CHAPTER THREE
The living room was slightly less populated than it was before my nap. My Angel siblings—Prue, Rafe, Gabe and Abby—were patrolling the property along with the ghosts, Dimple, Jolly Sue and Lura Belle. Zander and Catriona were with them as well. They were searching for anything even remotely suspicious. That sat right with me. All of them were as smart as they were deadly. Most of the ghosts had joined them save a few. Heather and Missy were on the couch hunched over an ancient looking book—the same book that had appeared when Alana Catherine had summoned it on the Higher Power’s plane. It was the Immortal Book of Law. Gram’s guess that my child was the future Arbitrator Between the Darkness and the Light along with being the future Death Counselor and the future Soul Keeper gnawed at my insides. How many things could one person be?
Gideon sat across from the gals, feeding Alana Catherine a bottle of breast milk. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d pumped enough for a long while. I hadn’t breastfed my child lately due to the deadly chaos that had become our reality. My dogs, Donna and Karen, were happily curled up at Gideon’s feet. Donna aka Donna the Destroyer, due to her couch-eating days, wasn’t a dog at all. She was a Hell Hound, and I adored every hair on her body. Karen aka Karen the Chair Eater, was my black lab. She was as dumb as a box of hair and more loving than any animal I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. Both of my fur girls were in love with my baby and always stayed close.
“Daisy! Want to join, friend?” Tim asked kindly, seated at the distressed oak table near the fireplace.
He was playing what looked to be poker with Jennifer, June, Amelia and Tory. Gram, Mr. Jackson and another ghost I didn’t recognize floated above the table and played in spirit—pun intended. The grouping was odd but little in my life was what anyone would call mundane.
“Nope,” I said. “Cards aren’t really my thing. Plus, I need some fresh air.” Real meaning—I wanted to see the surprise Gideon had promised.
“Gaaaammmmeasssss oof chaaancea!” the unfamiliar male ghost said, nodding spastically. “Baaaaaaada!”
I was worried his head was about to take flight. In all the crazy, I’d been neglecting my job as the Death Counselor. It was a true honor to be the conduit for the dead who had unfinished business on this plane, then to aid them and guide them to the Light. So far, not a single ghost I’d helped had been destined for the Darkness. That was a relief, since I’d grown fond of all who I’d helped.
“I don’t think I’ve met you yet,” I said, waving at the man. He was in pretty good shape for a specter. That usually meant he hadn’t been dead for too long. However, his outfit wasn’t of this century. He wore a long flowing robe tied at the waist with a rope made of flowers. The flowers were rotting and dried out, but then again, so was he. Around his bald and mostly intact head was a crown of leaves. I didn’t comment on his attire. That would be rude. I wasn’t rude. I was Southern. It was in my DNA to be polite.
The man might be a cosplayer or just have an unusual dress sense… or possibly an obsession with Greek history. Whatever. He was a guest in my home, and if his silly grin was anything to go by, he was a good guy.
“Jimmmmmeeey Geoooorge Carrrrrrrrotttssssssss aaaaat youuuuurah seeeervice,” he announced, floating to the floor and bowing to me.
I swallowed back my laugh. “I’m Daisy,” I replied. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jimmy George Carrots. I’m the Death Counselor, and I can help you with any unfinished business you might have.”
“Nooooooah bussssinesssssssss,” he told me. “Heeerah toooooah seeeerve!”
That was odd. I was here to serve him, but sometimes the dead were confused. If he was here, he was here for a reason. If he didn’t know why yet, it would reveal itself at the right time.
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
Alana Catherine seconded the decree with a loud burp and an even louder squeal of joy. The sound of her voice calmed my soul. She and Gideon were my everything.
“Thaaaankah youuuuuuuah,” Jimmy George Carrots said as he floated over to Gideon and our daughter. “Baaaaaaabeeeeey! Soooooo preeettyah. Threeeeeeeeeee!”
I smiled and corrected the silly ghost. “Actually, she’s not even one yet.”
He shook his head vehemently. “Onnnnnneah offfffffffff threeeeeeee!”
His statement was strange. Had Jimmy George Carrots been lurking around for a while? It had taken a trinity to go to the Higher Power’s plane—Gram, Alana Catherine and myself. We were the past, present and future Death Counselors. Maybe that’s what the ghost was referring to. The ghost was definitely befuddled.
Confused, or not, Jimmy George Carrots wasn’t quite done. “Soooooo speecaiiialah! Soooooo immmmpooooratanah! Iiiiiii seeeeeeeeeah! Threeeeeeeeeeee!”
I didn’t disagree at all—except for the three-years-old part. My daughter was pretty, special and important. Alana Catherine blew our guest a raspberry and then laughed with delight. Jimmy George Carrots giggled back. It sounded like a death rattle, but I was getting used to it. Happy was happy no matter what it sounded like. It a strange way, the dead had taught me more about life than the living…
Most of the dead didn’t need my help at all. The life one led determined where a soul went in the end. The deceased only came to me if they needed some kind of closure before they could move on. If a soul’s destination was up in the air, the decision was made by the Grim Reaper and the Angel of Mercy… aka Gideon and myself. The irony was that the Grim Reaper was the one who made the call if a person was to go into the Light, and I, the Angel of Mercy, was the one who decided if a soul went to the Darkness. Apparently, it had been set up that way so there would be no conflict of interest. That scenario hadn’t occurred yet, and I dreaded the day I would have to make the terrible decision.
“Ah, yes! Jimmy George Carrots is correct about games of chance in my estimation! I never bet money on them,” Tim said, pulling out the ever-present notebook from one of the many pockets of his mail uniform. In a not-so-ironic twist, my dear socially awkward buddy was the Immortal Courier between the Darkness and the Light and also a mailman in the human realm. While Candy Vargo was unpredictable, Tim was not. What you saw was what you got—kind, loving and wonderfully weird. “Very risky—a game of chance. While I enjoy a good hand of blackjack, I don’t like wagering my hard-earned income. Must save my pennies for retirement!”
Heather looked up from the book and laughed. “Tim, you’re several hundred years past retirement age.”
“Try several boobin’ penis thousand,” Candy Vargo muttered, much to the confusion of everyone except me.
Tim giggled. “Oh yes! I’m definitely past my prime. However, for the last two hundred years or so I’ve picked humans in great need and quietly supplemented their retirement income with my earnings. And that is why I stay away from games whose outcomes are determined by chance. A good Roth IRA is a far better way to go than a game of chance where the winner is determined by a random competition where there’s no skill in choosing the winner.”
Every new thing I learned about Tim made me love him even more.
“Don’t know about that, nutter butter vagina,” Candy mused aloud as everyone in the room stared at her in confusion. She looked around in surprise. She clarified. “I’m talkin’ about the fartin’ stock market, you Pop Tart testicles. I’d say that a roll with Merlin’s magic nards on Wall Street is equally as risky as roulette. Just sayin’.”
“I’m sorry,” Heather choked out, squinting at Candy Vargo in disbelief. “Did you just say Pop Tart testicles and Merlin’ s magic nards?”
Candy rolled her eyes. “Yes, mothersharter, I did. And if all you people, and by people I’m talkin’ about GRAM, would pull your heads out of your bahookeyholes and stop bein’ clitorises you’d realize that cussin’ is not good.” She stomped her foot and chomped down so hard on the toothpicks in her mouth they split in half. “And just to be clear on the bullspit, body parts ain’t bad words. Captain Crunch’s hairy bahookey, I mean it. Also, a bitch is a female dog and an ass is a donkey. So, if any of you penises wanna come at me, let’s go. I’ll yeet your smelly bahookies into the next century.”
Jennifer walked over to Candy Vargo and handed her an open bottle of wine. “Drink this.”
“Why?” Candy demanded.
“Cause it’s five o’clock somewhere and you seem like you’re havin’ a bad day, girlfriend,” Jennifer told her. “A nice little buzz might counteract the concussion you’ve obviously had.”
Candy took a swig and handed the bottle back to my Botox-loving human buddy. “Thank you, corn nut,” she said. “But I’m serious. All you wrinkled testicles need to have better fartin’ manners. I’m done with all the Shitake mushrooms and anal sphincters. You hear me?”
I bit down on my bottom lip so hard, I was surprised I didn’t draw blood. I was beginning to think an f-bomb or five was better than the frightening gibberish she’d just spewed.
Gram floated over to Candy in concern and placed her semi-transparent hand on the Keeper of Fate’s forehead. “Candy girl, what in the fuckin’ hell and tarnation is wrong with you?”
I winced at Gram’s choice of words. Candy Vargo was on to something. Hearing my grandmother’s poop language was beyond disturbing.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me, Gram,” she yelled, waggling her finger in the air at the ghost. “But there sure is somethin’ shartin’ wrong with you! Your mouth needs to be washed out with Tony the tiger’s ball sac.”
I almost sprinted from the room. However, my need to scream in laughter weakened my legs. Squatting down, I dropped my head between my knees and did some deep breathing. I almost passed out, but that was preferable to getting electrocuted by Candy for laughing at her.
June shoved a few of her famous peanut butter cookies into her mouth to keep from losing it. Amelia had both hands plastered over her mouth. Jennifer chugged the rest of the wine to avoid cackling. Tory let her head fall to the card table, but the trembling of her slim body gave away the fact she was hiding her laugh. Tim’s mouth was open in a perfect O. Gideon had simply closed his eyes and shook his head. I was sure the coughing would start shortly. Heather and Missy didn’t hide it. They laughed openly. When Candy Vargo went to flip them off, she electrocuted her hand before she could complete the deed.
This was getting out of hand. If Candy Vargo kept setting herself on fire, we could be down a warrior. Not that she could permanently off herself, but healing from a fifth-degree burn could take a while.
Gram chuckled and turned a few flips in the air. The old broad’s sunken eyes twinkled, and her smile was smug. In that moment, I knew she’d been a profane drunken sailor on purpose. It reminded me of when I was a teen and had insisted on obscenely short skirts. She didn’t forbid me from wearing them. Nope, she began sporting them herself. They were so short, her granny panties showed. When she threatened to pick me up from school wearing the butt-baring garment, I caved. From that day forward, I only wore skirts that didn’t show my religion. Gram was a smart cookie. She worked in mysterious ways.
“Well fuck me runnin’,” Gram announced as Candy looked like she was about to implode. “Didn’t think you’d give a flyin’ shit about my new vernacular since you use it, child. Never in my life… or death, did I think I’d see you pitchin’ a hissy fit with a tail on it about a few fucks and shits.”
“GRAM,” Candy Vargo shrieked. “Are you tryin’ to kill me?”
Gram giggled and floated down so she was eye to eye with the woman she’d basically adopted as her honorary daughter. “Bothers you, huh, Candy girl?”
Candy Vargo nodded and ground her toothpick between her clenched teeth. “I’m gonna stop cussin’ to show you the right way. I’m feelin’ as guilty as the Rock’s man boobs about you cussin’ your deceased bahookey off.”
Gram wrapped the fuming woman in her dead arms. Her arms went right through Candy, but the love was there. “I feel real dang honored that your gonna give up cussin’ to help me out. Shows me how much you love me! It’s just dills my pickle that we can stop sayin’ poop words together. You’re gonna have to help me, girlie. Can you do that?”
The relief on Candy’s face was almost as comical as her reference to Merlin’s magic balls. Gram’s reverse psychology was the winner… again. She should teach a parenting master class.
“I can do that, Gram,” Candy vowed. She glanced around the room. “And if I hear any one of you jackholes say somethin’ improper, I’m gonna whoop your bahookey. I’m swearin’ that on Ronald McDonald’s boogers.”
Everyone was silent. I was too afraid to speak. The shriek of hysterical laughter trapped in my mouth was dying to enter the room. Getting electrocuted wasn’t on the agenda .
It was Tim who spoke first. “My dear Candy Vargo, your wish to hear only classy vocabulary from now on shall be granted. Of course, being that you’re the one with the most grievous issues in the swearing department, is there any way we can help you?”
Heather piped up immediately. “I’ll volunteer to set her on fire if she slips up.”
“Harsh,” Missy commented, elbowing the love of her life.
“But direct,” Heather insisted.
“No can do,” Gram announced. “If my Candy girl slips up… which she will, then I get to start pickin’ her outfits. That gal would look just darlin’ in a nice skirt, matching sweater set, pearls and kitten heels!”
Candy paled to the point she looked like she was going to hurl. Getting gussied up was not on her to-do list. “Really ball-eatin’ harsh.”
“But effective,” Gram countered.
Looking around the room, I realized someone was missing. “Where’s Charlie?”
“He went to find someone,” Tim said, sounding slightly off.
I glanced over at Gideon. It was clear by his expression that he had no clue who Charlie had gone in search of. Tory didn’t look too happy. She was in the know. Heather had gone from grinning to scowling, and Candy Vargo rolled her eyes and shook her head. I didn’t expect June, Jennifer or Amelia to know. They weren’t Immortal.
Pressing the bridge of my nose, I took a deep breath and held it together. “Please tell me Charlie did not go after the Higher Power alone.”
Charlie was the Immortal Enforcer. He ranked up there with Gideon and Candy in the terrifyingly powerful department, but I didn’t take the man for reckless or stupid.
“Hell—which is not a cuss word,” Candy Vargo said, quickly clarifying so she didn’t have to wear a skirt, “to the NO! Charlie ain’t got no death wish. He went to get a backup.”
“ A backup?” I questioned. “As in one person?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Tim admitted, wringing his hands.
All of this was unsettling. Tim wasn’t chopped liver when it came to the badass department. In battle, he was insane. The fact that he was wringing his hands didn’t exactly bode well.
“Who?” I demanded. “Who did Charlie go to get? A Demon? An Angel? Who?”
“Neither,” Candy said. “Just a regular old Immortal.
“Okay,” I said tightly. “There is nothing regular about an Immortal. The just Immortals I know are anything but regular.”
Candy Vargo, Tim and Charlie were regular Immortals—not Angels and not Demons. They were some of the most feared in the freaking Immortal world. I’d never asked if there were more. Shame on me, but I’d been a little busy for the past few months, making sure the world didn’t end and I didn’t die.
Gideon handed Alana Catherine off to Heather. He crossed the room and got in Candy Vargo’s face. His eyes spit red sparks and his hands were clenched in fists by his sides.
“No,” he hissed. “Unacceptable.”
I wasn’t sure how Gideon narrowed down the list so quickly since no one had named a name, but maybe there was only one other.
Shit. I didn’t need a bad day to get worse.
Candy Vargo didn’t step back. Most would if the Grim Reaper was in their personal space, but Candy Vargo wasn’t most…
“Shut your penis trap,” she snapped at Gideon. “If the Higher fartin’ Power wants Alana Catherine, we need him. ”
“Bullshit,” Gideon snarled. “Are all of you out of your damned minds?”
“First off, it’s bullspit,” Candy shot back. “And yes, all of us are out of our corn nuttin’ minds. That’s what happens when you live for millions of years.”
Tim quickly stepped between the Grim Reaper and the Keeper of Fate before the house went up in flames. While all of the Immortals would heal from being blown sky high, we had human friends the room. Jennifer, Amelia, Missy and June wouldn’t be as lucky.
“Gideon,” Tim said, placing a calming hand on the Grim Reaper’s shoulder. “We need to know what Alana Catherine knows. He can do that.”
“Over my dead body,” Gideon said in a voice so low and vicious that the hair stood up on my arms.
“It’s highly unlikely that Charlie will find him,” Tim admitted, trying to diffuse Gideon’s fury.
It didn’t work.
While I loved and respected everyone in the room, it was Gideon who I trusted most of all. If he didn’t want this regular Immortal around our daughter, then I didn’t either. However, if the man was possibly on his way here with Charlie, I needed more intel.
“Name?” I demanded.
“Candy Vargo,” Candy answered.
“Oh my God,” I muttered. “There are two of you?”
“Wait. What?” she asked confused.
Tim to the rescue. “Daisy wasn’t asking your name. She wants to know the name of the man Charlie is after.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” she demanded, rolling her eyes at me. “His name is Curse Word Ritchie.”
“Curse Word Ritchie?” I questioned. Who in the hell would be named that? It sounded like a joke.
“It’s actually Shitty Ritchie,” Heather explained with a shudder. “Since Candy isn’t swearing anymore, she changed it up a little.”
“Can anyone get hold of Charlie and tell him to stop searching?” I asked. I had no clue how Shitty Ritchie could get my daughter to talk, but I didn’t want to find out.
The Immortals in the room exchanged glances. No one looked positive. June was as pale as Gram. Charlie was her husband.
“Doubtful,” Tim finally said. “Shitty Ritchie is usually far off the grid. It’s unlikely that we could reach Charlie by conventional methods or magical means.”
“Will Charlie be okay?” June asked. Her voice trembled, and I felt sick to my stomach. I’d been living in this Immortal world for a short time, all things considered, and it was still difficult for me to accept and understand the deadly games that were played. It was impossible for June to comprehend, and we were being awful by subjecting her to it.
“Charlie is gonna be just fine, June,” Candy assured her. “Ain’t nobody that can take that man down. Nobody.”
June nodded and swiped at a tear. My need for fresh air had increased tenfold. We were in enough trouble without inviting more in.
“Fine. If Shitty Ritchie shows up, he’ll leave… by force if necessary. Period.”
“Good luck with that, nardhole,” Candy muttered.
I ignored her. “There are other ways,” I insisted. “Heather, you were looking at the Immortal Book of Laws. Did you find anything?” It was a reach, but no questions were stupid right now. My motto for life danced in my frontal lobe—nothing is impossible. I just had to believe.
My sister sighed as she handed Alana Catherine back to Gideon. “The Higher Power has broken multiple laws. Laws that It created. However, I’m not sure how we can enforce punishment.”
“The punishment for what It has done is death,” Tim said slowly. “That would destroy everything. The balance would be skewed and the end would come.”
“How in the hell are there no checks and balances system in this shitshow?” I hissed.
“Shartshow,” Candy corrected me.
I almost electrocuted her. Instead, I inhaled and pinched my weenus. Sadly, neither method of relaxation worked. “Fine,” I ground out. “Shartshow. And it is a shartshow. I can’t believe that Armageddon hasn’t already arrived with the egotistical magical nard we have running the show.”
“Magical nard is a good one,” Candy Vargo said, patting my back.
Again, I wanted to set her on fire. Again, I refrained. That would be stupid and mean. I was neither of those things. However, I was worried. And that I could partially solve. “I think that moving June, Amelia, Missy and Jennifer over to Candy Vargo’s place is a good plan for safety. I’d like to get Alana Catherine out of here, but I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
“Hang on a hot sec,” Jennifer said. “Can I add a thought to this conversation?”
“You can,” I told her. My dear human friend was overloaded with Botox and wine, but she was street smart and generally logical except when it came to all of her ex-husbands.
“Just sue It,” she said. “It did the crime, and now, Its gotta pay the time.”
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and considered what she’d just said. It was crazy, but… “Can we do that?” I asked the assembled group. It was clear that offing the Higher Power wasn’t on the table, but making It pay for Its crimes would be insanely satisfying and might keep It from getting out of hand in the future. I was positive I was being na?ve, but no one else seemed to have a solution.
Candy Vargo was perplexed. Heather’s brows shot up, and she stared at Jennifer with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Tim tapped his pursed lips with his pointer finger as he mulled the suggestion. Tory walked over to the Book of Immortal Laws and began to flip through the pages. Only Gideon seemed positive about the potential plan.
“Not sure a conviction would stand,” he said. “However, forcing the Higher Power to come to us instead of waiting like lame ducks for It to show Its hand puts us at an advantage.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Candy Vargo said. “Still don’t tell us why It wants our baby girl.”
I shrugged. “If we can get a conviction, we can offer a plea deal if It will come clean about Alana Catherine. That way the balance isn’t thrown off by ending the Higher Power and we know why It wants my baby.”
“Devious and ballsy,” Heather said. “I like it.”
“Tribunal,” Tory stated flatly, pointing at a page in the book. She read aloud. “Any Immortal may call a tribunal on another Immortal for cause. I’d say pulling the dead out of the Light in order to steal Alana Catherine is cause.”
“Fine point well made,” Tim said, smiling at Tory. “However, I’m unclear how we can prove it. Technically, it’s hearsay from Daisy and Gram. ”
“Gram’s testimony won’t hold up,” Heather said. “One, she’s dead. Two, she’s not Immortal. Umm… which is a given since she’s… you know… dead.”
Candy Vargo gave Heather the eyeball. “You call yourself a lawyer? Do you want me to punch you in the head or do you wanna punch yourself, dumbballs?”
Both women began to glow. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Ain’t nobody punchin’ nobody,” Gram warned. “I am dead, and I ain’t Immortal. I think we got other ways to handle this mess.”
“Such as?” Gideon asked.
“Well, now, since it’s been established that I’m dead, we could let my great-grandbaby dive into my mind. She’s a Death Counselor. That way we could have us a little chat and I could find out what she was gonna say before Fake Bob Barker/ Fake Monty Hall sent us back to the mortal plane.”
It was the most logical suggestion I’d heard so far and it didn’t involve Shitty Ritchie. But… and there were a lot of buts. “It’s risky. Very risky. Technically, I’m still the Death Counselor. Alana Catherine is the future Death Counselor. It’s unclear if she can mind dive. Gram, you never mind-dived when you were the Death Counselor. I don’t think my mom did either.”
“True that, Daisy girl,” Gram admitted.
“Plus,” Gideon added, uncomfortable with the idea. “Even if Alana Catherine entered Gram’s mind, there’s no guarantee that she could get out.”
Heather chimed in. “I think there are too many unknowns with this strategy. Since our little gal hasn’t done a mind dive, there’s a chance she could be out for weeks… or months… or…”
She didn’t need to finish. I knew where she was going. The plan was off the table. When my baby had been in utero, I was able to talk to her. Maybe, I could do it again. Probably not. I’d tried multiple times since she’d been born. She’d even told me that when she arrived, she wouldn’t be able to talk to me again. She’d be a baby and have a normal baby life. Granted, her life hadn’t been normal so far, but she was definitely a baby.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“What can be done that’s proactive?” I asked. Being lame ducks, as Gideon had put it, didn’t sound smart.
“I got another idea,” Jennifer said.
She’d had the best idea so far. I was all in to hear another. “Shoot.”
She popped open a new bottle of wine and poured everyone a glass… and a double for herself. “My therapist, Myrna, says that when I’m stressed out, I need to find a way to laugh that doesn’t include alcohol or gettin’ married again. Laughter’s an excellent stress relief. In my estimation, I’d say we’re all a big powder keg ready to blow.”
No one was rude enough to point out that she’d just poured herself two glasses of wine.
“Word, mothersharter,” Candy agreed.
“So,” Jennifer said with a grin and a wink to Tim. “I’ll start. Speaking of lawsuits…”
“Are we tellin’ jokes?” Candy asked, confused.
“Nope,” Jennifer said with a chuckle. “This crap is true. There was an idiot who went to a girlie bar. The dummy sued the strip club claiming the dancer’s bouncing bosom had given the jackass whiplash! Said it caused him mental and physical anguish, if you can believe that junk. Wanted fifteen thousand dollars for his distress. Of course, he was denied in court and shocked as all get out that he was banned from the Big Sean’s Booby Barn for life. ”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
“Oh yes!” Tim said, rubbing his hands together with glee. He and Jennifer were our go-to people for gross or bizarre facts. Their font of unnecessary knowledge was mind-boggling. “I do believe there is a record of a gentleman who desired to swim with killer whales at Sea Universe. He, in all his glorious wisdom, snuck into the park after closing time and made all his dreams come true. However, there was a caveat… the killer whale lived up to its moniker and our gentleman friend ended up sleeping with the fishes—pun absolutely intended. His devastated family sued Sea Universe, claiming that the stuffed whales sold in the gift shop made the killer—and I repeat, killer—whales seem gentle and friendly. Suffice it to say, they lost.”
“Oh my God,” I said with a wince.
“And then some,” Jennifer agreed, now well into her second glass of wine. “Moving on to laws. Did you know that in Arizona, it’s illegal to allow donkeys to sleep in bathtubs?”
Who in the world had a bathtub big enough for a donkey to sleep in?
Nonplussed about bathing donkeys, Candy Vargo jumped in. “A donkey is also called an ass,” she reminded everyone, clearly delighted to still be able to use the word ass.
Tim, not to be outdone by his bestie Jennifer, chimed in. “And in Connecticut, a pickle is considered inedible unless it bounces.”
“Pickle is another word for penis,” Candy Vargo announced.
“Thank you for that,” Jennifer told her with a chuckle. “Another law to keep in mind is that Idaho is the only state where cannibalism is illegal.”
Heather cackled. “Good thing Candy doesn’ t live in Idaho.”
“Screw you,” Candy groused.
I tried not to laugh. I failed. As the story went, Candy Vargo had literally eaten Gabe, Abby, Rafe and Prue several thousand years ago. There was a vicious battle that had left Candy armless and legless. Without going into specifics, she decided that eating them was the only way out. Shockingly, they were alive and whole now. The logistics of that exchange were something I never wanted to learn. The Angels had a wary truce with the Keeper of Fate and enjoyed bringing it up from time to time. Candy Vargo did not enjoy rehashing the good old days.
“Enough,” Gideon said. “I’d prefer not to spend an hour gripping the porcelain God while thinking about that. Daisy?”
“Yes?”
“It’s time for some fresh air. We’ll deal with everything as it comes.”
“Gideon and Daisy?” June said with her hands clasped in front of her. “I’d like to stay and wait for Charlie here, please.”
Her expression was yearning, and her smile was filled with pain. She’d only recently learned the man who she’d loved for decades with every fiber of her being wasn’t human. Reconciling that couldn’t be easy.
I looked at Gideon, who nodded curtly. “Everyone can stay. However, if Charlie returns with Shitty Ritchie, that plan changes immediately.”
Amelia stood up. “I’ll go to Candy’s. The foster kids are there and the babysitter will need to leave soon.”
“Good thinkin’,” Candy said, hugging Amelia.
“I’ll go too,” Missy said, kissing Heather’s cheek.
Heather looked relieved. Having Missy in any kind of danger was Heather’s worst nightmare .
Tory sighed dramatically. “If they go, I’m accompanying them. If shart goes south, they need protection.”
“Good use of the word shart,” Candy said, congratulating Tory. “Tim, Heather and I are gonna figure out how to sue the Higher Power. That Fruit Loop labia ain’t gonna know what hit It.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, putting the jacket on my baby while wincing at the term Fruit Loop labia.
It was a plan… kind of. Without having any clue as to what was really happening, it was as good as we were going to get right now.