A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,9
tilted grin.
“Nope,” I corrected him. “Not nice. I’d rather be a Demon. Angels suck. That being said, turns out that pappy can touch me while I’m inside your mind and telegraph what I learn to the others.”
“Whhhhyah?”
“Because John Travolta doesn’t believe that I’m neutral where you’re concerned,” I told him, and then paused. “And even though I’ll never admit it to the Immortals, I’m not. I’m not neutral where you’re concerned at all. Apparently, taking Clarissa down is a huge deal, and I can’t freaking wait.”
“Dausseeeeee,” Steve said, trying to reach for me.
I saved him the trouble and lay down next to him, careful not to knock off a body part. Steve was literally falling apart.
“What?” I asked, cautiously laying my head on his shoulder.
“S’oookaaay. Beeeeee nuuuuutraalah,” he said.
“I won’t have a choice,” I pointed out. “The Immortals will see what happened at the same time I do.”
“Assciideeent. Waassah assciideeent.”
My head jerked up, and I stared at him. Holding my breath, I became light-headed and needed to clarify that I’d heard him correctly. “Are you sure? You remember? It was definitely an accident?”
“Reeemawbah soooomeah,” he said. “Waassah assciideeent.”
A massive boulder had just been lifted from my shoulders. Excitement coursed through my veins and the light at the end of the dark tunnel grew brighter.
“Okay,” I said, rolling off the bed and pacing the room. Movement helped me think. “Don’t tell me any more. Save your energy. When I go into your mind, we can speak normally. But remember, we’ll have an audience.”
“Whoooo-ah?”
“John Travolta, Charlie, Heather, Tim, Candy Vargo and Gideon,” I told him, kicking off my heels and pulling my dress over my head. I quickly searched the laundry basket for some yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
Mind diving took a lot out of me. I didn’t want to pass out in the dress I’d worn to Gram’s funeral when I came out of Steve’s memories. Hell, I should probably put on PJs. With what I had tentatively planned, I might sleep for a week when I finished.
Steve was quiet. His silence unnerved me a bit, but I was so damned relieved he was sure it was an accident, I wanted to cry.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Arrruh yooooouah?” he shot back.
“I am. My lady balls are huge and I’m wearing my favorite sweatshirt—only a few paint splatters on it,” I said with a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’ve got this. You just have to trust me.”
“Baaawlls.”
“That’s right, baby,” I said as I gently kissed what was left of his forehead. “Everything will be okay. And remember, when we talk in your head, they can hear us.”
“Roooouger thaaatah.”
“Nice to see you got dressed up for the occasion,” Candy commented as she walked into my bedroom and glanced around.
“I’m taking a page out of your book,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes and daring any of them to gasp at the state Steve was in.
“Where would you like us?” Charlie asked, sucking in a barely audible breath of pity when his gaze landed on Steve.
He’d known Steve when he’d been alive. All of them had except for Gideon. I was well aware it was upsetting to look at him. His gray skin and partial head were all that were exposed, but it was heartbreaking to see.
“Why don’t you all find a seat. I don’t know how long it will take,” I said.
Heather clapped her hands and an array of chairs appeared. The magic stuff still freaked me out. I had no clue why, considering I lived with ghosts and could knock over large trees with my bare hands. Everyone took a seat except for Clarence Smith, aka Darth Vader, aka John Travolta, aka Michael the Archangel… aka my father.
He stared at Steve in surprise and shock.
If he made even one rude comment, I would head-butt him and enjoy it. My Southern manners didn’t exist where Steve’s feelings were concerned.
Donna and Karen trotted into the room, hopped up on the bed and settled themselves at Steve’s feet. It was clear that Donna wasn’t pleased with the unfamiliar people who were in my bedroom. My Hell Hound had excellent instincts.
I wasn’t thrilled either, but I was also thankful they were here. It was the only way to win.
And I had no plans to lose.
“And me?” John Travolta inquired, sounding tense. “Where should I be?”
God, if a punchline was ever waiting to happen, this was it. However, I needed him, and telling him where I’d like him to go wasn’t in my favor.