Nacelles' chamber isn't what I think a monster lair should look like. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to expect, but certainly not the warmth and light I find. The same purple couch he summoned before stands against the far wall and scattered cushions litter the carpeted floor. It looks more like the inside of a genie's bottle than anything else.
"Now, how did this injury happen?" Nacelles takes my arm from me and peers at the torn shoulder.
"It was an accident." I'm loath to name the hell hound, though I'm not sure why. Nacelles likes him, and I'm pretty sure Maxx wasn't lying when he said he chose to stay with the lich.
He looks at me. "Maxx doesn't always remember his own strength."
So much for keeping the cause of my accident a secret. "It really was an accident," I repeat. "He saw a kitten."
"I never did get around to introducing him to kittens," Nacelles muses. "Take off your shirt."
"Ummm...excuse me?"
"I have no designs on your zombiefied body, Isis," the lich says. "I need to see the wound itself and your long sleeved blouse, while beautiful, won't allow me to do that."
"Turn around," I demand. "This is embarrassing enough."
"Here, wear this." Nacelles reaches into thin air and pulls out a sleeveless, zipper up top. It matches the couch. What an awesome color. I'll look like an eggplant, but I guess it's better than the alternative. I catch the top and wait until the lich turns his back. It doesn't take me long to undo the buttons on the shirt I'm currently wearing, shed it, and put the new one on.
"Okay, I'm ready."
Nacelles turns around. "The color suits you."
Right now, I don't much care. I just want my arm back on. "So how do you plan on fixing me, anyway?"
"I don't," Nacelles says. "I can't heal you, Isis."
The bluntness of it hurts.
"Then what am I even doing here?"
"Good question," the lich replies. He strolls over to me and peers at my empty socket. It's weird.
"I thought we could experiment on you, but I wouldn't know where to begin. You're an unusual case-study. Are you sure you don't just want to use crazy glue or screws?"
"I'm positive," I say. "I've glued myself and screwed...ummm...enough, thanks."
"The only thing I can think of is to self-heal," Nacelles says. "You said you've never tried it before. Do you feel comfortable enough to try it now?"
I shrug. "Sure, why not?" I grimace. "It can't hurt, right? What do I do?"
"Vampires don't need to do anything," the lich muses. "But you are only half-vampire in spirit. Try putting the arm up to your empty socket. Maybe the muscles will knit together of their own accord."
I take my arm back and do what he says. I can't help but picture tendrils of ligaments, reaching out like vines to grab the arm and pull it close.
"Is it working?" I drop my arm and it falls with a thump to the ground. Nope.
Nacelles is nice enough to retrieve it and hand it back to me. "Hmmm...let's try this instead. Close your eyes and visualize the arm adhering to your shoulder, looking exactly like it used to be."
It sounds simple enough. I give it a shot. And the world turns purple. My insides are doing their level best to crawl out through my belly button. I can barely breathe. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest and moaning low in my throat. I'm pretty sure Nacelles is trying to talk to me, but I can't hear anything beyond the roaring in my ears. It feels like hours before I can unkink and open my eyes. A black fuzzy blur greets me. A huge black fuzzy blur, which means Maxx is back to his normal size.
"Isisss," The familiar voice makes me smile. Well, grimace. I want it to be a smile, but I can't quite manage it.
"Did—" I growl the first word so I clear my throat and try again. "Did it work?"
"You have an arm," Nacelles says.
"But did it work? Is it attached?" I'm still shaky; definitely not strong enough to stand upright, so I just focus on, well, focusing.
"It is as it was," Maxx replies. "Though I disapprove of what you had to do."
I laugh at the hell hound's indignation. "Yeah, I do, too." His face comes more into focus. "Did you enjoy your chicken?"
His tail starts to wag, which is answer enough, but he speaks anyway. "Yes, it was good. I think it is now my favorite food."
I'm not sure I want to know how much chicken a dog the size of a full grown brahma bull has to eat. Instead I rotate my left shoulder. It feels...tender...but not sore. I hope I never have to go through something like that healing again. I smile and flex my wrist.
"Does this mean I can heal all the time?" Not that I want to, because, seriously, owww. But if my leg decides it needs to be unattached or something, it'll be a handy skill to have. Once I sound proof the apartment, that is. I'm pretty sure the old ladies would call the police in a New York minute if they heard me screaming and moaning. Plus there's my mom. She might have something to say about it, too.
"It should," the lich says. "But I wouldn't try it unless it was crucial. Screws and glue should work just fine for the little things."
I agree. The less I have to deal with, the better. Life's getting complicated enough without adding 'voluntary pain' to the list. "So why didn't I feel anything when Maxx pulled my arm off?"
Nacelles shrugs. "I have no idea. I hate to tell you, Isis, but you're a giant 'who knows'. You'd probably have to travel to Louisiana and speak to some of the voodoo queens to get all the answers you're looking for."
Yeah. That's not going to happen. I'm not that committed to knowing, honestly.
I take a cab home. I'm just plain worn out. My body's sure it's been running on fumes for miles and all the brains in the world aren't helping me stay full. I need a break. Honestly, I'd rather be at the church's cemetery. There's something soothing about being surrounded by dead people who don't want anything from me, but I'm not sure Father Moss knows I helped Ra'kul yet. I'm not ready to face his possible wrath. Honestly, I feel totally overwhelmed. So of course there's just one person I feel even remotely like talking to.
"Isis, can I come in?"
Before I can answer, the doorknob to my bedroom turns and just like that my mom's here.
"Oh, Isis, really? Purple? You look like an eggplant," are the first words out of her mouth once she actually sees me.
I guess that's what I get for letting a lich dress me.
"What's wrong?" She kicks off her shoes and joins me on the bed, legs curled under her.
"Nothing. Everything. I don't know. I can't find Andrew and it all just sucks."
"Mama Llama likes no drama," she winks at me, and then laughs.
Good grief, she must've just come from her reading stint at the library.
"Mom, seriously? You've been reading the kids those Llama books again, haven't you?"
"Yes, they're adorable. Now hush, and tell me whose rear I need to kick."
And that pretty much sums up the relationship with my mom. All practicality and business under that 'Look at me, I'm going to name my kid 'Isis' because it's the name of a goddess, and oh! Let's all make daisy chains and look for Little Bunny Foo-Foo!' exterior. I love her, though. After all, she crazy glued my mouth. You can't get much more supportive than that.
"It's everything," I sigh. "The date with Daniel was a disaster, kind of, even though I met a really nice vampire and a lich who's not so bad, really. And I still have no idea where Andrew is, but I met Maxx, and he helped me see a really messed up half Komodo dragon under the church who wanted to eat me, but that turned out okay, too, because I'm still alive." Yeah. I just open my mouth and it all comes gushing out, like a flood I can't control.
She holds up one hand to stop me. "Wait. Just...wait. I'm not even sure where to start asking all the questions I have."
I snicker first, then sigh one of those sighs that comes up from the depths of my soul. "That's okay. I'd have no idea where to start answering them. I don't even know if I can. Honestly, Mom, everything has been so messed up lately. I mean, I thought Andrew would be able to cure me, but what if he can't? Everyone keeps telling me there's no way. What if I'm stuck like this forever?"
"From what you've told me, you're not the only one, Isis. Besides, what's really different about your life now, other than eating brains?"
Huh. That's the one question I haven't really considered. Is my life so different from what it used to be? I actually have more friends...well...acquaintances, really, but they could be friends if I tried. Even Noelle might someday fall into that category.
"Nothing, I guess," I admit. "But it's weird, Mom."
It's her turn to laugh. "Weirder than being raised in a commune, or learning how to grow your own food and sew your own clothing? Honey, you were made for weird. Out of all the people in this world, you can handle this."
I nod, actually starting to believe it at least a little bit.
"So now that we've established that much, tell me everything else. I'm here for you, Isis."
"Albin's pretty cool," I say. "He's the half werewolf whose dad is a vet; he gets along really well with Maxx. And there's Lydia, the Salem witch. You met her already, remember? She's the mentor of us all."
"That doesn't sound like so bad a life." She shifts so she's no longer sitting on her feet. They must be falling asleep.
"I've messed up," I say. "I went and saw the half-Komodo and she got injured. It was totally my fault."
"Do no harm, Isis."
"That's a Wiccan belief." And even then, she kind of mangled it. She raises one thin eyebrow at me. My mom may be hippie in spirit and dress, but she grooms herself immaculately. "That doesn't make it untrue."
I'm not going to argue it. There's really no point. Besides, she's right. Luckily, I did try to make it right. I just hope Father Moss sees that.
Mom glances at her watch, shaking her bangles away from the face so she can read it. "I hate to cut and run, baby, but I have an appointment with some farmers. They're conducting a seminar on upside down growing, and I don't want to be late."
I'm sure there's a huge market for growing food upside down, but I don't know where. Or why. I stifle my laughter and pull her close for a hug. "Thanks, Mom. I guess I just needed a dose of common sense."
"That's what I'm here for." She slips her sandals back on and waves at me.
The door shuts behind her with a click and I realize I actually do feel better. A lot better. My mom is awesome. Now I'm ready for a day of watching Netflix and munching on brains. Eh. It might not be the life I envisioned, but at least I'm not a half-Komodo dragon who lives in the basement of a church, right?