Page 46 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

Honestly, I just don’t want to go home and get a car so I can go to the party. Besides, Ishouldbe able to do this. From here to another location is tricky, but if I didn’t try risky shit, I wouldn’tbe me. I may not have control of the stick yet, but I’m going to learn to drive this car or die trying.

Yeah, I’m full of metaphors today.

I give it another go, thankfully remaining upright and not falling on my ass as I ‘poof’ into the closet. I don’t think it will matter if I’m not fully decked out when I arrive because I don’t plan on staying. I refuse to go home to get something the esteemed birthday boy gave me in the past. None of it is suitable for public consumption and Taurus would have a mild coronary if I wore any of it.

Tossing on leather pants and a satin halter followed by the astoundingly expensive knee-high boots and duster combo that Taurus brought me back from Milan, I take a deep breath. That bloody duster cost enough to feed a small country; I’m almost afraid to wear it. But the lambskin is soft, the bespoke cut exquisite, and the profile I cut wearing them is undeniable.

Popping myself back into the living room, I start to feel more confident about this method of travel. If I’m lucky, I won’t splice myself into two pieces when I attempt this long distance. That happened once last week with a bag of licorice and it’s definitely in the back of my mind as I practice.

Our bedroom only has a few areas that I have personally added: the bed, the liqueurs on the bar, and a replica of my magickal cabinet from home. I stocked it with duplicate supplies just in case. After last night, I’m sure as hell glad that I did. I apparate over to the panel that hides it and press the touch release. Reaching inside, I grab the small, brightly wrapped package I spent an hour creating.

All I have to do is drop into Shea’s party, give him the gift, and pop back—easy, right?

Closing my eyes, I concentrate, hoping that this works. I still haven’t gotten used to it, but I know that it means I’m going to appear in a new location soon.

Here we go…

The Cat Fails

DELILAH

Within a blink, I’m there. I look around, sighing in infinite relief. I didn’t splice myself or end up on the peak of some mountain in Tibet.

Staying quiet, I look around. I want to find the droid of honor while avoiding a lot of attention. There are a lot of humans and droids, but I can scent a few clones in the crowd. For most people, it’s an exercise in futility to find a droid or clone in a crowd like this.

However, with my furry super sniffer, I can smell which ones carry my scent. Beyond that, I can also smell which ones have the scent of my blood. It’s still a decent list to narrow down, but it’s better than nothing. Since there are bound to be fewer droids that have bitten me here, I can track Shea by looking for the smell of their fluids as well.

Skulking through the crowd carefully, I keep my head down. I grabbed a scarf to put over my hair that I’ll pull off once I find him. There’s a few redheads in the Rift, but none of them are as crimson as I am. My hair is like a beacon in the fog, and it draws everyone to me.

I sense some of my family here—not Rafe, damn it. I send them mental thanks for standing in for me. I don’t plan to come home once Taurus gets back from his de-brief because we still have serious talking to do. That is, if he ever comes back from the de-brief.

Shit. Stop thinking that way, loser. It’s fine.

I make a mental note not to watch any sports related movies for quite a while. My brain is apparently melded with a coach from the 1990s. Regardless, I can’t imagine myself going home until I resolve all of our issues.

When I finally find the guest of honor, his face lights up when I pull the scarf off. Shea’s not one of my mates—and never would be—but he’s like a giant, fangy puppy dog. I care about him because he’s a lovable, loyal, caring, considerate goof. I may protest about making an appearance, but I am glad to see that he’s having a great time with his guests. He sweeps me up in a bone-crushing hug and I try not to wince.

I bandaged my arm after my shower, and I’m hoping he hasn’t caused it to bleed again. Most people aren’t blood drinkers, so they only know that blood has a metallic tang that smells like copper. To beings like us, every droplet from every person has a distinctive scent and taste that can change based on location or diet or a thousand other things.

Mine smells and tastes spicy, rich, flowery, earthy, and like the fields of Ireland—so I’m told. I’m hyper-aware of how many people in this room know exactly what it smells like. If a droplet forms, my anonymity is dead. I have no intention of holding court tonight. Shea doesn’t notice my discomfort. He beams and sets me down.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it, Peach,” he pouts adorably.

Ah, yes—nicknames again.

I wish Rafe and I hadn’t started that. I have so many you’d think I was listing my titles in a fantasy show on TV. Delilah, Queen of Everything, ruler of the Maison, first of her name, the Darkness, the Night Bloom, Nancy to Sid, Juliet to Romeo, Sir Victor’s Favorite Girl, Minx of the Bird, bringer of bloody deaths to delivery boys and so on.

I feel like an idiot just saying it.

Chuckling, I run a hand over his hair. “I’m only here for a brief appearance. I couldn’t let your birthday go by without bringing you a prezzie.”

His face gets brighter, if possible, and I wonder if he’s going to bounce off the walls. Bringing the package out of my coat, I grin at him. “It is not a new couch.”

The broken couch I mentioned to Taurus so long ago was with Shea. However, circumstances were a contributing factor in its death. It’s a small joke, but one that I know will make him smile.

He takes the small box, tearing off the ribbon and opening the lid. Looking at the fuzzy piece of fruit in puzzlement, I giggle when he picks it up. He looks like he’s not sure what to make of it. The idea took me a while to come up with and I almost deep-sixed it when I remembered seeing something similar in a story. Finally, I whipped it up, deciding it was too cool of an idea to waste.

“It’s magickal. It can’t go bad, so don’t worry about that. When you bite into it, you’ll taste and feel and see your favorite memories of us. It’s full-fledged—high definition surround sound level stuff. It’ll rock your world.”

---