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He shrugged. "That's all right."
The woodwork in his room was painted black, and so were the radiators and the ceiling. The walls were covered with posters and hooks from which dangled such things as beads, tassels, and a fake shrunken head made from an apple. "My mom wouldn't let me paint the walls black," Aiden explained. "She said it would be hard enough painting over the ceiling when I finally left home, so I gave her a break."
I'll bet, Vivian thought, imagining the fight they must have had. "I'm painting my room, too." She told him about the mural.
He laughed. "I guess your mom's not too thrilled, either."
She shook her head. "Cute," she said, examining a plastic model of Godzilla that marched across the top of his black dresser, followed by half a dozen smaller Godzillas.
"Momzilla," Aiden said.
Next to the Godzilla family was a mound made of plasticine topped by a crucifix. She suspected it was meant to be a grave. A tiny doll's hand poked through the surface, like a corpse emerging.
"You've got a warped sense of humor, boy," she said.
Aiden laughed with her. "My aunt Sarah gave me the cross. It's real silver. She thinks I'm going to hell."
"Why's that?" Vivian asked. It seemed strange that one of his own pack would damn him like that.
"Oh, my long hair, I listen to Satanic music, and I have an unhealthy curiosity. She suggested to my mother that she burn my books."
"No!"
"Honest."
She walked over to have a look at those dangerous works of literature in his bookcase. Most were horror and fantasy novels, but at the end of the middle row sat A Witches' Bible Complete and The Druid Tradition. An Aleister Crowley paperback lay open, facedown on the top shelf.
"You believe this stuff?" she asked.
He looked relieved that there was no sarcasm in her voice. "Well, curious really. I mean, we shouldn't close ourselves to possibilities right?"
So he liked to be open to possibilities, huh? Was he open enough to accept the truth about her? There was a thought. Would he still care for her if he knew?
"You read Tarot?" she asked, picking up a pack of cards. It was the classic Rider-Waite deck.
"I haven't learned yet. I've got something about it here, though." He shuffled through some books.
"That's okay," she said. "I only wondered. My great-aunt uses that deck." It was easier to call Persia Devereux that than to explain. A pack was like family, and all older members were aunts and uncles. "She's very good."
"Cool. Your aunt reads Tarot. What other neat stuff does your family do?"
Wouldn't you like to know? she thought.
"That's a wicked smile." He put his arms around her. "Are you getting ideas now I've got you in my den of iniquity?"
Den. She liked his choice of words. "And what ideas would I be getting?"
"Something like this." His lips met hers, and his hand slid up to cup her left breast gently. She put her own hand over his and made him squeeze harder as her tongue snaked into his mouth. Why did he always have to be so damn polite?
He moaned. That's better, she thought. Loosen up, boy.
"Dessert time!" Ashley's voice echoed up the stairwell.
"Oh, man." Aiden kissed her neck. "Better go, or she'll come and get us." His voice was husky. Vivian loved hearing him sound that way. "You go on down," he said, releasing her. "I've got to do a couple of things."
Yeah, like pour a glass of cold water down your shorts, she thought, and grinned. "See you soon," she whispered, and slinked out in a way that she knew would keep him up there a few extra minutes.
After dessert, Vivian excused herself. "I need to use the bathroom," she explained.>"Perhaps Astrid's right," Esmé said as Vivian walked into the kitchen.
