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vampires went suddenly rogue? No, better a benign Doman, working to change the
system from within. Assuming Kurt can act as my minister-by-proxy."
"He doesn't seem very happy about it."
"Would you in his shoes?" I fluffed my pillow and tucked it behind my back.
"Still, without me being physically present, an ambitious assassin has a more
difficult road to advancement."
"Assuming we move."
"I think that's a given." I turned to her. "You're taking this awfully well."
"The house isn't important to me; you are."
"I figured your nose would be all out of joint over Deirdre."
Her eyes searched mine, sifting for . . . something. "Should it be?" She
propped herself up on one elbow and gazed up at me with an expression of
careful tenderness. "You are a hero. A Doman, now. In fact, you are something
beyond anyone's knowing at this point. Your . . . relationship . . . with
Deirdre was never simple to begin with and now you owe each other your lives.
Am I jealous? Of course I am.
Do I understand? I think I do. Am I insecure? She is very beautiful. And I can
see that she is devoted to you. And if I were not around "
I touched my finger to her lips. "But you are around. You haven't said yet
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whether you're back to stay."
She smiled a little sadly, I thought. "It's a fair question, I suppose. I left
because I was jealous of a woman who was either a ghost or a figment of your
imagination."
I opened my mouth but she shushed me. "It didn't matter which at the time. I
was jealous and I
couldn't abide what seemed a crucial lack of privacy. I came back when I
realized that sharing you was better than giving you up completely. And then I
find out that the dark sorceries that were unleashed seem to have banished
your ex-wife from our lives and so this whole separation was moot."
I closed my eyes. Ghost, spirit, or mental hallucination, I hadn't had the
time to properly mourn
Jenny's final departure.
"Anyway," Lupé continued, "I feel that a living, breathing woman is much
easier for me to deal with than a memory given a ghostly presence. Deirdre has
no place else to go right now, you need an enforcer to watch your back, and I,
at least, don't have to worry about a certain blithe spirit haunting our
bedroom."
"So you're back to stay." It was less of a question, now. Father Pat had
preached forgiveness but
Lupé's silent sermon this past hour had been far more eloquent.
"Well . . ." she tugged the sheet down and treated me to a rousing vista, " .
. . I might need a little convincing . . ."
I reached for her. "Did you say 'little'?"
Her response was interrupted by the sound of the shower turning on in the
bathroom.
She looked at me. "Deirdre's downstairs."
I looked at her. "I locked the bedroom door."
Steam began to drift from beneath the door to the adjoining bathroom. "Chris?"
Jenny's voice echoed from the tub's shower enclosure, "where's the shampoo?"
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