Page 64 of Tracking Snow

That fire ignites in my gut, white-hot and clawing, and it should be jealousy. It has all the same teeth. But it stops just short of that, even at its worst. It’s more like a grief that keeps pulling at me, mourning a life I never had.

Aurora speaks to me, yanking me back to attention. "I mean, we all struggled at Poison Apple, or at least you and I did," Aurora says, smiling kindly at me.

My chest tightens. Next to me, Ariel’s shoulders rise almost imperceptibly toward her ears.

"What?" Aurora asks, her brow wrinkling again.

Ariel and I exchange a look.

"Well," I hedge, "we may have kind of slightly told you a little teensy weensy tiny white lie."

"What lie?" Aurora asks, sitting up straight, the smile dropping from her face.

Ariel twists a strand of hair nervously around her finger. "When we said Snow was the worst at the job when she started, that was...not true."

"Kind of the opposite, actually." A nervous laugh escapes me. "I picked it up with insane speed and precision. It’s honestly just a talent I have for seeing things and being able to replicate them," I rush to explain as I see Aurora get more upset.

"Oh my fae lords, so I really was the absolute worst at that job?"

"But we were going to keep you no matter what," Ariel’s words of reassurance also tumble out. "You just needed some time and grace to gain your confidence."

"And you got the hang of it eventually," I offer lamely.

Goldie and Cinder are both attempting to hide their smiles as Aurora covers her face and groans loudly.

"So how long are you and Talon in town?" Ariel asks Aurora, desperate to change the subject. "I saw you’re on shift this week but not past that."

A black streak launches off the top of the entertainment center. I scream on instinct. "Lucifer, no!"

Chapter 20

Scoring in Cat Hockey

SNOW

Lucifer hits the coffee table at a full sprint. Magic Morsel wrappers scatter. The popcorn bowl tips and dumps its whole load into Cinder's lap before he launches the final stretch and lands paws-first in the dead center of Goldie's cake.

The cake caves under him. Frosting smears up his legs, and a single daisy slides off the edge.

"My cake," Goldie says, in the small, wounded voice of a woman watching her child get bullied.

Lucifer clamps his jaws around an entire slice of pizza, drags it out of the box, and bolts. In the process, two more slices are dislodged and fall greasy-cheese side down onto our rug.

The slice is bigger than he is. It folds over his face, flops against the floor, slaps the leg of the coffee table, and the little demon scrambles sideways with a string of cheese trailing from his teeth.

I dive over the back of the couch after him. He banks off the bookshelf, and I cut the angle the way I'd cut it on a rooftop. I get two hands on him mid-leap, which he rewards by opening my forearm like a letter with his demon claws.

"Ow. OW. You absolute gremlin."

He twists out of my grip, hits the floor, and vanishes under the couch.

Cinder is already up. Popcorn cascades off her lap onto the rug as she sets the Hello Kitty mug on the windowsill with care, then pulls a broom from behind the door.

"Other end," she says, preparing to play a game we’ve had too much experience with. Cat Hockey.

"On it."

We haven't run this play in two years, and my body remembers it before my brain does. I drop flat at the front of the couch, blood from my forearm tracking the hardwood, while Cinder jams the bristles in from the side. As he always does, Lucifer shoots out through the gap between the armrest and the wall, and I'm there with both hands.