The Neon Graveyard by Vicki Pettersson Read Free Book Online Page B

mastered, could be applied to everything: appearance, identity, home.
    “My mother lived a long time as a mortal. It makes sense that most of her weapons were defensive.”
    “Yeah, but . . . what the hell is this?” Carlos said, wrinkling his nose as he pulled out a small bag of dry, green powder. When mixed with lemon juice it created the paste needed to apply the intricate designs in henna tattooing. Nothing overly special, much less magical, about that. What was notable were the accompanying design templates, one of which had been applied to my skin at a bridal shower shortly before my first journey into Midheaven.
    Who armored you? Solange had asked me then.
    “I hadn’t known then,” I said to Carlos, explaining all this, “and neither could Solange, but the intricate mandella my mother had chosen for me was actually a protective charm.”
    She’d left the henna unsealed so the visible design would immediately wash away, but the imprint left behind had allowed me to escape Midheaven before Solange could effectively rape my soul.
    “Did she give you this too?” Carlos asked, holding up a solid gold pendant, now broken in four separate pieces. I’d worn it to my stepfather Xavier’s funeral.
    “Mother said it would shield me from the evil eye.” What it protected me from, again, was Solange—this time as she threw me down a flight of stairs, momentarily dislocating my aetheric spine. Though no longer useful in its current condition, its bright gold scrollwork design was important. Known as a kundan, or hand flower, it was similar to the mandella in that it was a protective emblem. “See?” I said, pointing to the seven multicolored gems. “Those represent the planets, and the enduring strength, perseverance, and triumph of the soul.”
    “That’s why you wear that,” Carlos said, pointing at my wrist, and nodding. “I wondered. It’s so . . . girly.”
    I glanced down at the matching gold bracelet. He was right. It never left my body. “This was a supposed thank-you for throwing my mother’s wedding rehearsal dinner.” A dinner turned horror show, I thought, shuddering with the memory.
    “All these baubles,” Carlos murmured, gazing back into the box.
    All this time. All these gifts. I finally nodded. “Quiet weapons for a fierce woman.”
    Carlos looked up. “A mother . ”
    After a moment I smiled. “Yes.”
    Carlos nodded to himself and replaced the broken kundan back in the box. “You know, I was only half kidding earlier, when I said I’d expected this pregnancy to slow you down.”
    “I believe your exact words were ‘make you softer,’ ” I said wryly, stroking Buttersnap’s head. The animal felt like a warm bearskin rug.
    “Nothing wrong with being soft, weda, ” he said, soft lashes curling up as he lifted his gaze. “But if we don’t find a way to get you back into Midheaven soon, we’ll have to wait until after the baby is born.”
    “No,” I said immediately. Forget the Tulpa’s power, the Shadows’ dominance, the way the Light had abandoned me. Forget my mortality or that I was supposed to lead the supernatural underworld. Midheaven held a man who dominated my dreams, yet he was still more real to me than even the life forming in my belly.
    Yet time was an issue. My pregnancy left me both jumpy and exhausted at the end of each day. The chance to enter and exit Midheaven with additional grays—with Hunter— was slipping away like hourglass sand. “No,” I said again, panicking. “No way.”
    “I don’t want to take unnecessary risks,” Carlos said, shaking his head. “Not now. And certainly not after you just played pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey with the Tulpa’s nose.”
    “Ah, but the look on his face was priceless.”
    “Jo.” The single word was light, but I knew a command when I heard it, and I dampened my grin. Unless I wanted to be locked in this room for the next few months, I needed to choose my words carefully.
    “Look, Io once told me a