Page 259 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Thirty-Two

One year later

Riva

I should have known I’d find Dominic in his garden. The rooftop patio over our penthouse apartment has become his pet project, with flowers of all colors and a gorgeous medley of scents emerging from the planters all around the walls and down the middle of the space as well.

At the squeak of the door, he raises his head where he’s pruning one of the small shrubs. A smile curves his lips under the bright mid-day sun. “Time to get going?”

“We should head out in twenty minutes or so.” I offer him the tall glass I brought up. “I thought maybe you could use some lemonade after all your work.”

Dominic lifts one eyebrow. “Is this your typical sour blend?”

I laugh. “I added some honey to sweeten it up for you.”

An amused gleam dances in Dom’s eyes as he takes a sip. His smile widens. “You know just how I like it, Sugar.”

Even after all this time, the nickname—and the memory of how he coined it—brings a flush to my cheeks. I lean in to steal a quick kiss, tasting the mix of sweet and sour on his breath. “Finish up and then come down.”

I tramp back downstairs and emerge into the sunlit apartment just as Jacob strides in through the front door. A gritty smudge marks his jaw and his hair is rumpled, but a now-familiar eager energy glows in his face.

I set my hands on my hips. “Dealt out a little more justice today?”

He grins at me. “There was a maniac tearing around trying to outrace the cops. I blew out a couple of his tires. He didn’t get very far after that.”

Jacob’s main pastime these days is following broadcasts on the police scanner he picked up and intervening to ensure the worst of the crooks are caught.

I guess it’s a good way for him to let out any pent-up tension that builds up inside him—and he’s developed a real taste for using his powers to stop villains of any kind.

I wave toward the bathroom. “We’ve got to leave to meet the jet in fifteen minutes. Go get yourself washed up, superhero.”

“Superheroes make excellent role models,” he retorts, but he heads over to take a shower anyway.

Andreas looks up from the desk near the broad windows on the other side of the room and shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s ever going to grow out of this vigilante stage.”

“It could be a lot worse,” I say wryly, and amble over to drape my arms across the back of his shoulders. “How’s the book coming along? You’re not having to leave it in the middle of a scene or anything?”

Drey stretches and reaches back to hug me to him, twisting his head at the same time to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Sometimes that’s the best spot. Makes it easier for me to get into the groove when I come back.”

Always the keeper of memories and histories, Andreas has started channeling his love of stories into a new outlet. So I don’t find myself boring you all telling the same tales over and over again , he said with a laugh when he told us.

Right now, he’s blending some of the favorite experiences he’s gleaned from other people’s minds into what he calls “a work of creative narrative nonfiction.” But he’s commented that someday he might try to turn our own history into a book—one he’d have to pretend is fictional, of course.

A faint clinking sound carries from the small room we’ve designated as Zian’s workshop.

I peek inside to see him adjusting the connections on an electrical panel, his gaze so intent I’m not sure he’s realized I’m there until he speaks.

“I’m almost done, Shrimp. I think by next week I’ll have this up and running. ”

I duck inside just long enough to ruffle his hair and give him a peck on his temple. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Zee has let his curiosity about mechanics and electronics along with his X-ray vision take him into an education in electrical engineering.

He goes to classes a few times a week and practices at home a lot of the rest of the time.

He’s even started picking up jobs doing repairs on everything from toaster ovens to computer systems.

When I retreat from the workshop, Griffin is just slipping past the front door. I’d tease him about cutting it close, but I can’t bring myself to hassle him when I can see the air of serenity that’s come over his entire body.

I wouldn’t have expected it, but volunteering at the hospital gives him more peace than anguish. He goes through the wards as a volunteer, soothing the people who are anxious and offering whiffs of happiness to those who’ve become depressed.

It’s incredible, the mix of emotions that building holds, he told me once. There’s grief and heartbreak, sure, but there’s also so much joy when a procedure is successful or a patient starts to recover.

“Good day?” I ask.

“Always.” He gives me a quick but warm hug. Then his voice drops. “I saw Mekah. She seems to be doing okay, but the surgery isn’t until tomorrow.”

An anxious pang ripples through my chest. My smile tightening, I hold up my hand. “Fingers crossed.”

My gaze darts to the framed photo on our mantel—of me, the teachers, and our young charges at the early learning center where I’ve been volunteering most mornings when I’m in the city.

Despite the sticky fingers and snotty noses, I love every moment I’ve gotten to spend guiding another generation of kids through a much better childhood than my guys and I got.

But my work comes with occasional heartbreak too. Mekah is only four, but just a week ago, she was diagnosed with a tumor. We’re all hoping the cancer hasn’t spread any farther and that the operation will leave her fully healthy again.

Dominic has caught the end of our conversation as he came down from the patio. He gives my arm a quick squeeze before going to put away his lemonade glass. “You don’t need crossed fingers. If the surgery isn’t enough, I’ll find a chance to heal her my way.”

“I don’t know how easy that’ll be,” I have to say.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out. No kid should die at four years old.

” He glances over at Griffin. “I’m looking forward to when I can start joining you in volunteering.

Maybe I can’t get away with working a bunch of miracles all at once, but I can give plenty of people a little nudge in the right direction. ”

Griffin beams at him. “Then there’ll be even more happiness to go around.”

Dom grabs his light jacket and shrugs it on over his tentacles. “Just have to wait until I can tuck these things totally away.”

The lumps still show through the fabric, but less prominently than they used to. Over the past several months, Dominic has discovered that he can retract the extra appendages back into his body, like I can with my claws, Jacob with his spines, or Zian with his wolf-man features.

It’s been a gradual process, requiring a lot of concentration to pull them in even an inch.

But once he’s managed that, he can extend them again when he needs to and return them to their shorter length without a problem.

At this point, their baseline is a few inches above his waist, easily concealed without him even needing to coil them around.

Jacob emerges from the bathroom, raking his fingers through his damp hair to slick it back in his usual style. Andreas types out a couple more sentences and then shuts his computer and stands up to join us. Zian jogs over from his workshop, and we all head out together.

Ever since we got the apartment in San Francisco—with the help of Rollick’s real estate expertise and Toni’s contributions from her former boss’s bank accounts—we’ve been jetting back and forth between the city and the “shadow academy” the demon has set up in remote New Mexico.

We spend one week living our increasingly regular lives, and then one both guiding the younger shadowbloods and being guided ourselves in all the areas of human existence we haven’t had much direct experience with.

Rollick’s only on hand at the school during about a third of our visits, but Pearl comes bounding out to meet us as soon as the car that brought us from the airfield drops us off. I think the succubus is the academy’s most enthusiastic teacher and student.

“Hey!” she says, slinging her arm around me. “Nadia just got back from her other school. She’s got big news.”

“Where’s everyone hanging out?” Andreas asks as we head toward the big adobe building with its smoothly curved edges.

“I think most of the shadowbloods are in the central courtyard.” Pearl backs up with a little wave. “I’ll let Toni know you’re here!”

All of the younger shadowbloods and the two former inmates are still living at the school.

But when we pass through the cool halls to the courtyard of clay tiles and fragrant bushes in the middle of the building, we find the kids clustered across the picnic style tables and a few even sprawled on the ground, looking like happy, everyday teens.

Omar is sitting out there too. As a few of the others scramble up to offer hugs of greeting, he tips his head to us in acknowledgment.

He’s got a textbook propped open on the table in front of him—for one of the courses he’s taking online, presumably.

He’s been dabbling in a lot of different subjects while he gets his bearings.

Ajax shoots me a smile from where he’s sitting with Devon and Keith. His inner voice travels into my head. Everyone’s a little restless. It was too hot to spend much time outside the past few days.

An idea begins to form in my mind. I’ll see what I can do about that.

Andreas immediately gets roped into settling a disagreement between two of the older teens about how exactly one of them got a stain on the other’s favorite shirt, which he should be able to determine by reading their memories.

Zian gathers a couple of the more athletic kids to come with him to the gym for a workout, and Jacob ambles after them.