Page 75 of Mate
I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve lived my entire life not knowing who my parents were, and I’ve been justfine. I never allowed my origins to define me, because if I had, I would have been destined to remain undefined. I may be Serena Nobody, but I’m still Serena. The past doesn’t have to shape the future.
Hell, I don’t evenhavea future.
And yet, as Dr. Silas inhales deeply, I’m on tenterhooks. If he doesn’t recognize me, what would that mean? What if hedoes? What if my parents are alive and well? What if I am forced to meet them, listen to their excuses, and maybe even forgive them? Because that’s what I should do, right? Be gracious and compassionate and somehowover itand—
Dr. Silas slowly shakes his head, and the relief folds my insides like origami. And Koen, whose eyes never, ever,everleave me, can obviously tell.
A brief silence. Dr. Silas is saying that it could mean nothing— maybe he forgot, maybe my scent changed, they know so little about halfling developmental biology. Sem is agreeing, listing possibilities. Koen’s face is worried, like he’s about to ask me if I’m all right.
The only thing giving me strength right now is knowing that, asshole that he is, if I vomit gastric acid on his shoes, he’ll never let me live it down. “Hey, is it okay if I . . . I’d love some fresh air.”
“Of course.” Layla smiles. “Back door is through the kitchen, on the left. You’re welcome to go for a run, too. If you like the shoreline, it’s just us for about ten miles.”
“Great,” I say, instead ofLovely of you, to mistake me for a high-functioning Were. I catch Koen’s eyes as I step away, watch the way his muscles begin to contract to follow me, and shake my head minutely, hoping he’ll understand what I’m trying to communicate:I’m an emotional mess and I’d love to be alone for a second, just in case I burst out crying or puke up the French toast I didn’t even eat.
He doesn’t like it, but he stays put.
The Caines’ yard is a grass-covered cliff above the shore, something right out of an impressionistic painting. The ocean is less than a couple hundred feet away, and when I close my eyes and tilt my chin up, the sea breeze flows over me like water. How amazing it must have been to grow up here, surrounded by the Pacific, watching the blue reach as far as the eye can see, no limits, no—
I tense.
My skin bursts into a thousand little goose bumps, because I’m no longer alone.
Someone’s here. Someone who wasn’t inside the house.
My hand closes around the penguin knife in my pocket, and I unbraid the notes of the intruder’s scent.
Were. Man. Young. Human form. Not wearing shoes. Approaching from behind. Either he’s sloppy or he underestimated me, because he doesn’t know that I felt his presence.
He means to assault me, and all I have to my advantage is the element of surprise. I force my heartbeat to slow down, and bidemy time. Wait for the Were to come within reach of my blade. But a handful of feet from me, he halts.
I hear something thudding to the ground.
Smell the grass, crushed.
A deep intake of breath. Then a voice, hushed, barely audible through the wind. “Eva.”
I whirl around, whipping out the knife, holding the blade at abdomen height. But its tip is nowhere near the man’s skin, because he is . . .
Kneeling?
I adjust my aim, ready to strike, but the naked man doesn’t make a single move. He stays on his knees, face bent upward, throat bare and vulnerable. Feverishly, he whispers, “As the prophet said. As the prophet wills.”
“Who are you?”
He gives me a tremulous smile and, like a supplicant, presses his forehead to the ground.
CHAPTER 19
Just this once, he could have done without being right.
DO YOU LIVE HERE?” I ASK. IN THE AFTERNOON SUN, I HAVE TOsquint to properly make him out. I guess hecouldbe Sem’s brother— several years younger, similar hair color. Slim build and soft, boyish jawline. He doesn’t seem hostile. But he also doesn’t feel like he belongs to this place that smells like moss and brine.
I don’t lower my knife. “Who are you?”
He slowly looks up at me, a smudge of soil on his forehead, another on his cheekbone. “Oh, your eyes. They are so familiar to me.”
I take a step back. Quickly glance around, wondering if I should call for Koen. Except, would Koen kill this boy? Yes, probably. “I need you to tell me who you are,” I demand.
