Chapter Nine
Nine
Antaris isn’t in his usual place.
After searching the school, growing frantic, Veda finds him kneeling on the balcony.
He’s staring out at the cluster of swaying trees near the garden, face pressed between the two railings he grips tightly.
She doesn’t know what he’s looking at, but it’s a lonely sight.
Veda steps beside him, trying to see what’s captured his attention, but there’s nothing obvious.
Antaris sits back on his heels, visibly distressed.
“What’s wrong?”
He opens his mouth, and Veda’s heart stops. It doesn’t resume its regular rhythm until he closes his eyes, defeated, clutching the little cat pendant he wears.
“You want to talk, but you can’t,” she concludes.
His pitiful nod stirs the hopelessness she felt early on.
“What’s holding you back?”
He looks around before rushing to the exterior wall, touching it, then looking up. Veda doesn’t understand. When he returns, she simply offers her hand. “Show me what you’re looking at.”
Trust is his hesitant fingers, squirming uncertainty, solidifying into a firm grip.
Rain begins to fall as they walk toward the garden.
He’s shaking, and Veda’s concern crests until he stops and stares at her, insistent.
A soft mewling cry pierces the wind. She looks to her left and right before hearing it again.
“Is that . . . ?”
She follows the sound as it grows louder, closer, until they spot the source. A tiny, wet kitten is huddled at the base of a bush, crying in distress.
“How did you hear this?”
Before she can move or warn him to be careful—kids aren’t always safe around frightened animals—Antaris is on his knees in the wet grass, curling a finger in front of the kitten’s nose.
It sniffs, allowing Antaris to gently wrap it in his school jacket.
He focuses on the kitten, and the only sounds are raindrops and his soft shushing, as if soothing a fussy baby.
Veda is transfixed by his compassion, watching the way the kitten settles, its distress waning.
Antaris looks nervous, like he’s done something wrong.
“You’re doing great,” she reassures him, and he relaxes. “The kitten is lost. Its mother might be nearby. We shouldn’t take it.”
Antaris shakes his head vigorously, not to be reasoned with. The rain falls harder. A clap of lightning comes before the thunder rolls. Veda, unwilling to get drenched, starts looking for the kitten’s mother. She doesn’t get far—she finds the cat already dead. It hasn’t been long.
What a cruel fate disguised as an act of nature.
She covers the body with dirt and leaves, making a mental note to ask a farmhand to bury it properly, deep enough not to attract larger wildlife. When she returns, Antaris is still waiting, shirt soaked. She doesn’t have the heart to vocalize a truth he seems to know.
“Let’s take the kitten inside.”
Solemn and careful, he leads the way to the school.
Inside, Veda examines the mewling kitten.
It looks about a month old. Maybe male. Antaris helps bathe off the fleas and holds it while Veda scours the kitchen for a bottle and some goat’s milk.
It’ll do for now. She guides Antaris as he bottle-feeds the kitten, now swaddled in a small towel.
Without Dr. Simpson, there’s no veterinarian on-site. She’ll leave that to Peter.
“Have you had a cat before?”
Antaris shakes his head. His eyes hold a mix of fascination and concern. He comforts the kitten the only way he knows: holding it, keeping it warm, making sure it’s not alone. Not abandoned.
A war brews within her. Part of her hopes that a boy this kind won’t be tainted by a family so terrible. Another part reminds her there’s no scale to measure a person, nothing to prove who they’ll become. Veda knows the sort of people the Ellises are.
Losing a parent can destroy someone’s goodness, but Antaris’s remains intact, brightening the world in spite of the lingering darkness.
The desire to ensure he thrives beyond her potential demise wrestles with Veda’s illogical desire to walk every step with him.
Smothering every warring emotion doesn’t happen fast enough to escape the notice of the most observant child she’s ever met.
“I’m fine.” He doesn’t seem to believe her, but there’s something familiar in his expression. Bitter amusement prickles in her chest. “I think I see the resemblance between you and your dad.”
Antaris perks up. His interest is loud and clear.
“You want to know about your dad?”
He gravitates closer, eager. Veda isn’t sure what to say. Hiram Ellis is infuriating at best, mystifying at worst. She wants Hiram to be the problem, but perspective humanizes him in a way she doesn’t care for.
Fortunately, this isn’t about Hiram. It’s about Antaris. Veda scrambles to remember every positive detail about an infuriating man she’s interacted with only three times.
“He likes to read . . .” She trails off, chuckling when Antaris points to himself.
“Yeah, like you. He also likes to swim.” This makes his mouth purse in thoughtful consternation.
“He might like art, too, but I’ll be honest, I’ve only just met him.
Your godfather, Peter, knows him best.” She slowly removes the bottle from the now-sleeping kitten, murmuring, “I think we’ll both have to figure him out. ”
Veda barges into Peter’s office after Simran leaves with Antaris, his brows rising at the bundle in her arms.
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t See this coming?” Veda sarcastically remarks.
There is no hint of amusement on Peter’s face. “You know how Sight works and still make this terrible joke.”
“Couldn’t help myself.” Veda transfers the sleeping kitten into Peter’s arms despite his protest. “Long story short, this is a kitten Antaris found. No idea how he heard meowing from the balcony, but . . .”
Peter blinks like he’s stared at the sun too long. “Why are you giving it to me?”
“Because our vet is missing in action, and yesterday, you asked me to drop off Lucinda’s produce order today after Antaris leaves. So, congratulations, you’re cat sitting.”
“Khadijah is going to kill me if I bring home another stray.”
Veda squints. “What do you mean another?”
“I found eggs abandoned in the park a few weeks ago. I thought they were ducks, which I’ve been wanting to add to our flock, but they hatched a couple of days ago.
Turns out they’re chickens. None of the chickens will take them, so they’re living in my spare bathroom for now.
I didn’t realize how loud they’d be. Khadijah keeps calling them chicken nuggets. They’re named after sauces.”
Veda bursts out laughing as Peter grabs a wicker basket and gently deposits the kitten inside, blanket and all.
“How was your visit to the library?”
“Oddly specific question.” Veda glares. “You’re not quite at Clinton’s level of cryptic yet.”
“Cosmos, no. The date on the check-out slip was in a vision. This past weekend?”
“Yeah. I ran into Hiram and Antaris at the library.” She taps her foot, hands on her hips. “He had no idea I was Antaris’s tutor. How is that possible?”
Peter scratches behind the kitten’s ear until it purrs, placing the basket on his desk. “I assumed he knew. Apparently, I was mistaken.”
“You were also mistaken thinking my opinion of him would change. Fine, he’s not a bigot, but that doesn’t mean I want to be his friend.”
He gestures, giving her the floor. “You sound like you need to get it off your chest, so I’m listening.”
Thrown slightly, she charges on. “I could talk about how arrogant he is, how he’s dripping in inherited wealth, how he has more audacity than I can stand in a single person.
But honestly, my biggest gripe is his absence.
He doesn’t bring Antaris to school or pick him up.
The teachers haven’t seen him. Hell, I didn’t even meet him when I was hired.
I know he’s your best friend, but letting Simran call the shots is a mistake.
A massive one. Antaris doesn’t even like her.
He’s always stiff and makes himself small around her.
I wouldn’t let someone like that near my kid, relative or not. ”
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re making excuses for him.”
“Yes, I am, but he’ll reconcile this soon enough.”
“You’ve Seen that?”
Peter half shrugs.
“My second point of contention is that he looked at my file from the night I was attacked—illegally—then tried to have a gotcha moment about wrong information. Yeah, he apologized, but I’m still upset.
He threw one of the worst nights of my life in my face, then had the gall to look shocked when I reacted. ”
“I will agree he was wrong for his approach—”
“Antaris wants to know him,” she barrels on. “And after talking to him after the verbal abuse he took at the town hall, I do, too—if only to figure out why a Seer tattooed my amulet on his arm.”
Peter leans back in his chair, calm as ever. “Why does it matter?”
Veda opens her mouth twice and fails to answer.
“Look,” Peter says, “I understand why you’re defensive and paranoid. I even understand why he aggravates the hell out of you. But have you even thought about his question?”
Leave it to Peter to douse her fire. “No, I didn’t.”
“I know your memory from that night is spotty at best before you ran, but don’t focus on the whole night. Try to remember pieces. When did you get home? What did you eat? What time of day was it? Were you alone, or was your roommate there?”
Veda closes her eyes. She remembers the sounds, the smells, their voice.
Being exhausted as she fought for her life.
Running. Knowing she couldn’t stop or she’d die.
The Sanguis Curse catching her, the cursed blood melting into her skin, liquefying, something wrong beneath her flesh.
She tries to recall earlier memories, but they turn to sand, slipping through her fingers.
She opens her eyes, defeated, and grabs the keys to the school’s truck.