Seeing as we’re immortal, few of us strap ourselves in. Sometimes on planes to avoid being tossed during turbulence.
“The fact that Elle isn’t dressed like a Holy Hunter.” Dorian pulls out of the high-rise’s driveway. “You should wear red more often. It looks nice.”
“Agreed,” Mom chimes in. “It brings out your eyes.”
“Can we talk about that video floating around our message boards instead of my style?” I ask.
“Which video?” Dorian asks.
“The one Alexander Monta posted the night of the gala—Caruso meeting with POTUS?” I say to jog his memory.
My brother’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “It’s AI.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Tarian and I paid the President a visit.”
“Why would Gael’s son post a fake video?” I ask.
“Because the Montas love attention,” Mom says.
My head rears back. “But that’s just dangerous. What if someone believes it’s real and goes after the president?”
“It’d amuse them,” Mom murmurs.
After a beat, I ask, “Why did Ines and Gael split?”
The silence that ensues makes me wonder if they somehow missed my question.
I lean forward. “Hello?”
My brother’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“Must be bad if you’re throttling the steering wheel.”
“I’m not throttling it.”
“Your knuckles are white.”
“Why are you looking at my knuckles?”
“Because knuckles are a great way to gauge someone’s mood, and you seem nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I just really dislike Gael and wish he’d been on the Council.”
I frown. “You hate him but wish he’d been?—”
“Last summer.” Dorian flicks on his blinker without touching it. “I wish he’d been on the Councillast summer.”
Ah.That makes more sense. What my brother wishes is that Tarian could’ve had a reason to remove Gael Monta’s runes and send him to that special place in hell reserved for traitors.
“They separated because he wasn’t faithful,” Mom says. “Repeatedly.”
Perhaps I should feel pity for the woman, but she’s so hateful herself that it feels like karma.
My phone screen lights up with a message, drawing my mind off Ines and Monta.
BOOGIE BOO:I missed you too.
