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A noise on the stairwel announced Menol y, Roz, and Vanzir as they came trooping down the steps. They were covered with blood, and Menol y's mouth was slick with the red stuff. Looked like she'd had an after-dinner snack. Or maybe it was her dinner. It was then that I noticed she was dragging somebody behind her. One of the two Tregarts--al trussed up and nowhere to go.
"You captured one? You think they have any information worth knowing?" Camil e hurried over to her.
Menol y grinned, her smile al too scary. "Who knows? But I'm going to find out."
I turned to Chase, who was gazing at me, looking . . . somewhere between lost and angry. "Looks like we're done here," I said. Then, because I couldn't stop myself, I added, "Won't you come back home with me? It's been so long . . ."
He chewed on his lip, which was looking terribly chapped. After a moment, he shrugged. "I suppose we should talk." He didn't look overjoyed.
Keeping my hurt feelings to myself, I forced a smile. Enthusiastic much. Not. But best to keep my mouth shut. I glanced over at the others. They were trundling the demon out to Menol y's car. I turned back to Chase. "Are you going to ride with me or--"
"I'l fol ow in my car," he said abruptly. "Just in case . . . you know, I get a cal or need to leave or something."
"Yeah, fine." Again, I forced a smile and leaned in for a kiss, but he turned his head, and my lips slid off his cheek. I headed out to my Jeep.
Menol y took the demon down to the Wayfarer. She, Vanzir, and Rozurial told the rest of us to go straight home.
"We'l find out anything he has to say. Don't wait up." Her eyes were frosty gray, and I took one look at her set jaw and nodded.
I knew that no sounds would penetrate out of that little safe room we had hidden there, and no magic could make it in or out, no demon or anything else could teleport through the barriers. It was our end-of-the-world room, essential y. And once in there, with Menol y and Vanzir especial y, the Tregart would give up his secrets.
I arrived home before Chase and rushed up to my room, where I swept al the dirty laundry into the closet, made sure my kitty box was clean so it didn't stink up the place, and stripped off the bloody clothes. I tossed them. Blood and skunk pretty much guaranteed their demise.
Hopping in the shower, I hosed myself off and then decided to sacrifice a Victoria's secret forest green chemise. It had lace around the bust, and even though I wasn't anywhere near Camil e's size, I fil ed it out nicely.
I wandered over to the window, staring out into the blustery night. Maybe once we were alone, in bed, Chase would loosen up, lose some of the worry that had been plaguing him. Maybe he'd reach out to me. Or let me reach out to him.
Leaning back against the headboard, I pul ed the blanket up to my neck. The room was chil y, but I loved it. My bedroom was normal y a mess--I ful y admitted to being a slob--but it had charm. I'd fil ed it with cat toys and Hel o Kitty posters and stacks of magazines and my computer desk where I spent a lot of my time poring over the Net. I'd bought a personal TV but stil preferred watching my shows downstairs where I usual y could snag Menol y or Camil e into joining me.
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?"
