Heart of Fire (Blood of Zeus #2) - Meredith Wild Page 0,61
The edges of Mom’s mouth tilt up. “That he likes a girl? Good Lord, loosen up, Reg. This is a good thing.” She surges to her feet. She’s dressed in her work shoes and sweats, and her steps make cute, rubbery squashes along the wood floor. When she reaches me, she hauls me into a hug. “No. This is a wonderful thing.”
As Mom peeks around my bicep, Regina lifts only her eyes over the ledge of her fingers. “Wonderful. Sure.” When she lowers her whole hand, her whole face is grim. “Except that he’s already slept with her.”
“Umm. All right.” Mom attempts a deprecating laugh. “You’re a grown-up. That’s your choice.”
Reg is fast with her interruptive trigger finger. “There’s more to it.” She shoots a meaningful glance my way. I nod in return.
“All right.” Mom’s less certain about her approval encore. While that’s probably a good thing, my gut doesn’t agree. How can this be the moment I’ve waited so long to get to but the scenario in which I never imagined it occurring? The fully crappy circumstances.
“Listen to me, Nancy. He’s. Already. Slept. With. Her.”
“Yes, Reg. You’ve already established that part,” Mom says with an awkward laugh.
“And she’s a Valari.”
“Right, I’ve heard of the name. But if he loves her, why would that matter? She’s famous. So what?”
Reg clears her throat. “They’re the same Valaris I did some temp work for, back when we were first here in LA. Remember?”
Mom tenses a little, but it’s obviously more from curiosity. “Okay, where exactly are you going with all this?”
Reg pulls herself up higher. Rubs her hands along the tops of her thighs. “I worked for them specifically because I was instructed to keep an eye on them for a while.”
“What?” Mom is genuinely baffled. She really doesn’t know this part.
Another glance Reg’s way helps me confirm that. She was probably on the path toward telling me that, when Mom arrived in record time.
“Keep an eye on them…why?” Mom asks.
“Because they’re demons.”
Mom sags against me. “They’re what?”
Though I support her weight with physical ease, her anguished stare rips apart my heart. “I didn’t know either,” I confess. “Until it was too late.”
“Too…late?” She stammers it like the words are scrambled. Or perhaps as if she doesn’t want to comprehend them.
“After he bedded the woman.” Reg takes a deliberate beat, then another, before she drops the bigger bomb. “And brought down a royal-class rainstorm last Saturday night.”
“A royal—” As fast as Mom clenches her fingers into my arms, she shoves away. A manic sound spills from her quirking lips. I think she’s trying to laugh again but miserably failing. “You know how ridiculous that sounds, right? All of it. Both of you,” she adds when observing the somber calm I match to Regina’s.
“I didn’t believe it at first either, Mom.” I brace my stance, sensing I’m going to need the new fortification. “Not until Zeus showed up and forced me to see the full reality.”
My mother turns a terrifying shade of white. “No. No, that can’t be. It…it just can’t…”
Then she buckles at the knees.
“Shit!”
I’m close enough to break her fall. Regina is blessedly—or scarily—silent as I gather Mom up and lower her back into the wingback. “It’s all right, Mom.” I thunk to my knees beside her while Reg finally mutters something about fetching a glass of water.
“Maximus.” Mom reaches out to touch my cheek with tender fingertips.
My relief at the contact is cut short by her anguished sob. But her real tears never come.
Finally she grates, “So you know.”
I rise up, pushing some matted hair off her forehead. “Yeah. I do.”
She’s still pale and seems so frail. I’m struck by just how much this woman has done for me, for so long. She’s given up her whole life. Her entire existence. Did she give up her identity too? Who is she, really? Does she—do we—have mortal family members somewhere who are wondering where she is and what she’s doing? What life did she leave behind for all this? For me?
It slays my soul that I can’t ask any of that right now. There’s no time. Not if I want to get to the questions that matter most.
“How much?” Mom rasps, grabbing my forearm with open desperation. “How much do you know? What did he tell you, Maximus?”
My chest burns, drenched in its own acid spill. “I’m not sure.” I let her see the remorse in my stare. “I don’t know how much there is.”