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My eye involuntarily twitches. “There’s a decapitated man between us, Mr. Strakh. She drew a disemboweled horse monster on the next page.”
He flips the page, lifts the book, narrows his eyes further, then puts it back down. “I don’t understand. It’s not perfectly accurate, but none of the parenting books I’ve read have given me any information about when children are old enough to perform their first autopsy.”
“Pardon?”
He references the image. “There’s only one stomach. Kelpies have four. You might think one, like a horse, but that’s a misconception. Their internal tract is closer to that of a goat. And…” His voice fades as he finds my expression.
Dang it.
My smile seems to have melted off. And, to make matters worse, now I’m imagining performing an autopsy on him. I don’t fix my face. “Mr. Strakh, what is your job?”
His mouth gapes. “I…” He clears his throat. “I don’t know how to explain it to you right now.”
“Try.”
“Meda told me she’s been censoring things, and we’ve only just met, so I’m not sure whether or not it’s okay to go into those details yet.”
She’s been censoring what things? I stand, glare down my nose at him, and lose my patience. “Why not?”
He stands as well—towering. The cheap leather seat behind him chokes as it attempts to reform in the absence of his weight. “It’s not a traditional job.”
“It is clear to me that you don’t have a traditional family.” I hold his gaze, remind myself I can’t risk antagonizing a parent, and correct my tone so it’s light and airy once more. My smile comes back, even though it makes my head ache. “Mr. Strakh, children don’t need to have a traditional family to thrive. My priority is making sure that Andromeda is safe and healthy.”
He crosses his arms, gripping his hands around his large biceps. “I’m still failing to see why you believe she isn’t.”
“I’m not trying to accuse anyone.” I am. You. The person she lives with. Her father. “But you have to understand it’s concerning for me when I have a seven-year-old who wears the same clothes every day and never brings a lunch. She’s seven. It isn’t appropriate for seven-year-olds to draw horrors in their notebooks or live in a dark fantasy.” Tears sting my eyes, but I keep it together. “I’m worried about her.”
“She’s well.”
I close my eyes, if only so I don’t put my fist through this man’s face. “You’re certain?”
“Yes. These things are normal…for us.”
It’s painful, but I collect myself. Because I have to. Because pressing this topic might mean losing Andromeda altogether. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. It’s standard…procedure.”
“I appreciate your efforts…” His gaze lowers to the nameplate on my desk, as though he forgot when I introduced myself as Ms. Role. Skipping formality altogether, he says, “Kassandra.”
I wet my lips, lift my hand, and present the door. “Thank you for your time.”
Pollux’s breath catches. Staring at me, still as death, he swallows. Something red hot filters into my veins—suffocating. One hand lifts from his bicep, drifting my way. My throat constricts. Before his fingers reach me, I step back—chilled through with foreign sensations.
His hand twitches. His fingers close. He swears.
And then he marches from the room without another word.
Chapter 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~
This wasn’t in my teaching classes. Like, not even my continuing education courses.
Two weeks later
It’s a miracle I’ve managed to hold it together as long as I have.
Truly.
At the very least, I’m proud of myself.
