T W E N T Y

Snake didn't really "want it," however, because when I offered her the Blood Gift right there on the beach, she wouldn't accept it. Everything else went just fine, but when it came to that, she pulled away. The moment was right — as right as it could ever be between Mortal and Fae — but she wouldn't go for it. Snake wasn't that prepared to change. Felt all her fiery independence soaring around me crying, "Let me still be me — just for a while. Just a little while longer."

I was happy to oblige her. There would be time later.

We went back to the house and up to my loft. I found her some quilts to snuggle down in. She was cold and tired; exhaustion had caught up with her at last. I should have carried her back but she was too proud for that.

She slept way past sundown the next night but I waited for her, watching her sleep. Couldn't get over how good that felt, how right. Everything. I wondered, briefly, if Tasia had ever felt the same about me in those early times or if it had all been a farce from the start. But not for long. Those kind of thoughts were losing their importance. There were other things to think about now.

When Snake woke up, she came to fast, didn't dawdle around in bed like some folks do. Like I used to do. I was sitting over in one of the chairs, playing my guitar, just messing around.

"Rick brought your gear up," I said.

She made a noise in the affirmative, struggled up and headed into the bathroom to shower off the sand, salt and leftover travel muck. Pretty soon there was clouds of steam billowing out of the door. She might not have been a big talker but she sure enjoyed a long, hot shower. Eventually, she came out and dressed and I packed up the guitar for later.

"We're going to the Grimoire tonight," I said.

"What's that?"

"You'll see. I think you'll like it."

Snake nodded, pulled on her boots and ran a comb through her hair, looking very fine even though there wasn't any mirror for her to go by. She paused at my dresser and picked up the old polaroid I kept there.

"Who's this?" Snake asked. Then zeroed in and answered her own question, "That's you, isn't it?"

"From Before," I said and went over to look, too. I hadn't really looked at that photo, not in a long, long time. Wasn't exactly sure why I kept it around.

"Who are these people? Your family?"

I nodded.

There we were, the Bianco siblings, frozen in time, loafing about on the steps of the last brownstone we'd all lived in together. It was the summer before Maria had married, the year before Bert disappeared and our parents had died. My sister sat beside me on the steps looking self conscious, embarrassed and lovely like sisters do. Bert's hair was clipped short, military style, and he looked like he was wearing a uniform even though he wasn't. Angelo was flashing a peace sign, decked out in all his hippie gear. He had started growing his hair long and it had as much shape and style as a haystack before that turned into a popular look. He always dressed more like a musician than he actually played like one. That thought busted into my head followed by an immediate rush of guilt.

"Those are my brothers, Angelo and Bert. My sister, Maria," I said, hoping spoken words would ease my secret betrayal. "We were just kids back then."

"You were a kid." She grinned which was so much easier for her than smiling. "You were a cutie."

"A ball of fire," I said, dry. "Let's go."

She put the picture down next to what was left of the old Silver Ghost. It still had its rhinestone headlights although it had lost the spare tire and was scratched up a bit. It was still mobile, too, and would rattle across the dresser top with the slightest push. Snake put her arm around me, hugging me to her.

"It's strange seeing that picture," she said. "I didn't stop to think about who you were before. It makes it more real, somehow."

"You keep thinking you're going to wake up, don't you?"

"Yes. I do."

She was surprised — but pleased — that I'd known that and said so. I put my arm around her shoulders. She leaned against me, warm and clean-smelling.

"I'm going to get the last laugh on Father." That crazy smile returned. "You're already dead."

"Look, Dad — no pulse."

We both grinned.

"My, my," she giggled. "What big teeth you have."

I groaned. "Get some new material, lady. That's been done."

We finally shuffled ourselves downstairs, making bad jokes and snickering around at each other's expense. Rick was in the kitchen area looking particularly bleary-eyed when we crashed into the big room making me feel guilty all over again. Could guess what he'd been dwelling on in his waking hours. I knew I'd be looking and feeling a lot like him except I had Snake now.

"There's coffee," Rick said and Snake poured herself a cup.

She took a big gulp and made an interesting face. "Wow. All of Colombia in one little pot."

"Yeah?" Rick glowered.

"Just the way I like it," she said.

Snake began searching through the cabinets and refrigerator seeking out some form of wake-up food, taking stock of all possible options before making a selection. Rick peered into his coffee cup as if it were the Oracle at Delphi and he was commanding it to shut-up. He was the kind of coffee drinker who only rinsed out his cup (his cup, mind you) so the porcelain had developed a matte, mahogany patina which emphasized its arcane quality. The dogs were sprawled around the room chewing on their recently acquired bones. Dishes from the night before were piled up on the cabinet and the garbage needed to go out. There was a litter of books, magazines, ashtrays, various glasses and musical what-not scattered about. The fireplace could have stood a clean out. Extra wood and kindling was stacked on the floor and spilled over onto the carpet.

There wasn't any talk other than the customary getting-started sounds. We danced around each other like we'd been doing it for years. I put fresh water down for the dogs, circling around Snake still searching and Rick parked at the bar. The puppies crossed over and went at it displaying their usual appreciation and enthusiasm, like they'd never seen water before or had never expected to see it again. Whatever. They slobbered as much onto the floor as they managed to get inside.

So Summer's Garden was not in the pristine condition that we'd originally found it in, far from it. Somehow, it had transformed itself into a bigger, grander version of the van's original interior. It was becoming a home. I was suddenly very conscious of that. Wished I could feel good about it. I wanted to feel good, but something inside was tapping out a sharp little tune along the knobs of my spine and, unfortunately, that song wasn't upbeat.

"We've got to talk about last night," I said and started by filling Snake in on what had really happened in the woods, as much as I could tell her of the Grimoire and the 'moon's' message from the night before. The subject matter wasn't any picnic but it had to be done. There was more involved than me now. Rick was in it. Snake was in it.

"All you really know is that Tasia Gemelo is behind this somehow," Snake said after I'd finished. "At least, that's what Madame Absinthe told you. Can you believe her?"

"I think I can believe that Tasia's behind it. At least very involved. No one could attack me like that without her knowing. We're still bonded together, still linked."

"But why would she want to hurt you so badly? When you were hit with the bike, that could have finished you."

"Maybe that's what she wants."

Snake deliberated carefully. "No ... I don't think so. There's something else."

"Like what?" Rick asked. "You got a clue?"

"What about that man you ran into last night?"

"What about him?" I shrugged. "He was just a guy. No one you'd want to know but not a player."

Rick shook his head and said, "You're kidding."

"What?"

"He was Blood," Rick said. "Definitely one of you guys."

"I didn't see it. I didn't feel it."

"I sure felt it. And he didn't reflect in the rear view at all. That's why I asked if he'd gone when you looked back. Could he be some kind of magician, too?"

"Doesn't have to be," I said. "Most Fae can shape energy, create visions, all that crap. It comes with the territory."

"Sounds like he might be a spy," Snake said. "Someone sent to check you out? Why else would he try to fool you into thinking he was human?"

"Because he could." I was feeling idiotic again. Testy and bitter, too. "Fae like games. It's what they live for."

"So, what do you want to do now?" Rick asked. "Clear out?"

"Won't help. I don't have any place to go." I let my head fall on my hand, propped up on arm of the chair. Fingers dug into a pain that was setting in at my temple. "You've got to head out. They're not after you. You can get away."

"And leave my cushy job?" Rick drawled.

"It'll feel real cushy when you're planted six feet deep," I said. "And that's the least that could happen to you. There's lots that's worse."

"My road lies with the Dragon," Snake said.

"Oh please. I really hate it when you talk like that."

"So hate it." She glared at me. "I'm not leaving."

"I don't want you to stay. You'll go if I tell you to go. Both of you."

"Rambo speaks," Rick said to Snake.

"In one syllable words," she acknowledged.

"True. He's no intellectual," Rick went on, "but he plays fairly decent guitar."

I seethed. "In case you've forgotten, I am a creature of the night. I have the power to bend men's minds."

"That's probably why you hang out at the gay bars so much," Rick snapped back. "Personally, I'd rather have the power to bend women's minds."

"It's not a joke." Panic started to set in big. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"If it's any comfort, I don't want anything to happen to me, either," Rick said. "Or her. Or you. You're probably right, maestro. The smart money's on the crypt-kickers but, man, I hate being pushed around on my own turf."

"You have got to leave. Just go."

"Well, I'll think about it," Rick said. "Satisfied?"

"No."

It was hopeless. I looked over at Snake and she looked right back at me. After a while she said, "If you're trying to 'bend' my mind, it isn't working."

"If you don't leave me, I will leave you," I promised and meant it.

"And then what? I'm not helpless, Tony. You know that. I might be better equipped to deal with this than you are."

Of all the things she could have said, that made the most sense. It was easier for me to trust almost anybody else's abilities than my own — especially when I was feeling that stirred up.

"Is Absinthe a dead end?" Rick winced. "No pun intended. What I mean is, she promised us sanctuary. From what I know from the history books, that's supposed to stand for something."

"The reason Fae have rules is so they can trip you up in them. I don't know about Absinthe. Something's eating her. She doesn't like it that we're here — that I'm here."

"But she hasn't turned on us yet."

"No. Not that I know of."

"Suspicious little cuss, aren't you?"

"Too gullible," I shot back and thought, That's how I got into this.

We fell into contemplative quiet, each locked up in isolated speculation. I didn't want it, but the smartest, safest thing would have been for Rick and Snake to leave. I hadn't expected any argument. Didn't know what to do about it. It wasn't a situation I'd ever been faced with before.

Except with Toby.

There had to be a way to get rid of them.

Finally, Rick said, "Are we going to sit here all night? Wait for whoever — or whatever to come after us?"

I shook my head, stood up and said, "Let's go."

There were a lot of other things I wanted to say but I went with that.

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