Neon Blue E Frost (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

the demon he couldn’t climax during sex anymore. What is wrong with me?

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.”

I fold my lips together and bite down on them to keep the tears at bay. Why am I still crying about this so many years later?

Because I never got to tell her I was sorry. And I am. No matter what happened.

“I left the next day. I’d taken all my finals and was just waiting around for graduation. So I threw everything in my car and left. We were supposed to share an apartment in Boston, but I went and found a studio in Somerville instead. I left her holding the bag for the lease. That’s the kind of friend I was to her in the end.”

Timmi shakes her head. “No, you were an exemplary friend. You tried to dissuade her from a path that eventually killed her, even if you didn’t do it very gently. You were also hurt, and oh, so very young. Forgive yourself, Tsara. Rowena probably forgave you long ago.”

Not if her attempt to poison me with henbane is any indication. “I don’t think so. Ro’s element might have been fire but she was as stubborn as a rock.”

“Then you have to do the forgiving for both of you. It’s too late for you to seek Rowena’s forgiveness in anything but prayer, my dear, and you don’t seem the sort, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.”

If Jou’s telling the truth about where Ro’s soul is, prayer isn’t going to help anyway. I shrug. “Not really.”

“So forgive yourself. Hold tight to the memories of the good times. The times you laughed together. Shared a triumph. That’s the way to honor her memory. Let the bad things slip away.”

For all that her advice is a little clichéd, it actually does make me feel better. I squeeze her fingers. “Thank you, Timmi.”

She smiles, that gentle, infectious smile that warms me almost as much as my Dala’s hugs. I’m glad I’ve shared this old pain with her. It’s made me lighter. And it’s made me feel close to Timmi. A feeling I really like.

“So, my dear, would you like to give the Diary a try or are you feeling the need for coffee?”

I laugh. “I always feel the need for coffee, but I’ll hold off on my fix until I’ve taken a look at a couple of panels.”

She pats my hand and I sit back. The warm golden connection between us stretches, flexes, but doesn’t break.

When I leave the Museum, Jou’s waiting for me in Ro’s sleek, silver car. He’s had to double-park, which just shows that his glamor doesn’t work on Harvard Square traffic. Nothing does, really.

I climb into the car with a nervous glance over my shoulder. This would not be a good time for either Timmi or her diabolist colleague to decide to see me out. Fortunately, the Museum’s doors stay closed behind me.

Jou pulls me to him for a kiss. Then he starts the car and slides smoothly into the light evening traffic.

“I was going to walk,” I say. I didn’t ask him to pick me up, and it really isn’t very far.

“I know. I wanted to see you, sweetness. That so wrong?”

Of course not. It’s lovely. Why can’t I ever say the right thing to him? “I’m happy to see you,” I say, fumbling to make amends.

“Yeah?” He lifts one dark eyebrow. Then tips his head back at the receding façade of the Museum. “So what’s in there? Don’t feel like a good place for makin’ babies.”

“No, it’s got nothing to do with work.” I realize I haven’t told Jou anything about Timmi, and I find myself reluctant to do so now. “It’s a Museum. The ring got donated there after . . . you know. They invited me for a private tour and I got interested in one of their artifacts, so now I’m doing some research on it.” All true, as far as it goes.

“Whaddo they want with a broken ring?” he asks.

“Got me.” I couldn’t understand that, either. “Maybe they think they can fix it.”

Jou growls and I realize that was, again, the wrong thing to say.

“Could it be fixed?” I ask, backpedalling.

“Dunnow.” He shrugs as he shifts into third gear. “Probably not. Your legends say it came directly from God. Don’t see him handin’ out too many rings these days.”

I remember reading that in the book Peter gave me. “Did he used to?”

“Not t’me.”

“Obviously not,” I say in exasperation. “Jou, have you ever met God? Well, I mean have you ever seen an angel or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Do they exist?”

“No idea, sweetness. Never seen one. Never heard of any demon who has. Maybe we can’t. Polar energies an’ all that. You ever seen one?”

I shake my head, then realize he’s watching the road, and say aloud, “No. Maybe I can’t, either.” Maybe my soul has always been flawed.

With a squeal of brakes and an indignant honk from the car behind us, Jou pulls over into an empty parking space. He cups my face. Looks into my eyes. “Your soul ain’t flawed.”

“Oh.” I recover from my surprise at our abrupt stop and his sudden earnestness. I raise my hands and stroke the backs of his with my fingertips. “Thank you, Jou.”

“You got some shadows, sweetness. Things you done that you’re lettin’ prey on you. Nothin’ wrong the soul underneath. It’s perfect.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Wouldn’t be so drawn to it if it wasn’t.”

“Thanks.” I guess.

He lets me go, puts the car back in gear and pulls out into the Mass. Ave. traffic. “So what’s this thing that’s caught your eye?” he asks.

“Actually, I can show it to you.” I reach down to the bag at my feet and carefully extract the skeleton key. I’ve put it in my Dala’s old spectacle case, so I don’t accidently brush those baby bones whenever I reach into my bag. I unclasp the rose-embroidered case and tip the key out into my palm.

Jou glances at it several times,