Caeriel’s face is too close, blocking most of my view. But then he steps back with a faint smile. "You’re frightened."
"I’m not," I lie to him again, realizing belatedly he might be able to smell it. Hopefully he can’t.
Either way, our encounters are not going very well.
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.
Though... less terrible than I thought he was.
Which, I’m pretty sure, is not the case for Captain Grim Reaper over here.
"They’re giving their reports."
"Reports?" I stiffen immediately. "I knew it. They’re not normal animals!"
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.
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?"
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.
Are they?
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.
"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."
Why’s he suddenly insulting me?
Oh—the question. Right. I got sidetracked with the animals.
But I’m far more interested in my own issues, so I try to change the subject back.
"When you say giving their reports—"
He cuts me off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "It’s exactly as I said."
End of story.
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.
"Now, little mortal child, answer: Why would the blood of a demi-god be found here?" His eyes bore into mine, unblinking and expectant.
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.
Then again, there were those times I mouthed off to the Lycan King...
But I guess I was never as scared of him as I am of Caeriel.
I shake my head again.
"I already told you, I don’t know."
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?"
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.
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?
"Important, obviously." I avoid snapping, but can’t avoid saying it through gritted teeth to show how insulting he’s being.
His eyebrows rise a fraction. "Ah, so it was obvious."
"...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.
"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."
I curl my fingers into my palms, pressing my nails into my skin. It’s official. I’m pretty sure I hate this man.
"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."
"Excuses only highlight the limits of your reasoning, Miss Harper."
My molars grind together.
"Now, why would this blood be hidden?"
"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.
He sounds bored as he says, "Is that your best answer?"
I change it reluctantly. "If it’s found, something bad might happen."
"And you consider that your best answer?"
My eyes roll in the safety of him not being able to see. "More or less."
"More, or less? Be precise, Miss Harper."
There’s a faint edge to his voice, and my ears are attuned to it like any rebellious teenager facing someone in authority. "Give or take. One way or another?"
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.
Nope. Still afraid. Sarcasm is bad, don’t recommend, zero out of ten.
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."
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.
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."
Am I supposed to be pleased?
But I smile anyway. "Thank you."
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.
His hand pauses, and he withdraws it with a frown. "Even a trivial mission can be attached to dire consequences. Remember that, Miss Harper."
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.
"Yes, Caeriel." I even toss in a salute to show how seriously I’m taking his words.
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."
Seriously? I just finished this one.
But I salute even harder. "Yes, sir."
This time, when his silver eyes return to me, they’re distant and cool. His interest seems to have waned.
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.
"Report to me if Lyrielle contacts you," he adds coolly. "Immediately."
Or not.
"Of course, sir," I lie through a megawatt smile.