Dawson didn’t budge. “You don’t have a say over it. You never did.”
At least they were talking. That was a good thing, right? Somehow I knew that the two brothers going toe-to-toe was oddly comforting as much as it was distressing. Something Daemon and Dee thought they’d never experience again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dee moving toward them, but Andrew reached out, catching her hand and stopping her.
“I’m not trying to control you, Dawson. It’s never been about that, but you just got back from hell. We just got you back.”
“I’m still in hell,” Dawson replied. “And if you get in my way, I will drag you down with me.”
A look of pain shot across Daemon’s face. “Dawson…”
I jumped to my feet, reacting to Daemon’s response without thinking. An unknown urge propelled me to do so. I guess that urge was love, because I didn’t like the pain flickering across his face. Now I understood why my mom got all Mama Bear sometimes when she thought I was threatened or upset.
A wind blew through the living room, stirring the curtains and flipping the pages of Mom’s magazines. I felt the girls’ eyes on me and their surprise, but I was focused.
“All right, the alien testosterone right now is a little too much, and I really don’t want to have an alien brawl in my house on top of the broken window and the dead body that came through it.” I took a breath. “But if you two don’t knock it off, I’ll kick both of your asses.”
Now everyone was staring at me. “What?” I demanded, cheeks flushing.
A slow, wry smile teased Daemon’s lips. “Simmer down, Kitten, before I have to get you a ball of yarn to play with.”
Annoyance flared deep inside me. “Don’t start with me, jerk-face.”
He smirked as he focused on his brother.
Beside him, Dawson looked sort of…amused. Or in pain—one of the two, because he really wasn’t smiling or frowning. But then, without saying a word, he stalked out of the living room, the front door slamming shut behind him.
Daemon glanced at me, and I nodded. Sighing deeply, he followed his brother, because there really was no telling what Dawson would do or where he would go.
The alien Kumbaya fell apart after that. I followed them to the door, my attention fixed on Dee. We so needed to talk. First off, I had to apologize for a lot of things, and then I had to try to explain myself. Forgiveness wasn’t expected, but I needed to try to talk.
I clenched the door knob until my knuckles bleached. “Dee…?”
She stopped on the porch, back straight. She didn’t face me. “I’m not ready.”
And with that, the front door tore free from my hand and swung shut.
Chapter 3
Already treading on thin ice with my mom, I decided not to mention the whole window thing when she called later in the evening, checking in. I was hoping and praying the roads were cleared enough to get someone out here to fix the window before Mom could make her way home.
I hated lying to her, though. All I’d been doing lately was lying to her, and I knew I needed to tell her everything, especially about her supposed boyfriend, Will. But how would this kind of conversation go? Hey, Mom, our neighbors are aliens. One of them accidentally mutated me, and Will is a psycho. Any questions?
Yeah, that was so not going to happen.
Right before I hung up, she pushed the whole going-to-see-a-doctor-for-my-voice thing again. Telling her it was just a cold worked now, but what was I going to say in a week or two from now? God, I really hoped my voice healed by then, although a part of me knew this might be permanent. Another reminder of…everything.
I had to tell her the truth.
Grabbing a package of instant mac and cheese, I started to pop it in the microwave but then stared down at my hands, frowning. Did they have microwave powers like Dee and Daemon did? I turned over the bowl, shrugging. I was too hungry to risk it.
Heat wasn’t my thing. When Blake was training me to handle the Source and tried to teach me how to create heat—i.e. fire—I’d caught my hands on fire instead of the candle.
As I waited for the mac, I stared out the window over the sink. Dawson had been right earlier. It really was beautiful now that the sun had risen. Snow blanketed the ground and covered the branches. Icicles hung from the elms. Even now, after the sun had set, it was a beautiful white world out there. I kind of wanted to go out and play.
The microwave dinged, and I ate my unhealthy dinner standing, figuring at least I would burn off calories that way. Ever since Daemon had mutated me into this human-alien-hybrid-mutant-freak, my appetite was out of this world. There was almost nothing left in the house.
When I finished, I quickly grabbed my laptop and sat at the kitchen table. My brain had been scattered the last week, and I wanted to look up something before I forgot. Again.
Pulling up Google, I typed in Daedalus and hit enter. Wikipedia served up the first link and since I wasn’t expecting a “Welcome to Daedalus: Secret Government Organization” website, I clicked.
And I got all acquainted with Greek myths.
Daedalus was considered an innovator, creating the labyrinth the Minotaur resided in, among other things. And he was also the daddy of Icarus, the kid who flew too close to the sun on wings fashioned by Daedalus, and then drowned. Icarus got giddy from flying and, knowing the gods, it was probably a form of passive punishment, leading to Icarus losing his wings. That and a punishment for Daedalus, who’d outfitted Icarus with the contraption that gave the boy the godlike ability to fly.
Nice history lesson, but what was the point? Why would the DOD name an organization overseeing human mutation after some dude—?