218 Grace: A Normal Mentor Would Be Nice
218 Grace: A Normal Mentor Would Be Nice
Which, I’m pretty sure, is not the case for Captain Grim Reaper over here.
Either way, our encounters are not going very well.
Yep. I’m willing to be a bootlicker if it keeps this creep off my back. Somehow, I have the feeling it’s better to bore him with a fawning demeanor than to show him I have any spirit whatsoever.
But Caeriel’s eyes open all the way, and he reaches over to ruffle my hair, like I’m a child. “Good job, Miss Harper. Perhaps your intellect isn’t as low as I thought.”
“More, or less? Be precise, Miss Harper.”
The laundromat suddenly feels too small, the hum of the machines too loud. I deflate a little, despite the defiance in my thoughts. Ultimately, the weak bow to the strong. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not stupid enough to challenge a crazy person.
“They’re giving their reports.”
It’s an effort not to point out running out to meet him for no reason doesn’t seem particularly dire, and I wonder if he’s creating these missions on purpose just to toy
with me.
I curl my fingers into my palms, pressing my nails into my skin. It’s official. I’m pretty sure I hate this man.
Caeriel sighs, his disappointment beyond obvious. “Okay, then let’s make the question easier.” He over–enunciates each word as if speaking to a toddler. “Knowing this is a demi–god’s blood, would you consider this im–por–tant? Or un–im–por–tant?”
“Because it’s important?” I ask sarcastically, already forgetting how I decided I was too scared to mouth off to him. Amazing how much self–esteem returns when his silver eyes aren’t boring into mine. Instead, they’re closed.
“I already told you, I don’t know.”
I shake my head again.
“When you say giving their reports—”
But I’m far more interested in my own issues, so I try to change the subject back.
…Yes, it was.” The word comes out tight. I wasn’t questioning the importance of demi–god blood, but rather how freaking easy this so–called ‘mission‘ was.
He sounds bored as he says, “Is that your best answer?”
Vindication floods through my veins, sweet and sharp. See? I knew Sadie was weird. And the cat, too. Yet another situation in which my paranoia wasn’t paranoia, because it isn’t paranoia if it’s true.
I change it reluctantly. “If it’s found, something bad might happen.”
He looks me over, his gaze sliding from my face to my feet and back again. The tiny crease between his eyebrows deepens into a frown that makes my skin crawl.
“And you consider that your best answer?”
“Reports?” I stiffen immediately. “I knew it. They’re not normal animals!”
End of story.
Though… less terrible than I thought he was.
2
Then again, there were those times I mouthed off to the Lycan King…
Am I supposed to be pleased?
I straighten. “Considering the importance of a demi–god’s existence, either the knowledge of one being in the area or the possible properties of their blood can have negative consequences on Plausibility.”
It’s clear he doesn’t want to go into more detail, which is frustrating. The answers are literally standing in front of me, but he’s too much of a jerk to give them. Lyre might be cryptic, but at least she isn’t a dick.
Was it too much to ask for a normal mentor, and not someone I’m pretty sure is a psychopath? Actually, if I really want to get into it, why is everyone around me so damn weird? My own boyfriend is definitely not normal in his head, either.
His eyebrows rise a fraction. “Ah, so it was obvious.”
the “his
Oh–the question. Right. I got sidetracked with the animals.
“Still not answering? Your intellect doesn’t seem very high” His voice drops, becoming softer, almost intimate, even as his words come out cruel. “I can’t fathom what Lyrielle
sees in you.”
But I smile anyway. “Thank you.”
“Now, little mortal child, answer: Why would the blood of a demi–god be found here?” His eyes bore into mine, unblinking and expectant.
Though it does bring up a couple moments with Lyre where she also… no, let’s not go there; if I don’t believe in my own intelligence, who will?
Or not.
Okay, let’s be real–I’m kind of just throwing anything out there and utilizing this whole Plausibility thing because it seems to be important. I have no idea what I’m talking
about.
Why’s he suddenly insulting me?
My eyes roll in the safety of him not being able to see. “More or less.”
“Report to me if Lyrielle contacts you,” he adds coolly. “Immediately.”
His eyes open into mere slits, and the faint rebellion stirring in my veins dies an immediate death at the faint line of silver there.
“Yes, Caeriel.” I even toss in a salute to show how seriously I’m taking his words.
Are they?
He glances away, his eyes going back and forth over empty space for a few moments. Then he says, “You have a new mission. Try to complete it in a timely manner.”
His hand pauses, and he withdraws it with a frown. “Even a trivial mission can be attached to dire consequences. Remember that, Miss Harper.”
“I’m not,” I lie to him again, realizing belatedly he might be able to smell it. Hopefully he
can’t.
My molars grind together.
But I salute even harder. “Yes, sir.”
Caeriel’s face is too close, blocking most of my view. But then he steps back with a faint smile. “You’re frightened.”
There’s a faint edge to his voice, and my cars are attuned to it like any rebellious teenager facing someone in authority. “Give or take. One way or another?”
“My apologies.” He inclines his head, but there’s not an ounce of sincerity in the gesture as he explains, “I rarely have a chance to work with mortals, and I have to adjust to your lesser intellectual capacity.”
“Look,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’m not an idiot. I just don’t have the context for any of this. Demi–gods, divine guardians, magical laundromats–this wasn’t exactly covered in high school.”
The condescension in his tone makes my cheeks burn. Exactly how little respect does he have for me? I’m not stupid–I just don’t have access to whatever cosmic encyclopedia of supernatural facts he’s apparently memorized.
“Of course, sir,” I lie through a megawatt smile.
“Now, why would this blood be hidden?”
Nope. Still afraid. Sarcasm is bad, don’t recommend, zero out of ten.
“Important, obviously.” I avoid snapping, but can’t avoid saying it through gritted teeth to show how insulting he’s being.
“Excuses only highlight the limits of your reasoning, Miss Harper.”
He cuts me off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “It’s exactly as I said.”
Hah, hah. What might be normal for him isn’t normal for me, thank you very much. I’m still adjusting to this super–supernatural world. Extrasupernatural, I guess. Though the word kind of makes me think of extraterrestrial, and they aren’t aliens.
But I guess I was never as scared of him as I am of Caeriel.
Seriously? I just finished this one.
I give myself a little mental pat on the back for figuring him out so quickly. Maybe I’ll get through this “mentor” period unscathed after all.
Caeriel’s mouth stays curved, but his amusement feels very at my expense. “Of course
not. What normal animals would dare to stay by the Lycan King?”
This time, when his silver eyes return to me, they’re distant and cool. His interest seems to have waned.
