“And what is this?” their mother asked.
There was a pool of melting butter in the butter dish, a sign that someone in the house was in love.
“Don’t look at me,” John said.
“It’s nonsense anyway,” Amarantia added.
“Is it?” Susanna said.
“We’ve let you run riot for too long,” their father went on. “That trip to Massachusetts never should have happened. What a mistake!” He turned to their mother. “I told you it was a matter of genetics, and once again I was proven correct.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Amarantia was thinking of the boy in the black suit. She didn’t even know his name or where on earth he and Wyre Eumenides had disappeared to.
“The police?” Susanna said. “The last thing we want is to bring in the authorities. No. Your father is the one who deals with abnormalities.”
