There’s exasperation in the woman’s voice. “It’s already after eleven.”
I don’t know if it’s curiosity or concern, but some force propels me to creep around the corner and peer into the living room.
Perched on the arm of the couch is a beautiful woman, perhaps a few years older than me. Straight dark hair brushes her shoulders as she turns her head back and forth to look at each of the men. She’s wearing all black and both her shirt and her pants are skin tight.
Beside her is a man, probably in his mid-twenties. He’s taller than Leo, and even more broad. The way he stands, with his hands on his haunches, emphasizes his size and his confrontational attitude. He’s blond like me, and strikingly handsome.
When his blue eyes find mine, he smiles, slowly, in wicked delight. “You didn’t say you had company.” He’s talking to Leo, but he’s looking at me. Like I’m lunch.
Leo turns around and the panic in his eyes makes me freeze. Are these people dangerous? Are they going to hurt him or me? I take a few steps backwards, second guessing my decision to leave the kitchen.
“No, no, no, my dear.” The man waves me forward. “No need to hide. Come out and meet some of Leo’s old friends.”
Leo unclasps his hands from the back of his neck as his eyes flit from face to face to face. He reaches for my hand to coax me closer, but his words are clipped. “This is Elizabeth. Betts.”
The woman raises a haughty chin and assesses me. “Are you one of the psychics?”
“Yes,” Leo says as I nod. “She’s clairsentient.” He glares at the blond guy like he’s trying to send him a message with his eyes—a message the guy seems determined to ignore.
“Hmm.” The woman tilts her head at me and wonders aloud, “So how much does she know?”
I’m starting to feel like an exhibit at the zoo. But before I can think of a snappy comeback, she thrusts a hand out at me. “I’m Topaz.”
Topaz? Surely that’s a nickname. Or a stage name. Maybe she’s a lead singer in a metal band and her real name is Margaret or Emily. Or Doris.
After I numbly shake her hand, the man offers me his. “I’m Rime.”
I’m not sure I heard him right. “Ryan?”
He may be large and intimidating, but his grip is gentle. “Rime. R-I-M-E.”
Like hoarfrost? Oookaaay. Maybe he’s the band’s lead guitarist?
The smirk he shoots Leo is as suggestive as an elbow and a wink. “She must be the one Robin told us about.”
Leo squeezes my hand as if to reassure me, but it doesn’t put me at ease.
Rime’s blue eyes comb over me and a smile plays on his lips. “This is her, isn’t it?” he asks Leo. “The Subworlder you’re so smitten with?”
Subworlder? Who are these people? Role-players or LARPers or something? Because they’re damn good actors. I have the weird urge to laugh, but I bite my lip and wait for the next absurd phrase to come out of someone’s mouth.
Topaz looks at me with distaste. “She’s a distraction.”
My amusement gives way to annoyance.Sheis a person, not a circus freak.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Topaz, the sarcasm bleeding right through my words. “Who are you, again?”
Leo drops my hand and grabs my waist, impulsively, protectively, pulling me closer. Maybe I’m about to get bitch-slapped by this bitch, but I don’t care.
“I’m Topaz,” she answers slowly, like I’m stupid or hard of hearing. “And I’m a…familyfriend of Leo’s.”
“From Philly?”
“Philly?” Rime grins, amused. “As in Philadelphia?” He turns to Leo. “Is that where we’re from?”
All this goading and schadenfreude. There must be some bad blood between Rime and Leo. One of them stole the other’s girlfriend or got the choice spot on the football team.
Football?Who am I kidding? No one in this room ever played football.
