Page 46 of Saint, Sorrow, Sinner
Juniper laughed, that breathy, sexy sound. It came from her chest, light and airy, and Sophia would never get used to hearing it. “You won’t catch me saying no when it comes to you being in my kitchen.” She slid a gold hoop through one earlobe, then the other. “What’re you making?”
“My sister’s favorite cookies,” she said, and brushed her hand across the psychic’s knuckles.
Sophia had mapped her body, slept beside her, showered with her, but Juniper Castle still managed to make her nervous. It was fast, their genesis, unsettled and new. They’d seen so much of each other in such little time. Trusted each other. Taught each other. A part of her wanted to erase their initial meeting and redo it. She imagined seeing Juniper at the farmers’ market. Saying hello as they browsed the same tent. Going out for coffee, or taking a walk, or catching a movie. But Juniper had seen her bloody and raw and disastrous instead.
“I feel like a rescue,” Sophia admitted. She swallowed hard, softening as Juniper slotted their fingers together. “Like a dog you found in the rain one day.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s how Tehlor wound up with Lincoln,” Juniper teased. Sophia should’ve laughed, but she didn’t. “Look,” Juniper continued, “I don’t expect you to stay, but you can.”
“Are you asking me to stay?”
Juniper’s mouth curved. “I told you I’d teach you, didn’t I?”
Sophia inhaled sharply. “Yeah, but I can’t just ... I don’t want to take advantage or make assumptions. If this is you being polite and hoping I’ll actually leave, I’d appreciate it if you just said that, because I can’t ...” She flapped her free hand with frustration. “I can’t decipher it and I don’t trust myself to know what’s real and what isn’t, so.” She blew out an annoyed breath. “Sorry.”
“Stay,” she said, gently, happily, and brought her free hand to Sophia’s necklace, straightening the crucifix. “I need an apprentice. You’re welcome to get a job, but you’ll have steady work if you want it. I’m one of very few five-star psychics in Los Angeles.” She winked, grinning confidently. “It’s warm here too. I have a garden and a big kitchen. We’ll make a hutch for Hazel—”
Sophia stood on her tiptoes and kissed her. Nothing had ever been easy until right then. Her entire life—start to finish—had been dictated by fear, violence, and grief, but thisafter, this origin, this resurgence was an awakening. Permission for Sophia De’voreaux to choose herself. To love herself. To save herself.
Juniper smiled against her lips.
The pizza delivery arrived ten minutes after Colin walked through the front door carrying Thai takeout.
In the foyer, Hazel nibbled chopped vegetables and thumped the floor, staring through the mesh wall of a portable playpen. Gunnhild sat on her haunches on the other side. She sniffed the air, mirroring the rabbit’s wiggling snout. Lincoln checked the temperature on a six-pack in the fridge while Tehlor sat at the table, polishing her crystal jewelry. Bishop leaned their hip against the counter beside Juniper, watching her stir cinnamon into a batch of mulled wine. Sophia dabbed coconut oil on an ice cream scooper.
The cookies needed to bake for seventeen minutes exactly. Any longer and they’d burn, bittering the peanut butter, any less and the oats wouldn’t soften. She went to work scooping perfectly round clumps and arranging the dough on a baking sheet. The smell alone catapulted her back to a childhood filled with stolen sweetness. Making cookies with her sister when their mother took an impromptu double shift, sneaking soda after bedtime and stuffing candies in their pockets at cheap restaurants. Sophia wanted to keep that. Amy before Haven. Wanted to remember her with peanut butter on her chin, giggling about a boy at bible study, reading fan fiction on her phone until dawn.
Sophia licked dough from the side of her hand and slid the tray into theoven.
“Do you want pizza, curry, or noodles, Sophia?” Colin asked. He placed the take-out boxes on the unused half of the island next to stacked plates.
She cleaned her hands with a rag. “What kind of noodles?”
“Egg, I think. With veggies and chicken.”
“Okay,” she said, and realized she hadn’t actually decided. “The noodles sound good. I’ll take those.”
Tehlor munched a slice of pepperoni despite fixing a full plate of coconut curry.
The household ate at the table, like Colin promised they would, drinking spiced wine and sharing food out of take-out containers. Lincoln, who had spent most of his energy powering Tehlor’s spiritual search-and-rescue, complained about not getting enough sleep before their trip north.
“North?” Juniper asked.
“Canada,” he said, shrugging. “Just ’til Gideon quiets down.”
“I need to go get my shit first and hire a property manager, but yeah, that’s the plan,” Tehlor said. She jutted her chin at Colin. “Where are you off to after this?”
Colin dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Delivering the Breath of Judas to Greyson and then heading back to Gideon for a while, I think.”
“Takin’ a break,” Bishop added, settling their gaze on the priest.
“Greyson’s the archaeologist, right? Archivist? Whatever, your brother?” Tehlor pointed at Juniper with her spoon.
Juniper nodded. “He’ll take the Breath of Judas to Rome. Vatican City will keep it secure, I’m sure.”
“What about you,” Lincoln said, sliding his two-toned eyes to Sophia. “Got a plan?”
Sophia spun a wide yellow noodle around her fork. Underneath the table, Juniper tucked her socked foot around Sophia’s heel, linking their ankles. “I’m staying at the Belle House,” she said, and it felt so true, and good, and real. “Juniper offered to teach me mediumship and I should probably learn how to control this banshee shit, so.” She huffed out a laugh, glancing around the table. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
