Alana
My chest aching, I turn and walk back into Nico’s place to help him clean up. Thunder sounds outside and I jump. How silly. A chill pierces down my spine. I gather the rest of the dishes and carry them into the kitchen.
Nico is sitting at the table typing rapidly on a laptop. “Damn, I wish I was as good as Ella is at this,” he mutters.
I place the dishes in the sink and study him. “Speaking of Ella . . .”
He looks up. “No.”
I grin. “Come on, tell me what’s going on. She blushes every time you come near her.”
He rolls his eyes. “I like her. She’s brilliant, and she understands computers better than anybody else. In fact, if we could talk your father into it, I’d like to hire her at Aquarius Social.”
I think it would be a lot of fun to work with my best friend, notwithstanding her dislike for my . . . what is Thorn? I can’t exactly call him a boyfriend, because there’s nothing boyish about him. “I don’t know that she would work for a rival of TimeGem’s,” I muse.
He sits back. “Why not? They cast her out. She’s not part of their family.”
“No, but she has plans to retake her interest someday,” I say. “Helping us build Aquarius Social isn’t in her best interests, although I’m happy to talk to my father.”
“Good,” he says. “She can be quite handy.”
“Do you like her?” I ask in a singsong voice.
He rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, I like her. She’s funny and sweet, and she has that whole wounded-animal thing going on.”
“Wounded animal?” I ask.
“You know. She’s alone in this world. You can see it in her eyes.”
I think that’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard about Ella, even if it is true. “She’s not alone. She has me.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same as family, is it?” His gaze darkens.
I feel for him, having lost his parents young. I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother. “No,” I admit. “It’s not the same.” Although I can’t exactly say that my father is touchy-feely.
The TV drones on quietly in the background, hung below the cupboard across the way, mostly about the ball tonight.
“I really do need you to behave at the event,” I tell him. “No matter what Cal has done, I don’t want a scene.”
Nico gives one short nod. “That’s fine. Cal and I can have a discussion tomorrow. I won’t do anything to cause you a problem. You and I are family, Alana. You’re all that really matters.”
He misses Greg as much as I do. Probably more, considering they hung out a lot.
“I’m glad you found Ella,” I say.
He shrugs. “I don’t think there’s any longevity with that, but I’m glad I found her, as well.”
“Why not?” I ask, smiling. “She’s perfect.”
He snorts. “Nobody’s perfect. Well, almost nobody.” His gaze catches on the TV, and he stills, peering forward.
“What?” I say, looking.
A tall, redheaded reporter stands down from several other reporters, all speaking adamantly into microphones. I catch two words: murder and Cal. “What?” I move closer, looking at the rainy scene. “Turn it up,” I say.
He grabs a remote and turns up the volume.
“Hi, this is Christine Salisbury with Channel Two News.” The woman’s green eyes light. “We’re standing outside of a crime scene”—she moves slightly to show the yellow flapping tape—“where the body of Cal Sokolov was found an hour ago.”
I fall into the seat next to Nico. “Oh, my God,” I whisper.
Nico’s mouth gapes open, and he just watches the TV.
The reporter tries to dampen her enthusiasm and almost manages a somber look. “My sources tell me that Mr. Sokolov was beaten severely before having his jugular cut.” She leans toward the camera. “In a disturbing twist of events, all of his fingers are cut off.”
The screen splits and shows an older man in a studio. “Christine, are his fingers anywhere near the body?” He actually sounds properly somber at this turn of events.
She shakes her hair wildly, standing under a lime-green umbrella. “No, his fingers are nowhere to be found, according to my source.”
I gulp. Bile rises in my throat. The fingers weren’t found because Thorn forced Cal to eat them. Isn’t that what he said? Anybody who touched me would eat their own fingers? I gag.
Nico looks at me. “What?”
My stomach turns over. “I think it was Thorn.”
“What? When?”
My body chills. “When he left me this morning.”
