“Choosing what I should make for you.” He shoots me an amused glance. “Everyone knows that’s how you get the girl. By feeding her well. And I’m sure the shifter over there doesn’t know how to cook.” He shoots Apollo a mock-disgusted face, but a smile stretches his lips a moment later.
Apollo braces his weight with a fist over the island counter. “For your information, bloodsucker, I make a mean stew.”
I roll my eyes, stretching my arms to separate the two before they pounce on one another again. “Alright, listen. It’s hot to see you two arguing like that. It’s also getting on my nerves. Maybe we could pretend we get along while we’re together?”
Donatello snaps his attention to me, his brows arched up. “I thought we got along well. The shifter is the third wheel.”
“Funny,” Apollo growls, not taking the entire thing as lightly as Donatello does. “I thought the same about you.”
“No one’s the third wheel,” I say, grabbing a box off of the counter and offering it to Donatello. “And I’m one-hundred percent interested in pancakes.”
He cracks up, his head rolling back. I gape at his throat for a moment, strangely attracted to it. “Breakfast at dinner time, gorgeous?”
I shrug. “Sue me.”
Donatello shows us his back and starts preparing the pancake batter. His motions are fast and elegant, like a ballet dancer at double speed. It’s both fascinating and disturbing to watch him manually mixing the batter at the same speed as an electric mixer. I want to help, but I’m terrible at it, so I make myself busy by putting the things back into the fridge and the pantry.
“As far as I can see, the three of us are stuck together.” I glance at Apollo, waiting for confirmation. Donatello was by my side from the start, but Apollo joined in a more uncertain situation. He nods once, though, his face set in that serious expression, brows lowered, and eyes intense. “So I want the two of you to be civil. You don’t need to like each other, by no means. The banter is hot, but could we start by you using each other’s names?”
“He has a lame name,” Donatello offers with a shrug. “‘Apollo.' Like he’s a shining god or something.”
Apollo roars in warning, and I raise my hands between the two even before they can do anything. “Please. That’s not much to ask.”
A long, awkward beat of silence passes before Donatello shrugs again. “Alright. I’ll call him Apollo when he doesn’t piss me off.”
I roll my eyes, and Apollo scoffs. It takes another beat of me staring at Apollo before his shoulders drop in defeat. “Alright. I’ll call him by his name. Just because you’re asking.”
“Great.” I slap my hands together, smiling. This is a minor victory, and it’s good to have victories when your very life is on the line. “Now that’s out of the way, I think we should have a plan.”
“Yes,” Donatello says, heating a large pan over the stove. I didn’t even see him grabbing it. “I went to the mage I spoke of. She agreed to meet us tomorrow.”
A sigh blooms from my lips. “That’s good. And you think she can tell what this sign on my back is? This... seal?”
Everything happened so fast. When I stop to think about it, I’m surprised hell broke loose less than twenty-four hours ago. Less than a day ago, I was making my way to the biggest casino in town, the one I spent most of my days in. My only worry was winning some games to pay my bills. I had food in my fridge, and I could pay my rent up ahead. There was nothing in my future, but I wasn’t mad about it.
Fast forward to today, and I killed someone. I’m on the run from the supernatural cops and the human cops, and I’m sharing a place with a vampire and a shifter in Hiram, the vampire city. The guy I killed was the only Light Mage born in centuries, and the sign I’ve always had at my back is probably a seal, holding back my magic.
My magic. I can’t wrap my head around the fact I might be a mage. The evidence for it is strong, but I just can’t quite believe this is happening to me. The best thing that ever happened in my life was turning eighteen, so I could leave that piece of hell they called an orphanage. That’s it.
Donatello’s fingers brush up my jaw. I snap my gaze up to him. His soft eyes are on me as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I think she’ll be able to tell us more about this seal of yours. She’s a Water Mage and specializes in clairvoyance, so we might get more data on why your powers were locked away.” With a last smile, he turns back to the pancakes.
Apollo’s hand curls around my hips, and he pulls me to his body. I let him, soaking in his warmth. “Clairvoyance?” I add after a moment, trying to copy the pretty, fluid way he said the word and failing. “Do you mean she sees the future?”
Donatello sways his head from side to side. “Clairvoyance is French. It means clear sight. So she has a clear sight, both of the future and of the past. I’m hoping she can find the reason behind the seal. Maybe who put it there.”
My spine steels. A possibility dawns in my mind, and I’m almost afraid to say it out loud. I chew on my lower lip for a moment. “Do you think she could find my mother?” My voice comes out low, fragile like a snowflake. I try to make the question sound dismissive, but it’s impossible, and I know it came out with an edge of desperation.
Donatello glances over his shoulder at me, but just for a second. Apollo tightens his hold around me. The shifter’s powerful body keeps me grounded, and knowing he has my back, quite literally, makes me feel braver.
“I think she could,” the vampire replies.
I’m ashamed I’m still crawling after the attention of a woman who abandoned me, and I tell myself I only want to see her to tell her to fuck off, but that would be a lie. My heart wants to know why. I need to learn the reason she thought I wasn’t good enough for her.
She tugs on my hand,jerking me another step forward. I stumble, trip, drop to my knees. The ground is soft, and I sink an inch into the mud. The rain pattering on the top of my head, slides down my face but doesn’t hide my tears.
I gape up, fear wrenching my heart. I choke when I meet her gaze, fiery when she turns to glare at me, cold with fear when she looks away. Every inch of my skin is soaked to the bone. I quiver, too wet, too hungry, too afraid to do anything other than cry, kneeling in front of her in the mud.
Why is she doing this to me? Mom jerks on my arm again, so hard the socket aches. I stumble forward but stop the fall with a hand to the mud. The cold seeps into my bones, but she keeps on pulling me until I have no other choice but to obey.