Page 47 of Barely Breathing

“Tea?” Astrid finishes for me with a wave of her hand, urging me to drink. “Yes. It’s just tea.”

I probably shouldn’t drink it, knowing how her special blends tend to affect me, but I’m too exhausted to resist. The truth is, I wouldn’t mind a little oblivion.

“Go rest.” She pats my shoulder, not looking at me as she puts her ingredients away as if nothing unusual has happened this morning.

I hold the cup and return to the living room, not sipping the hot liquid quite yet.

Anthony comes to me and whispers, “Go, Lady Astrid! Did you see Mabel’s face?”

“Are you all right?” Lorelai asks me in concern.

I nod. The Freemonts don’t scare me. Comparedto werewolves wanting to sacrifice me and a vampire boyfriend I’m not sure I can trust, Mabel and Francis’ blustering barely registers.

“I’m exhausted,” I say, wrapping my fingers on the warm mug. “But I can’t sleep. We need to get to Kansas City to ensure Diana is safe.”

“I’ll order the family jet. You should rest,” Anthony says before wrinkling his nose to tease, “and shower. You smell like wet dog and old motorcycle oil.”

“Thanks, bro. You’re so sweet,” I drawl wryly. I catch something in his expression, a familiar melancholy I’ve seen more often lately. He’s been throwing himself into family duties, paying more attention to me, and trying to keep busy. I know him well enough to see he’s hiding from himself. But now isn’t the time to push.

“I want to come with you to Kansas City,” Lorelai says.

Anthony looks at me for guidance. I’m not sure that’s a great idea, but I’m too tired to think of a reason to say no. If she’s with us, she’s not here with Astrid.

“You might not need to fly there. I’ll call the lawyers.” Astrid appears from the kitchen. “We have contacts everywhere. I’ll have someone check on Diana and get her to safety.”

I nod, trying to remember what I know aboutPaul’s family. “She’s with her grandparents. Uh, Ben Cannon. He is a retired firefighter who has worked in construction. Skyscrapers. His wife is or was a nurse. They live in Kansas City on the Missouri side.”

“We’ll find them,” Astrid says. “In the meantime, Anthony is right. You need to clean up and sleep.”

“I should go to my hotel and do the same,” Lorelai says, lightly touching her butterfly tattoo and looking at me as if she feels like she’s hugging me by doing so. “I’ll let you rest.”

I want to ask her to stay, but the words stick in my throat. We’re still strangers in so many ways, connected by blood but separated by years of absence. And yet, seeing her stand up to the Freemonts and watching her try to protect me in her own way stirs something in me I didn’t expect. I glance at Astrid, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“I’ll come back tonight,” Lorelai promises at my hesitation. “We can talk more then. About everything.” She reaches for me, then stops herself. “I know I wasn’t there before, but I’m here now. Whatever’s coming, whatever this ritual is, you don’t have to face it alone.”

This time, when she hugs me, I don’t stiffen. It’s strange having a mother who hugs and can show affection so freely. It’s particularly uncomfortable to know Astrid is watching us. I lift my arms to pat her back, the gesture awkward. It’sbrief but warm, carrying the scent of patchouli and paint that seems uniquely her. When she pulls back, I see tears that mirror the ones I won’t let enter my eyes.

I glance at Astrid, who has diverted her gaze. She raised me for twenty-eight years, teaching me to be strong and never show weakness. And here’s Lorelai, offering comfort like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m unsure which approach I need more right now, but I know which one I’m more comfortable with.

“Be careful,” I manage. “The Freemonts are dangerous. They don’t take insults lightly.”

“Oh, butterfly.” She smiles, and for a moment, I see the fierce protectiveness that made her bargain with trolls for my amulet. “I’ve been dealing with supernatural politics longer than you’ve been alive. I’ll be fine.”

Anthony offers to escort her down, leaving me with Astrid, who watches with an unreadable expression.

When they leave, I say, “Thank you for finding Diana for me.”

Astrid nods. “Children should not be used as pawns.”

I wonder at her words, but she doesn’t elaborate, and I’m too tired to force the conversation.

“Go,” she orders. “I’ll make the calls about Dianaand will come get you if I learn anything. There is nothing else you can do right now.”

I turn to go, bowing my head to sniff myself. I do smell questionable. Gross.

My mind whirls. Costin. Rituals. Diana and Paul. And, above them all, three words whisper over and over through my mind.

Blood and moonlight.

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