Kipa sat silent, but he looked like he was sitting on eggshells. I knew he wanted to help me so that I didn’t have to relive it again, but I couldn’t let him do that. For one thing, I considered myself a strong, independent woman. For another, I had to learn how to confront issues that I didn’t want to address. I tended to avoid conflict if it was something I didn’t want to talk about, and the torture I had endured at Pandora’s hands was definitely in that category. Sejun had removed the charge—thoughts about it no longer triggered panic attacks or flashbacks. But the fact was, I wanted to just let it stay in the past. Also, I knew my father would blow up when he heard, and I didn’t want him running off doing anything stupid.
“All right, here’s the—” I paused as the doorbell rang again. “Hold on.” I jumped up, running to the door. Peeking out the peephole I saw that it was Phasmoria, my mother. Lovely. Our family reunion was starting early.
I opened the door and my mother gave me a quick hug. She and I weren’t huggers—not with each other. “Phasmoria, you’re just in time. Curikan just got here.”
She stared at me for a moment, then mouthed, “Have you told him?”
I shook my head. “I was about to. Hell, he just found out Kipa’s a god.”
“That must have been priceless,” she said, grinning.
“Oh, it was. You should have been here.” I looped my arm through hers and escorted her into the living room.
Even though my mother had left when I was twelve—she was one of the Bean Sidhe and the Morrígan had required her to return to her duties—I resembled Phasmoria more than I did my father. He was far more gentle than she was, though that wasn’t the usual nature for one of the Black Dogs. He was also more sedate and set in his ways.
“Curikan,” my mother said, opening her arms to him.
He hugged her, kissing her on the lips. “Phasmoria, you’re looking well.”
“Thank you. You heard I’m now Queen of the Bean Sidhe?”
“Yes, congratulations on your promotion.”
“And I heard that you’ve been writing a book?” my mother said.
That was news to me. I turned to my father. “You’re writing a book?”
He nodded. “Yes, actually. A memoir. I don’t know that I’ll ever publish it, but I thought you might like to have a copy for family records. In case you have children some day.”
Phasmoria settled herself beside me on the sofa. “Go on with your conversation,” she said.
My anxiety returned. There were so many ways this could go. “I need to tell you about something that happened to me. I didn’t want to worry you, but Phasmoria threatened to tell you if I didn’t.”
Curikan frowned. “If your mother thinks it’s important, then it is. Your energy just shifted, as well, and in a way that worries me.” My father was adept at reading both energy and body language.
“You’ve heard of Pandora, correct?”
He nodded. “Yes. What about her?”
“She’s signed up as one of Typhon’s emissaries. A few months back, she kidnapped me and…she tortured me.” I was staring at him, waiting for the explosion.
Curikan’s eyes reddened and all of a sudden, a massive black hound was sitting there, on the floor, snarling. He was almost twice the size of Raj and a mist rose around him. He snapped at the air. I hurried to his side, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Calm down, Da, please. I’m all right. There’s no way you’re going to be able to find her, so turn back into your biped shape.” I glanced at my mother. I had expected a number of reactions, but not for him to shift.
Phasmoria slipped to his other side. “Curikan, listen to me. You need to control yourself. Our daughter needs us to be level-headed and here for her, not running amok.” She whispered something in his ear that I couldn’t quite catch. The next moment, he shimmered back into his human form.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his hair tousled. He picked himself up off the floor and took his seat in the recliner again. “You know that strong emotions can make me shift.” He turned to me. “Beloved daughter, what happened? Are you all right?”
I quietly told him what had happened, about meeting her at the necromancers’ group in Fire & Fang, a vampire bar, and not realizing who she was. And then, how she had captured me and what she had done to me, and why.
“My toenails and fingernails have grown back in. My wounds are healed, though I have some scars. But I’m all right. I went to the Elves for therapy, and they used their techniques on me to remove the trigger emotions, but leave the memory.” I reached out to take his hand. “Truly, I’m all right now. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll always hate that bitch with a passion, but…I’m okay.”
Kipa and I brought them up to speed as to where we were in the battle against Typhon.
“Kipa’s working with both the Wild Hunt and Mielikki’s Arrow on the front lines. I’m on call for when the dead rise. Meanwhile, tomorrow, I need to go over to visit a tarot client who’s got some sort of poltergeist energy running amok in her house. I don’t know how long it will take. And tomorrow evening is the opening of the harvest fair, so I’ll be heading out to Marigold and Rain’s house. Kipa, would you entertain my father while I’m out?”
“I was going to go with you—” Kipa began, then paused. “Of course, I’ll be happy to.”
“Better than that,” Phasmoria said, “I’ll stay the night and tomorrow, while you’re at your client’s house, I know a little bar where we can get a drink and we won’t run into any Fae, humans, or magic-born, so Curikan, you’ll be safe to visit. Kipa, why don’t you come with us?”
I stared at her. “Where is it? Why haven’t I’ve heard of it?”
“It’s owned by one of the Ante-Fae—Yinny. The bar’s called Cellar Chain, and it’s out past TirNaNog, on one of the backroads. Exclusive to the Ante-Fae and deities.” She grinned. “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it. It’s a key-club. I’ll make sure to get you on the list.”
I was about to say I didn’t need access, but the oven timer rang. The eggplant parmesan was ready. I turned to Kipa. “Love, can you set the table while I see to dinner? We’ll eat in about ten minutes.”
As I headed into the kitchen, I glanced back. My mother, the Bean Sidhe, was chatting with my father, one of the Black Dogs, while my Lord of the Wolves boyfriend was listening. Yeah, families. Sometimes they could be the quirkiest groups around.
Chapter Three
The next morning, after a long evening of reminiscing, I woke next to Kipa. I turned to face him, hunkering down under the covers as the rain beat a steady rhythm against the window. It was supposed to clear up during the afternoon, and then be cool and crisp during the evening for the start of the harvest fair.
Kipa opened his eyes and murmured something, reaching for me. I slid into his arms, silently pressing my lips against his, fully intending to take advantage of him, when a knock interrupted any thoughts of morning nookie.
“I made breakfast!” My father’s voice echoed from the other side of the door and I quickly disentangled myself, pushing myself to a sitting position as I pulled the covers up under my chin.