“If you want answers.”
He stood and paced the room, not looking at me as he spoke. His fingers rested over his lips and his thumb rubbed the stubble on his cheek. My hands twisted in my lap, my stomach tightening each time he passed. Back and forth. His thoughts too rapid to focus on.
He lowered his hand to his side. “This might have something to do with your ancestry.”
“I thought so, too. The voices left for a while after I drank Adrian’s blood. Maybe that’s a cure.”
“You’re talking about getting rid of them?”
I stared at him blankly. Of course that was what I was talking about. “Did you have a better idea?”
He turned to me, his expression deflated and uncertain. “You could use your ability as a warning system. A way to protect yourself.” His gaze swept over my face, undoubtedly taking in the skepticism that had surely arrested my features. He frowned. “Before we talk about getting rid of them, let’s at least see what my parents have to say.”
Chapter 18
AT A QUARTER TO SEVEN, voices tingled my subconscious. I listened long enough to determine their source before stopping by the kitchen. “Five minutes.”
Charles leaned against the stove. “They called?”
“I heard them. Something about you used to mash food in your hair as a baby,” I teased.
“Very funny,” he shot back.
I waited in the foyer until the doorbell rang. Charles walked up behind me, drying his hands on a dishtowel. He tucked the gingham square in his back pocket and placed a hand on my shoulder.
This was it. Meeting the parents.
I smoothed some non-existent wrinkles from my brown slacks and took a calming breath while Charles reached past me to open the door. I greeted each guest with a small nod. They weren’t at all what I expected.
Mr. Liette didn’t look much older than me. Mid-twenties, maybe? Same dark, toasted almond hair and deep teal eyes as his son, though Mr. Liette was pallid and sallow—not at all the same radiant glow of Charles and Mrs. Liette’s skin—and his style of dress was far more formal than his son’s, a red brocade vest peeking out from beneath his suit jacket.
Mrs. Liette looked younger than me, with hair all soft wisps and curls of auburn spiraling to her snow-dusted shoulders. Her cheekbones shimmered a pale lavender-pink and her eyes were bright emeralds, with facial features small and sharp, her hands tiny and fingers thin. She wore a lavender, empire-waist gown, the belt below her breasts braided with strands of cream-colored suede.
Charles cleared his throat, and I realized I’d been staring too long without speaking.
“Mr. Liette, Mrs. Liette,” I said. “Such a pleasure to meet you.” I offered my hand to Charles’ mom, who accepted and placed her other hand on top, her skin smooth and warm.
“The pleasure is mine, dear. Please, call me Valeria.” Valeria spoke in a warm voice that matched her smile. She turned to her husband. “This is Henry. We’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
She released my hand, and I offered mine to Henry. His touch was icier than Adrian’s had been, and I wondered if all Cruor were so cold or if Adrian and Henry were anomalies.
“Please, come in.” I stepped aside and motioned toward the living room.
Charles wrapped his mom in a hug. They looked more like siblings than mother and son. She closed her eyes and held him in the embrace for a long moment before releasing him, then her hand lingered on his cheek as she focused on him with the gentle, loving gaze only a mother could impart.
“I’m so glad you two came,” Charles said. “How was the trip?”
Henry, looking at Charles, tilted his head toward the door. Then he turned to Valeria and me. “Excuse us, please.”
What was that about?
Valeria’s smile never wavered. After the men stepped outside, Mr. Liette’s thoughts echoed through my mind:…if we didn’t lose them at the edge of town.
My heart quickened, but I gave Valeria a smile I hoped covered my concerns. “I’ll put on some tea.”
I walked to the kitchen and tapped my fingers on the granite counter while water heated in the kettle. I needed to stay busy, stay out of the Liettes’ thoughts. I grabbed two carrots, an onion, a stalk of celery, and some white beans from the fridge.
Lost who at the edge of town?
“Let me give you a hand.”
I jumped. When I turned, Valeria was standing in the doorway.
“You startled me,” I said.
“Is everything all right, dear?”
“I think I’m just nervous.”
“Don’t be. Now, what’re you putting together?”
“A quick soup. Or I’m trying to. Charles is better with the cooking.”
“Scooch over.” Valeria eased beside me and chopped the carrots into tiny disks. “Whatever you have in the oven smells delicious.”