about why he did what he did…or worse, start back on me again about where I sit or who I should be afraid of.
I’m not naive, either, even though Hudson doesn’t seem to believe that. So I turn away from him and head back into the auditorium, but as I walk toward the center aisle, instead of turning left, I turn right…and walk up to the third-from-the-last row and sit down behind two huge dragon males. I can still see the stage, a little, and can still hear everything that’s being said, but I’m pretty sure it will be hard for anyone to see me.
With that thought in mind, I pull out my phone and text Jaxon a quick note, telling him I’m sitting alone near the back because I have a headache and might need to leave early.
It’s not a lie, considering my head is killing me, but I don’t want to get into everything in text right now, either. Plus, I don’t want him to come looking for me. I figure I can stay inconspicuous only if I’m not actually sitting next to their son.
“Thank you,” Hudson tells me as he slides into the seat next to me, but I don’t answer him. Not because I’m still angry but because I don’t have anything else to say to him. Not right now, and maybe not ever if he doesn’t get his act together.
I wait for him to say something obnoxious or try to argue with me, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe he’s learning after all. I guess time will tell.
Jaxon texts back, asking if I need anything. When I tell him no, he explains that he’s backstage right now—a command performance with the king and queen.
Maybe I should be disappointed, but I’m not. Him being away from me is that one extra layer of anonymity I was looking for.
And as the king and queen and the rest of the Circle file onto the stage, my palms begin to sweat. I’m not ready to forgive Hudson yet, but I can’t lie that there’s a part of me very grateful I am very, very far away from his parents as I watch both of them scan the audience while they take their seats.
It’s obvious they’re looking for someone…and it’s not their son, as he was just with them backstage. But the longer they search, the more convinced I become that they really are looking for me. And after seeing Hudson’s memory of his parents last night, I’m more than happy to make sure they don’t find me. At least not until I’m ready for them.
72
Welcome to the
Paranormal Jungle
I start to text Jaxon again, but before I can figure out what to say, Uncle Finn turns on the microphone. He talks for a few minutes about the Ludares tournament, laying down the rules, talking about how many teams have signed up (twelve) and how the brackets are going to be run.
When he gets to the prize for winning the tournament, he turns toward the dignitaries seated behind him in ornate chairs—I snort; who am I kidding? Those are thrones and they want everyone to know it—and announces, “To discuss the prize for this very special Ludares tournament, we are incredibly lucky to have none other than King Cyrus and Queen Delilah from the Vampire Court here to announce the very special prize. Please join me in welcoming them and several other members of the Circle.” He starts off the applause, but soon the auditorium is filled with the sound of respectful clapping, which amuses me because in my experience, so few things at this school have ever engendered such a tepid response.
Apparently, there are very few members of my generation who actually have any interest in the Circle—and especially the vampire king and queen—at all. Not that I blame them, but it’s still interesting to see. And even more interesting to watch as that knowledge hits Cyrus full-on.
He tries to hide it, but I’m watching closely from a little spot between my two shields, and he. Looks. Pissed.
He doesn’t say anything, though, as his eyes scan the crowd. He’s smiling and waving as the queen moves to the microphone, but he’s not missing one face. I slink down lower in my seat and all but feel Hudson’s relief.
The queen introduces herself in a melodic British accent and with a smile that looks surprisingly sincere as she thanks everyone for such a warm, warm welcome. Even as her gaze—like