AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nothing else comes, and I’m not sure how to read his tone—or the fact he just used the past tense when answering me. “Did you like it?”
Another pause, and when he speaks this time, his voice is quiet. “Yes.”
My eyes dart up in spite of myself. There’s a hint of a pained expression on his face.
Dread sinks over me. Okay, past tense should’ve been a stronger hint.
Fuck, I think I’ve stepped in a bad memory of some kind.
He seems to feel my attention, and his dark eyes flick over to meet mine. His pained expression melts away, leaving that same soft, strange look he gave me in the car. One that seems to see right through me, but not in a threatening way.
More like I’m one of those glass balls with an intricate flower sculpture inside, and he thinks I’m incredible.
I can’t move. The way he’s watching me makes me feel vulnerable and embarrassed and flattered all at the same time. I’m not sure what’s going on that prompted such a look from him, but I feel like a fly caught in honey. Dark, deep honey so rich I won’t even mind if I drown.
“You’re one of the Cormier Creepys, aren’t you?” His voice is still so quiet, so thoughtful.
Trepidation stirs in my middle. Where’s this going?
I nod.
“We heard of your family, even in New York. You as well. Your reputation in the field of magical healing and esoteric techniques is unrivaled.”
My cheeks heat, and in my mind, Creepy preens happily at the compliment.
But then a tinge of his pained look returns, mingled with that softness in a way I can’t quite interpret. “What happened to your parents also happened to mine.”
Shock makes everything in me suddenly go cold. Old memories, buried memories, flash from deep inside the box where Creepy and I buried them ages ago.
Mom’s face so pale and drenched in sweat. The sound of Dad’s wet and labored breathing in the night.
How silent the house was… after.
“What happened?” Huck asks into the silence.
I’m baffled for a moment by the question, and then I realize that of course he doesn’t know. He grew up in a cage away from any of our kind.
Phineas’s eyes go briefly to Huck, but return to mine so fast, I don’t have a chance to look away. His brow twitches up in silent question.
I’m trembling and I can’t find my voice to save my life, but I manage a tiny shrug because Phineas might as well tell him. It’s not like I want to answer the question—now, later, or ever.
“There was an outbreak of disease,” Phineas says to Huck. “Eight years ago. It affected the older generations the worst. A number of Jekylls died.”
Gratitude flickers through me for the tight, concise way he describes hell.
Huck’s lips part in shock, but he doesn’t ask anything else. Instead, he looks at me, such empathy and compassion in his eyes, it’s almost more than I can bear.
Phineas’s hand takes mine where it rests on the table, and my focus snaps back to him. “You’ve done well to keep their legacy alive through your work—as well as in the other activities you do at La Fleur.”
Something flutters in my chest at the kindness and the way his hand feels on mine. Warm. Stable. Calming somehow. It’s such a tiny thing, it almost seems ridiculous the contact should have this much of an impact on me, except I can’t actually recall the last time someone took my hand like this. Not to pull me anywhere or shake my hand professionally. Not because I was the one offering my comfort or support.
Just to be with me in the midst of a painful memory.
One that, in our own ways, we both share.
“Thank you.” I smile at him. “I hope your parents would feel the same about you.”
The kindness in his expression strengthens. “I hope so too.”
