Page 48 of Hybrid Heroics

Sam shook his head. “I don’t like this conversation.”

“I think they’re funny,” Rig commented. “Although I feel this irrational surge of something in my chest right now. I’m not sure what it is yet.”

“That’s called being protective of your daughter, you feathered bastard,” Sam enlightened him, chuckling at the angel’s confusion.

“What do I do with it?” Rig inquired.

“Under these circumstances? Nothing.” Sam sighed. “She loves them.”

Rig pointed at me. “He broke her back, Sam. Twice.”

“Yeah. I’m not explaining that.” Sam stood up, walking away from Raguel. “You’re not that godsdamn much of an angel.”

“Oh,” Amelia sang. “Could we not talk about that? I’d like to know more about all of you and less about your… activities.”

Sam snorted when I cleared my throat.

“Why did you ask about my nickname for Sloane?” Novak asked, grinning like he was enjoying everyone’s discomfort.

Knowing him, he would show this memory to Sloane when she woke up. Just this part. Not the important stuff.

Amelia smiled at him, but there was an edge of anarchy to it… Similar to the chaos that brewed in Sloane’s gaze. It was the first time I could say, without a shadow of a doubt, this woman was her mother.

“I was the High Priestess of the Guild during a time of turmoil and inconsistent wars in Northern Ireland. Some called it The Troubles.”

And something told me there was way more to that statement than what Amelia was sharing.

Tuesday, June 23rd

Late Night

Stone left the living room without a word, and I followed him. I knew he wanted space, a minute to think, or maybe just silence... But I wasn’t going to give him that.

He was as bad as Sloane when it came to not talking things out. They both had to rationalize their feelings before they could voice them. And they both spoke truer words when they were pushed.

I was also using the demon as an excuse to talk through some things.

Sitting with Sloane’s parents was difficult when I had so many what if questions floating through my mind. Like... If Amelia hadn’t made the decisions she’d made, would Sloane still be Sloane? If Amelia hadn’t left when Sloane was a baby, how different would my mate be? If Amelia had killed Alric, what would we be doing right now? Would we be together? Or would the guys and I still be wandering around, looking for our mate?

These were questions that no one really had answers for, so there was no point in asking. But I couldn’t get them out of my head as I searched for Stone.

Palmer and Briggs were sitting in the chairs on Aunt Talia’s front porch, but there was no brooding demon with them.

I found him in the dining room, staring out the window. He leaned against the left side of the frame, so I went to the right side, copying his stance.

At first, I didn’t say anything. I just gazed at the greenery, noticing the faded colors. The magic that lay over the land was draining the life out of everything, but I had no idea how to stop it. I didn’t even know where it started, much less how to end it. Being in this position sucked, especially as a royal. My parents likely had less of an idea about what was happening that I did.

“What are you thinking?” I asked Stone.

“Nothing,” he grumbled.

“You need to talk to someone about whatever is happening inside your head.”

“No one is in my head.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

“I heard you.”