Before Maximus can quip something back, I push between them. “Hollywood Forever? The cemetery?”
“It was his idea,” they utter in unison.
The fingers they stab toward Gramps are as well-synched as their indictment. He rocks back on one foot as if he’s foreseen the development, and now I wonder if he really has.
“They’re not wrong. But you’re still not going to get the story until you’re not stumbling over your own two feet.”
I’m drawing breath to huff out another protest about their collective obsession with my exhaustion, when my foot catches on my gown. I nearly topple to the pavement, but Maximus’s quick reflexes save me in time.
“Oh, yeah. Nap time, little demon,” he soothes, hoisting me all the way up off my feet. But he stops and turns before heading for his truck, which is snugly parked next to Reg’s Mustang in the shop’s reserved space off the alley. “Can we give you a lift, Gio?”
I recognize the small burst of emotion with his words, but I’ve also had the advantage of sensing my grandfather’s melancholy since it started back in the bookstore. Perhaps Maximus has too. The two most important men in my world have just shared a bonding experience like no other. There’s a very good chance Maximus now has insights into Gramps that I’ll never imagine.
“Kind of you to offer, son, but I like how Jesse’s thinking right now,” Gramps answers. “A cup of joe and some sunshine might be just the ticket for my morning.”
“You sure?” I tilt my head to scrutinize him deeper. He’s already waving me off with a dismissive frown.
“Don’t you start fussing, ladybug. I may enjoy my hermit ways most of the time, but I haven’t gotten around this city for over fifty years on my good looks alone.”
“Your transportation isn’t what I’m worried about.” I press my own hand to the middle of his chest. “Gramps. Come on, it’s me.”
He tugs my hand away. “Then you should know me better.”
“What I know is that I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you looked at my grandmother in the library.”
He drops my hand, but in his eyes, I see the truth. He’s busted and not denying it, which draws out the ache of my own heart, but I wonder if Jesse’s coffee-and-sunshine medicine isn’t the best prescription for his dilemma, after all.
“Go on,” Jesse urges, affably shooing us away. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”
Seemingly satisfied with Jesse and Gio’s plan, Maximus turns us back around to head for his truck. Every step he takes is a forceful show of his determination, so I don’t even try to protest anymore despite the questions that pelt my brain like lightning-struck pebbles. I don’t know where to start on prioritizing them all, so I pluck the one that’s burning the hardest.
“Do you think my mother knows? I mean, about Gramps being a…a…”
“You looking for the word ‘warlock’?” Maximus gently offers. He takes my hand and kisses my fingertips before turning over the engine. “And, no, I have no idea if your mom has a clue about it.”
As he peers over his shoulder to back his truck up, I readily drink in the gorgeous contours of his beloved face. I’ll never forget all the hours I spent grieving, thinking I’d never see it again. Never be close enough to reach my fingertips into his warm beard or marvel at the blue brocade in his intense eyes. Most importantly, to feel his soul opening to mine, letting me know that any and every question I have right now is completely okay to vocalize.
“It would explain so much…if my mother knew. She’s always in a snit because of our abilities. Maybe she’s always seen those as early signs of our mystical halves.”
“And maybe they actually are,” Maximus notes.
I don’t argue the point, despite wanting to. It all makes too much sense, no matter how thoroughly it rewrites the past. My past. The stories we’ve always been told about Hades ordering Gramps to mate with Charlena because he wanted to diversify the demonic bloodlines. Though it’s still technically true, it’s also not the whole truth.
“You think that’s how Gramps made it out?” I venture as Maximus slows for the left turn onto 7th. “I mean, the first time. When he was completely by himself—if he was called to open this thing as strongly as I was—maybe that was when his manifestation came on too. Hades probably witnessed it and saw a great chance for taking advantage of a cheeky young warlock.”
“Viable theory.” Maximus nods, despite the deep lines across his brow. “It even justifies why he’s more interested in you than he should be.” He stops the truck at an intersection. “And why he likely isn’t going to slink off into his shadows about this.”
When he finishes with a pointed glance to the book in my lap, I bristle. “So I shouldn’t have taken this? Though it clearly shouldn’t be in his possession at all?”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“Do you think it belongs in Hades’s personal library?”
He scrapes a hand through his hair. “I’m saying we don’t know enough yet.”
I huff, feeling contrite about my tired testiness but work on calming down before apologizing. “There’s just so much I need to talk to Gramps about…” And he’s back at Recto Verso, just enjoying the morning with nothing else to do…
My brood is cut short by a flow of sincere compassion from the man behind the wheel. “You’ll get that time with him, beautiful. Very, very soon. I promise.”
I’m already primed to push back on his promise. To make him commit to a day and time that we’ll go to Beverly Hills for a long sit-down with my grandfather. But as we enter the darkness of the garage at his building—gloom that doesn’t resonate with misery and smell like eons of decay—I reluctantly accept how right he and Gramps may be about the percentage of connecting synapses in my mind.
This time, I’m more than happy to obey as Maximus quietly dictates me to stay put after he parks. I’m even happier when he ducks into the cab to lift me out, not lowering me until we’re standing at the wide door to his place on the top floor.
As soon as he opens the door, tears sting my eyes all over again.
Home.
We’re really here, surrounded by all the little things that mean I can breathe normally again. The brick wall in the kitchen and dining nook. The sunlight in the flowers on the balcony. The smell of leather couches and a thousand books.
All the pleasures I had to say goodbye to.
All the joyous hellos my heart speaks again.
All the ways I want to crumple to the floor in sheer joy. And, after setting the grimoire on a side table and then stumbling a couple more steps, I do.
“Little demon.” Maximus grits it out while slamming his door. Within seconds, he’s on his knees next to me. His keys jingle as he lets them tumble, filling his hands with my face instead. “Kara. Sweetheart. What is it? Tell me…”
Everything. All the things. Happy. So happy. Oh, Maximus…
But that’s not what I say. Because I don’t say a single thing.
Because suddenly, I don’t want to tell him all those things.
I want to show him. So much of it. No, all of it. I yearn to show him in the most real, most raw, most pure way I know how.