“I didn’t know you existed until your father called me. Augustine never told anyone either.”
August. He’d vanished after verifying Christophe was a part of the Order. It was August vouching for Christophe over the phone that made me trust him the first time around. “Why would he call—”
“He didn’t know who to trust. I was under suspicion and . . . well, there are other reasons.” Taller than me and looking down, His hands hung empty and graceful at his sides. “Your mother, she always wanted a normal life. She was a . . . gentle soul.” He made a slight noise, clearing his throat as if embarrassed. “We are not often gentle souls.”
The starch threatened to go out of my legs. I backed up, found the bed by running into it, and sat down so hard my teeth clicked together.
Christophe continued, choosing each word carefully. “I don’t know how your father found me. It was a surprise, especially since the last time I spoke with him things did not, um. They did not go well.” He touched the silver dome over what was probably a plate of breakfast. “At all.”
He found you the way we always found stuff out—in spooky little occult stores and other places I pointed him at. Maybe you’re what he was looking for all along. I lifted the paper cup to my mouth. Paused halfway because he seemed to have run out of words. “What happened?”
His head dropped forward, as if he was praying.
Gran had been big on prayers. Only hers were a little off the beaten path. She talked to God like some people talk to a psychologist. When she wasn’t telling him how things could’ve been done a little more efficiently, but then, He was God and she was just an old lady and what did she know, eh?
I’m thinking God was in for a hell of a surprise when Gran showed up at the pearly gates.
“I found her. She left the Schola, left everything. Took one small suitcase. She wouldn’t tell me why, and I don’t think she really thought she could hide from me. Them, yes. Me? No. Not me.” A deep breath, his shoulders coming up as if under a burden. “When I found what she’d settled for . . . I was furious. Threatened him. But I never meant anything by it, Dru, I swear. She loved him; I could not hurt her by taking that away. She’d already had so much taken. She saw her parents die. Did you know?”
My mouth was numb, even full of hot coffee. I swallowed hard. It burned all the way down. “N-no. Nobody ever told me.”
I mean, Gran talked about relatives—mostly dead ones. Dad talked about Gran sometimes; she’d raised him after his father skipped out and left her pregnant. But neither of them ever talked about Mom’s side of the tree. Dad never talked much about Mom, either. He would just get that look on his face—the I miss her but don’t you dare mention it look he was so good at.
I didn’t ask many questions. I knew better. Besides, what was there to ask? I never doubted he loved me. I never doubted something had happened to my mother. I never doubted Gran loved me, too, but was too old to stay around for me.
I guess when you’re a kid you don’t think too much about that sort of stuff. It’s just there, like your birthmarks. Those were the rocks the world was built on, and they didn’t move. Not when I was little.
Now everything was shifting, and I couldn’t find a solid place to jump to.
Christophe’s shoulders were stiff-tense. He held himself like he expected a punch or two. “I don’t know if she told him. Her father was Kouroi, her mother pure human. But they created a miracle. She was fifteen when they were raided. Murdered. Sergej, again. We barely got there in time; she survived only by accident. She was brought in. It was a shock. Her father . . . he wanted her to know a normal life. I suppose he thought that living in the middle of a clear zone, it was a luxury he could afford.” A laugh like a mouthful of bitter ashes. “She wanted to be normal; she wanted to go home. Over and over she said as much. I thought she would eventually understand it was impossible.”
What could I say to that? I licked my dry lips. “She called you youngblood.” I guess I wanted to know. If it was real, or if I’d dreamed it.
He whirled and stared at me. The aspect slid over him like a cobra’s hood, danger radiating in every direction. His eyes burned, his hair slicking back and turning dark. But I felt a weird, curious comfort. I knew I was right, deep down. There’s nothing like feeling a little bit of certainty while the world’s jigging and jiving around you.
“Yes,” he said, finally. “It is . . . was . . . slang. Back then. She found it amusing.”
I took another gulp of banana latte. I so seriously needed caffeine if I was going to deal with this. Every bruise twinged a little, settled back into a low-level ache. “So, um. You really liked her.”
A shrug. His aspect retreated, the blond highlights slipping their fingers though his hair again. “She made certain I stayed here. In the light.”
If I need a reason now, Dru, it will have to be you. I knew I hadn’t dreamed that bit, especially the pressure of his lips against my own. That was right after he’d covered our escape from the other Schola. The burning one, where he’d dragged me out of the flames.
And Graves had argued the wulfen into coming back to gather both of us up.
I took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how creepy that is, that you were in love with my mom and you’re so . . . all over me?” Maybe I should have put it a little more tactfully. But I was running out of all sorts of things, and tact is usually the first to go.
“I’m also too old for you.” His smile was wide, brilliant, and unsettling. And those blue eyes, set just so in his perfectly proportioned face, were hungry. “But give me some credit, little bird. Have I done anything to make you uncomfortable?”
I found out I was rubbing my left wrist against my jeans. I almost spilled the latte, I was shaking so hard. “Other than sucking my blood and being around every time vampires try to kill me? And scaring the royal blue fuck out of me? Other than that, well, I guess we’re peachy.” It felt like I needed to add more. “I trust you.” I guess. Even if you are moving me around like a chess piece. Funny, it was Graves who suggested that.
I really, really wanted to see Graves now. But how could I explain any of this? Where would I even start? He understood a lot, yeah. He was a really understanding guy. But this . . . it would be like telling Christophe that Graves and I were an item, kind of.
It struck me as a Very Bad Idea.
Christophe nodded slowly. “That’s more than I get from many of my so-called friends. Have I let you down so far, Dru?”
I thought about it. The first time I saw him was after I’d shot Ash in the face. Christophe had driven Ash away and told me to go home. Then he showed up at my front door, told me about the Order, brought groceries . . . got up on the hood of Dad’s truck and told Graves to drive, busted through a wall, and took on Sergej so I could escape. Not to mention pulled me out of the burning Schola and covered our retreat.
Put his arms around me in the boathouse. And later, in the darkness, kissed me on the lips and told me I was going to have to be his reason.
I flushed hot again at the memory.
And at least when Christophe was around I knew what to do. It was sort of like having Dad again. I mean, not really. Because Christophe wasn’t comforting in that way. It was just like, well, I knew my place in the world again. I was waiting for an adult to coach me on what to do up against the Real World.
I sat there thinking about it for a little while, and Christophe just stood there. Waiting. He didn’t poke or prod or anything; he was just letting me figure it out. I appreciated that.
But I would’ve appreciated it more if he was Graves.