Mia grins. “Oh, and don’t worry, animals being scared of you is nothing to be too embarrassed by. I had to use that mind control trick on a cat the other day because it wouldn’t stop freaking out over my undead ass.”
“You learned it on your own?” I ask, genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing. It took me years to sort out how to mesmerize people.”
“It was either that or drug the cat, and ironically, I hate doing that if I can avoid it.”
“Well, I’m still impressed.” I bet she wouldn’t have been able to pull it off if she was still high all the time. Influencing people requires a good deal of empathy with them in order to make them feel what you want, and that requires being able to feel. It’s why it doesn’t work so well when you’re having a panic attack, as I’ve learned a few times.
“Would a blind dog be able to hunt?”
“A blind bloodhound probably could,” Mia says after a moment’s consideration. “Not sure how well they could hunt, but they mostly just go by scent, right? I’ll look into it. Do you still want one if it can’t?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“All right. Well, I’ll let you know what I find out, and I’ll tell you when we have any blind animals for adoption or anything else that might be easier to deal with for you.”
“Thank you.” Her jagged teeth show in a simultaneously terrifying and affable smile. “I really appreciate that.”
We talk a bit more, and Mia manages to avoid making an ass of herself. I’m in awe of how much she’s changed in the time that I’ve known her, but I suppose I couldn’t exactly see me even going to a gathering like this just a few months ago. Maybe we really are good for each other, despite all of our issues.
“Do you think we could take a look at those necklaces?” I ask after we finish helping with the dishes.
“Of course,” Liz says. “Abby, you found where we put them, right?”
“Yeah, the box is in the living room.”
We meet her in there and find a box full of jewelry, most of it tangled together, a few crosses standing out, and a handful of rather handsome necklaces separated in their own corner, likely ones they wear. Merely looking at them hurts, but I move close, taking in the sight. Mine doesn’t seem to be on the top, but there’re enough there that it could be somewhere in the pile.
Mia steps up, putting her hand in the box. “Wait, are you sure you can?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“Does it hurt at all looking at them?”
“No, does it hurt you? Holy shit, it does?” She stares, looking more and more concerned as the implications dawn on her. “Then how can you handle going to church? Are you sure you even want me to get this necklace if it’s only going to hurt you?”
“It’s worth it. I’m sure. Please look.”
With a quick nod, she picks up the first necklace, blissfully unharmed by it, and shows it to me, looking ready to throw it away if I catch fire or whatever she thinks it may do to me.
“I’m fine,” I insist. I shouldn’t have asked her. Now she’s always going to worry about me.
She goes through a few crosses and crucifixes. They’re all quite beautiful, but they’re not… At the next one, my heart starts only so it can stop again. I lick my lips, trying to form words. It’s been so long. Can that really be it? Taking a nervous step forward, I reach for it, but she rips it away from me before I can touch it. “Ollie!”
She’s just worried about me. I can’t be mad about that. “What does it say on the back?”
She turns it over and holds it up to her eye, blowing off some dust and rubbing it with her thumb. Her lips curl in a blissful smile. It can’t be. Is it? “Olivia, my dearest daughter.”
The world shimmers as I find tears in my eyes. It’s my crucifix, the one my mother gave me when I was a child. All this time and I finally have it again. Even if I can’t touch it, it’s here, it’s mine. My hand flies up to my mouth to stifle a sob. I can scarcely believe it’s real.
“It’s the right one?” Liz asks, setting a hand on my shoulder. “That’s amazing.”
Unable to form words, I only nod.
“It’s yours.”
“Thank you,” Mia says for me, gripping my hand.
“Well, you are apparently getting my wife a puppy, so it’s the least I can do.”
I can’t take my eyes off the cross, no matter how much it pains me. It’s here. After all these years, it’s really here. I find myself reaching for it but pull my hand back. “Ollie?” Mia asks, meeting my eyes. I try to find any words to reply with, but they seem to have all fled. “I know it hurts, honey, I’m sorry that you have to go through this.” She seems to be searching my eyes for something, trying to decipher some clue. Her expression changes as if she’s realized something. “You still feel damned, don’t you? Like, even after all this, he doesn’t forgive you.” It’s not what I was thinking, but it’s certainly true. As wonderful as having my mother’s cross back feels, it hurts just as much and in as many ways. “Well, think about it. You made me. I’m a vampire because of you.” Yeah, as if I needed that reminder. I know how she feels about it. “And I can touch it. Maybe that’s a sign that God has forgiven you. You know I’m not the religious sort, but that sounds like how it goes. You went through all this, and you’ve more than made up for what you did, and now you have your cross back, and I can touch it for you. If he was ever mad at you, that must mean he’s forgiven you.”
The room swims. The dam breaks, and my tears fall free. I don’t know if I believe what she’s saying, but I love the idea. And it does sound like God.
As I’m still too emotional for words, Mia bids our farewells, thanks them for dinner, and does all of the normal activities one would expect after a dinner party, but all I can think about is that necklace. It’s like my life has been taken back 511 years. For so long, it was his. He’d stolen it from me, but Mia killed him, and now she’s gotten me back my crucifix. She even saved my soul.
Mia turns from the passenger’s seat of the car to stare at me in shock. “What was that?”
It takes me a moment to realize what I’d said. “I love you.”
I can see that flight instinct in the back of her mind, but she throws an arm around me, lays my head against her shoulder, and whispers, “I do too.”
It’s months before we manage to both intentionally say it, but there’s no longer any suspense. We know it to be true. We have years of therapy and progress to make it through before we can be fully functional people, but together, we seem to have formed something of a functioning relationship. I think I can say without any question that I have the best vet in the whole world.
About the Author
Genevieve McCluer was born in California and grew up in numerous cities across the country. She studied criminal justice in college but, after a few years of that, moved her focus to writing. Her whole life, she’s been obsessed with mythology, and she bases her stories in those myths.
She now lives in Arizona with her partner and cats, working away at far too many novels. In her free time she pesters the cats, plays video games, and attempts to be better at archery.
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Olivia Page 25
