Sins of the Innocent - Jamie McGuire Page 0,3

“They only come out at night, Eden. You know this. Why do you keep on insisting that? What’s up with you? Is it that time of the month?”

I craned my neck at him. “I will donkey-kick you right out of this car.”

He chuckled and then turned away, watching Providence pass by from his window.

I tapped the clutch with my left foot and switched gears, feeding the accelerator, as I swerved into the passing lane, already making note of every vehicle on the road within a mile of us in any direction.

I pressed a button on the door, rolling down the window to let the outside in. The mysteries of the day had me unsettled. I didn’t like the feeling of being confused. I was omnipotent, unafraid, perceptive in all things. Being able to see demons as a toddler was one thing. Being confused as a young adult was enough to send me swinging my fists into the netherworld.

“You didn’t sense the one on the east building? It was less than four hundred yards from you on just one removed plane from ours. If he were any closer, the other students would have seen him. You didn’t?”

“No,” he said, bored of the subject.

“Do you think I’m messing with you, or do you just not believe me?” I asked. “Where were you earlier? If you were anywhere close, you would have sensed him for yourself.”

“Why do you wear your seat belt?” Bex asked.

“What?” I turned to him, my chin-length platinum locks blowing into my face.

He looked at me. “You heard me.”

“Because it’s the law.”

“You wear it because it’s habit. To blend in. To make Nina feel better even though she knows you heal more quickly than a hybrid.”

“Just get to the point, Bex,” I said, frowning until the gear slid into fourth. Then I relaxed, feeling my body surge forward, away from All Saints and close to our home, toward the one place where I could be myself.

“The longer you keep things normal, the happier you’ll be.”

“Speaking of happy, how long has it been? Since you’ve seen Allison?” I asked, my voice turning soft.

He shook his head, his smug expression falling away. “An hour.”

“She still hasn’t told anyone, has she?”

“She won’t.”

“Do you still miss her?” I asked.

“Every day,” Bex said, staring out his window.

I slowed down just long enough to pull into the drive, and then I threw the Audi into park. “Is that where you were?”

“Just wanted to check on her.”

I nodded, touching his thick forearm. “It’s been a year, Bex.”

He sighed. “Thirteen months, three weeks, five days … seven hours.”

I leaned over, touching my temple to his shoulder. “I’m sorry she wasn’t your Taleh.”

He patted my knee and kissed my hair. “I’m not. My Taleh happens to be the only person I love more than her.”

My eyebrows shot up, and an appreciative smile touched my lips. “I’m not your Taleh.”

He shrugged. “Close enough.”

I reached over to pull the lever, and then I ducked when Bex took a swing at me. I chased him through the front door, past Agatha, the housekeeper, and into the kitchen.

“It’s about time,” Mom said. She licked something off her thumb and then continued to peel potatoes.

“Hi, Grandmother,” I said.

“Eden, dear,” Grandmother said, somehow looking busy, angry, and polite as usual. She was bouncing from one cook station to another. Her white hair was pulled tight into a French bun, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as her slight frame moved about the kitchen. “You’re a mess.”

“The drive home was windy,” I said, combing my hair with my fingers.

“How was school?” Mom took the few steps to lean over to allow me to kiss her cheek, and then she returned to the potatoes at the sink.

“Globins, Mommy,” Bex said with an ornery grin.

Mom arched an eyebrow but hardly seemed alarmed. It had been a long time since she worried about me. Sometimes, I missed it.

“Where?” she asked.

“In Calculus,” I said.

She groaned. “I hated calculus. Be thankful for all the room in that brilliant brain of yours, Eden. Brown is just around the corner.”

“Nina, dear,” Grandmother said. “The leeks.”

“Oh!” Mom said, turning for the stove. “How was school? Besides the globins.”

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t a goblin. This thing had thick gums and rows of tiny shark’s teeth. I know what it was.”

“Oh?” Mom said, only mildly interested.

“Don’t roll your eyes at your mother, Eden. Honestly,” Grandmother said.

“It was a druden,” I said.

Mom stopped stirring but only for half a second. The only way I