Page 93 of Heir of Ashes
I opened my eyes and looked at the big house. After paying my fare generously, I climbed out and hesitated. The last time I’d come here, things hadn’t ended well for me.
“Would you like me to wait?” the cabby asked, leaning to look at me through the passenger window.
“No, that’s alright,” I told him and watched him drive away. Shifting back to the house, I inhaled deeply. “They can’t hurt you,” I said under my breath and marched toward the iron gate. I buzzed the intercom and looked straight at the camera. A moment later, the gates swung open, granting me silent invitation.
Elizabeth Whitmore Longlan met me at the door. “I thought you’d be back,” she said by way of greeting.
I studied her silently. The blonde hair, the thin face, high cheekbones, and her slender athletic body. The only thing we had in common was the long, almond-shaped black eyes—depthless eyes. People said the eyes were gateways to the soul. In my case—the Rejected case—it was more than that; it specified the nature within. Elizabeth stood there, waiting for my assessment to be over. She was poised, her demeanor conveying both elegance and arrogance as she watched me in turn.
“Would you like to come in?” she offered politely.
“I’d prefer if you cut the crap and dropped the pretense.”
If I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have missed the brief flicker of surprise—there one moment, then quickly gone. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“I mean the human aura. You don’t need a disguise. I know the truth.”
Her eyes shifted nervously behind me.
Well, well, well. Look at this. The same person who had exposed me to the world seemed to prize her own privacy. Wasn’t that interesting?
“Come in,” she snapped, her composure cracking as she opened the door wide.
I stepped inside and turned to face her as she closed the heavy door behind me. I folded my arms under my breasts and waited.
“So?” I prompted when she just eyed me in turn.
Her blue aura shimmered briefly, then began to shine with a silvery sheen on top of the plain blue.
Son of a bitch. I knew it!When our eyes met again, hers flashed yellow, gaining a feral, alien look for a moment before reverting to black. It gave me a jolt, even though I had been expecting it.
“Satisfied?”
I inclined my head. “Partly.” Until that moment, I hadn’t been completely sure. Lee’s words about being raised by one of my own kind, Vincent’s ability to disguise his aura, and the fact every Rejected I’d met shared one common trait—black eyes—all pointed to the truth. Plus, hadn’t she known who Logan was? She had referred to him as “your mixed-breed companion,” and he had known who she was all along.
“Come on back. I’ll prepare some tea,” she said, making her way to the back of the house. I followed, observing the way her blue aura shimmered with a silver tone.
Did my aura do that? Or did being a mixed breed give me a different type of aura?
“How did you know?” she glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Did Vincent tell you? I heard he’s been trying to help you.” The hint of disapproval in her voice told me she wasn’t pleased about it.
“No, not really. I’ve been piecing things together, but the biggest clue came from a woman a few days ago.”
She started preparing tea in her spacious white kitchen and motioned for me to sit. I took off the beige coat I’d boughtat the airport to replace my lost black one and draped it over the back of the closest chair.
“Where’s the child?” I asked. Even her daughter had black eyes, I remembered.
“School,” she replied stiffly.
Touchy subject. “And the husband?” Or boyfriend—black eyes.
“Work. We’re alone.”
I nodded. She worked in silence while I watched her. Her meticulous movements—so familiar and yet so alien after all these years—reminded me of when I was a child, eating at a different table, in a different house, while she cleaned and talked about her day at work.
She dropped two herbal bags into each cup, placed the cups on saucers, poured boiling water into the cups, and arranged cookies on a plate, along with a bowl of sugar cubes, spoons, and a pitcher of cream. She brought them over to the table on an ornate silver and gold tray.
“So, what did this woman say that tipped the scales?” she asked.