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Touching my finger to the flower, I smiled. “Thank you. I did need it.”
She offered a small smile. “Where the hell do they get daisies from this time of year, anyway? It’s freezing outside.”
I chuckled and reached to twirl one in the vase. “There’s a greenhouse off the back of the cathedral. Used to be tended to by Garic--he was kind of the grounds-person here.”
“He’s not anymore?”
A sadness swelled inside my chest, recalling the day I’d found his ashes in the woods, where he’d taken his own life. “No. Not anymore.” With a sigh, I stared off. “Hey, I don’t suppose you know how to drive a horse and carriage?” I asked, trying to lighten the somber mood.
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
Shaking her head, she chuckled. “No. Sorry. What the hell is up with that, anyway? I feel like I’m living in a Jack The Ripper era here.”
“Well, considering most here have wings, I suppose cars aren’t all that necessary.”
“True. Why do you ask? About the carriage?”
“It seems Anya can’t take me into town.” Sitting back in my chair, I sighed. “And I really need to go.”
“I don’t think so.” A deep, annoying masculine voice responded that time, and I turned to see Vaszhago standing at the entrance to the dining room, arms crossed where he leaned against the wall.
“I need to talk to someone. It’s important.”
“Our definitions of importance clearly differ. Therefore, you can wait until Jericho returns.”
A stubborn flare of defiance rose up in me. “I am not waiting another day. I have waited long enough to speak with her, and so help me God, if you try to keep me from going, I will–”
“Look, Vas,” Vespyr interrupted. “She’s pregnant. Needs fresh air. When was the last time you carried a bundle of joy?” Brows winged up, she tipped her head and, before he could respond, kept on. “Exactly. Women have been known to die of boredom. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
His expression remained stoic, completely void of humor, interest, life. “What is the dire nature of this meeting?”
“I have questions.”
“What questions?”
“The kind that can’t be answered in books, or by nosey demons who’ve never spat a whole baby out of their asses. I am going crazy. I can’t sleep. I’m not hungry. Ever. And I’d really like to know why the hell I’m vomiting black.”
In my periphery, I could see Vespyr’s head snap in my direction. “Seriously?” she whispered. “That’s messed up.”
Vaszhago’s lips twisted with a look of repulsion. “Humans are such disgusting creatures.”
“So, will you take me to see this woman in town?” I asked, ignoring his comment.
“Where?”
“The bookstore.”
“Did you not just say the answers can’t be found in books?”
“I’m not going there for a book. I’m going for a person. Er, ghost. Whatever you call them.”
“Wraith.” Groaning, he rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. “Very well. What harm could you conjure in a bookstore with a wraith?”
“Well, you’d be surprised. But, I promise, I’ll go in, ask her some questions, and leave.”
Vespyr shot up out of her seat, knocking it backward into the wall behind her and tipping over the vase of flowers. Water scattered across the tablecloth, and I lurched to place the daisies back with what little water remained.“I’m coming with you.”
