So what’s the loophole?” Justine asked before her mom had even fully appeared.
Iris frowned. “What are you talking about?” She was sporting a gorgeous ruby ring and a pair of Manolo Blahniks that had seemed innocuous last week, but now hinted at things Justine simply didn’t want to know about.
She decided not to ask about the source of the expensive accessories. “The loophole in the Oath. What is it?”
Iris’s eyes immediately darkened. “A loophole for what? You already learned how to disinherit a successor and get her back. What now?”
“Killing someone who knows about Mona, who knows everything. Where’s the loophole so I don’t have to kill him?” She held her breath. Please let there be a loophole. She’d decided that Derek must be the manufactured Qualifying Incident her mom had mentioned. He was tempting, but also a decent guy. She wasn’t supposed to have sex with him, and he didn’t deserve to die. Surely, she was supposed to do some innovative Guardian-ing and come up with another solution, right? That was the test?
She didn’t want to consider the alternative. That he was a real threat and she had some really tough decisions to make. “So? Loophole?”
Iris collapsed onto the kitchen chair, whooshing right through it and disappearing through the floor.
“Um, Mom?” She leaned over to peer at the tile, but there was no sign of Iris. “Where’d you go?”
Iris suddenly popped up through the floor and Justine jerked back, her heart jumping. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry. Fainting in the mortal world is a pain. I need a drink. Do you have any tequila around here?”
Justine plunked herself back in her chair, trying to calm her heart. “Above the fridge, where you left it.”
Iris floated over to the cabinet, pulled out a bottle and whipped off the top. She chugged it for five seconds before lowering it. “I needed that.” She carried the bottle over to the table, ignoring the trail of tequila dripping from the bottoms of her feet as the liquid ran right through her. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of violating your Oath for a man.”
“Well, no. I just want to know if there’s a loophole.”
“There’s no loophole. Trust me.”
As the resident expert on Guardianship, her mom would know. The Council had originally asked her to write the Treatise on Guardianship, a huge honor. Only the best were asked to write treatises. Of course, they’d changed their mind after she’d gotten herself killed, but that didn’t change the fact that her mom was the expert. “Are you sure?”
Iris closed her eyes and muttered something about prayers and children who break their parents’ hearts.
Justine cut her off before she could gain momentum. “Oh, come on, Mom. I don’t need a guilt trip. It’s a business question. I’m asking as a Guardian, not as your daughter.”
Iris opened her eyes and gazed at Justine for a long moment, before she sighed with resignation. “Here’s the deal. The night I died? I violated my Oath.”
“Really?” Justine inched forward. “How? For a man?”
Iris ignored her question. “I saved Mona, but I died, as you know.” Iris took another swig. “When I got to purgatory, the Council showed me the penalty for Oath Violation.”
Goose bumps popped up on Justine’s arms as she leaned forward. “You mean the Chamber of Unspeakable Horrors? What is it?”
Iris shook her head. “It is literally a horror too unspeakable for words.”
“Could you be more specific?” The Treatise didn’t spell it out, and no Guardian had ever actually been sentenced to it and emerged with a sound enough mind to report on it.
Iris gave her a considering glance. “Well, imagine being skinned alive, then plunged into a vat of rubbing alcohol while getting your eyes stabbed repeatedly with burning hot needles. Imagine enduring that for all eternity without ever being allowed to sleep or take a break, while being surrounded by people you know and hate who are enjoying every single pleasure and joy you’ve ever yearned for in your entire life. Are you imagining?”
“Um, yeah.” She blinked her eyes several times, forced herself not to cover them with her hands.
“Well, it’s exponentially worse than that.”
“Oh.” Justine shook off the shudders and picked her gun up, stroking the cool metal.
“The Council spared me from the Chamber because I saved Mona.” Iris pointed the bottle at Justine. “But that I’d almost violated my Oath? I would have gotten an eternity in the bowels of hell for that little maneuver, if it weren’t for the fact I had you. So don’t violate your Oath, or even think about it. They’ll know.”
Crud.
“If someone knows details about Mona, you have to kill that person. End of story. There are no other options. Each day you delay moves you closer toward an official Oath Violation.”
Justine pressed her lips together and tried not to scowl. “So there’s no way to save him? Even if he’s not a danger?” Not that he wasn’t a danger, but on the chance he abandoned his quest to kill her and steal Mona, well, she wanted to be prepared to let him live . . . for the sake of her mom, of course. Going above and beyond to spare a mortal’s life might meet the standards for a Qualifying Incident. If the Council was even the slightest bit modern, they might even consider creative problem-solving a plus. But since she couldn’t afford the Oath Violation, her only choice was something that was entirely supported by the Treatise.
Iris shot her a look of total disappointment. “You know, as a mother, I worked very hard to set a good example for you. I ensured you had a roof over your head, and this is what happens? You consider violating your Oath? Spurning everything I gave you?” She sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to do with you. I really don’t.”
“Mom, I’m not going to violate my Oath. It was just a suggestion and . . .”
“What’s going on?” Theresa shuffled into the kitchen, wearing a lace camisole and silk boxers, custom-made of course, complete with a hole for her tail. “Oh, hi, Iris. Drinking again?”
Iris glared at the dragon. “You’re supposed to be taking care of my baby girl. Justine is considering violating her Oath. Why haven’t you been on top of this? What have you been doing?”
“Cybersex.”
Iris blinked. “Again? Every time I visit, you seem to be having cybersex.”
“Justine won’t let me kill people or burn things up. I need some outlet to keep my dragon instincts sated or things will get ugly around here. Besides, it’s fun.” Theresa yawned, her long tongue curling over her teeth. “What time is it anyway?” She wandered over to the fridge and pulled it open.
“Too late for you to be indulging in self-gratification. Your best friend is on the verge of descending into an eternity of unspeakable horrors,” Iris sniffed.
“Mom! Get off Theresa’s case. She’s my friend, not my keeper.” Justine gave the dragon an apologetic grimace, and got a puff of smoke in acknowledgment.
“You two are a team and she’s dropping the ball because of a sex addiction. Pathetic. She should be replaced as your successor.”
“Hey!” Theresa slammed the fridge shut, a gallon of orange juice hanging from her left claw. “I’ve been putting in my time for two hundred years. I’ve earned my spot as the successor!”
“Not if you have a sex addiction,” Iris said. “If you don’t shape up, I’ll have to report you to the Council and—”
“I’m not the one planning to have sex with a man who wants to steal Mona,” Theresa snapped. She yanked the cap off the juice and threw it on the counter. “Talk to your daughter.” She upended the gallon and started pouring the liquid down her throat.
“Theresa! The Council could be listening right now!” Justine yanked the plastic container out of the dragon’s claws, ignoring the snarl of protest. “Can’t you go stick your head in the toilet or something?”
“No, I can’t.” Theresa grabbed the juice and turned her back on them as she finished chugging.
Iris gave a groan of dismay and swung around to face Justine. “Is that really what the loophole question is about? You want to have sex with Derek?”
“No. Of course not. Hah. Hah.”
Iris took another slug of the alcohol, then let the bottle thud to the counter. After a moment, she gave the girls a determined look. “Okay, I’m a modern woman. I understand the need for sex. Women have sexual urges, just like men.”
Oh, God. This was so not the conversation to have with your mom. “Never mind. It was just a thought. Anyone want a pretzel?”
“Do you think I’m immune when Satan talks about licking every inch of my body? I’m not.”
Ugh. “Mom—”
“Licking is good,” Theresa sidled up to the table and leaned on it, her golden eyes glittering. “I wouldn’t mind Zeke licking me. The backs of my knees are my favorite place . . . or are they? I can’t actually remember anymore. Cyber-licking isn’t quite the same, you know?”
“I have fantasies like any other woman,” Iris said, with a quelling look at Theresa, “but I’m not going to act on them. Sometimes you have to think with your brain instead of the throbbing between your legs.”
“Mom!” Someone behead her now. Please.
“Oh come on, Iris. You’ve been out from under the Guardian Oath for two hundred years. Do you really expect us to believe you haven’t been out there getting down and dirty with the good-looking residents of purgatory?” Theresa wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.
“Theresa!” Justine snapped. “Will you please shut up? I do not need to envision my mom’s sex life!”
Iris tapped through Justine’s arm. “Sweetie, believe me, I understand your womanly needs. They can drive you to do incredibly stupid things that ruin your life and your career.” She frowned. “So, if you’re really feeling desperate, maybe it would be best if you did have sex. If you controlled the situation, then you wouldn’t end up in trouble, like I did.” She grimaced. “But even if you think you can justify intercourse as necessary to Mona’s safety, it would be very difficult to get away with it. The Council isn’t stupid, you know.”
“Okay, fine. I won’t have sex. New topic.”
“Chill out.” Theresa tossed the empty plastic jug at her. “You’re way too uptight when it comes to sex.”
“Only when it involves my mom, so back off.”
Iris wasn’t finished. “If you do have sex, you better be very certain it’s meaningless with no emotional attachment. No loyalty to anyone but Mona. It makes you vulnerable, and that leads to bad decisions.” Iris tipped her head thoughtfully. “But if you really did have to have sex to save Mona, then how would you keep it meaningless? I wonder . . .” She faded off into a ruminating silence.
“Really?” Theresa’s tail switched with excitement. “You think there might be a way we can get Justine laid? She really needs to lighten up. She’s driving me crazy with all her rules.”
“What, are you guys my pimps or something?” Justine folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the far counter. “Thanks, but I’m all set.”
Iris rubbed her chin. “Maybe if you had him blindfold you, that might work. Then it would be faceless sex.”
“I’ve never tried blindfolds.” Theresa picked up a dish towel and fingered it thoughtfully. “Impossible to have cybersex blindfolded, you know? Logistical difficulties.”
Iris continued her musings. “Or if there was simply intercourse without foreplay. But do you like foreplay? I do. I especially like it when—”
“Satan’s Rivka almost killed me tonight,” Justine blurted out. Please, someone, spare me from this discussion.
Iris blinked. “What?”
“See my singed hair? Burned scalp?” Hopefully there were a few scars still left. “She threw a fireball at me and almost melted my head off.”
A slow flush rose up Iris’s neck to her cheeks. “That son of a bitch told me he was going to send her to keep you safe. And I believed him.” She lunged to her feet. “I can’t believe he lied to me again! I’m going to go find him and—”
“It was an accident,” Justine said quickly. Somehow, sending her mom off in a rage after the most evil being that existed didn’t seem like a good idea. “She didn’t mean to.”
Iris took a deep breath and eyed her. “What exactly happened tonight?”
“She was aiming for . . .” Maybe she shouldn’t mention the burnt flowerpots. No need for Satan to know how Becca had dodged his orders. “. . . Derek, and I got in the way.”
“So, she didn’t try to kill you? You swear?”
“I swear. She was trying to keep me safe.” She studied her mom, who had sagged into her chair with relief. “How did you get Satan to send his Rivka to protect me? Why isn’t he after the Goblet?”
“The power of withholding sex, my dear.” Iris nodded at Theresa. “You should try it. Even withholding cybersex should work. Woman have power over men. It’s nature, and you must take advantage of it whenever possible.”
Not the advice she wanted with the memory of Derek’s kiss still sizzling on her skin. Surely, liberal handing out of sex could be a weapon as well, couldn’t it?
Iris sighed. “Now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t think there’s a way around the prohibition. I think you must continue to abstain unless you can get the Treatise updated.” A high-pitched ringing filled the apartment. “I have to go.”
“What?” Theresa’s tail smacked the floor. “You can’t announce Justine has to stay celibate and then leave without helping us problem-solve.”
“Sure she can,” Justine interrupted. “It’s okay. Really.”
Iris gave Justine a quick hug. “Make me proud, my dear, so I can brag to all the other parents in my neighborhood. I understand the need for sex, but Derek is simply too dangerous. Kill him instead. It’s the least you could do for your own mama, so I don’t have to spend eternity feeling guilty because I wasn’t a good enough mom to keep my daughter out of the Chamber of Unspeakable Horrors.” She leveled a finger at Theresa. “And you get some therapy.”
And then she shimmered out of sight.
Theresa whistled. “She’s really good at the guilt thing.”
“No kidding.” Justine picked up the abandoned bottle of tequila. “I feel like I should go sit in the corner for twenty minutes and think about my behavior.” She stared moodily at the alcohol and wished she could drown her sorrows in it. Too bad the Oath banned all substances that could impair reaction time (page seventy-three of the Treatise). “I’m completely traumatized by all that sex talk from my mom. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”
“I’ll distract you. How’d your date go?”
“He admitted he was there to kill me and steal Mona, then we almost slept together, but there was this whole fireball incident.” She sighed. “Sort of killed the mood.”
“Yeah, I can see how that would be a buzz kill.” Theresa clucked with empathy, and Justine felt a little better.
“Then I learned that someone else also knows about Mona, so we have more than one enemy. Plus the Rivka works for Derek and is all cozy with him. She wants him to go ahead and kill me because she can’t bear for him to die.”
Theresa pulled three frozen pizzas out of the freezer. “Why does he have to kill you? It’s not just about his quest for immortality and world domination?”
“Some curse apparently requires my death in order to break it. What kind of jerk would write me into a curse like that?” Justine grabbed a fourth pizza for herself and turned on the oven.
“A jerk with a personal vendetta against you.”
“Me? What did I ever do to anyone?”
“Well, you’ve killed a few people.”
“All in the name of duty. How could anyone take that personally? Derek doesn’t take it personally.”
Theresa cocked her head. “You should have killed him. Bad decision, girlfriend.”
“I know. I guess I’ll do it tomorrow.” Justine swung the bottle from her fingertips, watching it sway back and forth. “He owns Vic’s Pretzels, by the way.”
Theresa snapped to attention. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Well, good lord, girl! We have to find a way to save him!” Theresa ran out of the room and was back with her computer in less than five seconds. “Tell me everything that happened. You can’t kill him. He’s my reason for living!”
Justine felt a surge of hope. “Mom says there’s no loophole.”
“There’s always a loophole. Talk to me, sister. We will not relinquish the pretzels!”
“You’ve finally lost your mind.” Quincy shoved his keyboard away and leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed.
“No, I’ve finally found it.” Derek perched on the edge of the chair across from his brother’s desk. “I know it sounds crazy, but I saw all this stuff actually happen. I swear it.”
Quincy picked up a pen and drummed it on his desk. “You want me to believe that Becca is actually a disciple of Satan?”
“Rivka. She’s bound to him by his life force.”
“And she shoots fireballs?”
“Yep. And Justine is the Guardian. We’ve already been through this. I need your help, Quin. I’m hoping you’ll be able to see some pattern that will help us identify who originally wrote the Curse.” He leaned forward. “We need one of your brilliant equations. That’s all. You don’t have to kill anyone. Just do what you like best.”
“Sorry, Derek, but my answer is still the same as the last time you asked me: No. You need psychological help, not encouragement.” Quincy punched the intercom on his phone. “Wendy, I’ll take that number now.”
Damn his brother and his close-mindedness. “What number?”
The door opened and Wendy sashayed into the room. Or rather, someone who looked vaguely like Wendy. This Wendy was wearing a fitted black top (since when had her chest been that big?) and a short red skirt that hit her hips in the right places and made her legs look like they went on for eternity. She was sporting some stylish new hairdo and was wearing makeup.
She didn’t just look hot.
She was sizzling.
What happened to Wendy-the-librarian?
Even Quincy seemed to notice, if the way he was gaping at her swaying hips was any indication. “Thanks, Wendy.”
“Anything for you, Quin,” she purred.
Quin? Since when did she call him Quin? He studied his brother as Quin’s gaze tracked Wendy’s every movement. All the more reason to break the Curse, if Quin had finally found a woman.
She handed Derek a piece of paper. “At your brother’s request, I did a little investigating. This is the name of a psychiatrist who specializes in people who have trouble separating fantasy from reality.”
He crunched the paper in his fist and scowled at Quin. “Are you serious?”
Quin nodded. “Wendy did the research. This doctor is best in the field.”
“You didn’t tell her everything, did you?” He clenched his fist tighter as he thought of Justine and her gun. “It’s a really bad idea for Wendy to know too much.”
“Don’t worry. She’s sworn to secrecy.” He gave his assistant a wink, and she shot him a sultry look, then sauntered around the desk and leaned next to him. Quincy slipped his hand around her waist, then hauled her onto his lap.
And then they were going at it. Hands roaming, lips smacking, little moaning noises coming from Wendy.
Whoa. Derek looked away, momentarily shocked by the display. After years of being too buried in his work to notice there was actually another gender on the planet, Quin chose now to get involved with a woman? Four days before they both died?
A low moan from Wendy drew his attention back to them. “Hey.” He slammed his palm down on the table. “Quincy, this is really important.”
Quincy broke the kiss and peered over Wendy’s shoulder, even as his hands caressed her lower back. “I know it’s important. Call this doc before you lose your mind. The line between sanity and insanity can be so tenuous.” He rubbed Wendy’s butt and shot her a look that promised things Derek didn’t realize Quincy even thought about.
Derek frowned. “You feeling all right, Quincy?”
His brother gave him a very masculine look. “What do you think?”
Wendy twisted around. “Call the doctor, Derek.”
“No.” Derek stood and tossed the wadded up card on the desk. “You’re too buried in denial to realize the truth, Quincy. Forget I asked. I’ll figure it out on my own. And remember, if you die, you’ll leave Wendy behind.”
“Can’t think of a better way to go.” Quincy returned to the make-out session, nearly laying Wendy out on the desk with the force of his kiss.
“Spoken like a true nonbeliever.”
When Quincy’s only response was to slide his hand up the back of Wendy’s sweater, Derek turned and stalked out of the office. Maybe he ought to give Becca a call and have her blow up Quincy’s desk with a fireball or two. Then again, Quin might not take his mouth off Wendy long enough to notice.
“Derek!”
He glanced over his shoulder to find Wendy running down the hall toward him. Her shirt was half off her shoulder and her hair was a mess. “I’m not taking the card, Wendy.” He didn’t even bother to slow down. “I have work to do.”
“No, not that.” She reached him and lowered her voice. “I just wanted you to know that I believe you.”
“What?” He stopped walking and she almost ran into him.
“I believe you.” She clutched his sleeve and gazed up at him, her face unlined in its honesty. “I want to help.”
He narrowed his eyes and uncurled her fingers from his arm. “Why? Hasn’t Quin told you that no one ever believes me?”
“Yes, he did.” Her cheeks turned pink. “But I love your brother, and if there’s any chance he’s going to die from a Curse, I want it stopped. I want kids and picket fences and a cute little house with him, and I’ll do whatever it takes to save him.” She reached for Derek again, her eyes wide with emotion. “Don’t resent him. He’s so buried in math, in logic, that he can’t comprehend things that can’t be explained with equations. He loves you, and that’s why he’s worried about you. The fact he can’t accept what you’re saying is simply because of how he’s hard-wired. But I believe it and I won’t lose him.” She pressed a paper in his hand. “Here’s my cell phone. Call me at any time. I can help you. I know people.”
He folded his fingers around the paper, even as he studied her. “What people?”
“You don’t think you’re the only one to run into problems with the supernatural, do you?” She jumped when Quincy stuck his head out of his office and called her. “I have to go. Call me. I’ll help you however I can.” She then rushed back to Quincy, who put his hand on her elbow in a possessively male way.
Derek shoved Wendy’s number into his wallet—not that he planned to get her involved. If Justine found out Wendy knew about the Goblet, she’d kill her. Call him old-fashioned, but there was only one woman whose death he was willing to cause.
By ten o’clock the next morning, Justine and Theresa hadn’t found a loophole that would keep Derek alive, and she hadn’t heard from him. The clock was ticking on Oath Violation, and she was getting antsy. “If he doesn’t call soon, I’m going to have to track him down and kill him.” She slammed the Treatise shut and dropped it on the coffee table, then flopped back against the couch.
Theresa didn’t even look away from her computer screen as she scooped up the book with her left claw and tossed it back in Justine’s lap. “He’s the pretzel king. He’s like a saint. You’ll be damned forever if you kill him. We’ll come up with something . . .” She clicked her mouse, then sucked in her breath. “No way.”
Justine jerked upright. “What? Did you think of a loophole?”
“Just got an e-mail from Zeke. The golden aura is a sign of being possessed.”
“Hah! I knew there was something off about the surfer.” She scooted next to the dragon and tried to lean over the two tons of flesh and scales to read the screen. “So, who was our surfer possessed by?”
Theresa scooted to the left and angled the screen slightly toward Justine, pulling her tail to the other side. “Someone from the Afterlife. He’s not sure who.”
“Afterlife, huh?” She scanned Zeke’s e-mail, but there was no additional information. “Well, gold would imply someone affiliated with heaven, right?” She pulled back, careful not to snag her sweater on Theresa’s scales. “But why would someone from heaven want to kill me and steal Mona?”
Theresa cocked her head. “Maybe it’s the manufactured Qualifying Incident. Maybe the surfer was a test, and you let him go, so now they think you’re getting soft. They realized Satan’s Rivka is sniffing around, and they’re worried you won’t be able to resist a full assault by Satan. Maybe they want to eliminate you and bring in someone more ruthless. Like a dragon, for example.”
“So I’m supposed to allow heaven’s next assassin to kill me? Since it’s for the greater good?” Justine snorted. “I won’t even let Derek kill me, let alone some wimpy surfer.”
Theresa rolled her eyes and gave her the “poor stupid roommate” expression. “No, you were supposed to kill the surfer.”
“So killing an innocent who happened to get possessed would show I’m tough enough to be a Guardian?” She kicked a pillow out of her way and stood up, pacing the length of the room. “That makes no sense. Nothing makes sense.”
Theresa settled back on the couch and folded her claws across her belly, her lips curved in an amused grin. “Maybe you’re supposed to be smart enough to figure it out.” The intercom buzzed, and Theresa used the end of her tail to hit the button. “Yello.”
“It’s Xavier. Justine’s needed in the lobby— Umph.” There was a crash, then a thud, then a howl of pain, then silence.
Uh-oh.
“That didn’t sound good.” Theresa’s tail twitched and a cascade of sparks shot out of her nose. “Maybe I should investigate. Pretty please?”
Adrenaline rushed through Justine. “I think it’s my party, but you can incinerate anyone who comes after Mona while I’m gone.” This was turning out to be the most interesting week she’d had since she lost her virginity when she was seventeen. “I’ll go check it out.” She darted over to the bookcase, grabbed her gun, and raced to the elevator. A little action was exactly what she needed. Shoot first, think later.
“It could be a trap.” Theresa’s eyes were gleaming and her lips were pulled back to show glistening teeth.
“I know. Totally exciting, huh?” Justine flung open the door, dove into the elevator and pressed the LOBBY button. She tightened her grip on the gun, pressed her back into the corner of the elevator, and aimed at the doors. Whatever had grabbed Xavier probably knew she was coming, and it/he/she/they would be ready.
Well, so was she.