She took one look at Qhuinn, blanched—and ducked back into her apartment. The sound of the dead bolt getting thrown was loud.
“Shit,” Qhuinn muttered. “Gimme a second.”
He didn’t knock on the door. He just leaned into it, his brows tight, his eyes closed. Then he backed off. A second later, the young woman came out again, gave them a cheery smile, and danced down the stairs. They both watched her cross the parking area and get into a Sorento.
“He better not stand her up. She likes him,” Qhuinn murmured.
On that note, he pivoted to the apartment directly across from her place. The number on the door was 114B.
“I think you better do the knock and greet,” he said. “Assuming she’s human, I don’t want to scare her, and I’d rather not go into her brain. I don’t want to lose any memories she has.”
“Okay.”
Blay squeezed his mate’s shoulder and then put himself solidly in front of the peephole. Curling up a fist, he knocked his knuckles against the cold metal panel.
No answer.
He glanced over his shoulder. Qhuinn had wrapped his arms around his chest and was staring at the concrete landing under his shitkickers. In the tense silence, a breeze whiffled in, carrying the scent of sautéed onions and ground beef from somewhere.
Blay tried again. “The light’s on—”
The door opened.
The woman on the other side was, just as the license had stated, five feet six inches tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was very pale, and she looked thinner than her government-issued photograph—or maybe it was more drawn, as if she were getting over an illness or struggling in life. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a cream Irish sweater, and she smelled like shampoo and toothpaste.
Beyond her, a barren apartment was clean . . . except for the bedroom in the distance. A light illuminated a messy bed with crumpled snack bags on the floor.
“May I help you?”
The voice was quiet and a little hoarse. The accent was French. And the scent was decidedly human.
“Hi.” Blay smiled warmly, but kept his lips together so his fangs didn’t show. “Are you Anna Sophia Laval?”
“I am.”
At that moment, she glanced to her right. And saw Qhuinn.
Her eyes popped wide, and she put her hand to her mouth. Just as Blay began to worry they were going to have to go into her mind and calm her, she spoke.
“You’re Luke’s brother. Aren’t you.”
As soon as that door opened, Qhuinn took in every detail of the woman and the apartment behind her. And then she said words he couldn’t immediately translate into meaning.
When they clicked, he was overcome with emotion.
“Yes,” he replied roughly. “I am his brother.”
She stepped back and indicated the way inside with a hand that trembled. “Please.”
Qhuinn let Blay go first, and then he hesitated on the threshold. Before he followed his mate, he ducked a hand into his jacket and made sure he had the letters and the Scotch tape ball.
“Won’t you sit down,” she said formally as the door clapped shut behind them all.
The sofa was the only place to park it, so he and Blay went over even though the last thing Qhuinn wanted was to get physically trapped. He felt a buzzy need to run—although not to get away. He had nervous energy that was hard to contain.
“May I offer you something to drink?”
Qhuinn narrowed his eyes. There was a regal posture to her in spite of her casual clothes and modest surroundings, and he could see Luchas approving of that. But she was a human; she was very definitely of the other species.
“No, we’re good,” he said. “Thank you.”
She went across to a shallow kitchen area and brought over one of the three chairs that were around a little table.
Sitting down, she put her hands in her lap. “You’ve come to tell me he’s dead, haven’t you.”
Qhuinn leaned forward on the couch and plugged his elbows into his knees. Wiping his face with his palm, he nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
As she closed her eyes and sagged, Qhuinn felt a communion with her, a deep, abiding connection in which he found a curious relief.
He had to clear his throat. “Listen, it feels inappropriate to have to ask this, but how did you know him? Is it okay for me to ask that?”
She took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen him for over three years. Is that when he died?”