The Darkest Star (Origin 1)

“Okay.” I swallowed hard. “I know you’re mad, but I have questions too. Like why would there be a shotgun hidden under the couch cushions?”

Mom’s brows rose.

All right, that might not have been the best thing to ask, but it was a valid question, and I had another very serious question. “And how do you know him?”

Her eyes widened in a way that suggested she thought I might’ve lost my mind. “I’m the one who is in the position to be asking questions, Evelyn Lee. Not you.”

Oh no, now the middle name just came out.

“So, let me ask one more time, and it better be the last: What were you doing at Foretoken?”

“We just wanted to go out,” I said, pushing my hair off my face as I stared at the door Luc had unlocked with his freaking mind. How did I not know they could do that? Well, most Luxen wore the Disabler, so I’d never seen them do anything like that. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I . . . I don’t have a good enough reason.”

“Damn straight, you don’t have a good enough reason.” Mom bent down, swiftly picking up the ruined shotgun. “Where did you get this ID?”

I shrugged.

“Evelyn,” she snapped.

“I don’t know. From someone at school.” No way was I throwing James under the bus. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It’s a huge deal.” Mom tossed the shotgun onto the other chair. “Not only is that club for twenty-one and up, as I am sure you know, it’s not a safe place.”

I cringed. Folding my arms in my lap, I leaned forward. “I know I messed up.”

“You lied to me.” She picked up the couch cushion and then slammed it into place. “That is not okay.”

Feeling like I was about two feet tall, I watched her straighten up the couch. “I’m sorry.”

She plucked up the candleholder and faced me. “Did you see him Friday night? Luc?”

Knowing that lying to her again wouldn’t be smart but telling the complete truth would be even worse, I chose my words very carefully. “I did.”

She closed her eyes as her jaw jutted out. I knew she was searching for a calm, happy place.

“It’s not like I hung out with him, Mom. I just . . . talked to him.”

A moment passed and then she opened her eyes again. Sitting on the couch, close to me, she held the candleholder. “What did he say to you?”

I shook my head, a little confused. “Nothing really. He just demanded to know why I was there and then said I shouldn’t be.” I saw her shoulders relax a little. “Mom, how do you know him? How does he know where we live?”

She didn’t answer as she lowered her gaze. A long moment passed while I waited. Mom always looked younger than her age. She was in her late forties, but I always thought she could’ve passed for someone in her thirties.

Until right then.

Faint lines were etched into the skin around the corners of her eyes, and she looked tired. Maybe those lines had always been there and now, with a weariness clinging to her skin and bones, I could see them.

“Luc knew your father,” she said finally.

That was the last thing I expected her to say. “How? How is that possible? Luc’s about my age, right? Did Dad know him when Luc first arrived here?”

Mom pressed her lips together. “Honey, I don’t know. . . . I don’t know how to tell you any of this. I’d hoped I would never have to, but I guess that was foolish of me. I should’ve known this day was coming.”

A chill skated down my spine. “What are you talking about?”

She was quiet so long, I started to get really freaked out, and that was saying something, considering there were shotguns under cushions and random Luxen roaming into the house, unlocking doors. “There are things you don’t know—things that the general public has no idea about.”

“Like the Luxen being able to unlock doors with their mind?”

Her lips twitched. “Bigger than that, hon.”

I thought that was pretty big.

After placing the candleholder on the ottoman, she angled her body toward mine. “There are times when decisions are made for the better good, and sometimes that involves omitting details—”

“You mean lying?” I suggested.

Her lips pursed. “I know where you’re going to take this, but lying about going to the club is not the same thing as lying to protect someone, and in this case, the entire world.”

My brows lifted. A lie was a lie, but arguing that point wasn’t important. “That sounds . . . serious.”

“It is. Serious enough that people have died to keep certain details unknown.” Stretching over, she placed her hand on my knee. “There are things I’m not allowed to discuss because of my job—because of what Jason used to do and be part of, but . . .” She exhaled heavily. “But if I don’t tell you, then I know he will, and I’d rather it come from me.”