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Leaving him in an apartment rather than with the council was a test, and so far he was doing all right. If I left him too long without blood, however, things could head south fast.
“I’m on my way.”
“Good. Thanks. Can you bring me a Snickers?”
“A… Sorry, you want a chocolate bar?”
“Snickers satisfies.”
He’d been watching TV again.
“Yeah, sure. I can bring you a Snickers.” There was no point in telling him the candy wouldn’t be of any nutritional use to him. I mean, honestly, was it of nutritional use to anyone? If my crazy father wanted a Snickers, I could buy him a damned candy bar.
He hung up without saying goodbye, but I waited until I heard the dead-line beeps. There’d been a few occasions where he’d sat without talking for quite a while and I’d accidentally hung up on him. He didn’t like that very much. Once I knew for sure he was gone, I slipped the phone into the back pocket of my jeans.
At some point during the conversation Holden had picked up my sopping-wet pants and clothes-pinned them to a hanger. They were now hanging from my closet door with a towel underneath.
Where had this man come from? Seriously.
“If I left it long enough, you’d start doing my laundry, wouldn’t you?”
Totally unembarrassed, he brushed his hair back and smiled. “I’d even dry-clean the dry-clean onlys. Unlike you. Heathen.”
“How was I supposed to know Burberry sweaters were made of such shoddy cashmere?”
“God help me.”
“Want to come see the Oracle with me? I suspect if I leave you here, you’ll reorganize my closet again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Since my brief brush with humanity, approaching the door to the Starbucks on West 52nd and 8th set me into a tizzy of anxiety. Before becoming human I’d never had any difficulty passing through into Calliope’s otherworldly realm. But when the time had come, my true moment of need, I’d fallen through it without so much as a quiver of magic. Brigit had died because I’d been unable to get her the help she required.
I’d honestly never really forgiven Cal.
But necessity, they say, is the mother of invention, and for me, hunger meant I couldn’t shut the Oracle out of my life. Besides, as a true immortal, there were very few things Calliope would feel guilty about, and letting Brigit die wasn’t one of them. People died, and Cal lived on.
It was a good thing I was with Holden and not Desmond right then, because the half-fairy/half-god would pitch a fit if I tried to bring a werewolf through the gate again. I’d already done it twice, and she was none too impressed both times. Third strike would be an out for sure, and I couldn’t afford to get banned from my one reliable source of food.
The passage gave no resistance when Holden and I stepped through. One moment we were opening the door to the coffee shop, the next we were standing on an ornate Persian rug, being warmed by the light of a fire.
I scanned the large room to ensure there were no semiconscious delivery boys passed out in the nearby chairs, but we appeared to be alone. A few short seconds after we arrived, the big double doors on the far end of the room opened of their own accord, and in waltzed a beauty icon.
It wasn’t merely my opinion of Cal’s good appearance. She had, for a brief spell, been Marilyn Monroe, and in spite of her thinner frame and black hair, she still looked as if she’d just wandered off the set of How to Marry a Millionaire.
Except of course instead of a ’50s party dress, she was wearing a sheer black lace gown that started at her neck and went all the way behind her in a long train.
“Looking pretty goth bridal today, Cal.”
“I don’t know if that is meant to be a compliment, but I’ll take it as such.” She waited in the doorway, making no indication she planned to come farther into the room. She was acting icier than usual, but we hadn’t been chummy lately. Things had been rough since I accused her of murder and she’d let my best friend die.
“You look beautiful,” I clarified.
“Thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from you and your consort?” She glanced at Holden in a way that openly challenged him to say something about her choice of words. Oh, we were going to have fun with Cal tonight.
“I came to get some blood for Sutherland. But I was also hoping to have a word with you in private.”
“Hmm.” She stared past me at Holden before she refocused her attention on me. “Yes. I believe there’s a great deal we need to talk about, isn’t there? Come, we’ll speak in the garden, then I’ll give you blood for your father. You.” She crooked a finger at Holden. “You may go wait in the library.”
