Page 100 of Throwing Shade
“What is it?” Diane looked more haggard than she had in the photos, with gray in her hair and worry creases on her forehead.
Kirk sniffed the air. Lumpy and misshapen human ears protruded out under his buzz cut, and his nose was squashed with a decidedly sideways angle to it. The hazards of wrestling. “People have been here. Let me check it out, Ma.”
“Shifter?” I mouthed.
Laurent shrugged, his cedar scent easing some of my tension. He stood partially behind me, his chest pressed into my back, loosely gripping my bicep. His warm breath stirred the fine hairs on the back of my neck, and I found myself falling into rhythm with his calm inhales and exhales.
He steadied his other hand on my tailbone and I bit my lip, my head bowed. There was something oddly transgressive about being hidden in plain sight together, more so than if we’d been in a closet blanketed in darkness, because standing here together in full light under mesh felt like being intimate in front of curtains that weren’t fully drawn shut.
I kept my eyes on Diane straightening coats in the packed hall closet with quick anxious movements, constantly craning her neck to check for her son’s return. But I was aware of the tiniest shift in pressure of Laurent’s splayed fingers against my body and how when he made a faint sound at the back of his throat, his whispered “sorry” against my ear was a hot sweet rush of air.
Kirk returned, snapping me out of my daze, and declared that there wasn’t anyone else here.
“Peter came over earlier discussing some inventory concerns,” Diane said. “That’s who you must have smelled. You’ve been jumpy lately.”
“Can’t imagine why,” he snarked, giving her a pointed look.
Laurent’s grip on my bicep tightened.
“Kirk William Holdencott, don’t you take that tone with me. Especially not when I’m going through all this trouble trying to help you.” She tugged on her son’s sleeve, pulling him into the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll make you soup.”
We followed the family drama into the next room.
“Ma, I’m not hungry for soup.” Kirk tossed his jacket over a chair. “We talked about this.”
She lay her hand on her son’s cheek. “Whatever you need, I’ll help you get it.”
Kirk shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable, and took her hand. “You can’t. Look, let me grab my stuff from the bedroom and then you can drive me back, okay?” His fangs flashed when he spoke and I tensed but his mother merely smiled.
“It’ll be like old times when I took you to all your wrestling competitions.”
“Sure, Ma,” he said gently. “Back in a sec.”
Diane kept her smile up until he’d gone, and then her lips trembled and she pressed her fist into her mouth to stifle her sob. She picked up his jacket and held it to her face, her body silently shaking.
I swiped the side of my hand against my damp eyes, my heart breaking for the impossibility of her situation. I’d love Sadie if she was turned, but the grief would be unbearable. Not simply because her being undead negated any vision I’d had for her future happiness, but because I’d have to watch my daughter lose her humanity.
How many times would Diane relive this loss until Kirk either cut ties or, worse, saw her as a threat or an unwanted reminder of a life that was no longer his?
“Grab the mother before the vamp gets back,” Laurent whispered, releasing me and shifting his weight to move away. “I’ll take care of him.”
I shook my head, clamping onto his wrist so he wouldn’t go anywhere.
Kirk’s footsteps grew closer and his mother hastily dropped his jacket over the chair again, pasting a bright smile on her face as he entered carrying a duffel bag.
“Got everything you need?” she said.
“I think so.” He hefted the bag onto his shoulder and grabbed his jacket. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about my new job in Blood Alley.”
“It’s going well?”
He paused, then decided against whatever he was going to say with a shake of his head. “Yeah. Great.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it,” she said.
They left the kitchen but I didn’t recall my cloaking until the car pulled away.
“You’re a soft-hearted fool,” Laurent said, sounding half exasperated and half bemused. He pivoted and marched into the basement.
