Page 75 of Of Flame and Fury
“A swamp creature laid eggs on you?” Maria asks, her Brazilian accent positively lovely despite her obvious disgust.
“Not on us, I don’t think,” I answer. What do I know? I almost drowned. Right now, I’m pleased as punch Maria appears horrified on our behalf and doesn’t comment on the smell.
“Hmph. All you had to do was retrieve the damn crackers,” she adds. “You smell like a wet rat who pooped on another wet rat and then had baby poopy rats.”
So much for the sympathy. The other good Catholics agree with Maria and motion with their hands for us to shoo and keep our distance. I want to hug them just to spite them, but I don’t want to upset Celia with drama. There’s not much food. She needs to keep down everything she can.
I glance toward the bathroom, knowing I should shower, except I’m not excited about what might await me. I cross my arms, pausing when something slimy crawls on my arm and realize it’s a half-dead leech.
I jerk my arm and pelt Maria in the forehead. She screams, mashing it to bits. “You did that on purpose,” she accuses.
No. I really didn’t, but hey, she did insult me. “Nah, of course not,” I say. “Come on, Emme. Let’s get a shower.”
She grimaces. “I’m not really certain I’m ready to head back to a bathroom,” she admits.
“Same,” I admit. “Let’s just use the same one. I’ll watch your back, you watch mine.”
I don’t count on being long until I realize there’s not enough shampoo in the world to scrub the memory of swamp monster bits from your hair. We do our best, shoving our bodies into our stiff and destroyed dresses and return to the large living room.
Emme bumps into me when I stop dead.
Colorful streamers created from Post-It Notes line the ceiling, and little origami wolves and tigers dangle from string. Celia looks up from the cushioned chair decorated with bows and covered with ribbon, her annoyance at the Catholic schoolgirls coddling her easing when she sees us.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Shayna grins, glancing up from her origami making duties. It’s not one of her real grins that light up every room she skips into. It’s one that begs me to be nice and not zap someone into tomorrow. “The vamps thought it would be a great idea to throw Celia a baby shower. You know, to lift her spirits.”
Liz files her nails as if she can’t possibly be bothered. “Oh, and because she might die and shit.”
It’s only because Emme grabs me that I don’t launch myself on Liz and tear her hair out. “I think they’re trying to be nice,” she says. “Well, nice for them.”
Liz flashes her a condescending smile. “Would you expect any less? Celia is our best friend.”
Edith agrees whole-heartedly. “Even though she did get knocked up by a wolf.” She grins at Celia. “More apple juice, pumpkin?”
“No, thank you, Edith,” Celia mutters.
Celia hates apple juice. It’s too sweet for her palate, but there she is with a juice box in her hand and a ribbon tied around the bendy straw.
“It’s all we could find that wasn’t water,” Shayna explains, dropping her voice. “I think the witches were planning something for the kids on Halloween.”
And with the lack of food, Celia is working hard to keep up her caloric intake.
Agnes adjusts her tiny librarian glasses, pursing her lips as if we’re holding up the baby shower of a lifetime. “Are we ready to start?”
“In a moment, darling,” Maria says. “The cupcakes are almost done.”
At once, a small timerdings. Edith leaps to her feet, her large boobs bouncing as merrily as she is. She flounces to a small table, making a show before bending over and flashing more than I ever wanted to see beneath the skirt. Like a chef presenting her greatest creation, she retrieves a minute pan from an Easy-Bake Oven.
“Again, I think they had something planned for the kids,” Shayna reminds me.
I’m not sure what my face looks like, but Emme tries to offer support. “They’re really trying,” she says. “They mean well.”
Yeah, those bitches do. And hey, it’s more than we were able to give her. I edge forward and swallow my pride, speaking not simply as Taran, the loudmouth sister, but as a representative of the Wird family and mate to one of the most prestigious packs in the world. “On behalf of Celia and our family, and mate to Tomo Gemini Hamamatsu, Second in Command of the Squaw Valley Den Pack, we thank you,” I say. “This is a great honor you bestow upon us—”
“Whatever,” Liz interrupts. She shrugs and returns to her nail-filing duties.
It doesn’t matter what Liz says or how she acts then. Not when I catch her stealing a glance at Celia. Sadness strikes her features. Like the rest of us, she worries Celia is living on borrowed time. And as bitchy as the she-vamps can be, they love Celia in their own way. It’s the only reason I don’t kill them when Celia started opening her presents.