s conversation with Tori, trying to hear if he was dropping the bombshell. But I couldn’t pick up more than the murmur of his voice.
Then, “No!”
“I’m sorry, Tori. I know this isn’t—”
“No, okay? You’re wrong. You’re just . . . wrong.”
The door flew open. Tori barreled out, not even noticing me as she ran for the back of the house. Kit came after her, then stopped short when he noticed me.
“You told her?” I asked.
He nodded. As his gaze flitted in her direction, hurt glimmered in his eyes.
“I’ll talk to her,” I said.
He hesitated, like he wanted to be the one to do that, and he should be, except he didn’t know her well enough yet, and right now, he was the last person she’d want to speak to. After a moment, he nodded and said, “Bring her back to talk to me, if you can.”
Simon was thumping down the steps as I hurried past.
“Tori’s upset,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Simon?” his dad called. “I need to talk to you too.”
As Simon turned to follow his dad, I paused. Simon was about to get a shock of his own, finding out Tori was his half sister. Should I stick around for him? No. Simon wouldn’t be thrilled by the news, but it was Tori who’d need me.
I found Tori hidden behind a huge, old oak. She brushed her arm across her eyes and snapped, “What?” then took it down a notch and said, “Sorry, I’m not good company right now. Better go hang with Simon for a while.”
“He’s talking to his dad.”
She hesitated, then realized he’d be getting the same news she had. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward, clutching her knees, face resting on them, hiding her expression.
I lowered myself beside her. “I know what Kit said.”
“He told you?” She looked up, then scowled. “He shouldn’t have. It’s a mistake, and if he goes around telling everyone . . .” She swiped her damp cheeks. “It is a mistake.”
“Okay.”
“What? You think it’s true? Duh. Obviously, Kit is not my real father. Do I look Asian to you?”
She was right. Kit was Korean, and you could see that with Simon, even with the dark blond hair he’d inherited from his mother. With Tori, it wasn’t so apparent. Her coloring was right—skin tone, dark hair, and dark eyes—but all fit for Caucasian, too, and she looked Caucasian. That was why I’d dismissed the rumor when I first heard it. But that was before I met Kit. When I saw him, I knew it was true, because there’s more to “looking like” someone than race.
Should I play along and let her think it was a mistake? While I was tempted to, I knew what she’d want. The truth.
“The demi-demon in the lab saw what your mom did,” I said. “She didn’t have an affair with Kit, though. It was in vitro fertilization.”
“Oh, well, that makes it so much better. She didn’t cheat on my dad. She just had another man’s baby and passed it off as his.”
“She was . . . ambitious. You know that.”
“So it wasn’t enough to genetically modify her witch daughter. She had to double the dose, give me a sorcerer for a father. Not like that was liable to blow up in her face. Wait, sorry, blow up in my face, because whatever’s wrong with me, as far as she was concerned, it was my fault, and now she’s not even around to blame, because she’s dead.”
I thought of that. Of Diane Enright’s death. Of what happened next.
When I flinched the look she turned on me was so fierce I almost flinched again. “Don’t think of that, Chloe.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were. Dr. Davidoff was holding a gun to your aunt’s head, and you raised my mother’s zombie, which killed him. She killed him. Not you.”