Page 10 of Grave Beginnings

“No.”

I headed to the reception area. “We are here to pick up Ivan Holt,” I told the woman tending the desk.

She glanced at me, gaze flicking to my armband and then hurriedly back at her computer screen. After a few moments, she picked up the phone and spoke to someone. I really hoped she wasn’t calling security to throw my ass out. No one else in the area had a glowing armband. I’d never felt as exposed and vulnerable. Grandpa’s gaze darted around the room, searching faces. Did Ivan look like me? I tried to put on a mask of indifference as I waited, heart pounding with panic that everyone was staring at me.

It felt like three lifetimes passed before the elevator doors opened on the opposite side from the ER. A man stepped out in a hospital uniform, followed by a smaller, strawberry blond person. While I’d always been teased for being more on the pretty side than handsome, this kid beat me by a long shot. His red-blond hair brushed his shoulders, and his blue eyes, though rimmed in puffy redness from crying, were piercingly clear. He had high cheekbones and a waifish build that made me worry he wasn’t eating enough.

“Grandpa,” the teen choked, and threw himself at Grandpa.

I put a hand on Grandpa’s back to steady him as he wrapped his arms around the teen. The man in scrubs approached me with an iPad. It was then that I noticed a glowing band on the kid’s arm. Fuck. He was variant too? Was it new? Was that why he was kicked out?

“We can’t release him without having someone step up as a legal guardian,” the man said. He glanced at me, my arm, and then Grandpa. “Without a guardian, he’ll have to wait for a spot in a group home.”

He couldn’t stay with Grandpa. His senior living community didn’t allow guests for more than a week at a time. Especially notminors, as they had a lot of noise ordnances. They wanted to send him to a group home?

“I’m his older brother,” I said, holding out my hand for whatever they needed me to sign. “I have my ID if you need it.”

Ivan lifted his face from Grandpa’s neck to stare at me with wide eyes.

The hospital guy pointed out a few lines I had to sign, then went to the desk to get a printed copy of the release papers and scan my ID. He, at least, didn’t act weird around my variant mark.

I took the stack of papers, glancing them over before waving the man off as there wasn’t any list of needed prescriptions or any special instructions beyond a minor needing legal adult supervision. While I had a lot of questions, they could wait.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

Grandpa bent to grab Ivan’s bag, but I snatched it up, refusing to let the old man do any manual labor. “I got it, Grandpa.”

Grandpa tugged Ivan toward the door. I followed, hitting the accessibility button before they got there and then unlocking the car with my fob. Everything felt surreal. My life had turned upside down a few days ago when I became a marked variant, and now my little brother, who I had never met before, had nowhere to go.

Grandpa got in the back with Ivan still clinging to him. I put the bag in the trunk and got in to drive us back to Grandpa’s. The complex was dark and quiet, as expected, and I grabbed the kid’s bag out of the trunk before making my way inside to hold open the doors.

Ivan hadn’t said a word in the car, but sniffled the entire way. Grandpa uttered comforting things like, ‘It’s gonna be okay,’ and, ‘You’re okay now.’

It brought back memories of being cast out myself. Though, I’d wandered the streets and couch surfed for nearly a month before running out of legal, safe options and calling my grandparents.I’d expected them to turn me away, but they’d taken me in. Without them, I didn’t think I’d still be alive.

Ivan and Grandpa entered the condo and I headed to the kitchen to warm up the food. “Are you allergic to anything?” I called.

No answer.

I left the kitchen and raised my brow at Grandpa.

“No allergies,” Grandpa said. “Ivy doesn’t talk much.”

Okay then. I returned to the kitchen, grabbed our bowls, made one up for Ivan, and carried them to the living room to pass them out. Ivan’s gaze followed me like he expected me to smack him or something, but he accepted the food and dove in like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

Peanut Butter rose from the back of the couch, stretched, and wove his way down around Grandpa to sniff Ivan. Ivan froze.

“Don’t like cats?” I asked.

Ivan ducked his head.

I sighed and wiggled my fingers to tempt Peanut Butter into my lap, but he slunk his way around to Ivan’s chair and crept into my brother’s lap. Ivan stared at him, but Peanut Butter sat down in a huff, sprawling on his side and purring loud enough for all of us to hear.

“I guess he likes you,” I said.

Ivan stared at the cat as he finished his bowl and biscuit.

“Do you want more?” I asked, holding out my hand for his bowl. He shook his head and let me take the bowl. “How about you, Grandpa?”