Page 610 of Shadowblood Souls
Zian rubs his hands together with sudden eagerness. “Someplace with good restaurants.”
“But maybe not right downtown,” Dominic puts in. “I’d like a garden. And if we’re close to a park, Jacob will be able to go for his runs without dodging pedestrians.”
Jacob tugs me a little closer. “I’ll be happy as long as Riva’s happy.”
Griffin considers me with a serene air. “Is there anywhere you’ve particularly liked the atmosphere of?”
It seems like a difficult question, but as soon as I take it in, the answer pops into my head. I pause, testing out the impression before saying it out loud. “You know, there was that one time years ago when I was on a mission in San Francisco—I saw this building there that just felt… welcoming. Like it was meant for me, or it understood what I was. I know that doesn’t make much sense?—”
Andreas gives my braid an affectionate tug. “It doesn’t have to make perfect sense. Let’s go there and see what we can make of it.”
Thirty-Two
One year later
Riva
Ishould have known I’d find Dominic in his garden. The rooftop patio over our penthouse apartment has become his pet project, with flowers of all colors and a gorgeous medley of scents emerging from the planters all around the walls and down the middle of the space as well.
At the squeak of the door, he raises his head where he’s pruning one of the small shrubs. A smile curves his lips under the bright mid-day sun. “Time to get going?”
“We should head out in twenty minutes or so.” I offer him the tall glass I brought up. “I thought maybe you could use some lemonade after all your work.”
Dominic lifts one eyebrow. “Is this your typical sour blend?”
I laugh. “I added some honey to sweeten it up for you.”
An amused gleam dances in Dom’s eyes as he takes a sip. His smile widens. “You know just how I like it, Sugar.”
Even after all this time, the nickname—and the memory of how he coined it—brings a flush to my cheeks. I lean in to steal a quick kiss, tasting the mix of sweet and sour on his breath. “Finish up and then come down.”
I tramp back downstairs and emerge into the sunlit apartment just as Jacob strides in through the front door. A gritty smudge marks his jaw and his hair is rumpled, but a now-familiar eager energy glows in his face.
I set my hands on my hips. “Dealt out a little more justice today?”
He grins at me. “There was a maniac tearing around trying to outrace the cops. I blew out a couple of his tires. He didn’t get very far after that.”
Jacob’s main pastime these days is following broadcasts on the police scanner he picked up and intervening to ensure the worst of the crooks are caught. I guess it’s a good way for him to let out any pent-up tension that builds up inside him—and he’s developed a real taste for using his powers to stop villains of any kind.
I wave toward the bathroom. “We’ve got to leave to meet the jet in fifteen minutes. Go get yourself washed up, superhero.”
“Superheroes make excellent role models,” he retorts, but he heads over to take a shower anyway.
Andreas looks up from the desk near the broad windows on the other side of the room and shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s ever going to grow out of this vigilante stage.”
“It could be a lot worse,” I say wryly, and amble over to drape my arms across the back of his shoulders. “How’s the book coming along? You’re not having to leave it in the middle of a scene or anything?”
Drey stretches and reaches back to hug me to him, twisting his head at the same time to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Sometimes that’s the best spot. Makes it easier for me to get into the groove when I come back.”
Always the keeper of memories and histories, Andreas has started channeling his love of stories into a new outlet.So I don’t find myself boring you all telling the same tales over and over again, he said with a laugh when he told us.
Right now, he’s blending some of the favorite experiences he’s gleaned from other people’s minds into what he calls “a work of creative narrative nonfiction.” But he’s commented that someday he might try to turn our own history into a book—one he’d have to pretend is fictional, of course.
A faint clinking sound carries from the small room we’ve designated as Zian’s workshop. I peek inside to see him adjusting the connections on an electrical panel, his gaze so intent I’m not sure he’s realized I’m there until he speaks. “I’m almost done, Shrimp. I think by next week I’ll have this up and running.”
I duck inside just long enough to ruffle his hair and give him a peck on his temple. “I’m looking forward to that.”
Zee has let his curiosity about mechanics and electronics along with his X-ray vision take him into an education in electrical engineering. He goes to classes a few times a week and practices at home a lot of the rest of the time. He’s even started picking up jobs doing repairs on everything from toaster ovens to computer systems.
