“Penelope Bristol, don’t you sass your mother.”
“Mother, I’ve had enough.” She threw her napkin down and pushed to standing, stepping over the long bench.
I looked at Emery to see if we were all standing, or if he’d maybe try to calm her down instead. Given he sat frozen, clearly he didn’t know what to do.
Cahal stood, though, like a cobra rising from its coil. He picked up his plate.
Apparently we were leaving.
“You have no idea what it’s like in the thick of things,” Penny continued, showing those ragged edges she’d gained after visiting the elves and touring the Underworld. “You don’t know what it’s like to watch your friend sacrifice everything for you and be unable to stop it. To spend months trying not to blame your own flesh and blood for the pain you were put through—that she was put through. I don’t blame you, Mother, just so we’re clear. I trust in your gift. But a lot of what the Red Prophet has said has been right, too. And now Charity’s stuff is on the fritz, and my Temperamental Third Eye has gone nuts… It seems like something is interfering with your Sight, with everyone’s sight, and this time I don’t think the fates are going to lift their skirts and reveal their wares.”
My mouth dropped open. A little smile played across Cahal’s face.
“There is clearly not one right path, and that’s good, because the last time there was one path it didn’t work out that well for a few of us. You’re just going to have to figure out your thing with the Red Prophet on your own.” She picked up her plate, took a deep breath, and then finished, “As soon as the war is over, if we’re both still alive, I am going to marry Emery, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.” She nodded. “So there.”
She turned around and stormed away.
I grabbed a fistful of Emery’s shirt as Ms. Bristol’s crazy eyes slowly slid to him.
“Go, go, go,” I muttered, grabbing my plate with the other hand. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
“Excuse me,” Emery said, picking up his plate and stepping over the bench.
I hustled him away, but we were close enough to hear Cahal behind us. “Ma’am, Penny is right about a couple of things. First, there will be many paths. In war, there always is. Sometimes there will be no right answer. Sometimes…you will need the Red Prophet to put in motion things you might not be comfortable with advocating. As for the second…” He paused for a while. “In my opinion, the fates are indeed interfering with your Seeing. And if not the fates, then Lucifer himself, and any of his people he’s managed to smuggle into this compound. Be prepared for blindness.”
I frowned at him when he joined us toward the plate-drop area. A few shifters nodded to us as they exited the cafeteria-style area, most with plates. We’d beaten the dinner rush, which was good news judging by the amount of food these people had on their plates.
“What did you mean about Lucifer interfering with their Sight?” I asked, dropping my plate into the brown rubber basin at the dirty-dish station on the east wall, away from the line of shifters waiting for their turn at the rapidly emptying buffet.
“He has that ability, as do you. As do a couple other creatures.”
“He certainly didn’t tell me that,” I muttered.
“What other creatures?” Penny asked.
A brick of a guy stepped in front of us, over six feet tall with a muscle-stacked body and a face that would make angels weep, wondering what had gone wrong with his genetics. Half his head was shaved and the other half long. There was probably some significance other than I’m bad at fashion, but I didn’t much care to find out.
“Ma’ams, sirs,” he said in a gruff voice. “This is a shifter-only eatery. You’d probably be more comfortable in the cafeteria set up for the mages and fae.”
“Why?” I looked around at everyone minding their business, getting food and sitting down to eat it. “What’s so special about this place? Are you just about to group together for a circle jerk, or something?”
His eyebrows flattened over brown, close-set eyes. “We have a housing unit for the shifters, and one for guests. That’s the way it has always been done.”
“I guess you’re not so different from the fae at the root?” I asked, but of course he didn’t know what I was talking about. Roger would, and I would definitely rub his face in it, just for funsies. When Devon’s pack first brought Charity to visit the warrior fae, they’d been relegated to crappy guest housing far away from the other residences. Samesies on our second visit. “Anyway, we are shifters.” I pointed at myself. “I shift into an asshole.” I pointed at Cahal. “He occasionally shifts into a nice guy.” To Penny and Emery. “They can make you stop shifting, forever, so you should probably just let them do what they want.”