Hotbloods

  Never trust a first impression, I thought wryly.

  As the hour drew to a close, I set my cup down. “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer; we’ve got to meet Navan’s brother after this. He lives in New York and has room in his apartment for us, so we were planning to spend a little time there before returning to Texas.”

  “Back to Texas?” Jean asked, finishing her own cup of tea. “How will you get back there?”

  “Uh, we’re not sure yet. I’ll let you know once we’ve thought about it.” I was about to say, you can always call my phone, too, when I remembered I didn’t even have it with me. So far, my parents hadn’t commented on the fact that I’d entered without a handbag, nor pulled out my phone once, so hopefully I’d be able to slip out without having to touch on that particular detail. “We should probably get going,” I added, brushing off invisible crumbs from my knees as I stood up.

  I moved over to Jean and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then did the same with Roger. When they moved to shake hands with Navan, I winced slightly, thinking about his warmth. Thanks to the formula he was on, his touch wouldn’t be nauseatingly hot, but he was still warmer than the average human. Luckily, they didn’t notice—or if they did, they didn’t comment and chalked it up to him just being… a hot guy.

  I led the way out of the living room and back down the hallway toward the front door, bending down to say goodbye to Sally as I went. But before I could reach the door, the bell rang.

  I opened it and then jerked back, practically choking on my tongue as I stared at the two people standing in the doorway.

  My parents. My real parents.

  My stomach twisted into knots at the sight of them, and a wave of sickness surged up in my throat. I took a step back, bumping into Navan and Jean who were right behind me, and I felt Jean’s hand squeeze my shoulder, her guard immediately up when she realized who it was.

  “Sasha, George. Can…Can I help you?” she asked.

  Their eyes flickered over Navan with some confusion and they barely even looked at Jean, before their eyes zoned in on me.

  My mother wore a white and blue floral summer dress which clung to her bony frame in a most unflattering way. Her blue eyes looked bloodshot, her face pale and sagging, and her wispy gray hair was tied up in a limp ponytail. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her in a dress, and the irregularity disturbed me, as I realized this was probably her way of dressing up to see me. My father wore his usual attire—a pair of jeans one size too big for him, and a loose, crinkled shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows in the heat. His mustached face was as ragged as my mother’s, his hair balding at the crown of his head.

  Why were they here? How did they know to come?

  “We wanted to check in to see that Riley was definitely okay,” my mother said, her voice like nails grating against cement.

  Jean shuffled next to me and gave them a forced smile. “Excuse us for a minute.” She didn’t give them a chance to respond as she gripped my hand and pulled me back into the house, pushing the door until it was mostly closed, so that we could have a somewhat private conversation.

  “How are they here?” I whispered.

  Jean gave me an apologetic look. “By coincidence, they called me last night—before you called to tell me you were okay. Your mother called wanting to verify the date of your return from Texas and, well, I was feeling extremely worried about your absence and it seemed only right for me to mention that you had gone missing from Elmcreek. Then you called me, so I called her back after I spoke to you just to let her know you had been located and were fine, and would even be stopping by to see me today at noon. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have told her the time—it slipped my mind, but I honestly didn’t expect them to show up uninvited like this.” She paused, sucking in a breath. “Look, you don’t have to deal with them. I can simply tell them you’re not ready for this—”

  She trailed off as I slowly shook my head. As unpleasant a surprise as this was, something told me that I couldn’t keep running forever, that I had to get this over and done with. They had been trying to see me for weeks, and they were here now, right on my doorstep. I had to find some kind of closure with them, for my own sake more than theirs, no matter how painful it might be.

  I met Navan’s eyes briefly as I turned around, and I couldn’t help but note the concern there. I shook the thought aside as I pulled open the door again and reemerged on the doorstep.

  They stood there on the lower step, gazing up at me with expectant eyes, my mother especially. Her expression was so wide eyed with anticipation, it made me feel raw inside.

  I steeled myself against it, and met their gaze head on.

  “Mom, Dad,” I said, the terms spilling coldly from my tongue. “How can I help you?”

  “Oh, don’t be so formal, Riley,” my mother chided in her scratchy voice. She reached out to squeeze my arm, but I flinched. I was willing to talk to them, but that was going one step too far.

  My mother looked crestfallen, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel much sympathy.

  “But we have good news,” she said. “And we wanted to tell you in person.”

  “What?” I asked warily.

  My birth parents exchanged a glance. “We’ve been saved.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “Saved?” Navan asked from behind me.

  They both nodded vehemently. “There’s this church we go by almost every day,” my father said. “Always walked by it, barely even noticed it, if you want to know the truth.”

  “It does have the most beautiful stained glass,” my mother said. “I did always notice that.”

  “Right, well, aside from the stained glass then. Other than that, it was just this structure that we walked by. Until recently, your mother and I were going by and we both felt pulled to go in there. Just felt that it was what we had to do. So we went right in, and we sat in one of the pews. We just sat there for quite some time, and we were both filled with . . . with . . . well, I don’t really know how to describe it. We were both filled—”

  “With the love of God,” my mother interjected. “And that has changed everything.”

  “We’ve realized the true error of our ways.”

  “We want to repent for everything that we’ve done.”

  “We have found our way back to the path of righteousness.”

  I stared at them, my mouth hanging open.

  “George, Sasha,” Jean said. “That’s . . . that’s wonderful news.”

  “I know we shouldn’t have just stopped over like this,” my mother said. “But we wanted to share our news with you in person, Riley.”

  “Did you like the birthday gift?” my father asked.

  “I-I… I haven’t opened it yet.”

  They both sighed. “Riley,” my mother said. “What we’ve been trying to communicate to you is that we are sorry. We are truly sorry for everything and if we could go back in time, we would take it all back. We would treat you the way…”— here her voice cracked—“the way a beautiful little girl like you deserved to be treated.”

  I glanced away, a muscle in my jaw throbbing as I tried to maintain a stoic expression. “Okay,” I said. “Is that all you wanted to say? Aside from this good news of your newfound belief in God?”

  “We have something for you.”

  My father’s hand dipped into the plastic bag he was carrying, and drew out an envelope. I glanced at it, suspicious and hesitant, immediately assuming that it was going to be more stupid photographs. I took the envelope and turned it over, realizing that it was too light to be photos. It couldn’t hold more than a thin piece of paper…

  “It’s… a little something to help you along with your college,” my mother explained, looking at me through her rheumy, doleful eyes. “We saved up, and I know it’s not much but we hope it’ll be helpful.”

  As soon as it hit me that they’d handed me a check, my instinct was to drop it. No, I realized. I wasn’t ready for this. Phot
ographs were one thing, money was entirely another.

  I pressed the envelope back into my father’s hands.

  “I appreciate it,” I said, “but you can keep it.”

  I couldn’t deny that money would be helpful for my education, but I wasn’t willing to accept the ties that I knew would come with it. I had worked way too hard to remove the invisible bonds they’d held over me for years to allow this. Even if they had changed and truly repented for what they’d done, it was going to take time, and a lot more than words to prove it.

  Tears formed in my mother’s eyes as she realized I wasn’t going to accept it. “Why, Riley?” she asked. “Do you still hate us that much? I know we caused you so much hurt, baby girl, and we don’t expect you to forgive us, but we’ve been trying so very hard to change, to be the parents you deserve. Won’t you let us at least try to make things up to you?”

  “Mom, I-I can’t.” To my horror, I realized my mask was cracking. I felt the heat of tears rising in my eyes. I’d been handling this calmly, but watching a full-grown woman break down in front of me tore emotions out of me that I’d thought I’d locked away. It made me angry at the same time, as a part of me wondered if my mother’s tears were even genuine, or just a show to manipulate me. Either way, it was working.

  I stepped back and breathed in heavily, refusing to cry. I pressed a trembling finger to my temple, trying to find the right words to express why I couldn’t accept it, and why they had to stay out of my life until further notice. I’d gone over my reasoning in my head for why I behaved the way I did with them thousands of times, but it was all suddenly much more difficult to recall now, with them standing right in front of me, looking so old and unwell and remorseful. “I-I…” I stumbled, and just as I was feeling I could cry out in frustration, an unexpected weight landed on my shoulder and a warm, strong hand closed around it.

  I glanced up to see that Navan had stepped right behind me, his eyes fixed on my parents.

  Their gazes rose to his face, their eyes widening.

  “Your daughter does not hate you, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton,” he stated matter-of-factly, and his deep, steady voice was the exact antidote my shredded nerves needed. “She’s not rejecting you either. Her decisions these days are made in complete isolation of you—without spite or malice—merely a desire to focus on her own life and growth. And she would appreciate if you accepted that. When or if she wants to resume a relationship with you, rest assured, she will come to you. I’m sure as parents that’s difficult to hear, but you have to accept that Riley has made her choice.”

  I gawked at him as much as my parents did. He had voiced exactly what I’d wanted to but could not, as if he were inside my very brain.

  My parents took a step back, my mother’s tears fading some as she stared at him. I could have even sworn that I saw a flicker of understanding cross her face.

  Silence fell between us, as I gazed between my parents, and then Navan was saying to Jean and Roger, “It was a pleasure meeting you.” His large hand closed around mine, and the next thing I knew, he was leading me out of the house, past my parents, and through the front yard toward the gate.

  I had enough time to turn around and say, “Goodbye,” before we exited through the gate and turned a corner.

  “Whoa,” I said, gripping his arm and pulling him to a stop. “Navan, what was that? How did you… why…” I trailed off, speechless as I stared up at him.

  “I didn’t want to be out there in the open like that for too long. It was dangerous.”

  “No! I mean, where did all that come from?” And how did he know my parents’ last name, for that matter? I didn’t recall telling him.

  He shrugged, a smile stretching slowly across his face. “Don’t give me the credit. I was simply repeating what you told me.”

  Oh man. I should have guessed that right away. Though I highly doubted I’d been as articulate when I’d been in my state of delirium, he had still been attentive and sensitive enough to interpret my words. “What else did I tell you when I was delirious?”

  “I think it’s probably safe to say you told me your life story, mostly things relating to your parents. You don’t want to be pressured into seeing them. Deep down, you love them, but you’re afraid to get close to them in case they disappoint you again. Also, you don’t know if you might turn into someone you don’t want to be.”

  His gray-blue eyes felt like they were boring into my very soul as he looked down at me, filled with an empathy that made me feel so completely understood. He put into words what I was feeling so simply and eloquently that I could tell he was drawing from personal experience. Yet it felt like he almost knew me better than myself—drawing out things I hadn’t fully realized. What he’d said about me loving my parents—I hadn’t been conscious that that was how I felt about them, and it made me do a double take. Frankly, I couldn’t remember ever experiencing emotions of love toward either of them. Guilt, yes, but love? I hadn’t been aware of it, and to hear that deep truth about myself coming from Navan’s lips, it felt like he’d just left me with a better understanding of myself—even though he was, by many standards, still a stranger to me. It also made me feel better about my refusal of my parents’ gift. Because what Navan said was true. I did love them, even if that love was hidden beneath layers of other emotions, and my motive was not to hurt them. And maybe their newfound belief in God would mean they quit drinking for good—assuming they were telling the truth. If that happened, maybe, just maybe, we might be able to have some sort of relationship.

  “Thank you,” I said softly.

  He shrugged. “No need to thank me—I didn’t say anything you didn’t already say yourself.”

  “Maybe not, but you made it sound way better than I could have.”

  He smiled. “Maybe I should take up poetry.”

  I had already thanked him, but it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t know what else to say, though, so I let the gratitude stay inside me, swell up in my chest. Maybe I’d find the words to better express it later.

  Navan finally turned away, nodding his head toward the opposite end of the street, and set me with a serious look. “We should get going. We’ve got a lot to do before tonight.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once darkness had fallen, we left the hotel room via the window, Navan stretching his wings and flying us to the event site. We risked flying this time, because our destination was not far, and if our pursuer was related to the Fed, we would be forcing their hand very soon anyway.

  We had scoped the site out after visiting Jean and Roger, and finalized logistics. Now all that remained was action.

  Reaching the park, the music and smoke drifted up from the throbbing crowds, and we stuck to the treetops. We had changed back into our dark, plain clothes, which helped us avoid notice until the time was right. After trailing above a line of trees, Navan made sure the coast was clear and then dropped down through the treetops, setting me down on the grass.

  His eyes were wide and alert as he glanced toward the stage, and then back at me. “Okay,” he said quietly. “You know what to do?”

  I nodded, gulping. He turned to leave, but before he could fly away again, I grasped his hand. “Be careful,” I whispered.

  “I will,” he said, giving me a meaningful look. “You too.”

  With that, I moved away from the trees, and looked discreetly at the sky where Navan was flying, like a shadow among the treetops, making his way toward the back of the stage. The crowd erupted in whoops and clapping as a female performer strolled onto the stage and began singing. A long fabric screen hung behind her and her band, from ceiling to floor, which was being used as a projector. That would be Navan’s first stop.

  He had now flown level with the back of the stage, and I watched him quickly cross the distance between it and himself, so fast I would have missed him if I’d blinked. He flew out of view, and I could only assume that he was now beginning to figure out how to infiltrate the back stage. We had man
aged to buy him a backstage pass earlier, but that didn’t mean getting access to the projector was going to be easy.

  I moved closer to the crowd, pulling my hood up to cast a shadow over my face. As the first song ended, and the second one began, I kept my eyes glued on the projector screen. I dug my fingernails into my palms for the duration of two more songs, and just as I was beginning to worry that Navan had run into trouble, he made his appearance.

  His imposing silhouette became visible through the projector screen, his large wings stretched out, and there was a collective sound of appreciation from the crowd, thinking this was part of the special effects.

  That became harder to believe when suddenly, he launched forward, directly into the fabric, ripping the entire screen from its hinges. It collapsed on top of him, folding around him as his wings beat underneath and he took to the air. There was a ripping sound, and then the bulk of the fabric fell from the sky, drifting down onto the crowd, while Navan kept just enough covering him to avoid people glimpsing his body. All anyone could make out clearly now were the ends of his black wings—and that would be enough of a distinguishing feature for the Fed.

  People gaped upward, though it was clear the majority still believed this to be a feature of the show, or maybe even a prank.

  That all changed when Navan, spotting me in the crowd, dove down at breakneck speed and grabbed me, plucking me up into the air.

  I flailed and shrieked, making a show of being petrified, while Navan was ultra-careful to keep my face mostly obscured from the crowd beneath us. He kept me facing him, covering me partially with the same fabric he was using as a cover for himself. If anyone managed to get a snap of me…well, that would be kind of counterproductive to the special visit we had made to Jean and Roger earlier today.

  My acting must have been convincing because people started to scream and call for help.

  “How much longer do you think we need to do this?” I gasped.

  “Not too much longer,” he replied, as he continued to whoosh me about in the sky. “But we want to make sure we leave an impression.”