Page 34 of The Second Sight
“For nearly fifty years,” I replied as I opened her door. The leather seats greeted us with the rich scent of well-maintained luxury. “One of the advantages of immortality was time to acquire beautiful things.” And she was my new beautiful thing.
As I slid behind the wheel, her phone vibrated in her purse, once, twice, three times in rapid succession. She glanced at it, then deliberately returned it to her handbag without answering. The subtle tightening of her shoulders told me who it was.
“Your father,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“He’ll leave a voicemail,” she said, looking out the window.
“You should answer.” I kept my voice gentle but firm. “Parents worry. Even when their children are adults.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, surprise evident in her expression. Perhaps she’d expected me to encourage her to ignore her only family. That had never been my intention. I’d lost my own family centuries ago, violently, and painfully. I wouldn’t be the cause of such loss for her, not even indirectly.
Reluctantly, she retrieved the phone as it began vibrating for a fourth time. “Hi, Dad,” she answered, her voice carefully casual.
Even without putting it on speakerphone, I could hear both sides of the conversation perfectly. Vampire hearing had its advantages.
“Kasi, where are you?” Her father’s voice was tight with controlled panic. “I just saw you on the Ring camera walking down the street with some White man. Is everything okay? Who is he? Did he come from your apartment?”
“Daddy, I’m fine,” she said, shooting me an embarrassed glance. “He’s a friend.”
“A friend? Since when do you have friends, that I’ve never met? And he looks much older than you. Is this someone from college?”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. If only he knew just how much older I was than his daughter. The protective father routine was endearing and entirely justified. Vampire men were predators, but human men were monsters. There wasn’t much of a difference.
“He’s not that much older.”
“I don’t like this, Kasi. After what happened with your mother, you know I worry about you. You should’ve introduced me to this man I ain’t never seen before.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Where are you going? When will you be back?”
His questions sobered my amusement. Mr. Bacchar feared abandonment just as much as Kasi. Theia’s disappearance had left scars on both of them, wounds that had never properly healed. No wonder her father was frantic at the sight of his daughter walking off his property with a stranger.
“I’ll be back later,” Kasi promised. “I’ll text you in an hour, okay? I promise everything is fine.”
“Is your location thingy still on?”
“Yeah, Daddy you know I never turn it off. You can literally see my location at all times.”
A groan came from her cell phone. “Well okay. You call me if you need me.”
“I always do. Love you, I’ll talk to you later.” Kasi, sweetly added.
“I love you too. Just, just call me back later.”
“I will, bye.”
Kasi ended the call, her shoulders sagging slightly with relief. “Sorry,” she murmured. “He’s been overprotective since my mother left.”
I started the car. “No need to apologize.”
She studied my face, her expression thoughtful. “Did you have a family? Before you were turned?”
“Yes,” I answered simply, pulling away from the curb. “I did. A very, very, long time ago.”
I didn’t elaborate, and thankfully, she didn’t press. Some wounds, even after centuries, remained too raw. Instead, she settled back into the leather seat, her face turning toward the window as Chicago’s morning streets rolled past us. The city looked different through her eyes, I imagined. She knew things now and with that came new possibilities, and new dangers.
I glanced at her profile, at the pulse beating steadily at her throat, at the slight furrow between her brows as she processed everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She was standing at the threshold between two worlds. There was the human existence she’d always known, and the supernatural reality she was just beginning to discover. I was the one leading her to the truth.
