Right. I wince. “Let’s get out of here for a minute,” I say to Chessa and the others in a quieter voice. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
We eventually end up in a small room on the far end of the ICU floor. A chapel/meditation room. The walls are painted a soothing blue, and the early morning sunlight pouring through the stained glass windows creates geometric color blocks on the gray carpeted floor.
An altar of shiny polished wood holds a place of honor at the front of the room, with a few rows of folding chairs spread out before it. The wall behind the altar is appropriately blank for a nondenominational chapel, no cross or crucified Jesus. But it looks strangely empty to me.
My mother took me to church every Sunday until I wasfourteen, hoping to save me. From myself, from my father’s influence, I don’t know. But if she actually believed in what she was attempting to indoctrinate me with, she would have understood that her religion held that God created everything, including me.
The back half of the room, closer to the doorway, is more casual. Overstuffed chairs in a neutral fabric, tissue boxes on every end table between the chairs, and plants overflowing their pots, carefully and thoughtfully interspersed. A water feature burbles over polished stones in the corner.
Good enough.
“What is this about?” Chessa demands from behind me. When I turn, she’s at the threshold to the room, refusing to go any farther.
“Yeah, Jo. What are you doing?” Devon asks as he squeezes past Chessa. His question sounds more like a warning, though. He knows, or suspects, what I’m about to do.
I sigh.
Carter, at my side, leans closer to whisper in my ear. “You realize he’s not even a Beecher student?” His forehead is furrowed in concern.
He’s being protective, worried for me. Or, possibly even a little jealous. It sets off a swirl of emotions in me: joy, relief, but most prominently sadness. It won’t matter what he feels now after I’m finished.
“I know,” I say softly, touching his arm. “It’s okay.”
I pick an overstuffed chair at random and sit on the edge of the cushion. “Okay, look. I don’t exactly know where to start because I’ve never talked about this before.”
“Then maybe that means you shouldn’t,” Devon says, moving to perch on the arm of my chair.
I ignore him.
Carter takes the chair next to mine, shooting a hostile look at Devon, who mimes catching it like a kiss and blows it back to him.
These two. I wonder what they were talking about while I was gone.
Chessa remains firmly lodged in the doorway. “So, talk, then. I want to get back to Daan.”
I’m not human.
Everything bad on campus that’s happening is because of me.
So you know all the stories about gods and vampires and mythical creatures, well, a lot of that is actually based in reality, just not in the way you’re thinking…
This is a lot harder than I thought.
“My family is complicated,” I begin after a moment. “My father… has a lot of enemies. And now some of them are coming after me, I think.”
“You said your father was dead,” Chessa says, straightening up, and I can see the storm clouds brewing in her expression.
“My bio dad, my mother’s husband, died before I was born, yeah,” I say quickly. “But I…”In for a penny.“… I have two. Technically.”
Next to me, Devon exhales sharply and scrubs his hands over his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Jo.”
“Like a polycule?” Chessa asks, edging closer.
I stifle a horrified laugh. Just the thought of my mother and Death in that way… “Kind of?” I say. It’s as far as I’m willing to go right now.
She nods reluctantly, accepting the answer.
“My father is powerful, and he’s in a very competitive… business.” I choose my words carefully. I know at a certain point my metaphor will break down and I’ll have to abandon it, and withit, Chessa and Carter’s willingness to listen with an open mind. “Without my knowledge or acceptance, he’s named me as his successor. Which pissed a lot of people off.”
