DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS

19

“That’s on the to-do list,” I mumbled.

“Good.” She clapped her big hands together. “Now tell me, where’s your mother?”

I frowned. “At work.” Lia had taken one of the jobs she had interviewed for and started immediately.

“Oh, really, where does she work?” The lady pinched her lips. “It can’t be anything too glamorous, not in this town. So, I’m guessing she’s a waitress? Maybe a maid? Who is she working for?” I blinked at the woman. Was she serious? “Is she any good? I had to let my maid go, and I could definitely use someone right about now.” She narrowed her eyes at me and took me in from head to toe. I was barefoot, in a pair of loose, stained jeans, and an old t-shirt with holes and paint stains. My long hair had been pulled into a loose bun atop of my head. I knew I didn’t look that great, but the way she looked at me made my stomach curdle. “Do you work as a maid too? I can pay you nicely for the rush service.” She opened her bag and fished her wallet from inside. “After, we can come up with a rate, depending on how I like your job.” She smiled at me. “What do you say?”

A bout of anger whiplashed through me. My powers awoke, and I felt my fingers tingling as my magic begged to be released. The lights in the living room flickered, and I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my power.

Devon

Mrs. Thompson’s strident voice reached my ears. Frowning, I got up from my chair and looked around, trying to locate her. I couldn’t see her, but when she spoke again, I knew where it was coming from.

“Between you and me, your house could at least use a fresh coat of paint. It would make the entire neighborhood look better.”

What the f**k?

I swallowed the anger rising inside me.

It was not my problem. It was not my problem. It was not my problem.

“Maybe a maid? Who is she working for? Is she any good? I had to let my maid go, and I could definitely use someone right about now.”

All right, that was it. I couldn’t stay out of it.

Faster than any human, I ran to Lia’s and Kenna’s house, jumping over the low fence without any effort, and entered their house through the backdoor. I glanced around and grabbed the first thing I saw—painter’s tape.

“What do you say?”

I made my way through the hallway to the foyer. On my way, the few lights that were on flickered, and I frowned as a tendril of darkness brushed through me.

Kenna stood in front of the door, one of her hands curled into a tight fist, her knuckles white. In front of her, Mrs. Thompson looked like a predator ready to bite off someone’s head. Kenna’s.

“Here,” I said, rushing to Kenna’s side.

Mrs. Thompson’s eyes widened. Kenna stared at me. Slowly, she let out a long breath and flexed her fingers, as if they were stiff after being squeezed like that.

“What—?”

“I found it in the kitchen,” I cut her off before she gave away my ruse. I handed her the tape, then turned my best nonchalant grin to the devil standing on the porch. “Hello, Mrs. Thompson. How have you been?”

“Devon,” she said, as if my name tasted sour. Fine by me. “I’m … fine.” She offered a tight smile to Kenna. “I’ll be back to meet your mother later.” Without waiting for a response, the woman climbed down the stairs and rushed back to her house as if she was running from a demon.

If only she knew …

“W-what was that?” Kenna asked. I looked down at her. She had old clothes on, paint stains everywhere, even on her arms and her bare feet, and her brown hair was bunched atop her head. Like this, she looked so small, so fragile, with her forehead barely coming to my chin, and for some reason, a sudden urge to protect her hit me hard. Hadn’t I just done that? “Why are you here?”

I took a step back and ran a hand through my hair, trying to tug at the long strands that hadn’t been there in almost nineteen years. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I could hear her from the back of my house and I don’t like her. To be honest, that woman makes me sick. And the things she was saying to you—” I shook my head once.

“So you just came over, and she fled?”

One corner of my lips tugged up. “Yeah, she doesn’t like me either. I don’t make it easy, seeing as she doesn’t deserve my respect.”

“I see. So every time she comes over, I should just call you? That will make her leave?”

“It should work,” I said, feeling a grin forming on my mouth. Kenna hitched the cake higher in her arms. “Here.” I reached over and grabbed the cake from her. My fingers brushed against hers.

A foreign image filled my mind.

A young woman in a dress and a long blond braid smiling at me.

“Thank you,” Kenna said.

I squinted, trying to see the girl's face in my mind, but everything was blurred. Pride filled my chest.

“Devon?”

I blinked.

What the f**k was that? That was the third time it happened. Every time I touched Kenna images flashed in my mind. Visions? They felt like memories.

“I’m okay.” Averting my gaze, I started toward the kitchen.

“By the way,” Kenna said, her feet barely making a sound as she followed me, “thank you.”

The sense of pride was back, but this time it was real. In the present, and despite all my reservations and the loud bells ringing in my mind, I smiled. “You’re welcome.”