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“Is that what thisis? Getting some exclusive shots for tomorrow’s splash page?”
Veronica’s fresh expression is a strange combination of sad eyes and pursed lips. “Why are you going there, Kara? Is that any way to talk to me, after not checking in for nearly a week?”
“Because our last check-in ended so well?” Kara folds her arms. “With you ordering me to get lost so you could tear a new one into Gramps?”
“He was fine,” she defends. “You’ve always looked at that man with rose-colored glasses.”
“Better than refusing to look at him at all.”
Veronica rocks back on a heel, though her mien isn’t from verbal bruising. It’s a semicasual move, as if she’s heard the line a hundred times before. But her expression is a stark contrast. Her seriousness has surpassed stealth and arrived at full gravity.
“I didn’t come here to argue either, okay?”
Kara nods, accepting that much—but nothing beyond. “So what do you want, Mother?”
Veronica swivels with the precision of a trained dancer. It’s impossible not to assume the move is planned, seeing how perfectly it flares the tails of her tailored brocade jacket. “To see you, of course.”
“Well, here I am.” Kara flicks up an impatient arm. “Satisfied?”
Veronica balls up her hands as if physically forcing herself back. Her tension is obvious. “Are you okay?”
Circe scoffs. “We’re not forcing her to scrub the hearth and pluck the chickens, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Veronica goes on as if nothing but a silent beat has fleeted by. “I left for an afternoon at the spa, and then the whole city went Mad Hatter without the good tea. When I got home, it was no better. At first I thought Jaden had thrown one of his afternoon fiestas for the boys, but the tequila wasn’t touched. And the pool looked like lava. And Dalton was nowhere to be found!”
Kara shakes her head. Only once, but that’s enough. “Don’t light any candles for Dalton, Mother. And if he comes back, kill him.”
A hard pair of blinks from Veronica. “You cannot be—”
There’s a sound like breaking glass in the air. A glittering silhouette is again filled in by Morgana, her stance braced for battle. She grimaces as her focus lands on Veronica and Arden. At the same time, she resheaths her sword with a brutalshink. “Oh, bloodyhell.”
“Mistress le Fay.” Arden eyes her up and down with an inscrutable expression. His silken croon is easier to figure out. “What a not-so-surprising turn of the cosmos. How have you been?”
“Bugger off.”
Veronica rushes forward. “We have to talk, Kara. This just can’t wait. Can we go somewhere more…private? Please?”
I’m about to suggest that might be a good idea, when Kara speaks again. “Whatever you have to say to me is all right to voice with my sisters.”
Now Veronica clenches back a grimace. I almost join her.Sisters?Two minutes ago, they were all justdeep friends. I’m not fond of the closed-off look that my woman wields in return, even if it’s lasered solely on her mother.
“You have an actual sister,” Mama Valari says. “You rememberher, right? And right now—”
Hecate flows both hands in the air as if preparing to conduct the LA Philharmonic through a gentle concerto. “As you’ve eloquently stated, Veronica, these are not times to stir negative vibrations. Surely we can get to the point without italicized accusations.”
“Exactly,” Kara says. “Do you seriously think I haven’t thought about Kell a thousand times since we left?”
“How would I know that when you’ve been hiding away here?”
“For a higher purpose,” Kara insists. “Hecate is helping to enlighten my abilities. Circe too. And they’re doing it without secrets or flowcharts or half a thought about likes, engagement, and followers. On the other hand, I’m sure you already know how many bars your phoneisn’tgetting out here.”
Veronica gives up a heavy huff. “Circe. Hecate.” She carves nods to both. “I see you andallyour magnificent powers, all right? Is a minute with my daughter too much to ask on top of that?”
Kara clears her throat. Steps clear of me by another half step. Circe already moves to back her up.
“You’ve already been here for five, Ms. Valari.”
If there’s a supernatural version of a red-level smog alert, Veronica’s ire just took us there. But her daughter’s deliberate decorum has stirred other things into that mix and then painted it across the woman’s face. Pain. Disappointment. And, surprisingly…despair.
