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And it was time to change the topic. “I have hobbies. Yoga. And there’s martial arts training, katana practice, blah, blah, blah. It’s hard to find time to just do things. I think I’d like to learn calligraphy.”
Connor blinked. “That is not what I’d have expected you to say.”
I shrugged. “I like letters. They’re very...”
“Orderly?” he asked with a grin.
“When you’re facing down immortality,” I said, “order is important. Rules are comforting.”
“Rules are constricting,” he countered.
“My parents are aeromancers,” Petra said. “And hobbies are hard when you’re the kid of a sup. There are expectations.”
I thought of the discussion I’d had with Lulu, how our parents’ abilities had affected us. “No disagreement here.”
“I played baseball as a kid,” Connor said. “Third base, and had a fantastic arm.” He flexed his biceps, and the muscle strained against the slick fabric. “But the old man wanted me at Little Red, at the House, at wherever the Pack happened to be. So that was the end of that. Pack comes first. Always.”
“I don’t understand the point of baseball.”
Theo looked at me, blinked. “What do you mean, you don’t understand the point of it? What’s to understand? It’s a sport.”
“If there’s time for the players to have snacks, it’s not a sport. It’s recess.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Seeds aren’t a snack.”
“Agree to disagree,” I said, holding up a hand, and was glad tofinally speak my truth about baseball. My mother was Cubs fan, so dissent had not been allowed in Cadogan House. “But I understand your point. I took piano lessons until it was time to take katana lessons.”
“Didn’t you hate piano lessons?” Petra asked.
“I did,” I said with a smile, impressed that she’d remembered. “With a passion. I like music, but I can’t make it. And my teacher—Mrs. Vilichnik. God, I hated her. She was like the villain from a Victorian orphan story.”
“They just wanted us to be prepared,” Connor said. “For, you know, Juilliard or supernatural warfare.”
“I know.”
“I’m actually feeling moderately better about growing up human,” Theo said. “I’d figured it was boring—homework, anime, baseball and basketball, trips to Challengers Comics to grab the new releases. Maybe I had it easy.”
“I wouldn’t say human is easy, either,” Connor said. “Mortality, illness, bullies. Being a sup makes those things easier, at least some of the time. Except when it doesn’t. Except when it makes life harder.”
I froze, shocked into silence by the possibility that he was going to say it aloud, talk about my monster, the evidence he’d seen.
But he didn’t even look at me. Just brushed his shoulder against mine. It was so light, so casual, that I wasn’t sure if he’d done it on purpose—an acknowledgment that he’d felt the magic that accompanied my fear—or if it was accidental.
“Well, if it isn’t Elisa Sullivan.”
I turned back. The vampire behind me was handsome, with wavy blond-brown hair that nearly reached his shoulders and was tucked behind his ears. Tall and muscular, with broad shoulders that narrowed to a tapered waist. He wore a pale gray suit over a white button-down, and he’d skipped the tie.
“Welcome back to Chicago, Elisa,” he said, and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
His accent was British, and his name was... something with a D.Darren? David?
“Dane,” he said. “Grey House.”
I made the introductions, ending with Connor.
“Of course.” Dane smiled. “The prince of wolves.”
“Not exactly,” he said. He sipped his drink, watching me over the rim. “How do you two know each other?”
