“The surgery’s scheduled for Friday. It’s all settled.”
“You can change your mind. You have a few days to think about it.”
For a moment, she looked like she was going to argue. She wore a familiar, pensive expression. Like I was about to do something stupid and she was going to let me, so I’d learn a lesson. I was trying to save her, and I was the one who felt like an idiot.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
I wanted Mom intact, healthy, strong. I knew this would work. I knew it.
“I’ll come see you Friday. Okay? Call me if you need anything.” If you want me to do it. If you change your mind.
“I’d like that.”
“I love you.” It came out desperate, like I wasn’t going to have another chance to tell her.
“I love you too.”
We hugged. She felt small in my embrace. For the first time in my life, she felt frail.
Dad walked me to my car. We went slowly, enjoying the warm evening.
“How do you think she’s holding up?” he said.
I shrugged. “I was about to ask you. I have no idea if she’s really being that positive or just putting on a brave face.”
He chuckled. “You’d think I’d be able to tell the difference, wouldn’t you?”
“Dad, I may have said something that upset her. I think that lycanthropy might cure it. The cancer, I mean.”
He leaned against my car and gazed up the street, not really looking at anything. “I can’t claim to know too much about it, but that sounds like a cure that’s not a whole lot better than the disease.”
I gazed heavenward. I was only trying to help. “I know, I know. But—if things get bad, if the doctors can’t do anything . . . ”
He shook his head. “We haven’t gotten there yet. It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”
My eyes were stinging then. “Okay. I’ll see you later, ’kay?”
We hugged, and he watched me drive away.
On the way home, my cell phone rang.
“Kitty, it’s Tom.” Tom was one of vampire Mistress Alette’s people. Chauffeur, valet, human servant—and a grandson many generations down the line. Part of her family in every sense of the word.
“Hey, what’s up? Did Jenny get in okay?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Her flight came in, but she wasn’t on it.”
The question had been rote; I’d asked it fully expecting a positive response. No alternative was possible. My stomach froze.
“What do you mean she wasn’t on it?”
&nbs
p; “The airline says she didn’t check in at the gate. She never got onto the plane. We can’t find her.”
“I walked her to security myself. She couldn’t have not gotten on that plane. Maybe the airline made a mistake.”
“I suppose it’s possible. Does she have a phone?”