His eyebrows rose. “High school sounds like a rather perilous place.”
“You have no idea.” I went back to my salad, feeling a little more at ease. Tristan was surprisingly easy to talk to, and it almost felt like I was hanging out with a cousin instead of a grandfather.
“How are your new pets doing? Sahir tells me you named them.”
“Hugo and Woolf. They’re really smart and already know some commands.” I was always happy to talk about the hellhounds. “I just wish they didn’t have to stay locked up in that cage all the time. They need fresh air and space to run around.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure that is a good idea. We don’t know if we can trust them not to kill the first person they see.”
“I go in the cage with them every day and they are gentle with me.”
“They have imprinted on you and you are their master now. They would never harm you.”
“They’ve stopped growling at Sahir when I’m there.” I leaned forward earnestly. “I really believe they just need to get used to being around people. I can’t bear to think of them locked up for the rest of their lives.”
“I’ll talk to Sahir and see what he says. I cannot make any promises.”
“Thank you.” I was confident that once he saw they could be trusted around others, he would give them more freedom. “You have miles and miles of woods out there, perfect for them to run in. I could take them out every day without bothering anyone.”
Tristan laid down his fork. “It is not a good idea for you to be out in the woods alone.” I started to protest, and he said, “I know you are unhappy with the restrictions placed upon you, but we are only trying to keep you safe after everything you’ve been through.”
“But everyone thinks I’m dead, including the vampires.”
“You will have to forgive me for being a little overprotective. I believe that is a grandsire’s right. Just be patient a little longer until we can be certain this Master is not still searching for you. We are monitoring activity around Maine, and so far it is very quiet there.”
“I could have told you how quiet it is in Maine.” I shrugged at his questioning look. “I have werewolf friends there, remember? Anyway, trust me; no one wants the Master to think I am dead more than I do. I can’t even go for a walk without one of the warriors escorting me back in irons.”
He laughed. “I’ll tell them to lay off the irons. In the meantime, why don’t I arrange for a day out for you? How about a day trip to Boise? With supervision, of course.”
“Okay,” I conceded, excited about the possibility of a change of scenery, even if it was only for a day.
He got up to take away our salad plates, and my eyes wandered around his apartment, which had a decidedly masculine décor. It made sense since he had been a widower for so long. There were some softer touches like a pale-blue throw on the back of the couch and a number of framed photos and paintings on the mantle and walls. One photo in particular caught my eye, and I knew immediately who the blond woman was because I had seen the faded picture of her that my dad used to carry in his wallet. Madeline was stunningly beautiful – even Celine could not compare – and the happy smile she wore did not reconcile with my image of the woman who had hurt me and my dad so much.
Questions that had hovered in the recesses of my mind for weeks finally pushed their way to the forefront. My dad and Madeline met in college, according to Nate, and they’d dated for several years before they married. They were married for two years before they had me, and she left when I was two. In all those years with Madeline, didn’t my dad realize she was not aging at all? How did Madeline hide her strength and control her Mori without him ever suspecting she was not human? Or had he known what she was all along? I bit my lip and looked away from the photo. There was no sense pondering over questions that would never be answered.
Another picture got my attention, a painting of the same blond girl from the portrait in Tristan’s office. “Is that your sister?” I asked him, and he turned and followed my gaze to the painting in question. “Nikolas once mentioned his friend, Elena, who died a long time ago, and he said she was Madeline’s aunt.”
He laid a plate of salmon and rice in front of me and took his seat again. “Elena was my younger sister, much younger. I was almost two hundred years old and quite surprised when my parents told me they were having another baby. It is not unusual for Mohiri siblings to have many years between them, but my parents love to travel and they are not what you would call the most affectionate people. They were already here exploring America by then, and I decided to come here to be with them when the child was born. Elena was the most captivating little baby, and of course I adored her immediately and spoiled her excessively. When she was five, my parents decided they wanted to continue their travels, and it didn’t take much convincing to get them to leave Elena with me.”