Tegan proceeded to give everyone hugs, gushing about how relieved she was to see them all in one piece. Then she approached Alora, and for some reason, I held my breath.
“Hi, I’m Tegan,” she said. “I’m a friend of Finn’s.”
Alora shook Tegan’s hand then went still. “Say something else,” she urged.
“Huh?” Tegan questioned. “What do you want me to say?”
“I’ve heard your voice before. I’ve seen you. I know you.” Without asking permission, she pulled Tegan closer and put her hands on her face, sifting through her hair and getting a feel for her appearance.
“Hey, buy me a drink first,” Tegan joked, but I could tell she was intrigued.
“You’ve seen her in one of your visions?” I asked Alora, stepping forward.
“Yes,” she replied, withdrawing her hands from Tegan’s face. “Sorry for just grabbing you like that. I got a little over-excited.”
“No problem. What did you see?”
“You were there with the little girl I saw. You were older than you are now, but you didn’t look old. I mean, it felt like you were older than you appeared to be. Like the way vampires are old, but they don’t look it.”
“Weird,” Tegan said, raising an eyebrow. “How could I be older but not have aged? I’m human.”
“Half-human,” Gabriel corrected her.
“Yeah, but witches don’t stay young like vampires,” she disagreed. “They age the same as the rest of us.”
“Unless they become sorceresses,” Alvie interjected.
Tegan shot him an incredulous look. “Ha! I’m not going to become a sorceress. Screw that.” She folded her arms and walked back over to stand by Cristescu.
“You swore. That’s naughty,” Rebecca said, smiling up at her.
Tegan smirked and stuck out her tongue, and Rebecca giggled.
Alora’s head whipped in the direction of the girl’s voice, and she stilled. “She’s not the one I saw,” she stated unequivocally.
“Are you certain?” I asked.
“Yes. The voice I heard just now is not the one I heard in my head. She isn’t the future ruler.”
Something in Tegan’s demeanour relaxed, as though she had been hoping Rebecca wasn’t the girl Alora saw. I understood her relief. I wouldn’t condemn a little girl to the task of restoring peace to this fucked up city either.
“More unsolved mysteries,” Alvie said, shaking his head and folding his arms. “Do they ever end?”
“Nope,” I replied.
My attention was drawn to Cristescu as I wondered if he still planned on setting Rebecca up to be cared for somewhere away from vampires. It was too risky to just keep her in the city, and I was sure he knew that. I was also sure he didn’t want any other vamps becoming like him because that would mean his current position as top dog would be threatened.
All of a sudden, he grinned at me, and I tensed. He looked like he could hear every thought that ran through my head, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“What are you grinning about?” I asked with narrowed eyes.
“Of course I still plan on finding a safe place for the girl,” he said, and it took me only a fraction of a second to realise he was answering my unspoken question.
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
“That’s what you were wondering, correct?”
“Uh, yeah, but what the hell? You can read minds now, too?”
“The answer to that is no. I can predict your thoughts reasonably well from your breathing and the way your facial muscles move.”
“Shut up!” Alvie exclaimed. “That’s not a thing.”
“I assure you, it is,” Cristescu replied evenly.
“So, drinking Tegan’s blood turned you into a mentalist. Wonderful,” I said testily, running a hand through my hair. I didn’t like him being able to tell what I was thinking. There were just way too many thoughts inside my head that he had no right to know.
“I have to be consciously doing it. And I have far too many more pressing matters to focus my attention on than continuously reading people,” he said.
“Well, focus on them then because we both know that you were reading me just there. Again.”
Cristescu smiled widely now. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“Ethan, stop it,” Tegan said, giving him a stern look.
Before I got the chance to tell him where he could stick his mentalist bullshit, the television began to crackle with static and the screen turned fuzzy. I walked over and banged my hand down on it, but it didn’t help. The crackling continued, and black and grey squiggly lines fizzled on the screen. It was an old television that belonged to my friend, Noel. I seriously needed to think about going digital. In fact, the entire house could do with an update. All the furniture and fittings were at least twenty years old.
I was about to go and unplug the TV, thinking I’d try fixing the signal later, when Ira reached over and put a hand on my arm to stop me.
He gestured back to the screen where the static was clearing up and a picture was forming.