Page 40 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

“They’re just stretching their legs, Daddy,” Sunday says, amused. “Afraid you’ll have to open your supernatural boarding house another day.”

“Aww, that’s a shame. But they’ll be back.” Wade’s eyes glint with a quiet, knowing confidence.

Sunday rolls her eyes, and I can only imagine what it must have been like growing up with a parent who always knew what was coming next. That kind of certainty would grate on anyone after a while.

Nearby, the group takes a moment to say their goodbyes to the Argyros vampires. It’s a flurry of handshakes, nods, and promises to keep in touch. Rurik pulls Sunday aside for one last, intense conversation. She listens, nodding along, then rolls her eyes again as he strides back to the plane, his chyldren following a few steps behind.

My animal, always restless when too many variables are at play, finally relaxes. Tension eases out of me, and I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Maybe things will be simpler now.Rurik leaving means one less complication. Maybe it’s time for a little joy to take root again—for Sunday, for all of us.

But instead, a familiar emptiness settles over me. I should be smiling, too. I should feel the same deep contentment filling everyone else. Instead, there’s a hollowness in my chest, a strange, unsettling distance.

I can see the happiness, but I can’t quite reach it. It’s like I’m stuck watching from the outside. That old darkness slithers back in—a creeping vine slowly twining around my thoughts. I pull back from the bond, just enough to keep that emptiness from seeping into Tomas and Sunday. My animal resists, whining low within me, but I won’t let it touch them. Not if I can help it.

Tomas claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Right then,” he announces, nodding toward the luggage. “Let’s get our things sorted and hit the road.”

At least I know what comes next—Tomas’ surprise. Sunday is going to lose her mind when she sees it. The thought sends the dark vines scuttling to the edges of my mind. They’re not gone, but at least they’re temporarily at bay.

Chapter Sixteen

Ambrosia and Chocolate Bunnies

— Sunday —

We pile into the van, twelve bodies crammed into a space meant for maybe eight. Luggage gets jammed into every available crevice, elbows and shoulders jostling as everyone settles in. The engine hums low, a steady backdrop to the happy chatter. I exhale a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for weeks and just… sit in the moment.

I turn in my seat, taking them all in. “Girls, you’ve grown another three inches, I swear. What’s Cady been feedin’ you?” They do look bigger… happier.

“Ambrosia,” Lily says, dragging out each syllable like she’s savoring it. Oh, that little stinker. I feel her testing my shields, trying to skim a thought or two. I let her see a bowl of marshmallow salad with tiny oranges. She huffs in disappointment.

“Daddy,” she says, a sly grin spreading across her face, “can we tell?”

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Now, Lily-bug, you know you promised Cady you wouldn’t.”

“But Sunday already knows about ambrosia,” Lily insists, her voice almost sing-song. “She knows it’s not just a yucky salad.”

My eyes widen slightly. Okay, that’s unnerving. “Just how much ambrosia have y’all been consuming?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

“Enough,” Gemma says, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Enough to make us strong and smart,” Lily adds, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I exchange a look with Daddy, who just shrugs, amusement dancing in his true blue eyes. “She’s been adding it to their smoothies,” he admits. “Says it helps with their psychic development.”

“Right,” I say slowly. “Because that’s totally normal. And has she mentioned anything about, say,immortality?”

The twins giggle. “Maybe,” Lily whispers conspiratorially, her grin devilish.

I take a deep breath. Okay, this is taking a turn towards the bizarre. “Well,” I say, trying to keep the humor alive, “I guess we’ll just be grateful she isn’t dipping you in any mystical rivers.” I narrow my eyes at them. “She isn’t, right?”

Grayson snorts beside me. “Think she learned her lesson with Achilles?”

“Lord, I hope so. Pretty sure that creek out back isn’t good for much of anything.”

I glance at Mishka, squished between the girls, and send out a tendril of my gift to check on him. He feels busy and content, caught up in their chatter. But beneath the surface, the familiar Mishka sneakiness is there—a quiet undercurrent of examining, plotting, always scheming.

Good. He’s fine.

Then he catches my eye, smirks, and vanishes in a flash of golden light.

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