Page 39 of A Shade Too Far
I rolled down the window of his truck, staring out aimlessly for the first half of the journey. Laurent didn’t talk, didn’t put on music, and my chest grew tighter and tighter. He could easily have answered Naveen in a way that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, or even flat out lied. He’d kept this secret for this long, why tell his friend now?
I stuck my hand out the window, air streaming through my fingers. Laurent should have done this at some other time when the two of them were alone and tempers weren’t heated. He had to have known it would go badly and now Naveen had another reason to hate me. It was like a playground fight over who was the real best friend, except everyone had dangerous magic and I hadn’t asked to be part of the conversation.
Laurent switched lanes with a burst of speed. “Why are you mad?”
He sounded affronted, which kicked in my own burst of anger, because that felt more productive than guilt and confusion. “Did you hear my heartbeat again?”
“You’re glaring at my glove compartment.”
I grabbed some lip balm out of my purse and applied it. This was where I should have run through arguments in my head until I’d assessed one that was calmly logical, but the words tumbled out of me. “You shouldn’t have dropped that bombshell on Naveen like that.”
“You’re taking his side?”
“No.” I slumped against the seat. “It’s not about sides.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Other than Daya, who else knows about your magic?” I recapped the tube and put it away.
“Tatiana might suspect.” A car cut in front of him and Laurent slammed his hand on the horn, following it up with a few rude hand gestures out the window. “No one. You. I told you this before.”
“I didn’t think that included your best friend.”
There was a long pause and then Laurent quietly said, “I didn’t either.”
My heart twisted. “You thought he knew.” Or hoped he did. If I felt raw after that fight, Laurent would be the equivalent of exposed nerve endings. I flicked my thumbnail against the seam of the seat belt. What I wanted to say wouldn’t be easy for him to hear, but it was important enough that it couldn’t wait. I sorted through the kindest way to broach the topic.
“That was expecting a lot of him, don’t you think?” I said gently. “It’s one thing for Naveen to accept that you trained to take on a second power when most Ohrists couldn’t, but for him to have made the connection that it must have been Banim Shovavim magic? Why didn’t you tell him in the first place?”
“He knows that Banim Shovavim magic kills dybbuks.”
The stubborn set of his chin and defensive tone sent a wave of frustration through me. I pressed my hands flat against my thighs until my irritation had passed enough for me to continue in a calm manner.
“Laurent, I didn’t even make that leap and I am one. Your training could have involved anything, not to mention that you’re in Ohrist magic wolf form when you kill them.”
“I expected you of all people to understand. Guess not.” He blew through a yellow light, slamming me back against the seat.
How shaky had Laurent’s house of cards become once he’d taken on this other magic and started killing dybbuks? He’d been scared that Naveen’s prejudices extended to him. His friend was one of Laurent’s few pillars of support. How much more damage would losing that relationship do to Laurent?
Hoping my next words didn’t send his emotional state—or this truck, given how erratically he was driving—into a tailspin, I pressed on. “I didn’t tell Eli until it was absolutely necessary.”
“That’s different.” Laurent adjusted the sun visor. “You were hiding from your parents’ murderer.”
“True. For five years. Ten. But twenty? Thirty? Eli was out there possibly going up against dangers he couldn’t fathom. And why? I didn’t want him to see me differently, to think I was monstrous.” Self-awareness wasn’t fun, or easy, but hiding our heads in the sand was pointless.
“I don’t care about other people’s opinions,” Laurent snapped. He’d let his best friend tenderize him, but yeah sure, he didn’t care. “Don’t overcomplicate everything. I assumed Nav knew, but I was wrong. When I realized that today, I told him.” He turned on the radio, cranking up the volume on some boy band song that he would never in a million years voluntarily listen to.
My phone rang, and thinking it was Sadie, I answered, but it was Jude.
Laurent continued driving to Tatiana’s while I spoke to my friend, digging in my purse for a stick of gum.
Jude said that my daughter was coming to stay with her overnight and wanted to know what kind of fight had precipitated this.
My thumb tore through the wrapper, dumping the red cinnamon-scented stick in my lap. Sadie had never avoided me, even when she was in trouble.
I picked up the gum with a clammy hand. She needed space. That was her choice and I had to respect that, even if every second that passed without us reconnecting felt like a wedge driving deeper and deeper into our relationship.
Had I really found the one thing my kid couldn’t handle?
