Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

“Right.” I nodded swiftly, sliding on the kickass red-and-black-swirled heels we’d bought earlier that afternoon.

It should be noted that Val had amazing taste. She’d originally picked the shoes out for herself, but I didn’t figure it would win me any babysitting awards with Jude if he showed back up and his eleven-year-old was wearing a pair of stilettos. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing to get Val to settle for a pair of red Chuck Taylors.

Yeah, I wasn’t the only one who had gotten new threads.

After I’d listened to Val tell me all about her mom, it was clear we could both stand a little retail therapy. Between the two of us, we’d picked the racks bare. Val’s outfit consisted of a pair of tattered, black skinny jeans that hugged her curves, a black long-sleeve, fitted top, and a red down vest. It was sporty and feminine, and she looked so freaking adorable that I wanted to shrink her down and put her in my pocket. Instead, we’d had our hair and makeup done and then taken a million selfies.

I did a twirl. “Do I look okay?”

She smiled, lifted her hand to the perfectly shaped curls brushing the top of her shoulder, and ordered, “Scrunch your hair. It will give you more volume.”

I nodded and followed her example. It wasn’t often I wore my naturally straight hair in curls, but after seeing how amazing Val’s had looked when the stylist had finished, I’d decided to give it a try. It was no contest—hers were better. But I couldn’t complain about my end results. The red tips on my chunky ringlets made for the perfect accent against the black of my dress.

She grinned. “You look great. Jude is going to die.”

“I don’t want him to die. A little heart trouble, maybe. But I definitely need him alive.”

She giggled as another knock at the door got my feet moving. With one last glance over my shoulder at her beaming smile, I sucked in a deep breath and yanked it open.

But it wasn’t Jude.

“Don’t just stand there, child. Invite me in. It’s freezing out here,” Margaret Spencer, my ex-stepmother, snapped haughtily.

She was not standing on my doorstep.

No fucking way.

Only she was. In the taut, surgically enhanced flesh. On my doorstep.

She knew I wouldn’t be inviting her in, which was why, as I attempted to slam the door in her face, she slid her elegant, slipper-clad foot over the threshold. “Damn it, Rhion. Stop being a brat,” she cursed, attempting to cram her upper body through the narrow opening.

“Rhion?” Val called, concern thick in her voice.

Struggling with the door, I did my best to keep my voice even as I said, “It’s okay, sweetie. Why don’t you go watch TV in the ocean room for a few minutes?”

“W-what’s going on?” she stammered.

I glanced over my shoulder and found her staring in shock at the right half of an old lady flailing as she tried to get into my apartment.

It probably wasn’t the best way to teach a child to respect their elders, but I suspected that Margaret wasn’t there to show anyone respect, either. Especially since I’d managed to keep my whereabouts from the Wicked Witch private for over two years. And, while Katie knew where I lived, she’d never rat me out.

With a hard shove that did not bode well for the staff at whichever nursing home I’d more than likely end up paying for, Margaret managed to knock me back.

I stumbled and my heel slipped, which sent me down to my ass.

“Rhion!” Val yelled, dashing toward me.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I assured, taking her hand and allowing her to help me back to my feet.

She looked panicked, so I threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my front.

Margaret swung the door open wide and walked in, answering the age-old debate about whether vampires needed to be invited inside a personal residence.

“For the love of God, child, why must you always be so dramatic?” she scolded, shrugging off her long herringbone coat, revealing a charcoal-gray sheath dress that I hated to admit looked nice on her.

She was older and wafer-thin, but Margaret had always been beautiful. It was how she’d caught the eye of my father. Though how she’d convinced him to marry her would forever be a mystery. Even with her high cheekbones and her incredible hair, the woman was a hideous monster on the inside.

Her gaze raked over me, and her lip curled in disgust. “Why must you ruin your body with those dreadful tattoos? A nice sweater would go a long way in covering those scars without making you look like a streetwalker.”

Who actually said streetwalker? I made a note to anonymously mail her a thesaurus.

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you here?”

Her gaze slid to Val. “Care to introduce me to your friend?”

Nope. No fucking way.

I’d learned over the course of the day that Val’s relationship with her mother wasn’t just strained—it was one straw away from breaking. From what she’d said, it sounded like April was a bitch to the nth degree. However, I was certain she didn’t hold a candle to Margaret Spencer. And, if that woman said one nasty word to Val, I’d end up in jail.

I guided Val behind me. “Answer me. Why are you here?”

She shrugged and bent at the knees to pick up one of the shopping bags. As she thoroughly inspected the contents, she replied, “I was in the area.”

I snatched the bag from her hand. “You live in New York.”

She scoffed as she glided across the room to pick up another bag. “What? Am I not allowed to visit my stepdaughter?”

“Former stepdaughter,” I corrected while ushering Val to the couch. Lowering my voice, I tried to ease Val with a joke. “Don’t look her directly in the eye or you might turn to stone.”

A small smile pulled at her lips, and relief filtered through me.

“Where’s Katie?” I asked Margaret while walking to the door to search the breezeway.

“How am I supposed to know?”

I turned to face her, the cold air nipping at my back, but I refused to close it for fear she’d take it as an invitation to stay.

“Um…” I started sarcastically. “Because, while I do believe you hold mythical powers of evil, you need a keycard to even get up the elevator. One that I know Katie has. So I’ll ask again: Where is she?”

She dropped the shopping bag to the ground before moving to the next one. “Oh, please, Rhion. Unlike some people I know, Katie has a social life. She’s out doing whatever a young lady of her social standing does on a Saturday night while visiting a new city.”

Knowing Katie, she’d put a gorgeous gown on to make her mother happy and then changed into a skimpy skirt and top in the bathroom of whatever nightclub she’d be partying at that night. Some things never changed.

“Right,” I laughed. “Well, thanks for stopping by, but I’m going to need my key back, and then I’m going to need you to get on your broom and fly away.” I sliced a hand through the air toward the door.

A sinister smile grew on her lips as she crossed her wiry arms over her chest. Tipping her chin toward the shopping bags, she said, “I thought you didn’t have the money anymore.”