Death Before Daylight (6 page)

Pierce chuckled like I had confessed
telepathically. “I’ve known you my entire life, Shoman.” He didn’t
use my human name, even though everyone else had since it had been
revealed. “I wouldn’t like it either.”

“Then, why do it?” The question fell out of
me.

He straightened. “You remember Camille.” Her
name sounded far away, like a whisper over the rush of a river.
“You remember how easy it was to lean on her, to talk to her, to
watch her paint her toes—”

“What’s the point?” I snapped as my guard’s
life flashed in front of me, only as a memory.

Pierce’s expression dropped. “You know how it
is between a guard and a warrior. It’s a tie, a connection,” he
explained everything I knew. “You know how a warrior feels, but you
don’t know how a guard feels.”

I stretched my arm over my head, counting out
each breath as I measured the stretch. I didn’t speak, but I was
listening.

“It feels different,” he said, but the
explanation twisted through my veins. “I’m not even used to
it.”

I dropped my arm. “Do you like her,
Jonathon?”

His jaw hung open before he collected
himself, snapping his mouth shut only to open it again. “Not like
that,” he said. “Not at all like that,” he promised. “That’s what I
came here to clarify.”

I tried to fight the smile that took over my
face, but I couldn’t. I even chuckled. “Okay, man,” I managed.
“Thanks.”

“Glad that’s over with,” he mirrored my
laugh. “Want to go for a flight?”

“I can’t.” I was already picking up my
things. “I have dinner, remember?”

Pierce’s face twisted as he recalled
yesterday’s conversation. “Is that today?” He stared at the wall
like a calendar hung on it. “Any chance you two can
reschedule?”

“Why?”

“There’s a new breed of shades coming out.”
He didn’t pause long enough for his words to sink in. “A
half-breed’s daughter developed powers. Urte’s been working with
her all day, and I would have to bet she’s not the only one.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “What? A half-breed’s
kid doesn’t have powers.”

“That’s the problem,” Pierce agreed. “She
does, and we don’t know why, especially since ours are
dwindling.”

Jessica and I had yet to tell him the truth
about our powers. Ours were stronger. I wanted to tell him right
then and there, but Jessica wanted to tell him, too. I would have
to wait.

“When did you hear this?” I asked.

“This morning,” Pierce said it like it was an
apology. “I’ve been trying to meet the girl myself, but Urte won’t
have it.”

“Well, that explains where he’s been,” I
muttered. “What’s the plan?”

His grin was too wide for his angular face, a
piece of Jonathon poking out from under his shade form. “I found a
way to send her a message,” he said. “She’s meeting us at the
river.”

My adrenaline returned. “When?”

Pierce looked at his wrist as if he had a
watch on it, but his wrist was bare. “Well, let’s see,” he drew out
his words. “Tonight,” he said. “She’ll be at the river at
midnight.”

8

“I don’t like it, Jessie,” my mother spoke up
first. For once, she had curled her hair and worn something other
than sweatpants. Still, she looked like she was asleep somewhere
else in the house. “I’ve never even heard you mention going on a
date before now.”

“It does seem soon,” my dad added, his voice
deeper than usual. Unlike my mother, he looked focused, ready to
meet the boy who gave me a ring.

“Just give him a chance.” I glanced at the
clock above the kitchen sink. “He’ll be here soon.” And I wanted to
prevent him eavesdropping on their disapproval.

“Of course we’ll give him a chance, Jessie.”
My mother said my name in every sentence she spoke. “It’s
just—worrisome. It’s a lot.”

“And that ring is too much,” my father
agreed.

“It’s not an engagement,” I tried to convince
them, but I felt like I was also trying to convince myself. “It’s a
promise ring.” It was the only excuse I could come up with, the one
I thought would settle their nerves. I was failing.

“That’s a mighty expensive promise,” my dad
muttered.

“It looks like an engagement ring,” my mother
added.

“It was my mother’s.”

His voice broke through the conversation
before I even sensed him entering the room.

Eric stood in the doorway, dressed in black
slacks and a nice shirt. He almost looked like he had on prom
night. I could practically see him beneath the willow tree, pushing
the branches away as his eyes met mine. The only difference was,
this time, he held a bouquet of flowers.

“Sorry for letting myself in.” With his free
hand, he pointed over his shoulder. “I rang the doorbell and
knocked, but no one answered.” He stepped forward and held the
bouquet out toward my mother. “These are for you.”

Her cheeks burned red as she grabbed them.
“Oh, um. These are lovely.” She didn’t even bother hiding her
glance at my father.

His eyebrows rose to his receding hairline,
and he rubbed his forehead like he could erase his previous
expression. “I’ve been meaning to fix that doorbell,” he excused,
stepping forward to shake Eric’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, sir,” Eric responded
as they shook hands. Afterward, Eric glanced over at me. “You look
nice.”

My stomach twisted. “Thanks,” I managed.
“You, too.”

His shoulders rose as if he had taken his
first breath since arriving, but he didn’t speak. The silence in
the room was drowning us.

“I’m going to get water for these,” my mother
spoke up, walking to the sink. In seconds, she had a vase filled
and the flowers placed inside. “They’ll make for a great
centerpiece.” Once they were placed on the table, she waved at the
seats, and Eric took the cue.

He crossed the kitchen and sat down. I sat
next to him, and my parents sat on opposite ends. For once, our
four-person dining table was full, and we were eating dinner
together. Tonight we were having pot roast and salad. Normally, we
had whatever pizza my dad picked up on his way home from work.

“So, Eric,” my dad started as he filled his
plate with food. “Tell us about yourself.”

Eric hadn’t moved since sitting down. He
hadn’t even looked at me. He just smiled at my parents. “I like
music and running, but I want to travel when I’m older,” he
explained, taking a moment to place salad on his plate. “I think
the world has a lot to offer, but I haven’t had many opportunities
to see it yet. Jessica’s told me how you all have moved around a
lot. That must have been exciting.”

My mother stared, but my father wasn’t fazed.
“Are you planning on going to college after graduation?”

Graduation. College. I had forgotten.
Everything else had consumed me, but Eric nodded. “I’m not sure
where yet, though.”

“It’s getting close, you know,” my dad said.
“Jessie filled out a few applications yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t,” I said.

My father’s eyes landed on me. “I put some in
your bedroom.”

“I’ll get around to it,” I mumbled.

“She’s a great artist.” Eric’s voice rushed
with excitement. “Have you seen her paintings?”

My hand curled beneath the table. I hadn’t
shown my parents anything.

“An artist?” my mother asked. I could feel
her eyes on me. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“In school,” I clarified, hoping Eric would
get the hint.

When Eric looked at me, he tilted his head to
the side. “They’re good.” He didn’t get the hint. “She would do
really well in an art school.”

“An art school?” my dad repeated.

I hit Eric’s knee under the table.
“
Don’t,”
I said telepathically. “
I haven’t told them
yet.”

He didn’t even flinch. He acted like I hadn’t
done anything. “I think studying different cultures would be
interesting.” He changed the subject to focus on himself.

I sighed.

“I’ve been reading about African history
recently,” he continued. “Did you know Pablo Picasso’s paintings
were inspired by African sculptures? Modern viewers think he was
bizarre, but in reality, he was part of a European movement in his
time. He—” Eric stopped.

My parents’ jaws were hanging open.

Eric fiddled with his shirt. “I get carried
away sometimes.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” my mother said, taking a
moment to eat her food. “We were just—” She looked at my dad, but
he didn’t look back at her. He was too focused on Eric.
“Surprised.” Her sentence finished with a polite smile. “Most
children—I mean, teenagers—don’t study outside of school.”

Eric glanced at his plate. “I like to read.”
It was the only thing he did outside of training. He may not have
been interested in school, but he did have interests. It was one of
the things I appreciated about him. But even I didn’t know he was
reading about Pablo Picasso.

“Eric also likes classic cars, Dad,” I eased
the conversation away from art. “He drives a Charger.”

“I thought you crashed that.” My dad didn’t
hesitate.

Eric choked on his food and coughed until he
took a sip of water. “Yeah,” his voice dropped. “I was being
reckless,” he said. “It won’t happen again. I learned my
lesson.”

“I expect you won’t drive like that with my
daughter in the car.”

“Dad,” I interrupted, but Eric laid a hand on
my knee, keeping his focus on my dad.

“Of course not, sir,” he promised. “Your
daughter means a lot to me.”

My dad’s darkened eyes softened. “And what
are your intentions?”

The cliché question I dreaded. I knew he
would ask it. I only hoped he wouldn’t. It sounded like something
out of a Lifetime movie, a chick flick that I would never
watch.

“We’re just dating,” I clarified, but Eric
spoke up at the same time.

“If I can be honest,” he started, his gaze
flickering over to me. “I intend to keep my promise.”

He didn’t have to say it out loud. He had
told my parents he wanted to marry me.

I almost fell out of my chair.

My mother practically did. She started to
stand up only to force herself to sit back down. The only noise was
the tapping of her nails as they moved across the table. My father
wasn’t even moving. He hadn’t paled. He just stared.

Eric cleared his throat and placed his
silverware down. “I know it seems serious,” he said. “Because it
is,” he added. “But I have good intentions.” His hand squeezed my
knee as if he were telling me it was fine. “Jessica reminded me
what it means to have good intentions, and that’s no small
thing.”

My father leaned back in his chair. “That’s
why you gave her your mother’s ring?”

Eric nodded.

“Your mother is…” my dad paused. “Your mother
passed, right?”

Eric tensed. “Yes, sir,” he said. “She died
when I was five.”

“And your father?”

“He’s alive.”

My dad shook his head, signaling that wasn’t
what he meant. “Does he know you gave away your mother’s ring?”

“Yes, sir,” Eric said, reaching into his
shirt pocket. He revealed a business card, and he slid it over the
table to my dad. “My father knows about Jessica and me,” Eric
explained. “He says you can call him anytime.”

A gasp escaped my mother’s mouth, but she
covered her face as though hiding it. Eric acted like she was
successful anyway.

“I understand your hesitations,” Eric said,
sounding more like an adult than I ever expected him to. “But I
hope you’ll give me a chance.” He looked at me, but he spoke to
them. “I also understand you don’t have to, and if that’s your
decision, I’ll respect it.”

“Eric.” His name broke out of me in the same
way his words broke me. “
Why would you say that?”

“Relax, Jessie,” my dad said before I could
continue ranting to Eric telepathically. “It’s okay.” He slid Mr.
Welborn’s card into his front pocket. “You’re kids. We don’t need
to be so serious.” His tone shifted as he adjusted in his seat.
“Just be—safe.”

My embarrassment moved up my neck and over my
face. “Dad—”

“And enjoy this food.” He lifted his fork,
pointing it at the plates. “I would like to see your car up close
after dinner, too.”

“You can drive it if you want,” Eric said. He
never offered his keys to anyone. Not even Pierce.

“See, dear?” my dad lightened up as he faced
my mother. “I told you Jessie could pick a good one.”

My mother laughed, her giggle bouncing more
than usual. “I guess you’re right,” she said, taking a moment to
eat her pot roast. “Thanks for coming over, Eric.”

“Thanks for having me over,” he said,
removing his hand from my leg. “
And thanks for letting me be
honest,”
he said to me.

“
You could’ve warned me,”
I retorted,
focusing on my plate. I hadn’t even touched my food, and I couldn’t
tear my eyes off the smirk on the side of Eric’s lips.

“
Warn you?”
he spoke back.
“Where’s
the fun in that?”

***

“I cannot believe you,” I spoke to Eric as my
father revved the Charger’s engine. Once the car pulled away from
the curb and took off, I found myself leaning against Eric’s arm.
His eyes followed the black car as it sped down the neighborhood
street.

“What?” Eric’s tone was as childish as his
toothy grin. “I think they like me.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I’ll try to keep myself in check.” Eric’s
arm rested across my shoulders.

The sun was setting, but even in winter, the
orange glow drifted across his tanned skin. If he were a shade, the
light would’ve looked like shimmering water on his pale complexion,
but I would never see him as a shade during sunset. We always had
to wait until darkness fell. Unless he was being reckless.