Loved (House of Night Other World #1)(63)

“Yes, Miss LaFont. Your mother is in room 820, but she is under isolation protocol. No human is allowed to see her alone. I can page the doctor, or a security guard to accompany you.”

“Nope, that won’t be necessary. I’m not human.” When the nurse gave her a disbelieving look, Aphrodite stifled an eye roll. “Seriously. I used to be a fledgling. Then I became Nyx’s prophetess. It was in all the papers when my Dad was killed about a year ago. Remember?” She started to pull her phone from her purse. “I can Google the Tulsa World article if you want.”

The nurse’s eyes widened as she stared at Aphrodite. “Oh, that’s right. I remember now. No, the article won’t be necessary. Are you certain you can’t be infected? You don’t have any Mark on you, fledgling or vampyre.”

“Yeah, I know. And yeah, I’m sure. I don’t look it, but I’m not human. May I go into my mother’s room now?”

“Yes, but perhaps you should prepare yourself. She isn’t being very …” the nurse paused, chewed her cheek, and then finished, “pleasant.”

“My mother has never been very pleasant. I’m used to it. Thanks.”

Aphrodite found room 820 easily. It had a big orange biohazard—infectious sign on it that was impossible to miss. She knocked on the door twice.

“Yes, yes—come in,” her mother said irritably. “I hope you have my nightgown and my overnight bag. And do not tell me again that it is snowing too hard to drive. Get one of your CNA mo-mos to walk there. My housekeeper lives in the carriage house. She knows where my emergency overnight bag is kept and she can—” Her mother’s tirade halted when she looked up from the hand mirror she was using to study the bite on her shoulder. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yep. And I didn’t bring a spare mo-mo to go schlep your stuff.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“How are you feeling, Mother?”

“My shoulder hurts and I will have a scar, but I’m fine. No thanks to you. I am pleased they finally moved me to a private room, even though I am annoyed the only bed available is in the ICU.”

Oh, so that’s what they told her, Aphrodite thought. There was one metal chair in the room and she sat in it, glad that it wasn’t any closer to her mother’s bed. She studied her mom—noting that she was unusually pale and that the bite, which was in the curve between her mother’s neck and shoulder, looked red and weepy.

Her mother narrowed her eyes at Aphrodite and hastily reapplied the bandage over the unsightly wound.

“Why are you here?”

“You’re my mother and you’re in the hospital. It’s my job to be here,” Aphrodite said.

“Ah, familial duty. You’ve never been much for that. Why the sudden change?”

Aphrodite shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m partially responsible for those creatures getting into this world.”

“Partially? I’d say you and your group of freaks are wholly responsible.”

“Well, you would say that.”

“Why aren’t you out there catching them? My God!” Frances shuddered delicately. “Those things are monstrous! And their smell—horrid!”

“Our Warriors are working with TPD to catch them. They have a plan. It’ll be fine.” Aphrodite drew a deep breath. “Mother, about your wound. There’s more—”

“Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you.”

“Me? You want to talk about me?” Aphrodite was honestly shocked. Since when had her mother wanted anything to do with her?

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about you. About us. Since I announced my plans to run for mayor.”

“Us? You’ve been thinking about us?” Aphrodite felt slightly dizzy, like she’d taken three instead of two Xanax.

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised. And stop gaping with your mouth open like that. It’s unattractive. Yes, I’ve been thinking about us, and about how you can help me with my campaign.”

“You want me to help you campaign for mayor?” Aphrodite couldn’t help it. Her heart beat faster and she felt her face flush. Was her mother really asking for her help? Finally? Just days before she was going to die?

“Yes, definitely. I’ve been paying attention, you know. To you. I admit I might have been hasty in severing our ties after your father was murdered by vampyre scum.”

“Mother, he was murdered by Neferet. She wasn’t a vampyre when she killed him. She was an immortal and our enemy.”

LaFont waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, stop nitpicking. And stop pretending like you’re one of them—though I do admire that you have used your brains and not your twat and figured out an angle that has made you invaluable to the vampyre scum. Pretending to get visions and be a prophetess. I may not have done better myself. Well done, you.”

“Mother, I’m not pretending.”

“Nitpicking. Again.” With a grimace LaFont sat up a little straighter, rearranging the pillows behind her. “Ask me about my plan for us.”

“I don’t think you understand that—”

As usual, Frances LaFont talked over her daughter. “My plan is to win this election by rallying the righteous People of Faith,” she said sarcastically, “into a frenzy over getting rid of the vampyre scum amongst us. Like I’m the first politician to get elected by stirring up a little xenophobia?” She laughed softly—a deceptively sweet sound that sent chills over Aphrodite’s skin. “Actually, your little escapade at Woodward Park has worked right into my plan. Didn’t I hear something about those same creatures attacking that abomination restaurant at the depot?”