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My hair felt odd, and I shook my head, again wondering at how light and angular the new cut made me feel. And what would Chase think of it, when he had time to real y look at me? What would he think of my tattoos?
Strangely enough, I realized I wasn't too concerned. If he didn't like them, it wasn't the end of the world. My hair would grow back. And maybe I'd decide to keep it like this. Or maybe I'd grow it long again, like it had been when I was younger. And the tattoos were already a part of me, delineating my cal ing.
They were here to stay and it felt like they'd always been there.
After awhile, I heard a car outside and caught my breath. I peeked out the window, and sure enough, there was Chase. He was staring up at the house, hands in pockets, standing next to his SUV. The look on his face was pensive.
After a good five minutes, he began to move toward the porch, and I backed away from the window. Iris was stil up, making soup for the next day, and she'd let him in.
As I waited for the doorbel , I ran through the possible scenarios in my mind. Chase would come up, and everything would work out--the tension would melt away, and he'd take me in his arms and we'd make love.
Or maybe . . . he'd be too nervous and push me away. Or he'd find me unattractive, my hair and--oh gods, the skunk stench! I stil smel ed like skunk. I'd grown accustomed to it over the evening, but now, horrified, I realized that Chase was going to walk through that door, and I'd smel like rotten eggs. What the fuck to do?
And then there was a tap on my door, and it opened slightly. Chase peeked through, and I forgot everything--hair, skunk, al the tension of the past month, and rushed into his arms, crying.
CHAPTER 5
"Delilah--what's wrong? Why are you crying? What's . . . what's that smell?" Chase kissed my nose chastely, then pushed me back to stare in my eyes.
We were the same height, which made it pretty nice when we needed to have heart-to-hearts. Though we hadn't been doing much of that for the past month.
I stared at him. How to start? How to say, What the fuck has been going on with you? without sounding accusatory? I stepped back, and he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.
"I smel like skunk. I got skunked. That's what happened to my hair, too. Iris tried to wash me in tomato juice in cat form and the juice dyed it . . . bad.
Then we tried a peroxide formula to get the scent out and it made it worse. So I told her to punk me. The cut wil grow out faster, and we'l be able to trim the bad color off easier. Do you hate it?"
For the first time in a long while, he laughed. "Oh Delilah, leave it to you. No, I don't hate your hair--it's different but kind of pretty. Edgy, I'd cal it." He stopped. "But what's going on with your arms?"
"I had my first lesson with another Death Maiden tonight. These are the results. They'l darken and change as I go along."
"Then I was right," he said softly.
"Right about what?"
Chase shook his head. "Never mind. Leave it for now. They're pretty. Lovely, real y. You are growing more and more into your father's side of the family, aren't you?" Before I could answer, he continued, "I'm sorry about the skunk, but the smel wil go away, won't it?"
"Luke--from the Wayfarer--has a deodorizer he's going to give me, and that should take care of the problem. Won't bring my hair back, but what the hel ." I flashed him a slow smile. Now that I'd gotten him to laugh, maybe the tension would back off. "So, do I smel bad enough that you don't want to touch me?"
He frowned. "No . . . no . . . though I don't dare get that scent on this suit. Too expensive." He paused, then added, "Oh hel . I'm sorry, Delilah. You deserve an explanation for why I've been so aloof . . ."
My heart caught in my throat. If he's been lying to me again . . .
"Is Erika back?" I whispered.
He looked up at me slowly, then shook his head. "No, she's not. And I haven't been sleeping around. I wouldn't lie to you again. But we need to talk. We promised to be honest with each other."
The look in his eyes made me want to cry. Haunted, alone, nervous--I could read him like a book. But there was something else, something that I couldn't pin down. And I had a strong feeling I wasn't going to like what he had to say.
"What is it? What's going on?"
Fumbling with the hem of his jacket, he shook his head.
"You know I've been going through al this stuff, trying to sort out what's happening to my life, right? But what you--and your sisters--don't know is that the Nectar of Life opened me up. I'm feeling things, sensing things on such an intense level that I don't know how to deal with them. It's like a door opened up, and I stepped into a whole new world. Sharah says that the potion catalyzed my psychic senses and that I'm starting to evolve some sort of power. She thinks I'm going to end up a pretty strong psychic."
Whoa. I hadn't expected to hear this, and part of me was hurt that he hadn't come to me with it first, but I pushed away the feeling. At least he'd gone to somebody with it instead of hiding it. Crossing to his side, I sat next to him and took his hand in mine.
"I don't know what to say. Camil e speculated this might happen--she's sensed something in you over the years. A glimmer of power . . . we just have no idea where you got it from. Maybe your parents or grandparents?">I darted away as he thrust out his palms and a lick of flame shot toward me. Dodging the fire by mere inches, the heat singed me as the column of fire passed by. Now I had the upper hand. I took advantage of his position, bringing Lysanthra down across his forearms. He screamed as I slashed long gashes across both arms and, as he staggered back, I pressed on to drive Lysanthra into his chest, through a gap in his leather jerkin.
