wanted to weep, too, but if we both started with the waterworks we probably wouldn’t stop for a while.
“Hey, everyone’s waiting on us; we better get to the dining room.” I hauled him up into a sitting position and helped him pull on a black Deathmobile T-shirt.
“This isn’t mine,” Cooper said, staring down at the flaming death’s-head-motor band logo.
“It’s Jimmy’s,” I replied, referring to Mother Karen’s eldest foster son. There are spells to create clothing, but fewer and fewer Talents have bothered with that kind of magic since the Industrial Revolution made fabric cheap. “Your pajama pants are his, too. All our stuff is shrunk down in a safe-deposit box at the bank, so you may be wearing his hand-me-downs for a couple more days.”
He blinked bloodshot eyes at me. “Why’s our stuff at the bank?”
“The farmers wouldn’t pay me for the rainstorm, so I missed rent and we were getting evicted. Also that rat-bastard Jordan bugged the apartment, so I figured it was best to pack up and go underground for a while.”
“Benedict Jordan? He bugged our place? Why?” His eyelids were starting to droop again. Mother Karen’s healing potions tended to put you right under until they’d done their work.
“He wanted you to stay gone in the hell. You’re the secret half brother he was scared everyone would find out about. Because then everyone would find out that his father was a bat-shit crazy murdering son of a bitch and people would start questioning his family’s authority or some crap like that.”
“Whoa, wait … he’s my brother?” Cooper suddenly looked wide-awake.
“Yep. Same mother, different father. Thank God. The Warlock, sadly, is his full brother.”
“Huh.” Cooper stared down at his knees, his eyes unfocused as if he was remembering something long forgotten. “Benny’s … Benedict Jordan. Ain’t that a kick in the head.”
His expression abruptly changed, darkened; I could tell he’d remembered something else, whether from his childhood or hell I had no way of knowing. “That fucker.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stood up, and started to pace the room, agitated and furious. “Oh, this is just great. Ol’ Benny knew what was going on right from the start. Could have kept me from going to hell, or tried to. Or he could have helped you and the Warlock out. But instead he tried to cover everything up. He screwed over my brothers and me to protect his family’s reputation. As if we weren’t his family, too.”
I stepped toward him, concerned. “Calm down, honey—you’ll make yourself sick. You need to rest.”
Cooper looked at me. “Please, please tell me you kicked his ass. Otherwise I’m going to have to, and I’ll probably end up killing him and anybody who tries to stop me.”
I gently pulled his head down to mine and planted a kiss on his nose. His anger seemed to fade, his sudden burst of energy fading with it.
“Oh yes,” I told him. “I’ll probably go to prison for it, but his ass is well and thoroughly kicked.”
My mind flashed on Jordan lying broken on his desk, his hand a horrible burned mess. My stomach twisted into a knot, but I angrily forced my guilt back down. I would not feel bad about giving that creep a taste of his own magic.
I helped Cooper down the hall toward Mother Karen’s dining room. The scents of garlic steak, fresh rolls, and sweet potato pie wafted through the air. Cooper’s stomach growled loudly.
The Talents who’d helped bring Cooper’s infant brothers to Mother Karen’s house were already seated at the long cherrywood dining table. Oakbrown and Mariette sat across from Paulie at the far end. Mother Karen and Jimmy were ferrying plates of food in from the kitchen. The Warlock and Ginger sat across from each other at the near half of the table, arguing.
“I am tolerant,” Ginger protested, twisting a lock of her red hair around her index finger. “But fundies get on my every last nerve. It’s like they think the free expression of female sexuality is going to cause the Apocalypse or something. They’re totally threatened by it, and it’s stupid. I hate stupid.”
“Ginger-pie, it doesn’t matter what the mundanes believe, does it?” the Warlock replied. “How do their beliefs touch us? The fact is, they don’t. It’s been centuries since they were a real threat to us. We don’t have to deal with them if we don’t want to.”
“But what about the Talented kids who get born into mundane families?” Ginger asked. “What