Page 47 of Dark Rover's Luck

Fenella arched a brow. "How do you think I can help?"

"I don't know," Kyra admitted. "But the Clan Mother raised an important point. You and I were discovered together for a reason. She does not believe in coincidences, and frankly, I agree with her on that. What were the chances that you would be caught in that part of the globe by the same monster that caught me, and then we would be rescued together? And all of that happened after Syssi saw me in Tahav in a vision, although she could have seen you. We look similar enough for someone who doesn't know us to confuse us."

Fenella had no choice but to agree. The whole thing had fate's fingerprints all over it. "I don't have any paranormal talents other than a good sense for poker."

"Perhaps you haven't discovered them yet," Jasmine said.

Kyra nodded. "When Jasmine and I practiced with her scrying stick earlier, there was a resonance between the stick and my pendant. Maybe having a blood connection amplifies whatever abilities we have."

"You two share much more blood than I share with either of you." Fenella folded her arms over her chest. "I wish I had an ability, but if I did, don't you think I would've discovered it by now?"

"Your survival instincts, your gut feelings—those could be manifestations of the same intuitive abilities that my mother and I channel through the various tools we use. For me, it's the tarot cards and the scrying stick, and for my mother, it's the pendant."

Fenella looked skeptical. "I think you're reaching. I survived because I was careful and lucky, not because of some mystical power."

"Maybe," Kyra said. "But I've learned not to dismiss unusual connections too quickly. We will find out what your special talent is."

"Amanda needs to test you," Jasmine said.

Fenella didn't want to be tested or take part in experiments. She'd had enough of those to last her a lifetime, even as long as hers was supposed to be.

It was time to change the subject, and hopefully, Jasmine would forget about Amanda and the testing.

"I was promised a story," she said after Aliya had taken their orders.

Jasmine smiled. "Indeed." She leaned back in her chair. "It all started with a scumbag named Alberto…"

22

DIN

Din stared at his laptop screen, his eyes glazing over as he read through yet another student paper on Mesopotamian pottery styles. He had already graded fifteen essays that morning, and they were beginning to blur together in an endless stream of mildly plagiarized paragraphs and enthusiastic but uninformed theories about ancient civilizations.

"The distinctive red slip seen on vessels from the early fourth millennium BCE shows clear influence from neighboring regions..." he read, sighing as he marked another grammatical error, even though those would not affect the final grade he gave on the paper.

He wasn't an English teacher, but it was sad to see that the student struggled with basic writing skills despite being a third-year archaeology major.

He wasn't the exception either.

Din had promised his department chair that he wouldn't fall behind on grading during his absence, a commitment he now regretted. The last thing he wanted to do after reconnecting with Fenella was to immerse himself in undergraduate essays, but duty called, and five centuries of existence had taught him the value of honoring commitments.

The front door opened, and Din glanced up to see Thomas entering with a grocery bag in hand. His temporary roommate gave a casual nod of greeting as he headed toward the kitchen.

"I thought you'd be out with Fenella." Thomas set his bag on the counter.

Din stretched his arms overhead, feeling the satisfying crack of his spine after hours of hunching over his laptop. "I'm only picking her up at two-thirty, and until then, I have to grade these bloody papers."

"I admire your dedication," Thomas said. "Especially since you don't really need the job. Do you enjoy doing what you do?"

"I enjoy most of it, but not grading papers," Din admitted. "But if I fall behind now, I'll have twice the work when I return." He closed his laptop and stood, rolling his shoulders. "What about you? Don't you have work today?"

Thomas pulled a carton of eggs from his grocery bag, placing it in the refrigerator. "I'm going on a mission tonight, so my day is going to start at four o'clock for the briefing." He arranged a few other items in the fridge. "I'll probably be back by morning."

"Anything serious?" Din asked.

Thomas shrugged. "Routine stuff. Yet another trafficking cell to bust, and more victims to rescue. Nothing exciting."

"I'd say it is very exciting." Din leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "It must be heart-wrenching."

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