Page 11 of The Lunatics

Mom’s face fell when she heard his name. “Please, call me Chris.”

“Jon,” Dad said, eyeing Michael.

They stepped forward to shake each other’s hands and exchange pleasantries, and I watched Michael do the thing that people always did when they saw the three of us together for the first time. His gaze ran over my mom, a woman of Japanese descent with thin, bone-straight black hair and hooded eyes, and then my father, a towering, blond Scandinavian man with blindingly white skin and blue eyes, before coming to rest on me, trying to determine where my facial features and olive complexion had come from.

He’d have to wait to hear my whole life story. First, we had to get through the next few hours.

Dad pulled out one of the kitchen barstools for Michael. “What brings you up here? Tonight’s ceremony?”

“Thank you,” Michael said, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he accepted the chair and sat. “And yes. I was in attendance supporting my younger brother, Nathaniel.”

“How’d the two of you meet?” Mom asked, looking between us. Dad retook his seat, but she remained standing, the look on her face uneasy as her mom instincts kicked in. She lifted her chin and took a deep breath through her nose, scenting my emotions, and her expression shifted into concern.

I sidestepped her question, heading toward the fridge. “Michael, you want anything to drink? Beer? Wine?” I glanced back and our gazes met.

“Something stronger, perhaps?” he asked. His dark eyes were guileless, not a hint of the discomfort I felt through the bond visible in his expression or posture.

I turned away and pulled a bottle filled with amber-colored liquid from a cabinet. “Bourbon?”

“That’ll do.”

“Lala, what’s going on?” Dad asked, using my nickname.

“Give me a minute here.” I poured myself and Michael a healthy amount of alcohol each and slid his glass across the marble of the island.

He caught it and lifted it toward me. “To grace under pressure.”

I nodded at him in thanks and took a hearty swig before facing my parents. “We met at the ceremony. I went to support Gia.”

Mom’s expression crumpled. “Oh, honey, why didn’t you tell us she was going? We would have gone to support her, too.”

I hated to see Mom hurt, and it only made me dread the pain to come. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to, but she didn’t tell her mom. I thought it would be wrong if you were there and she wasn’t.”

Dad frowned. “Why didn’t she tell Karen?”

“I think she didn’t want her there in case she wasn’t bonded. They’ve been through so much together the last few years, and Gia wanted to spare her another heartache if she could.”

“Was she bonded?” Mom asked.

I nodded.

Dad exhaled in relief. “Goddess be praised.”

“To who? Anyone we know?” Mom asked.

I shook my head. “A woman our age named Natalie. Past that, I couldn’t tell you much else, other than they both looked really happy. The ceremony went… differently from the last one I snuck out to.”

Mom finally sat, resting her elbows on the countertop as she watched me. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed another fortifying sip of whiskey before answering. “It seemed fine at first. The mystic was a woman named Antoinette from somewhere down South.”

Dad’s expression perked up at this. “Was she older?”

“Yeah.”

Mom looked over at him. “Must be the one Audrey always talks about. She’s supposed to be one of the most powerful mystics alive.”

I snorted. “Well, good thing she was leading the ceremony then, or it might have gone even worse.”