Bob scoffed. “Of course I am kidding. I am a sword. I deserve proper care. It was a joke.”
I laughed softly, the sound mingling with the lingering chaos of the Vegas night around me.
I wanted to ask him where he’d been, why Bes hadn’t been able to take hold of Bob, and probably a dozen more questions, but they could wait.
“Alright, you over-dramatic cutlery, we'll get you cleaned up.”
Chapter 13
The Beast
We planned to meet Sinopolis later tonight to go god hunting. That is, if Miranda even deigned to show up. But after what happened with us in that theater, I couldn’t take the chance that she’d try to wiggle out to shy away from the discomfort. It was still only afternoon when I knocked on her front door.
The modest house sat on a patch of what used to be a perfectly curated lawn, though it was now scorched to dry brownblades from the heat. The autumn drought prohibited people from using water for the grass.
This street felt a million miles away from the busy, blinking neon streets of the Strip and something inside my chest unclenched, as if I could breathe easier. I wasn’t sure if it was this part of town, a little slice of suburban bliss, or it was because I knew Miranda was on the other side of these walls.
As the door swung open, I was met with an elderly Black woman with white hair and smile lines at the corners of her eyes. She wore a floral shirt and stretch pants that were being put to the test by her expansive waist.
“Hello ma’am,” I snapped out on reflex.
Had I gotten the wrong house?
No. I knew this was Miranda’s house. I’d traveled here even when I’d been out of my mind. Looking beyond the older woman, I reassured myself that I recognized the furniture.
The older woman cleared her throat expectantly.
“Is Miranda here?” I finally followed with.
Shit, did I have the wrong house? The fear of not knowing my surroundings or my own mind began to cave in on me.
“Xander,” a familiar young voice piped up.
Jamal pushed his way past the older woman to stand on the front stoop.
Relief swept through me. I was in the right place.
Jamal gave me a half toothy, half toothless smile, since he’d recently lost a couple baby teeth.
“Mom’s not here,” Jamal supplied.
“Oh.” The need to slink away overwhelmed me as I suddenly felt I should not be here. Not without Miranda.
“Young man,” the older woman snapped. “Where are your manners?”
Jamal’s spine stiffened, and he bared his teeth in a silent ‘uh oh.’
“Sorry G-Ma. Xander, this is my grandmother, Mama Jean. Mama Jean this is Mom’s… uh, friend?—”
“—from work,” I smoothly supplied, readjusting the box I held to one arm, extending a hand to her.
She slipped a soft weathered hand into mine and I brought it to my lips, giving it a chaste kiss and smelling gardenias.
“Oh,” she said in surprise, covering her chest with the hand I just kissed.
Fuck, was that wrong too?
“Sorry, I can be a little old fashioned.” I gave her a wry smile.
