She nodded as she got up and drifted over to join me. I couldn’t deny there was affection in her smile, but I also couldn’t kid myself that she looked at me with the same beaming fondness she used to. The obvious difference prickled at me too, from my chest all through my limbs. The scar under my leather wrist cuff stung as if I’d been jabbed by a bee.
I wasn’t totally sure what had changed things. Mom had always liked Rose well enough. She’d been friendlier with my consort thanI’dbeen when the Hallowells had first dropped back into our lives.
Then, in the middle of last year’s conflict, one of our enemies had cast a spell that had turned everyone close to us against Rose. During a visit I winced inwardly remembering, Mom had ordered me out of this apartment while haranguing me for my association with “that whore.” Rose had cut off that spell, so it wasn’t acting on Mom any longer—and she’d never said anything overtly critical of Rose since then. She simply didn’t acknowledge my consort at all and changed the subject quickly when I mentioned her.
Had the spell left some lingering effect that we’d never quite heal? Was she simply uncomfortable with the relationship? Plenty of people in town gossiped about us now that it’d become clear that “the Hallowell girl” was involved with more than one guy at the same time and that our connection was more than just a youthful fling. I had no idea what the problem was, and there was no way of finding out when Mom refused to comment on the subject.
Despite what she’d said about not expecting me to come over, the toolbox I’d helped her stock years ago was sitting on the wobbly kitchen table. She’d obviously known I’d ignore her protests.
Mom motioned to the sink. I restrained another wince at the rust along the edges, which looked like it’d crept farther since I’d last seen it.
“One of the pipes underneath keeps leaking when I run the hot water. I’ve been sticking with cold—I can get by like that.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” I muttered, and set the toolbox on the floor next to the cabinet. “I’ll take a look.”
Home repair wasn’t my forte the way it was Seth’s, but I’d picked up the basics from manuals and YouTube videos over the years as necessary for my and Mom’s needs. I took out the wrench I figured I was most likely to need and turned on a thin stream of hot water to observe.
Water beaded and then started to trickle along one of the pipes. As far as I could tell, it was coming from the joint closest to the spot where the pipe emerged from the wall. Once I’d switched the water off again, I hunkered down to take a closer look.
“One of the fittings is crumbling,” I said, my voice echoing in the dark space. “I’ll have to pick up a new one to replace it. I can tighten things up and put some putty around it to keep it sealed in the meantime.”
“There’s really no need,” Mom said.
I poked my head out just long enough to grab the putty and give her a pointed look. “I’m handling it, Mom. You’ve got enough on your plate already.”
As I applied the wrench to every spot I thought it might make a difference, I turned the words over in my head to try to broach the subject of getting her an apartment where essential elements didn’t break down every couple months. If I just found the right approach…
Out of nowhere, the wordsMomhad used all those months ago rang in my ears.Slut. Degenerate. Whore.My shoulders stiffened. I set my jaw and shifted position.
A jab of pain ran through my scar and down my arm. My grip on the wrench twitched. I jerked it away a split-second shy of opening the pipe to spray all over me and the cabinet.
The spot on my forearm kept burning. Fucking demon and its fucking claws.
My fingers tightened around the wrench, the warmed metal digging into my palm. The urge shot through me to slam it into the particleboard cabinetry, the pipes, the damned rusted sink until it was such a mess she’d have to—to—
To leave? Or to see me as the maniac I’d look like? Get it together, Damon. I was stronger than whatever shred of demonic magic was lingering in my flesh.
I made the last adjustments with careful control of my muscles. A waft of relief coursed through me when I set the heavy tool aside. The putty felt a lot less dangerous in my hands.
The chemical-y clay scent filled my nose as I rubbed a wad of the stuff between my hands to soften it and applied it to the cheap rubber fixture that was fracturing with age. I dabbed the putty all the way around, doing my best to fill every crevice.
This particular formula wasn’t supposed to need time to dry, which was good, because I couldn’t stick around for hours into the night just to see if my attempt had been successful. I dragged myself out of the cabinet and tried the water again.
The same trickle formed along the pipe immediately. I bit back a curse that would have made Mom flinch.
It wasn’t that I’d done a bad job. The problem was the leak was coming from farther along the pipe, right inside the wall, where none of these tools would reach. I didn’t think it’d be a great idea to risk smashing right into that wall, as tempting as the thought was, since the landlord would eventually notice.
“If it’s too complicated for you to manage on your own, I can put in another call to the landlord,” Mom said. “It’s really okay.”
But I heard disappointment all through her voice, didn’t I? This was the one thing I was still supposed to be able to do for her. Fucking hell. Why would she trust me about anything significant if I couldn’t fix one little leak?
“There’s got to be something else I can try,” I hedged while my mind scrambled for a solution. “Let me take another look at it.”
The urge to shatter the back wall of the cabinet radiated even deeper into my arm, searing now. I balled my hand into a fist against it and peered at the hole the pipe disappeared into.
There was no way in hell I was doing any work beyond that barrier. Only an eighth of an inch or so of space showed around the pipe. My pinky wouldn’t fit through there.
Another surge of the searing impulse washed through me, all the way past my ribs and down to my gut—and another sensation teased the edge of my awareness. It resonated like a faint hum running just beneath the surface of my skin around the demon’s mark. As I focused on it instead of the more destructive longing, the hum tickled up into my fingers. A sudden giddiness quivered through my chest. I was abruptly certain that if I simply reached out…