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“It took us a little while to figure that out,” I said.

He gave another small bow. “Your new pomme de sang must be independent, and strong enough to play his part. It is a reasonable request.”

“It is a good plan,” Jean-Claude said.

“And what if they all fall under my, whatever, spell? What if I’m too much necromancer for any of them?”

“Then the ball is canceled,” Samuel said. “You cannot play Cinderella if all the princes will want you.”

“I’m not Cinderella,” I said, “I’m the prince.”

He smiled, but again it didn’t reach his eyes. “Very well, Prince Charming, but the point remains the same. You cannot play Prince Charming if all the princesses want you, because as good as you may be, no one is that good.” He looked at Jean-Claude then. “Not even Jean-Claude.”

That look, and that comment, made me wonder if they really were “friends” the way that Jean-Claude and Augustine had been. They said that they weren’t, but the look meant something.

“We will do as you suggest, Samuel. I know that I can rely on your discretion not to share any of this.”

“You have my word,” he said, then he looked back at me. “I would never endanger you. I want you to try to bring Sampson into his power, Anita. I would not insist it be done first, but I would prefer sooner to later.”

“I know it won’t be tonight,” I said.

He smiled and this time it filled his eyes with soft humor. “No, not tonight. I think your plate is quite full enough without adding Sampson to it.”

He bowed to Jean-Claude. Sampson followed suit. They turned on their heels and left.

Claudia’s voice broke the silence. “Do you want me to go out and get a pregnancy test?”

“We have two of them in the overnight case,” Micah said.

My throat was suddenly so tight I couldn’t breathe.

Nathaniel and Lisandro came through the far hallway. “What did I miss?”

I looked at him, and the look on my face must have been a bad one, because he came to me, and wrapped his arms around me, and I let him.

“She’s missed a month; you don’t have to wait until morning to take the test,” Claudia said.

I wanted to tell her to stop. Stop talking, stop helping, but she was right. I wasn’t just two weeks late like I’d told Ronnie. My period could move around by up to two weeks, later or earlier, depending on my hormone cycle, I guess. If I used the count that most women did, I was nearly four weeks late, not two. Two weeks into the month of November, but four weeks past when I should have bled. Four weeks, yeah, the test should work.

18

A PREGNANCY TEST is just this flat piece of plastic with little windows in it. So small, it fit in my hand with room left over, and my hands aren’t that big. Such a small thing to have so many people so upset. But then, if I was pregnant, the baby would be smaller than the pregnancy test. Tiny bits of plastic, and even tinier bits of cells, and my whole life rested on them. Okay, I wouldn’t die if it was a yes, but it sort of felt like I would.

First, there’s no dignity to it. You have to pee on the little stick. Or pee in a cup, then put the stick in it. Then you put the cap on, and wait for lines to appear. One line: not pregnant. Two lines: pregnant. It seemed simple enough.

I prayed not to be pregnant. I prayed, and I bargained. I’d be more careful. I’d use condoms and not trust just to the pill. I’d, well, you get the idea. I’m sure I wasn’t the first single woman to sit in a bathroom wishing, hoping, praying, bargaining with God, that if this mess passes me by, I’ll be better. Shit.

I didn’t want to sit in the bathroom for the entire three minutes. But I didn’t want to go outside and face the men either. I compromised; I paced inside the bathroom. It was ten steps from the door to the edge of the tub’s raised marble. Ten steps, back and forth. Marble is cold on bare feet, but I usually didn’t spend this much time walking on it. I was either coming in and out, or sitting in hot water in the tub. I concentrated on anything, everything, but that