Bad Luck, Baby

14 - Bad Angels

Sunday afternoon, I dressed in the uniform Evangeline had prescribed—a pair of black slacks and a matching polo—and did my best to tame my hair into a semblance of style.

My stomach fluttered with nerves as I stood at the bathroom mirror, studying the result. No one would guess I was my father's son from my appearance, at least.

With the shirt tucked in and the waist of the pants cinched with a simple belt, I looked like any other young, underpaid service person. The black clothes and belt made me look a little underfed, and with my nails painted pink and a bit of makeup, I could pass for a boyish girl or a girlish boy almost equally well. Only the small prominence of my Adam's apple and my complete lack of curves pointed more towards one than the other.

Evangeline had said it was fine to wear jewelry if I liked, so I had three sparkly studs in each ear and two silver hoops on the left. I'd taken off my father's ring, not wanting anyone to recognize it, but kept the rest of the silver bands I typically wore.

As satisfied with my appearance as I was ever likely to be, I headed out to meet Evangeline.

I hadn't seen Ro all morning, and so was doubly surprised when he intercepted me at the door and declared his intention to tag along in cat form.

"I thought you said all the Thrones know what you look like?"

He shrugged. "They do; but one black cat is very like another—from a human perspective—and it's not an uncommon form for familiars to take. I'll ride on your shoulders and no one will look twice."

I rather doubted that. A cat riding around on a person's shoulders seemed like something to stare at, but I didn't argue. I was grateful for the company, even if I knew it wasn't for my sake.

He transformed and leapt up to drape himself around the back of my neck, and I had to admit that it was strangely comforting. I'd been practicing the meditation techniques Janelle had taught me all morning, but nothing came close to soothing my anxiety like his warmth across my shoulders did.

I resisted the urge to reach up and stroke his head, imagining he'd probably bite me if I did, and by the time I'd walked up the street to the bakery, I'd become accustomed to his weight.

Evangeline greeted us excitedly, exclaiming that Ro (who she hadn't seen before) was 'absolutely adorable' and 'just the perfect fit for me.' He dug his claws into my shoulder a bit and lashed his tail, but at least he didn't hiss and growl.

Sophie was in mink form again, disguised as a little fur neck-warmer, and only lifted her head for a moment to blink curiously at Ro before tucking her nose under her tail.

Together, Evangeline and I loaded dozens of trays of cupcakes into her small white car, along with an exquisite three-tiered wedding cake.

Then she drove us out of the city a short way to what I could only describe as a small castle.

Lucian Drake's estate was set amidst unnaturally green lawns, groves of ornamental trees, a small artificial lake, and botanical gardens complete with fountains and statuary. And that's just what I could see from the driveway.

"Oh, my heavenly lady's tits, just look at this place!" Evangeline gasped, leaning over the steering wheel and looking at everything but the road. "Can you imagine? Lucian must have gold leaking from his arse to afford the upkeep. 'Course it's all in the family. Bein' a Throne hardly pays a dime. That's why you got to be insanely devoted, or rich as fuck-cakes to be one. Not to mention high-born, of course."

Distracted by the array of interesting imagery her words evoked, I couldn't think of a suitable reply. My father certainly hadn't been 'rich as fuck-cakes,' whatever that was. Then I yelped as Ro dug his claws into my shoulder.