Part 2 (1/2)

”He seldom does,” I answered.

”Karma.” Spider yanked my chair sideways, taking my hand as he squatted next to me. ”I know you don't like cleaning houses, but this is important, love.”

I started laughing. I couldn't help myself. Only someone with Spider's immense ego would believe he could have a threesome with two other women and still be able to sweet-talk me into doing something for him. I pulled my hand from his and gave him the envelope as I got to my feet. The pain meds were starting to work, making my head feel oddly numb. ”No. No cleaning.

Not tonight, not ever. We're through, Spider, through with everything-the marriage, cleaning, us.”

”What?” Spider asked, doing a good impression of a startled husband.

”What are you saying? Why are we through?”

I pulled one of the pictures out of the envelope he held. ”This, for one.”

He barely glanced at it. ”Darling, I can explain that-”

”I'm sure you can. But it's not going to work this time.”

”This time?” my father asked. ”You mean there have been others?”

Spider opened his mouth to protest, then closed it quickly as a hard look came into his eyes. ”All right. I thought there would be need for your particular talents for some time to come, but recently, I've begun rethinking that strategy.”

”Strategy?” I asked. ”Do my abilities have something to do with why you said no to the divorce last year?”

The mocking glint in his eyes as he gave me a once-over left me feeling soiled. ”You don't think I said no to the divorce simply because I couldn't be parted from you?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. ”Sweetheart, you had value to me, but not between the sheets. Now, do you want that divorce or not?”

”I think that would be best,” I said, the numbness seeping from my head down to the rest of me. Not even his cruel words had the ability to hurt me anymore.

”You can have it on one condition.”

”I don't need your permission to divorce you,” I said, welcoming the dulling sensation. ”This is 2008, not 1908. I can do it without your consent.”

”But it will be easier if I don't create a fuss, won't it?” he asked, a small smile curling his lips. I hated that smile. It always made my palm itch. ”After all, you don't want certain... truths coming out, do you?”

”You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!” Dad started forward. I held him back with an upraised hand.

”What condition?” I asked my hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband.

His smiled deepened. I had to clench my hands to keep from slapping it off his face. ”You clean the Walsh house for me, and I won't contest a divorce. I won't fight an equitable settlement, and won't argue over the division of our a.s.sets. I'll even let you keep this place,” he said, glancing around the dining room with a look of distaste.

I hesitated. Oh, part of me wanted to tell him just where he could shove his precious Walsh house, but the other part of me, the part that knew full well I had a faerie's chance in Abaddon of finding gainful employment of the mundane variety, prodded me into considering his offer. It was just one house, one cleaning. I wouldn't have to send whatever was there into the Akasha...Despite my father's accusations to the contrary, I had banished only a couple of nasty house spirits. The rest I'd acquired as roommates, and with Spider gone, at least they wouldn't have to hide. ”How many ent.i.ties are there?”

”How the h.e.l.l should I know?” He shrugged. ”It's an old house, built by one of the timber lords a hundred or so years ago. It's got a few creepy crawlies in it. I just want them gone so I can get the place turning a profit. Tell you what: I'll give you a cut of the first six months' profit. Ten percent. That ought to keep you living pretty high on the hog for a long time.”

”First six months?”

His smile changed slightly. ”I'm going to use the house for a little moneymaking venture.”

”Oh.” I thought about what he was asking, what it took out of me to exterminate a house, what it would mean living with even more Otherworld beings. Then I thought about the alternative.

”All right,” I said, ignoring my father's horrified gasp. ”I'll do it. I'll clean the house for you, and then you're out of my life.”

”Forever,” Spider promised with yet another of his smug smiles.

Ironically, it was one of the rare times in his life when Spider actually spoke the truth.

3.

”So, what, you expect me to be your slave or something? Like my life isn't h.e.l.l enough, now I have to play cozy family with you? I don't even know you!”

I slammed shut the car door, giving the dog crate inside another quick glance to make sure it was escape-proof before turning to my surly companion.

”Listen, Pixie-”

”I told you, my name is Desdemona! Desdemona Macabre!”

The girl had a world-record pout; I'd give her that. The rest of her...well, that wasn't quite so perfect. She radiated hostility and anger, her hands fluttering madly to emphasize words when she spoke. Dark, distrustful eyes peered out from brows pulled together in a seemingly perpetual scowl. If her roots and fair coloring were anything to go by, she was a natural blonde, but she'd dyed her hair a dull black, no doubt to match her Goth ensemble of a long black opera cape, a black lace skirt, black and white-striped leggings, a black and red-striped bustier, black fingerless gloves, and a knee-length scarlet gauze scarf.

”I realize that you'd much rather be left alone, but unfortunately you're only fifteen, and the League home has asked that I take care of you for a bit while things are sorted out. So why don't we try to make this month as drama free as possible?”

”Deus! You just don't understand!” She stomped around to the far side of the car and flung herself into the pa.s.senger seat.

”Quite possibly, that's true,” I agreed, surprising her enough to shoot me a puzzled glance. I slid into the driver's seat, praying for the strength to get through the next month. ”I'm sorry to rush you out like this when you just got here, but I have an appointment I must keep. Why don't we use the time to get to know each other a little better? Were both your parents polters?”

”I knew it! I knew you were going to start grilling me the second I got here!” she snarled. ”My parents aren't any of your business!”

”Whoa, calm down. I just asked a polite question. You don't have to answer it.”

”Oh, sure, you say that now, but what happens if I don't answer? Are you going to send me back to the home?”

I slid her a curious look. She was really upset about this. ”Of course not. I was just trying to make conversation, not pry into your life. I'm sorry. I guess I forgot just how emotional everything is at your age.”

”Age discrimination! I knew it!” she said with a triumphant glare.

I sighed. ”That's not what I meant.”

”Oh, right.” She stared out the front window, bristling with hostility.

”Well, go on. Is there anything else you want to know about my life, Mrs.

Nosy? Like when I had my last period; or if I'm still a virgin, or what size shoes I wear?”

”The League worker who brought you said that your parents died as a result of a drunk driver. I'm very sorry that you've had to endure such a tragedy, but as I just said, I didn't intend to pry, so please lower the hostility level a few notches. Let's move on to something a little less personal...The League woman said you were working on a novel; maybe you'd like to tell me about that.”

”No one listens to me!” she said, looking pointedly out the window. ”I am a poet! I write poetry! And no, you can't read any of it. It's personal.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, where the muscles were beginning to tense up despite the lovely migraine meds. I had a horrible foreboding that the next month was going to be one long drama ... as though I needed any more of that in my life. ”What else are you interested in? Boys? Books? Movies?”