Page 7 of The Monster's Mate

I giggle. It is a little strange that Isabel barely looks older than her, yet she’s her mom. I guess they feel more like friends.

“I do. It’s kind of easy. Her hair is so dark that I just have to pull mine back so it’s not so obvious that it’s black.”

“Twinsies,” Isabel says softly, and at her words, River nudges my shoulder with hers. She has hair as black as mine, instead of it being lighter like her mom’s.

“It is odd to have black hair,” River agrees. “People in the commune used to whisper that I was cursed. Like a poor black cat.”

I laugh, aware of the ridiculous ideas that come from the commune. “Are you?”

To my surprise, she shrugs. “Probably. My father was the devil himself.”

“Your biological or your adoptive?” I ask.

“Both!” she and Isabel say together, and then start laughing. More proof that they’re friends… kind of like me and Isabel are. Strangely, I don’t feel like the odd man out between her and River. Instead, I feel a sort of kinship with River too.

I think it’s because River inherited Isabel’s generous, loving personality. Who else would take in a virtual stranger when she was ostracized herself?

I wonder if Maman ever feels like a third wheel with these two? By the looks of her wide grin—somewhat scary with those sharp teeth—it appears not. She totally feels maternal toward both of them.

I find myself longing for that. Sam had once snorted and said you couldn’t miss what you never had when she’d referred to her own mother, but I did.

“It helps that Isabel has a job cleaning in the evenings without a lot of people present. If I think someone’s going to be around, I have to stuff my bra.”

River and I start laughing again.

I can’t help but stare at her profile. She looks so familiar… I guess more like Isabel than I realized. I can’t quite place it. Her forehead is rounder, making her look somewhat regal. Her nose is straight. Come to think of it, I can’t really see her eye color or the side-smile she has that looks like Isabel’s so I’m unsure of what is so familiar.

I’m barely aware of Maman and Isabel watching us. I flush, knowing they caught me staring at River like a fangirl.

I turn my gaze down to my food. “Isabel and I made sure never to leave the house together. We left one at a time and traded outfits, so it looked like one person. Just in case the neighbors ever watched.”

“We made it fun. Like a game. We’d wear the same colors on the same day,” Isabel says, and her eyes are soft.

“Of course, your hair was darker then. It’s gotten really streaked now with as long as it is.”

It makes me giggle when Isabel twists her hair up to show me how lightened the ends are against her roots. She never showed her hair on Earth but she must be in the sun all the time on Pimeon.

“You and River are close to the same age, eh?” Maman says.

“I’m almost twenty-five.” I look at River, who nods.

Huh. Who knew I had so much in common with Isabel’s daughter? I remember the nights she’d come home and tell me about River; how she’d stolen a glimpse of her in church, or at the market. How she longed to tell her who she was but couldn’t.

My heart had broken for my friend.

“But tell us about your father, Lucy,” Maman says.

My eyes fly to Isabel. But her face is placid, calming as if she’s letting me handle this.

“He’s an evil man,” I murmur. “Got my mother pregnant and then left her. She died when I was two and the authorities brought me to my cousin Samantha’s house. Her mom was pretty wealthy and didn’t want the scandal of an illegitimate child in the family, so she gave me to the home. Thankfully, Samantha saw me. She was only twelve at the time, but she remembered. On the day she turned eighteen, she visited me. Told me when I aged out of the system, she’d hide me and find me someplace safe to live. She did.” I smile at Isabel.

“Well, good thing for you I am quite experienced at being a maman. I shall add you to my collection of daughters. I’ll never admit this again, but I longed for girls.” Maman sighs. “Closest I ever got was encouraging my sons to play with dolls. It worked for a while.”

“Probably Bronan played with dollies the most,” River teases, looking up slyly at Isabel. “He’s the one that wants the most kish.”

“I don’t know,” Isabel says mildly, but her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Tiran seems the most sensitive out of all of them. Probably he had the biggest collection.”

River snorts.

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