He stepped inside, finally committing, and dropped into my oak desk chair with a soft exhale. His blue eyes were dark tonight, storm-tossed.He said, “I wanted to make sure Levi didn’t get to you the other day. You’ve done nothing but hole yourself in your room practicing.”
A snort escaped me before I could stop it. “He is nothing but a scared man afraid his mistakes are finally going to catch up to him. . . especially when he admits to murder so nonchalantly.”
We all knew it. Levi had the most to lose in this fucked-up rebirth: his family, his wife, the stability he’d fought tooth and nail to rebuild. A new life meant nothing if the ghosts of the old one still prowled its edges.
Charlie didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted to the rope on my thigh, then back up, and something in his shoulders shifted. Tension winding tighter than the rope on my leg.
“He had a lot to lose. At the time, we both did what we thought was right.”
So my adopted father had some participation in it,I mused. I felt almost ashamed for how badly I wanted to pry into the story of how the calm and collected Charlie was willing to forsake a man’s life for. . . what? What was he willing to kill for? Obviously, something to do with Violet.
“Honestly, Charlie, that reveal was not as surprising as it should have been.”
That made him laugh a little, the lines on his face dancing. “You two are very similar in that regard.”
I shook my head. “Do not compare me to that man-child.”
Another laugh before we fell into a comfortable silence. Finally, he relented and asked the question I knew had been weighing on him these last few days. “Do you really think Violet is in danger?”
I paused mid-knot, considering how to answer. Charlie did not deserve lies, but he needed a truth that would not unravel him.
Over the past five years, since my reincarnation, I’d hoped Charlie would have been less doubtful of the supernatural world hidden all around us. I hadn’t enjoyed spending that first year retelling story after story of the apocalyptic Wastelands I’d lived in, much less broadcasting my newly acquired heightened hearing to him and Levi over and over again.
But humanity’s burden had always been its disbelief.Our biggest weakness and our greatest strength—cynical skepticism.
In my previous life, Godsblood had been given to mortals so long ago that it was considered ancient history, even if the aftereffects of that gift were not. Some folks were born with preternatural speed, or inhuman strength, or nightvision, or a second pair of legs growing out of their ass. Others, like myself in my previous life, didn’t get a goddamned thing. A real Russian roulette of birth.
Of course,everybodyhad an opinion about the origin and purpose of the Godsblood. Was it a gift or a curse? Was it truly divine in nature, or wasGodsbloodjust a catchy name? Were these abilities the next step in human evolution or mutations from generations of living in an irradiated hellscape?
There had been groups of fanatical zealots who pushed one belief or another. But that’s been true since the dawn of humanity, hasn’t it?
As for myself? I always focused my time and energy on surviving. . . but even I’d had a few theories about the nature of Godsblood based on some of the oldest stories I’d heard or read about how life was before the veil fell.
First, I did not think thatGodsbloodwas just a clever marketing term for the source of humanity’s random new abilities. No, I believed that was quite literal. I almost pitied the poor fuck—whatever forgotten god it was—who’d been chained up someplace to be siphoned off like a tree being tapped for syrup.
Second, there was the sheer abundance of supernaturals in the Wastelands. Even in the most ancient of stories that told of the time before the veil fell, there was hardly ever any mention of supernaturals successfully breeding with mortals. I was neither the first nor only person who found it suspiciously coincidental how itseemedas if supernaturals had a far higher success rate breeding with mortals who had Godsblood in their veins.
Drain a god dry, pump their blood into as much of the populace as you can, then sit back and wait a century or so for that Godsblood to mingle and spread. It made sense, in an utterly evil and diabolical way.
“Is Violet in danger?” I echoed. “No. Not the kind you are imagining. Nobody is going to snatch her off the street or stab her in a parking lot.”
“Technically, that can happen to anyone at anytime. You know what I meant, Rowan.”
“She got a fast-tracked scholarship, did she not? A golden ticket.” I met his eyes. “I would bet she was not the only one.”
His jaw tightened. “Levi mentioned it was the most attractive offer out of all of her other applications.” He paused. “So what are you saying?”
I shrugged. “They are going to use that to get her close. And once she is there. . .” I looped the rope into another knot around my leg. “They will want her to connect.”
“Connect how?”
“Fall in love,” I said flatly. “Or at least fall into bed.”
His face went rigid. “Christ, Rowan.”
“Too much? I can slow down if all this talk of the bees and flowers makes you uncomfortable.”
“Rowan. . .”
