Great. I’ve set off her hair-trigger for worrying. Maybe I can give her some additional information and move onto my question. “I’m telling you, they were at the party. Angels were there too.”
“Angels were there too?!” Mom drops the invite, her hands visibly shaking.
This is not going well. “You do realize you’re repeating everything I say?”
“Angels and thrax.” Mom stumbles backwards until she half-falls onto the couch. “That can’t be right.”
“It’s all good. There’s some kind of alliance going on, I think. Thrax, angels, demons, and ghouls…Everybody’s one big happy family.” I give her a look that says ‘now, can we get on to my question?’
“Those four all in the same room.” Mom slowly shakes her head from side to side. “Did they fight? Did any of them touch you? Hurt you?”
“The thrax boy asked me to dance and–”
Whipping up from the couch, Mom races over. Her hands cup either side of my face. “Do you feel alright?” She stares into my eyes like my head will explode.
“Enough, Mom.” I step back, breaking contact with her. Anger and disappointment churn in my belly. I have so had it with her over-protectiveness about nothing. “Look, I get that I’m all you have. I get that you’re worried about me. But I’d appreciate some female advice on what happened with this boy and you’re not listening.”
“This boy?” Her chocolate eyes narrow. “Or, this thrax?”
Unholy moley.
“Forget it, Mom.” I take a few steps toward the front door, pause, and turn back. “You know, maybe I’d rather have latrine duty if it means I can be on my own. Because this–” I motion back and forth between us “–isn’t working.”
Mom’s eyes brim with tears. “Be safe, Myla. That’s all I ask.”
“I know, Mom. That’s the problem.” I storm outside, slamming the front door behind me. Tracking my orange gown through the mud, I pace around our backyard. Why does Mom always have to freak out about every little thing? Sighing, I slump against the back outer wall and stare up at the gray sky. For some reason, it really bothers me tonight that we never see the moon in Purgatory.
Voices echo in from the opened window above my head. It’s Walker and Mom.
“Camilla, we need to talk.” I crouch lower.
“Not if Myla’s here.” I hear rustling noises as she checks the house. “Okay, we’re fine. What’s going on?”
“You can’t hide her forever. Verus knows; she saw it in a vision ages ago. We need to figure out how to introduce Myla to her true heritage.”
I pop my hands over my mouth. True heritage? I may actually get some useful intel about who I am tonight. My heart kicks in my chest; excitement pours through me. Yes, yes, YES!
Mom’s voice quivers as she speaks. “It’s not the angels I’m worried about, it’s the ghouls. You know them. If they knew who her father really was, they’d try to own her.”
Whoa, there. The ghouls would own me because of my father. My stomach turns sour. That must mean my dad’s a ghoul. A nasty, rule-loving, worm-eating loser of a ghoul. I grip my elbows. That’s not something I’d ever considered before.
“We can’t change how ghouls react to what they see as theirs,” says Walker. “But we can control how the truth comes out.”
Hold the phone. ‘We’ can control? As in Mom and Walker? I knew Mom was always holding out on me, but Walker knows? My jaw falls open, my fists plant onto my hips. Okay, he hinted around that he had some intel during my last match, but the bloodless bastard knows exactly who I am and he’s never given me a clue.
Mom sucks in a gasp of air. I listen so intently, my head hurts. “What do you mean? Do you think Verus will tell Myla on her own?”
“Yes, I do.”
So, Verus knows too? Is there anyone in Purgatory who doesn’t know who I really am? I am so cornering her at my next match, right after I tackle Walker. I want me some answers.
Mom gasps. “I’ll reach out to Verus right away. In the meantime, please keep Myla close to her own people: quasis and ghouls.”
I slump so low against the house, my bum almost hits the mud. Ghouls are my people? Blech.
“Verus is at the Ryder party right now. Perhaps we can seek her out together?”
“Yes, Walker. I’d like that very much only–”
“Myla can take care of herself for a bit. It won’t take long.”
Mom sighs. “Alright then.” I hear the hiss of a portal being opened, followed by silence.
Leaping to my feet, I pace the muddy backyard for a while, grumbling every expletive I can think of. It’s a good twenty minutes of letting off swear words and steam. Freaking Mom! Lying bastard Walker! Not to mention that sneaky Verus and my mystery deadbeat-ghoul-Dad. My hands curl into fists at my side. Wearing my Fozzie Bear dress, yelling at that pompous thrax, finding out my father’s a lousy ghoul and discovering how everyone around me are a bunch of lying liars…I so need to kill something right now.
That’s when I hear the voice. Her voice.