It Never Rhines but It Pours (22 page)

Finally back on the highway, I was silent on the way home. I had a lot to think about. None of my thoughts were very happy. Some of them should have been, but they weren’t. So I felt extra guilty and bad about those thoughts, which just spiraled my mood down into a pit of self-pity, and crankiness. I’m good at both of those emotions. Practice makes perfect they say.

“What’s your problem?” Sarah asked from the back seat. I have often noticed that a bad mood is more infectious than a toddler’s cold. Like a small child, the original infected person sprays and slobbers the bad mood on anyone in a ten-foot radius. I’ve also noticed that while a toddler will be over their cold in a few days, anyone who catches the cold from them will be sick for weeks. Same with bad moods, the secondary infections are often much worse than the original cranky person. All that to say, Sarah was quickly escalating past my bad mood into a
really
bad mood.

“Nothing,” I said maturely.

“It’s not nothing,” she snipped, “you’re in a bad mood.”

“I am not,” I lied, unconvincingly.

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Children,” Cecily interjected, earning glares from both of us. “It’s understandable that Piper is a little upset. Annabeth was obviously not the person we were looking for, and while it was nice to be able to help her, we are still two days away from serious trouble with the Synod.”

“That’s not why she’s in a bad mood,” Sarah replied. “Annabeth said something to her.”

I locked my eyes on the road and pretended that I hadn’t heard.

“You did stay back and talk to her,” Cecily mused. “
Did
she say something to upset you?”

I made a great deal about checking behind us for cars and changing lanes.

“What did she say?” Sarah asked.

“None of your business,” I snapped.

“She said ‘none of your business?’” Sarah was being a smart aleck. “Wow, I can see how that would tick you off.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean.” Sarah was getting angry. “I’m your sister. Cecily’s your friend. We want to know what the skunk ape lady said to you!”

I’m pretty sure that Sarah intended for me to laugh. I did. I couldn’t help it. How often do you hear the words “skunk ape lady” in a sentence? The tension in the car eased a bit and I tried to think about what I wanted to say.

“Well?” Cecily asked.

I sighed. “She just said ‘Take care of the two of ya’ll.’”

“The two of us?” Sarah was puzzled.

“No,” I struggled to explain. I don’t know why it was so hard. It’s not like it wasn’t a normal part of life. I just hadn’t totally grasped the idea myself. Or was entirely sure that I could believe the word of a weird were-woman living out in the boonies.

“Oh!” Cecily’s eyes sparkled. “The two of you!”

“What?” Sarah still didn’t get it.

“She said she smelled me,” I explained. “I don’t know if I believe her or not.”

“What?” Sarah said louder from the back seat.

“It’s all your fault,” I said to Cecily, ignoring Sarah. “You didn’t warn me beforehand.”

“Would that have made a difference?” Cecily asked smugly.

“No,” I was getting grumpy again. “But it would have been nice to have some warning.”

“What is going on?” Sarah yelled loudly.

“Piper’s pregnant,” Cecily announced.

“What?”

“Maybe,” I said. “If we can believe Annabeth.”

“Why does that make you grumpy?” Trust my little sister to cut straight to the heart of the problem. “And why is it Cecily’s fault?”

I answered the easy one first. “It’s Cecily’s fault because she didn’t tell me that coming in contact with a fertility statue would make me pregnant.”

Sarah blinked. “It never crossed your mind that touching a magical fertility statue might make it more likely for you to get pregnant?” She sounded incredulous.

“No!” I was defensive. “I had other things to worry about! Besides, I’m on the Pill!”

“Hmm,” Sarah pretended to think, “The Pill versus
magical fertility statue
. I know where I’d put my money.”

“Shut up.”

“So, why aren’t you happy? Don’t you want to be pregnant?”

“I’m on the Pill, Sarah. If I wanted to be pregnant right now I wouldn’t be on the Pill now would I?”

“Yeah, but what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal!” My voice was getting louder. “The big deal is that we just started crazy jobs as USB assassins, that’s what we are, assassins. We’ve already botched our first job, and if we don’t finish it we’re going to die! And now I find out that not only am I risking Mark and the girls, but I’m also carrying a little person into danger with me wherever I go!”

There was silence in the car.

“I have a solution,” Cecily suggested.

“No.”

“It works.”

“No,” I said again.

“You can’t trust a witch, Piper.”

“I believe I’ve heard you say that once or twice before. The answer is still ‘no.’”

Cecily slouched in her chair. “It would make things so easy. Come on, you’re right about the baby. It goes wherever you go. That means that whatever trouble you get into, you’re dragging your baby right into the middle of it. They send a Guardian to chop off your head and you’re killing your child too.”

“It’s not that much safer for Mark and the girls!” I protested. “If Sarah and I are killed then there are no more humans with abilities and a USB membership. The whole open season thing comes back into play and my family is hunted down and eaten!”

“All the more reason for us to just kill Pravus now,” Cecily said stubbornly.

“I can’t do that!” I wailed.

“Why not?” Sarah asked. “He’s a creep. He deserves to die anyway. We’d be doing the world a favor.”

“I can’t! He’s not guilty. I can’t kill an innocent person!”

“Even to save the life of your baby?” Cecily asked gently.

“Even to save my entire family! It’s wrong! I believe that life is precious. That means that Pravus’ life is just as precious as my daughters’. I can’t decide that they are more important than him. What kind of world would that be?”

“I don’t see the problem,” Sarah grumped, “They
are
more important than him.”

“But who decides that? To Pravus, I’m sure his life is more important, does that mean that he should start killing anyone who threatens him? It can’t work that way.” I felt like I had more words and ideas in my head than could easily come out of my mouth. “Either we are all equally precious, or we all start killing anyone who stands in our way.”

Cecily snorted. “A little extreme, but I get your point.”

“So,” Sarah was still argumentative. “Let’s say that someone has a gun pointed at Megan’s head and they tell you that unless you kill Pravus that they will shoot her. What do you do?”

I closed my eyes and prayed fiercely that I would never be in that position. “I couldn’t kill Pravus in order to save Megan,” I said firmly.

“So you’d kill your own daughter?”

“No,” I explained. “Whoever was holding the gun would kill her. It’s simple terrorism. Terrorists like to put people in positions where they feel responsible for what happens. But really, the only person responsible is the one who pulls the trigger. You can’t ask me to murder someone and then shift the blame onto me for
your
crime when I refuse.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Megan would be dead.”

“I know,” the very thought made me sick. “But if I killed someone on the chance that it would save my daughter’s life, I would be no less a murderer than the man who killed my daughter.”

“So what do we do now?” Cecily asked, apparently willing to hold off on removing Pravus’ head from his body.

“We need more humans with abilities!” Sarah announced.

“Duh,” I grouched.

“No, really, we need to find some more humans and get them USB memberships before our deadline is up. That way, even if we are executed, our family will still be safe.”

I stared up into the rearview mirror at my baby sister. That was the most mature, self-sacrificing thing I had ever heard her say. “How?” I asked, having no ideas myself.

The road signs and lights flashed by, lighting the interior of the car every two seconds. “I know!” Sarah exclaimed. “We advertise!”

“Nope,” Cecily shook her head, “the whole point is to keep the members of the USB hidden and safe. Advertising would get us killed faster than …” I know she wanted to say “than not killing Pravus,” but she restrained herself from pointing out the obvious.

“No,” Sarah was shaking her head now, “not out in the open, with magic!”

“How?” I asked again.

“We ask Pravus. I read this book once where the people with the magic advertised on TV with magical commercials that only people with magic could see.”

“Do you know how many times you said ‘magic’ in that one sentence?” I asked quietly.

She stuck out her tongue. “Why not? Why wouldn’t it work?”

Cecily was giving it some serious thought. “I don’t think that the TV thing would work,” she started.

“See!” I said. “Told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Well, it might work, it would just be ridiculously expensive. Besides, I’m not too sure how witch magic interacts with technology.”

“What about a billboard then?” Sarah pointed to one flying past the window.

Cecily thought some more. “You know, that might work! He could cast a spell on a single billboard to look and say something different to humans with abilities than it would to normal slurpees.”

I glared at her for the slurpee word. “Where would we put it?”

“Orlando,” they said together. “If there are weird, wacky people, they are going to be in Orlando.”

“We weren’t,” I muttered under my breath.

“Besides, it would have greater exposure there,” Sarah pointed out. “Let’s do it! We’ll put up a sign that tells people that if they can read the sign then they are special and to call your cell number for information that will benefit their lives!”

I snorted. I hardly thought that my life had been benefited by membership in the USB. But then, I was still alive, that might be counted as a positive. “Why my cell?”

“Because you’re better at talking to people, dear sister,” Sarah said with mock humility. The lazy bum.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Would we have to buy the billboard? I have twenty-five dollars in my wallet.”

Cecily stared up at the car ceiling. “Maybe we could just add the advertisement to an already existing sign. We’ll have to ask Pravus,” she frowned, “and you know …”

We all said it in a unison, sing-song voice, “You can never trust a witch.”

“We still have only two days,” I pointed out, not wanting to rain on the excitement, but also wanting to face facts. That’s not called pessimism; it’s called realism.

“Maybe we’d better offer a cash reward for any callers,” Sarah suggested.

“Out of whose wallet?” I asked suspiciously.

“We’d
offer
it,” she stressed, “we wouldn’t have to
pay
it.”

I groaned inwardly but didn’t say anything. She was partially right, we needed incentive for someone to call quickly, and we had no money. But was lying really the way to go? That thought from the woman who was planning to tell her husband that she had been to dinner and a late movie with her friends. I sighed again. Sometimes, the only choice was not a good one.

Chapter Twenty-three:

Home Sweet Home

Mark was thankfully asleep when I got home at three o’clock in the morning. At least I didn’t have to try and come up with a good story when I was foggy with exhaustion. The morning would be soon enough. I gave my face and teeth a cursory cleaning and fell into bed.

My alarm went off ten seconds later. Not literally ten seconds, but it sure felt like it. This is one of the problems with being a parent. Notice I say “one.” There are many. No matter what time you go to bed, your kids will always be up at the same time the next day. Non-parents, who stay up past midnight and are really, really tired, can sleep in the next morning. Sure, they have jobs, and bosses, and responsibilities, but usually a quick phone call and a fake cough can get them a few extra hours of rest.

Parents, on the other hand, do not have that option. Sick, tired, depressed, it doesn’t matter, there are hungry mouths to feed at the same time every morning. I was really looking forward to the day when Megan and Cassidy would be old enough to get themselves breakfast.

That thought made me sit up in bed. Baby. There was another baby coming. I was restarting the clock to late night feedings, diapers, colic … I flopped back on my pillow with a groan.

“Late night?” Mark asked, putting an arm around me and nibbling on my earlobe.

“Mhhh,” I moaned.

“That’s what happens when you’re a party animal,” he said sagely.