firelight. I leaned my forehead against the cool marble mantel and wept.
chapter
nine
Cooper
The guys stumbled through the front door as I was coming down the stairs. Cooper was leaning heavily on the Warlock’s shoulder, his eyes even more bloodshot than they’d been when he’d awoken from his potion-induced sleep the night before. I felt myself getting furious all over again.
Cooper spotted me, and at first he had an “uh-oh, busted” expression on his face, but then I guess he saw my tears and looked genuinely concerned. I was too angry to care; he knew I hated it when they went drinking. They could have used a pretty easy spell to get themselves sobered up after their bender, could have at least pretended they’d actually gone shopping, but no. That would have required a slight bit of effort and respect for my feelings.
“Jessie, whassamatter?” he slurred.
“Shitfaced and it’s not even three. You guys are so fucking predictable.”
“Jessie, we just—” the Warlock began.
I held up my hands as I strode away from them to the patio doors. “Save it. Just leave me alone.”
Pal approached me as I stomped into the backyard. “How did it go with your father?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” I went into the tent and flopped down on the sleeping bag.
I heard Pal nudge the tent fly aside and step into the doorway. “Was it a fraud?”
“No, it was him, he just … he … gaaah!” Rage and frustration flared in me again, and I started slugging the pillow with my flesh hand. “Why do people have to suck so bad? Why?”
“Oh.” I heard Pal shuffle his feet on the grass. “I’ll be out here if you feel like talking.”
I lay there, seething. A few minutes later, I heard the patio door slide open, and then a man’s heavy footsteps approached the tent.
“Jessie, I—” Cooper began.
“If you’re still drunk, go away!”
He retreated, and a moment later my anger turned to sadness and regret. I wept quietly into the battered pillow, and after a while I fell asleep.
“Jessie …”
I woke up, groggy. “What?”
A moment later, I smelled grilled hamburgers, and I felt intensely hungry. Stupid inconsiderate barbecuing neighbors, making delicious food I couldn’t have anymore. The jerks.
“Can I come in?” Cooper asked. He sounded sober, and downright cheerful, but beneath the surface I thought I could hear a slight strain in his voice. “I thought you might be hungry, so I made us a snack.”
I squinted at the fading sunlight coming through the tent flap; it was already evening. I’d been asleep for hours.
“Sure, come on in, I guess.” I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the grassy bed, rubbing my sticky eyes. The flesh around my ocularis ached.
Cooper ducked into the tent carrying a plate of little hamburgers piled high with caramelized onions, melty cheddar, and crispy bacon. “Don’t worry, these sliders are all vegan. Even the cheese. And I guarantee they won’t taste like old jockey shorts.”
“There’s a fair distance on the tasty scale between ‘good’ and ‘jockstrap,’ ” I said as he set the platter down beside me.
“Just try it.”
I did. The burger patty was savory and juicy, tasted just like real beef, and the bacon was perfect and salty and crisp. The cheese was rich and tangy. I was in gustatory ecstasy.
“Dude, this is sex on a bun,” I replied around my mouthful.
Cooper grinned at me. “Ye of little faith. Have another.”
“Where did you learn to make this?”
“One of my exes ran into a necromantic side effect that made it a bad idea for her to eat animal flesh, too. It’s more common than the pointy-hats would have you believe. Anyhow, she learned how to make a good meatless bacon cheeseburger, and she passed the recipe on to me. They’re not very nutritious, so you couldn’t live on ’em, but they’re not as bad for you as the real thing, either.”
I swallowed my mouthful, then looked around for something to wash the crumbs down. “Is there anything to drink?”
“Oh. Yeah. Left them on the picnic bench while I was grilling.” He snapped his fingers, and two sturdy glass mugs of dark beer shot across the yard into his outstretched hands.
I accepted the mug he held out to me and took a sip. It was Guinness, fresh Guinness, not the oaky ditch-water it’s usually staled to by the time we Yanks find it in a grocery store. “Yum.”
After we’d cleaned the platter and drained our mugs, Cooper crawled onto the sleeping