Dead in the Family

more flexible than men, but I didn’t think I needed to say that out loud. Generalizations like that can come back to bite you in the ass. “Deidra’s family settled down?”
    “It looks like the wedding’s back on, as of two nights ago,” Sam said. “Her mom and dad finally got that the ‘contamination’ couldn’t spread to Deidra and Craig and their kids, if they have any.”
    “So you think the wedding will take place?”
    “Yeah, I do. You still going to go to Wright with me?”
    I started to say, “You still want me to?” but that would have been unduly coy, since he’d just asked me. “When the date is set, you’ll have to ask my boss if I can get off work,” I told him. “Sam, it may be tacky of me to persist in asking, but why aren’t you taking Jannalynn?”
    I wasn’t imagining the discomfort that emanated from Sam. “She’s . . . Well, ah . . . She’s . . . I can just tell that she and my mom wouldn’t get along. If I do introduce her to my family, I think I better wait until the tension of the wedding isn’t part of the picture. My mom’s still jangled from the shooting and the divorce, and Jannalynn is . . . not a calm person.” In my opinion, if you were dating someone you were clearly embarrassed to introduce to your family, you were probably dating the wrong person. But Sam hadn’t asked me for my opinion.
    “No, she certainly isn’t a calm individual,” I said. “And now that she’s got those new responsibilities, she’s got to be pretty focused on the pack, I guess.”
    “What? What new responsibilities?”
    Uh-oh. “I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it,” I said. “I guess you haven’t seen her in a couple of days, huh?”
    “Nope. So we’re both down in the dumps,” he said.
    I was willing to concede I’d been pretty grim, and I smiled at him. “Yeah, that’s a big part of it,” I said. “With Eric’s maker being in town, and him being scarier than Freddy Krueger, I’m pretty much on my own, I guess.”
    “If we don’t hear from our significant others, let’s go out tomorrow night. We can hit Crawdad Diner again,” Sam said. “Or I can grill us some steaks.”
    “Sounds good,” I told him. And I appreciated his offer. I’d been feeling kind of cast adrift. Jason was apparently busy with Michele (and after all, he’d stayed the other night when I’d half expected him to scoot out of the house), Eric was busy (apparently), Claude was almost never at the house and awake when I was awake, Tara was busy being pregnant, and Amelia had time to send me only the occasional e-mail. Though I didn’t mind being by myself from time to time—in fact, I enjoyed it—I’d had a little too much of it lately. And being alone is a lot more fun if it’s optional.
    Relieved that the conversation with Antoine was over, and wondering what trouble Tom Lattesta might cause in the future, I grabbed my purse from the drawer in Sam’s desk and headed for home.
    It was a beautiful late afternoon when I pulled up in back of the house. I thought of working out to an exercise DVD before I fi xed supper. Claude’s car was gone. I hadn’t noticed Jason’s truck, so I was surprised to see him sitting on my back steps.
    “Hey, Brother!” I called as I got out of the car. “Listen, let me ask you . . .” And then, getting his mental signature, I realized the man sitting on the steps wasn’t Jason. I froze. All I could do was stare at my half-fae great-uncle Dermot and wonder if he had come to kill me.

Chapter 11
    He could have slain me about sixty times in the seconds I stood there. Despite the fact that he didn’t, I still didn’t want to take my eyes off him.
    “Don’t be afraid,” Dermot said, rising with a grace that Jason could never have matched. He moved like his joints were machine made and well oiled.
    I said through numb lips, “Can’t help it.”
    “I want to explain,” he said as he drew nearer.
    “Explain?”
    “I wanted to get closer to both of you,” he said. He was well into my personal space by then. His eyes were blue like Jason’s, candid like Jason’s, and really, seriously, crazy. Not like Jason’s. “I was confused.”
    “About what?” I wanted to keep the conversation going, I surely did, because I didn’t know what would happen when it came to a halt.
    “About where my loyalties lay,” he said, bowing his head as gracefully as a swan.
    “Sure. Tell me about that.” Oh, if only I had my squirt gun, loaded with