The Mates of Monsters

Chapter 41

Since our discussion of sorts in the rain, the air between David and me has felt off-kilter. Ironically, his preparations for his new third have limited our time more than ever, and he has yet to officially tell me about it. I overheard his conversation with his father, and sometimes I catch snippets of his conversations with Tarlo-both in person at the house and over the phone-but David hasn't told me outright that he's employing a third in command. He must know that I hear things, so maybe he thinks I've put two and two together and don't need an explanation. Maybe he's waiting to tell me once everything is in place, and the person is equipped.

To make matters worse, Nicodra and Aurora are scheduled to arrive tomorrow afternoon. David is so utterly consumed that we have yet to decide what to do about Aurora and her dire need of protection let alone her poisonous thoughts of murder.

Somewhere between Nicodra preparations with Jeremy, the proposition work, my need to ask David about Germany, Aurora's dilemma, and the off-kilter air, I have to breathe. But David has been coming home when I'm already asleep and waking up before I do, and the distance is making me wake with a jitter of anxiety. Jeremy tries to calm my nerves by assuring me all will be better once the third in command is settled in place and Nicodra is both apologized to and forgiven. Yet I feel like I'm climbing a mountain and every time I look up, the top gets farther and farther away.

So I've come to realize that I'm falling down the mountain, not climbing it. And the ground grows nearer.

"Brigette," Helena says, torn from her pastry work. I blink until the fog in my head drifts apart. "If you're going to help me, you're going to have to stay awake. I said keep stirring or the jam will burn."

"Sorry," I mutter and stir the thick red mixture as it boils on the stove. "I'm awake."

"All of this busy nonsense is no good for you. Apologizing to that man," Helena scoffs, "after he wrung your neck-it's not right. If I didn't know any better I would garnish his plate with a special touch of my own."

I glance over my shoulder. "It's a good thing we know better."

"Why don't you go on to bed; it's getting late. I can finish this up myself then head home."

"No, no. It will be faster if we work together. I can wait until David gets back anyway."

"Then you'll be waiting too long. You need enough rest for tomorrow."

"I'll be fine. They aren't getting here until four, and I'm not seeing anyone until dinner. I can sleep in. I have no other plans for the day. Jeremy was kind enough to clear my schedule."

Helena dusts the flour off her hands by swiping them against one another. "He has you working too much."

"What? Is that bad for fertility?"

She shrugs. "Stress can't be good for anything."

She comes over and takes a look at the jam before cutting off the heat. She gives me an empty jar to store it in, then wraps her pastry dough for the refrigerator as well. Afterward, we get to cleaning. Helena loads the dishwasher as I wipe up the counter, picking up sprinkles of flour and scraps of forgotten dough.

"I take it you're not pregnant then," Helena says.

"No, I'm not."