I'm not asking for sympathy. In fact, I owe my readers a HUGE apology for being so behind. Especially the backers of the Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse Kickstarter. I'm busting my ass to get the War in White Chocolate paperbacks formated and ordered before I leave for the hometown this weekend. I owe my brother and sister-in-law a ton for dealing with the funeral arrangements.
So while I deal with all the family stuff, here's another chapter tidbit to tide you over!
----------------
Dani wasn’t sure whether to be ecstatic or frightened. Mark devolved into a weeping mess. Heath held their son tight. Maybe it was finally sinking in he had been gone from hers and Mark’s lives for six years because he kept murmuring, “I’m sorry, Mark. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dad.” Mark pulled away from Heath and looked up at him. “It was never your fault. You wouldn’t have left us on purpose. I know you wouldn’t. But you’re back now.” Mark looked at Dani. “Dad’s back like Justine and Derek’s abuelas, right?”
Dani didn’t want to break Mark’s heart or her own. “For now.”
“What do you mean for now?” He glared at her. “You’re Death. Aren’t you supposed to know these things?”
Dani crossed her arms and glared back. “God forgot to send us the instruction books when He made me and your friends’ mothers the Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse.”
“Uh, Dani, are your eye sockets supposed to glow green?” Heath murmured.
Crap. She closed her eyes and concentrated on rainbows over Lake Michigan. The power flowed back into its hiding place in her heart. When she opened her eyes, she was back in her jeans and sweatshirt.
“Can Dad come to my game on Saturday?” Mark abruptly changed the subject. “It’s our last game of the fall season.”
“If you go back to bed—”
“But this is the first chance I’ve had to speak with Dad since I was in first grade,” Mark protested.
“I know, sweetheart, but—” she started.
“Can’t you call me in sick for just tomorrow?” Mark’s tone switched to begging. “Justine got to stay home after she got kidnapped, and this is way bigger.” He flung his arms wide to indicate how much of a deal this was to him.
“Mark—” Dani growled.
“But—” Her son’s voice cracked. For the first time, Dani realized exactly how much Heath’s death affected Mark.
“Mark,” Heath said. “Listen to your mom. She and I need to talk, and I will be here in the morning.”
“This is no different that Justine’s or Derek’s grandmothers, honey,” Dani said. “Your dad’s not going anywhere, and I will call you in sick tomorrow so you can spend some time with him.”
Mark’s shoulders slumped. “How do you expect me to sleep after this?”
He had a point. She knew she definitely wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Not with her dead husband in the house.
She faced Heath again. “Why don’t you take a shower, honey? Mark and I will make us some cinnamon toast and hot cocoa. We can cuddle on the couch like we used to and talk.”
Heath’s pale cheeks flushed red. “Um, do you have anything I can wear?”
“Your clothes are still in your dresser and in the closet,” she said. “Towels are in the same place.”
He blinked, but he didn’t question why she’d kept his clothes. “Okay. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
Dani watched him stride out of the kitchen. Part of her wanted to chase after him and kiss him senseless. The rest of her wanted to scream in agony. And he had the same weird vibration that all the risen dead in Oakfield had. Why the hell did God rip him away from her and then bring him back? What had she done to deserve this special kind of torture?
“It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Mark hugged her.
She couldn’t remember the last time her son had hugged her. But she remembered the last time she hugged Heath before tonight.
It was the morning before the day he died. He had to spend a couple of days at a client located on the north side of Chicago. She suggested rather than wasting the time on the four-hour round-trip commute, he should stay at a hotel for the night near the client’s office. She’d hugged Heath that morning and told him to be careful of the crazy Chicago drivers.
Little did she know it would be an Oakfield resident driving drunk on the freeway, and Heath would die only a couple of miles from their home.
Mark released her. “I’ll make the cinnamon toast while you make the cocoa.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Dani sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“Geez, Mom.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Use a tissue like a real person. You want to impress Dad, don’t you?”
“Since when did you start worrying about appearances?” she teased as she reached for the box of tissues sitting on the table. The box that never made it upstairs to be put away in the linen closet. She had been a better housekeeper when Heath was still alive.
“I don’t,” he grumbled. But the deep rose blush on his cheeks said just the opposite. He glanced at the kitchen doorway and lowered his voice. “Maybe you should call one of the other Soccer Moms and let them know what’s going on. You know, just in case.”
Mark was only making sense. Like the other demon hunters assigned to protect the Soccer Moms’ immediate family members, Father Rodriguez only stayed at the Elante home when Dani was out. He’d gone back to the rectory hours ago.
Dani nodded. “You’re right. If I put the ingredients in the pan, could you—”
“Mom, I’m almost thirteen.” He scowled at her. “I think I can handle a pan of cocoa, especially since you premix the cocoa and sugar in a jar.”
She held up her hands. “I didn’t want you to think I’m dumping chores on you.”
“Shit.”
“Marcus!”
“I’ll take the garbage and recycling bins out first—”
“Already done.” Dani tried very hard not to smirk at the guilty expression on her son’s face. She reached into her jeans for her phone, but it was already ringing when she pulled out the device. Dad.
Why on earth would he be calling this late?
She thumbed the icon to answer. “Hey, Dad! What’s up?”
“I need a Soccer Mom over here right now!” In the background, there came a sound of glass shattering. “She’s already whacked Pierre with a frying pan and knocked him out!”
If the demon hunter guarding her father was already down, he was in deep, deep trouble. “Dad! Grab a cross and get into the bathroom!”
“Carmen’s already locked herself in there!” The way Dad huffed and puffed, he was running. “I need help now!”
Across the kitchen, Mark had pulled out his phone and texted to someone. He looked up at Dani. “Penny’s on her way to Grandpa’s house.”
“Dad, Penny’s on her way to your house.” Dani’s heart thudded in her chest. “Can you get to the basement? Lock yourself in that bathroom.”
“Penny’s coming? I need you here, Daniella!”
“Daddy, listen to me. Are you wearing your cross? The demon can’t possess you if you’re wearing your cross.”
“Demon? What demon?” There was another crash of breaking glass, followed by some Spanish invectives. “It’s your mother who’s trying to kill me!”
No comments:
Post a Comment