The Brightest Night (Origin 3)

We were currently sitting on the floor of the house that had temporarily become Luc’s and mine, the worn coffee table between us loaded with the kind of food I normally wouldn’t eat with a gun pointed at my head. Well, except for the small chunks of what Zoe had called farmer’s cheese. I’d eat cheese all day and night, but the rest of the stuff?

Celery. Sliced apples. Carrots. Cucumbers and sliced tomatoes.

Other than the cheese I’d splattered over crackers that might’ve been a wee bit past their expiration date, Mom would’ve been proud of what I was consuming.

Mom.

A sharp slice of bitter pain lit up my chest before I could shut down that train wreck of emotions. I drew in a shallow breath. “How was your night?”

Zoe stared at me somewhat blankly, which was the expression on her face the entire time I told her what had happened last night. Granted, I hadn’t told her everything. She didn’t need to know what Luc and I had done, and I think she appreciated me leaving out those details, but I did tell her what Luc had done. I trusted her with my life, and I knew Zoe loved me like I was her sister, but I also knew Luc was something else entirely to her. She answered to Luc as a soldier would to their general. It wasn’t just because Luc had freed her from a Daedalus hellhole but more than that, a loyalty born out of respect, the same with Grayson and Emery, even Kent before he was murdered. My chest ached when I thought of him, and it made me think of Heidi and if she was okay, and if James was wondering what had happened to us.

It made my heart ache even more because I then thought of Mom, and I didn’t know if grieving her was right. If all the terrible things she’d done meant she was no longer worthy of me or anyone mourning her.

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” Zoe said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I had no idea Luc could do something like that.” She shook her head as she dipped her apple in a glob of honey. “Actually, I didn’t know any Origin could do that, which just makes Luc all kinds of extra-special.”

“I know,” I agreed, eyeing the golden goo dripping down the slice, wondering if that actually tasted good.

“It kind of reminds me of how the Arum feed. It sort of looks like a kiss when they do it.” The slice of apple halted inches from her mouth. “Well, I guess they could do it while kissing, but they basically inhale, sucking out the Source.”

“Luc didn’t do it like that. He just put his hand on my chest and yanked it out,” I said, mimicking what he’d done. “But yeah, he was super-weird until he absorbed it.”

“Weirder than you eating healthy food?”

I snorted. “I think the amount of salt I dumped on the tomatoes zeroes out the health benefits of what I’m eating.”

“True story.”

“But yeah, he was different. Like he was still Luc, but he was something … other,” I said. “He was colder and almost like, I don’t know, coldly logical, if that makes sense? There was emotion there.” There’d obviously been a lot of emotion there considering where the kiss had led. “But I could see where that wouldn’t be the case if he’d taken more.”

“But he’s not going to do it again. Right?”

Exhaling roughly, I nodded. “Right. Even he said he shouldn’t.”

“And that’s the scary part.” Zoe nibbled on her honey-glazed apple, her expression thoughtful. “Like, if Luc thinks it’ll end badly if he does it again? That’s big. In a way, he’s admitting to a weakness there. He can’t control how he responds to the Source that’s in you, and other than you, I don’t think Luc has a weakness.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about being Luc’s weakness. Mainly because I knew it to be true. That was why Jason Dasher and my mom had been able to pull off what they had. They’d exploited his weakness.

Leaning back against the faded cream-colored couch, I watched the ceiling fan churn lazily. The wind from the open windows was catching the blades, keeping them spinning and moving air. It was pleasant in the house, but if temps skyrocketed, no amount of shade or open windows would keep that heat at bay.

My gaze flickered across the living room. I hadn’t really paid any attention to the house before. Part of me didn’t want to see the remnants of the previous owner’s life, but now I couldn’t stop myself from seeing it. A medium-size television sat uselessly on a wooden console, in the center of a row of dark brown bookshelves. Books of all shapes and sizes lined those shelves, broken up by random knickknacks like those white angel statues that looked like little kids. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what they were called. Some were praying, petting little dogs or cats, and others were on swings or looking up, their little wings spread wide.