“Oh!” Morgan confirmed the return address. “Actually, Luke, this is for you.”
“For me?” He looked confused. He opened the box at her prompting. He dug through the packaging to pull out a pair of axolotl slippers just like Gisele’s, only larger and in a lighter shade of purple than his natural skin. “This is for me?”
Morgan blushed. “Well, yeah. You seem to like Gisele’s a lot, and you were having a really hard day the other day, and I thought you might need a little treat. They weren’t super expensive or anything.”
She trailed off. He was staring at them in wonder, turning them over in his hands.
“You got these for me?” he asked again. His eyes glistened. “You sensed that—no. You couldn’t have sensed. You figured out that I wanted them without even being able to sense it? And then got them—why?”
“Because,” she tried to explain without making it that big of a deal. “Because—”
“Because you wanted me to feel better,” he finished. “Oh.”
He stared back down at the slippers in tipsy wonder. The little cartoon eyes stared adorably back.
She swallowed, realizing this had been a somewhat larger gesture than she’d intended. She couldn’t regret it, though. She hoped Rix didn’t decide to chew on them.
“So this is what it feels like,” he said softly, more to himself than her. He looked back up. “Morgan, I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you,” prompted Gisele.
“Thank you,” he repeated. He looked at her, her face full of something she didn’t know how to interpret.
He was drunk, she reminded herself. She wasn’t sure how drunk, she didn’t know how many drinks he’d had or how they affected demons, but he was definitely turning into the kind of drunk who bought the whole bar a round and declared he loved them all. He wouldn’t mean it in the morning.
“You’re welcome,” Morgan said awkwardly. She needed to get out of here. Before she said something that she’d regret in the morning when her own inhibitions were no longer obliterated. “I better get to bed. Tomorrow I need to find something to wear that won’t get me fired or bitten by a vampire.”
16
Her mother snuck up behind her while she was arms-deep in the clearance rack at the big Macy’s.
“You never let me take you shopping,” Fiona complained as Morgan yelped. For a moment, her heart nearly stopped. This was it. Her mother was here to demand she turn over Luke. No, her mother had already cut off Luke’s head and was here to inform after the fact. No, her mother had brought Luke’s head here. She turned in dread to find Fiona standing casually, lacking in either blood or head, fingering a green leopard-print top hanging between two beige sweater sets. Her mother continued, “I had to trigger a locator spell. Seriously, this is where you buy your clothes?”
It wasn’t; the twelve floors of the flagship Macy’s, with their original wood escalators and all, intimidated the hell out of Morgan. But she wasn’t going to find boardroom-appropriate wear at the fast fashion places she usually could afford. She glanced at her mother’s black leather duster and tried to buy time for her pulse to come back down. “Our tastes don’t match. Also, you hate shopping.”
“I do,” Fiona admitted. “I guess it felt like something mothers and daughters are supposed to do.”
“Your work doesn’t exactly line up with most of what mothers and daughters are supposed to do,” Morgan pointed out. She glanced at the silk shell in her hands. She wasn’t even sure how to go about evaluating whether this would be enough to escape Brad’s criticism. Her mother’s presence wasn’t making it easier. She was glad she’d worn concealer on her eye again.
Fiona glanced around at the other shoppers. Any eavesdropper would probably think her absentee parenting was due to touring with a rock band instead of hunting rogue mages. But there was likely a reason she’d come to find her disappointment of a daughter: bonding over clothing selection wasn’t it. “Can I buy you a coffee or something?”
She didn’t really have time, given tomorrow’s meeting. But turning her mother away might encourage Fiona to poke in places Morgan didn’t want her looking. “Sure.”
“What kicked off the fashion spree?” Fiona asked as they headed down the zigzag of escalators to the street.
“I’ve got an investor meeting,” she said.
“That sounds important.” Her mother actually looked impressed. She couldn’t remember the last time Fiona had looked impressed with her. Ever?
Something made her add, “With Ravenfell.”
“Ravenfell?” her mother gave her a sharp look. “You know that they’re…?”
“A vampire venture capital firm?” Morgan filled in. Sure, they were stepping off the escalator into the cosmetics floor, but she’d heard the term bandied about enough in the startup world to know no one would think she was being literal. She waved off a salesperson bearing a perfume sample. “Yeah, I know.”
“Morgan, you have to understand, they don’t do anything for nothing.”
“Yes, Mother, I know. That’s how investors work.”
