Good As Dead

Chapter Eight

It is a thong. But at least there's a bra, too. A push-up one. I stare at the scraps of fabric, wondering how anyone's supposed to wear these with a smile on their face. Guess I'm about to find out; I made dinner for Gran, helped her shower and dress for bed, washed and put away the dishes, mopped the floors, and wiped dust off the curtains and shelves for whoever comes tomorrow. I even cleaned the damn toilet. Now that Gran sleeps, I have nothing left to do but try on this early birthday gift.

There's still an hour of sunlight left, but I draw the windowshade in my bedroom, anyway. Who knows if that creep has a telescopic lens pointed over here. Then I sigh, strip down, and put on the underwear.

The closet door has a mirror attached to it, and that's what I use to look myself over.

Yeah. Okay, no. Elliot can't possibly expect me to look good in this. The problem is, I'm not a delicate person. I guess my waist is small enough, but my shoulders are wide, and my hips, as one of Gran's friends put it while giving me the most awkward compliment ever, are great for birthing. Which means tiny little straps make my upper body look like it belongs to a boxer, and my lower body like a roast tied up with string. Maybe I can convince him to go right to the nude photos.

I glance at the card that was in the box with the underwear. Try some gold earrings; it'll go great with the blue.

Real gold? He's dreaming if he thinks I have any of that. But Gran has earrings. Some of them might be gold-plated.

Everything valuable is kept in my room; has been for a couple of years, now. It takes several minutes of digging through drawers to find the wooden box holding Gran's jewelry. Nothing fits what Elliot suggested, but then at the very bottom, I find an envelope with a name written on it. Inez.

My hands jerk with surprise. That's my mom's name. The envelope looks dirty and worn, and I have to open it carefully to keep the paper from falling apart. The only things inside are a pair of earring studs and a necklace, both silver. The studs look tarnished, but the necklace gleams at me; it must be protected with an anti-tarnishing spell. Even though Elliot specified earrings, I pick up the necklace first, letting it slide cool and heavy over my palm. It's simple and sleek, but substantial enough to withstand getting caught on clothing. Of course, that's not a problem at the moment, since I'm wearing nearly nothing. Reluctantly, I drop the necklace back into the envelope and grab the earrings. It doesn't take long to put them in and return to the mirror.

I stare at the studs longer than necessary. Thinking of my mom once wearing these sends a weird feeling down my spine. Were they everyday jewelry, or did she save them for special occasions? Before she got so bad, Gran talked about Dad whenever I asked, but almost nothing about Mom. I don't know if she was the kind of woman who liked to dress up or not, and I had only a few photos of her before they were lost in the move to Mercywing.

My mind sidesteps to the wolf witch I met today. Desmond Healy. Who's staying with my mom's birth pack. They never tried contacting me. When I was younger and just learning to write well, maybe around seven or eight, I sent letters for a couple of months. No response. I wonder if things would be different if I tried now. They're not that far from here, only a three-hour drive. But like most wolf witches living in rural areas, the Red Devil Mountain pack have their own territory separate from the government. They live on private land, their land, and visitors aren't welcome.

So, I'd have to go through Desmond in some way to meet them, since he's the only living name I know connected to the pack. And he'll probably want something out of it. From the way he grinned at me, I can just guess what that'd be. But it might be worth it, even though I don't like him.

Well, let's be honest, I don't like anyone, not in that way. Except for maybe...

No, I have to stop thinking that. No good moping about Gideon. Or other lost things.