’t look up when Lily stepped out.

Lily closed the front door, letting darkness wrap itself around them. “One of these days, this porch is going to have furniture.” A porch light, too. Also floodlights, but those would go all over the place and were about security, not comfort.

“I’m not going to apologize.”

“No?” The stubbornness in that voice was so familiar. The whine was not. Lily sat on the steps a couple feet away. “Did you think that was why I came out here? To make you apologize?”

“He is a stupid little boy,” she muttered, turning her head away.

“Do you think so? I . . . ow.”

“What?”

“A splinter poked me. These boards are in terrible shape. You’re likely to get splinters coming out here barefoot.”

“I don’t care.”

Lily borrowed one of Rule’s favorite responses. “Hmm.” After a moment, she added, “I heard that your father came to see you today.”

Now Julia jerked upright. “For a whole hour. He looked at his watch! Twice! He couldn’t wait to get away. He’s such a—a—he’s an asshole!” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling like that? You think I’m funny?”

“I was remembering how you sent me to my room once for saying something along those lines. Grandfather Li had called, making his usual excuses for missing my birthday party. I didn’t much care, but it upset you, and that made me mad.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t recall exactly, but it included calling him a dick.”

“That’s worse than asshole,” Julia announced judiciously. “Not that I’m allowed to say either one.” She stole a quick glance at Lily. “Maybe I am allowed now. Who’s going to tell me I can’t?”

“Grandmother, I expect.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Her arms had loosened slightly; now she unwound one and began picking at a toenail on one bare foot. “Tell me something.”

“If I can.”

“Edward Yu . . . is he a good dad?”

Lily’s throat closed. She had to swallow before she could answer. “He’s a great dad. I don’t know if he could fight off dworg, but mostly we don’t need fathers for that, do we? He always listened. Still does. He’s good at it. He played games with us a lot. Oh, and then there were the Dad Dates. That’s when he’d spend all Saturday afternoon with one of us girls, just one, who got his whole attention that afternoon. I loved Dad Dates. We’d do all kinds of things. Movies, miniature golf, the beach . . . anything but the mall. He would not go to the mall, but that was okay. It didn’t matter what we did.”

“Good,” Julia said gruffly. “That’s good. I’m glad I . . . the grown-up me . . . picked a good dad for you.”

“You did.”

“Do you think I loved him?”

Oh, damn, her not-a-mother-anymore was going to make her cry. “I know you did. And he loved . . . loves you.”

Silence, while Julia picked at that toenail. Then, “I guess he’s pretty sad.”

“Yes.”

More silence. “I guess it would be okay if he wanted to come see me.”

“Shall I tell him that?”

Julia nodded. “But it’s still going to just be me, you know? Not that grown-up Julia he remembers, so he’ll probably still be sad.”

“I guess we can’t keep him from being sad.”

Julia sighed the kind of long, windy sigh twelve-year-old girls were so good at.

For several minutes neither of them said anything, just sat there together. They weren’t really alone, Lily knew. Somewhere in the darkness guards patrolled, some on two feet, some on four. But it felt like just the two of them. She rubbed her arms, which were getting chilly, but she didn’t want to go in yet. The sky was clear and splendid with stars, and she was sitting with the girl who had been—had become—her mother. And it was okay. For this moment, it was okay. “It’s funny. I always pictured you as a very proper sort of girl. I thought you always did your homework and your chores, that you respected your elders and never talked back.”