Page 68 of Grave Beginnings

Looks tasty.

A picture appeared a few seconds later of a heaping stir fry that looked amazing. Mushrooms, peppers, squash, snap peas, and what could have been tofu or chicken mixed in a dark sauce. I’d have eaten the shit out of that.

Yum.

I offered to cook for you.

A man who can cook and eats vegetables, you’re one in a million.

Angel sent me a laughing emoji.

Four more wonton tacos and I sat back, stuffed, and humming happily, as I’d been craving that for a few days. Ivan ate two. Didn’t he need more food as a shifter? Should I push? Or would that create some sort of eating disorder if he didn’t already have one? Was it okay to ask? How the hell did anyone parent when they knew nothing?

“You sure you don’t want me to make something else?” I offered. “There should be a bag of chicken nuggets or something.” Didn’t all kids like chicken nuggets? Though, he wasn’t a kid as much as a teen, but hey. Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.

“I called that shifter guy from yesterday.”

I blinked at him as I tried to make sense of his words. “What?” Wait. Xavier. He’d called Xavier. My heart sank. “Do you want to leave?”

He glanced up, gaze meeting mine for a half second before darting away, as though getting caught looking at me would mean punishment of some kind. “No.”

Dragging information out of the kid was going to push the limits of my patience. “Okay.”

“He said to call if I ever needed him.”

Had something happened while I was gone?

Ivan shrugged, picking at his food. “I’ve never met other shifters before.”

“Your school didn’t have any?”

“Not shifters. Just the other kinds.” He glanced at my armband. “No red or black either. Blue, green, some yellow.”

What does each color armband represent?

It seemed like my little brother knew more than I did.

Categories. Blue=perception based, i.e. mind reading or illusion; green=movement like telekinesis; yellow=predictive; orange=shifter; red=necromancy; black=demon and god energy.

Holy shit!

No wonder people stared at me. I thought the black in my band meant I could perceive demons, but demons and gods?

Dozens of variances within each category, which is why the color isn’t exactly the same, no matter the variance.

And two variances blending like mine?

Rare. Not unheard of, but rare.

I stewed on that and nibbled on a wonton shell; the crunchcomfortingly familiar. “My work partner, Angel, says Xavier knows a lot about shifters.” I tried to sound neutral, though Xavier scared the fuck out of me. “Angel is a shifter. He could probably answer some questions for you.”

Ivan nodded, and heaped a few spoons full of the chicken mix onto his plate, then broke a couple of wonton shells over it, like a taco salad. “Xavier offered to teach me some stuff. Can you drop me off tomorrow before work?” He glanced around my tiny apartment. “Xavier offered me a place there, but…” He let out a long breath. “Unless I’m a burden to you, maybe you can pick me up after work?”

“You’re not a burden,” I said. “I’ll start packing up the office and moving things around to give you space. I want you to think of this as a safe space, Ivan.”

“What if Dad demands I go home?”

I didn’t think he would. “Do you want to?”