Part 8 (1/2)
”It's all in the body language, Tania,” Gauge said. ”She is all my brother needs right now, not the drama you're getting ready to pile on him.”
”He's as much my brother as he is yours,” Alec reminded him.
”I've seen him at his worst and his lowest. I sc.r.a.ped his own filth off his skin after Ma.n.u.s...”
”After Ma.n.u.s what?” Tania cut in. ”Gauge?” The horror dawned on her face. ”What did Ma.n.u.s do to him?”
”You two need to back off Daedalus.”
Gauge went on ignoring the look of disgust on Tania's face and centered his vehemence on Alec. ”And you're coming in after the fact, pal.”
This was Daedalus's battle, but Alec wanted to kill Hermes himself.
”We saw the scars on his back,” Tania said. Anger was evident in her voice. Alec fought to keep control of his.
”Courtesy of Ma.n.u.s.”
”We'll have to wait until Daedalus trust us enough to tell us what happened to him on Santorini.”
”We should have it already, Alec. We just buried your niece,” Tania said.
Alec held Tania close to him. He forgot how funerals depleted her positive outlook on her new life. Vampires are supposed to be hard to kill. Juliana proved them all wrong.
Gauge looked away then back. Alec readied himself for more of his verbal onslaught. The polymorph's eyes glowed with intensity and s.h.i.+fted from red to yellow to dark brown.
”You look like Radu,” Gauge said.
”So does Daedalus.” Alec continued reigning in the beast. He understood Gauge's anger. ”What is your point?”
”You don't put me at ease, Alec. Forgive me if I don't harbor that fuzzy family feeling when I see you.”
”Do you ever give it a rest? Neither of us loved Radu,” Tania insisted.
”I wished to G.o.d Radu hadn't killed your father, but I'm not him. Goodnight!”
Chapter Seven
They finally reached the entrance of the cemetery, walked under the Gothic House arch then down another long lane. The real world was in their line of view. Ilida was under a silent, beautiful spell: its name, Daedalus.
”My car is on the next corner.”
”Lead the way.”
They walked side by side again. This time, Ilida felt the couples' eyes on her back. ”Was that your brother back there?”
”Yes,” he said in a monosyllabic tone.
She had to strain to look up at him. ”I noticed the resemblance. Both of you have squared faces. You have the cleft in the chin, he does not.” She wanted to say he has beautiful lips but kept it to herself instead. ”Was that his girlfriend?” she asked as her thumb discreetly pointed back. ”The tall African- American woman?”
”You sound shocked.”
”Where I come from race mixing isn't encouraged.”
”I'm glad you moved. I find your views amusing, being that you are mixed yourself.”
”I'm not against it. My grandfather gave my mother up for adoption because his family wouldn't accept her. My father never encouraged me to date men from different races because of that.” She admonished herself. Now was not the time, if ever. ”Why am I telling you this? Anyway, they make a striking couple.”
”The tall African-American woman is his wife. Here is my car.”
Ilida spotted it right away. She wondered if cars tend to look like their owners after a while. Her car, compared to his, was a pile of junk. She knew instantly why he'd chosen this one. It was a black, liquid, metal marvel. The door unlocked without any outward movement from him. He opened it for her and she stepped in and sat down in the black, leather pa.s.senger seat. She reached over and opened the driver side door for him. Soon, Daedalus sat next to her and turned the ignition key. He waved a large hand over the control panel under the dashboard. A hum and then the controls lit up with green lights. ”I've never seen this before.”
”It's not on the market yet.”
He drove as if he'd been driving all his life. He looked to be around her age. How could he have had a twenty-year old daughter? Why on Earth did it matter to her? After this, she would never see him again. That much she knew.
They drove in silence. She pretended to watch the traffic while watching him. He drove one-handed. Yep! Probably started driving at sixteen. Probably had his own car at sixteen. He fit the rich and aloof category well.
They stayed silent until Flatbush Avenue and Grand Army Plaza Circle. ”You never told me your name,” he said.
”It's Ilida.”
”It means light in Greek,” he said.
”I know.”
”It's also a chain of supermarkets in Peloponnese.”
”Oh gee.” There went her claim to fame, she would have said.
He shrugged in the most elegant way possible. His profile was perfect. An actor would kill for it. He must have heard her thoughts. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Note to self: learn how to keep thoughts to myself. There had to be books on telepathic s.h.i.+elding at the library. Why leave him with the task of helping her? He had enough to deal with, even if he was cold, rich and suspicious of the slightest act of caring.
”Do you have a headache now?”
”I had a small one at the cemetery. It's gone now.”
With a fluid turn of the wheel, they were on Seventh Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
”How long have you lived here?” he asked.
”Five years. Daedalus is a character in Greek mythology,” she said. In the rearview mirror, she saw his eyebrow arched. Was he surprised? Probably. She had a way of surprising people. She wished she hadn't surprised him.
”That's right. You don't seem the type to know that.”