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The two of us had a pretty pleasant lunch, considering Sariel was back in our room predicting the future. I shuddered at the thought of what horror he would depict now.
“Sometimes,” Johnny muttered, gaze distant as he swirled around his drink with a straw, “I really hate being a blessed-blood.”
I raised my brows high. “Why?”
Blessed-bloods had everything, after all—trust from the public, stable lives, functional packs, regular shifts, and easy-go-lucky attitudes. That had only become even more apparent when we’d invited fallen-bloods into the compound.
Johnny glanced up at me, jaw clenching and unclenching for a moment. “Because my girlfriend’s been kidnapped, maybe even dead, and I can’t even be angry about it. Neodied, and I can’t be sad for longer than a few minutes.”
Staring at him, I watched the distress ease from his features with a growing sense of horror.
“I’d never thought about that,” I admitted.
He took a sip of his drink. “Yeah, a lot of people don’t.”
With that, the conversation dropped, and the two of us finished our meal in silence.
Everyone knew the horror of being a fallen-blood—you went insane, you were discriminated against, you couldn’t control your shifts—but I’d never heard someone comment about how uncomfortable it was to be a blessed-blood.
Now that I was thinking about it, it was probably because theycouldn’tcomplain about it. Or, at least, they’d lose the feeling before they’d even gotten a pen and paper out to write about it.
Whenever I let my mind dwell on it for too long, a distinct feeling of existential dread would wash over me. What would it be like to never be able to have a negative outburst? For every bad feeling you had to slip from your fingers, barely even felt, much less contemplated or learned from? What kind of damage did that do to a developing mind?
Johnny was insistent upon walking me home when I spotted Kiyomasa making the trek back to his residence.
It was then that I realized that Sariel and I weren’t the only two people who would worry about Auren.
“I’m going to go see how he’s doing,” I said to Johnny. He nodded when I gestured up the hill, likely knowing what I wanted to do. “I’ll catch up with you later, though. Hopefully, Sariel doesn't take forever again.”
“Good luck.” He chuckled, then headed off as I scurried after Kiyomasa.
“I was wondering when I would see you again,” the elder said conversationally when he sensed me catching up to him, giving me a smile. “I know things have been hard since the other day. Neo’s loss is deeply felt.”
I breathed through the wave of pain that suddenly rattled my ribcage at Neo’s name, rubbing a hand over my sternum. I hadn’t let myself think about it too hard after I’d broken down. There didn’t seem to be a point in it, and everyone else had known him longer or loved him deeper, so they’d needed more support. Even if not all of them were accepting it.
“I’m not ready to talk about that, but, yeah, it is.”
The old hybrid nodded like he’d expected my response, making his way up his porch and opening the door for me. “Would you like some tea? Marilyn normally stops in to drink with me, and I’ve been a bit lonely since her abduction.”
I blinked back tears as I nodded, willing myself to hold it together.
He smiled. “Green or black?”
I wasn’t really a massive fan of either, but I’d already agreed, so I settled on a cup of black as he made his way around the kitchen and gathered up what he needed.
“I assume you’re here to do more than visit?” Kiyomasa was smiling as he asked, obviously not bothered that I really only came to bug him whenever I wanted to know something. It botheredmethat he’d noticed, though.
I promised myself I would make a point to visit him more often. He was probably lonely.
Kiyomasa settled down across from me, placing a small metal tray on the coffee table and then giving me his undivided attention.
“Uh, yeah, so… gosh, where do I start?”
After mumbling to myself for a bit, I sighed and decided to just start at the beginning. Kiyomasa listened attentively as I explained how Auren had been behaving, his gentle smile growing more amused as I went on. Finally, when I explained about the cat I’d overheard him talking to, he started to laugh—and I couldn’t help but be annoyed.
“I’m afraid I have nothing to tell you,” he finally got out between chuckles as he began pouring our tea. “Auren is not the best communicator on a good day, though I do love our talks. Most children don't talk to their fathers about their relationships, to begin with, much less ones with personalities like his.”
“But something’s obviously wrong, right? I mean—it was acat, Kiyomasa!” I stressed, but he just started to crack up again, reaching for the sugar with a grin.
