Ash glanced down the hallway, a shadow crossing his face. “What did Yeye want to talk about?” He didn’t address their grandfather in the formal way Yiran did. He didn’t need to.
“Nothing,” Yiran replied. Ash would find out from their grandfather anyway. “I’ve homework to do. See you at dinner.”
“We won’t be having dinner with you. Yeye and I have things to discuss.”
Yiran picked at a loose thread around his shirt button. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry. His grandfather and Ash never included him in their secretive meetings where they discussed matters concerning the Exorcist Guild. Why would they? He wasn’t one of them. He didn’t have magic and he couldn’t see Revenants, let alone catch or kill one.
Ash noticed his mood. “I’ll be back late tonight if you want to talk,” he offered.
“Are you going on a Night Hunt?”
“You should stay in tonight.” Ash patted Yiran on the back. It felt like a noncommittal answer.
“Some kids at school were talking about the rising supernatural homicides,” Yiran said, hoping that Ash would share more with him for once. “It’s getting bad out there with the Revenants, isn’t it?”
“Negativity sells. The media loves to exaggerate the bad stuff. It’s all clickbait—don’t worry about it.” Ash spun on the spot, stopping with a picture-perfect pose—clever smirk, eyebrow raised, and a finger pointed at Yiran. “I’ll see you later.”
Fists curling, Yiran watched as Ash went in the direction of the study. As expected, Ash had brushed him off again. Yiran wasn’t an Exorcist. Couldn’t even qualify to be a Xingshan cadet. He didn’t belong in that world.
He forced himself to walk away before he could be tempted to eavesdrop.
Despair hung in his room like an axe waiting to fall. Yiran pulled out his largest suitcase. He stood in front of his wardrobe, still in disbelief that he was leaving this place. Possibly for good. He stared at the crap he’d accumulated from his schoolmates. Was this how he’d been wasting his life?
There was a knock on his door.
A hesitant voice said, “Er shaoye?”
Auntie Kimmie.
“Dinner will be ready soon. I told the cook to make your favorite soup dumplings.”
She knows.Yiran heard it in her voice. He couldn’t face her. Not now. The housekeeper cared for him like she would her own child. She was the one who dried his tears in those early years when he missed his mother, the one who had tended to his wounds all the times his grandfather had tried to figure out what was wrong with him.
“Thanks, Auntie. I’ll eat later when I’m hungry.” Yiran listened for her footsteps to recede. He couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but he couldn’t handle her tears either.
He snatched the first thing he saw on his hangers and threw it on the bed. His hands and arms moved in a frenzy of yanking and throwing, until throwing was the only thing he did. Finally, he fell face down on the clump of clothes.
An electronic tune came from his back pocket.
Yiran pulled out his phone and lay on his stomach, frowning at the two faces that showed up on the screen.
“What do you want?” he asked, not bothering to hide his foul temper.
“We were going to the Night Market for supper, but they’re calling a Night Hunt later tonight. Ruining my plans again,” Theo whined. “I’m so sick of the stupid curfews.”
“What does it have to do with me?” Yiran grunted without an ounce of sympathy. With Theo’s family connections, it wasn’t surprising he got the news of the Hunt early. But Yiran was peeved that Theo got confirmationbeforehe did from his own Exorcist half brother.
“Theo’s sleeping over at my place tonight,” Sweets said. “We’re doing movies and the new RPG game that dropped yesterday.AndI broke into my dad’s stash.” He held up a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey. “You interested?”
“You know I don’t drink.”
Theo laughed. “You grounded, er shaoye?”
“Screw you.”
Yiran hung up. Sometimes, he thought, he hated his friends, too.
He tossed his phone aside and rolled onto his back. Resentment throbbed against his skull. It wasn’t his fault he was born a bastard. Wasn’t his fault his father died and his mother abandoned him. Wasn’t his fault the powerful magic of the Songs had skipped him for some reason, leaving him a dangling, rotting leaf on the family tree. Just another mouth to feed and clothe.
