“You don’t have to get me anything, but I’d like it if we could hang out.”
“Text me the details,” Cynthia said, then leaned up and kissed him. Nathan made a surprised noise and pulled her closer. His tongue tangled with hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Cynthia!” her mother called from inside.
“Your mum has terrible timing,” Nathan whispered against Cynthia’s lips.
She giggled and pulled away. “It’s a sixth sense,” she said. “She just knows when we’re kissing or something. Maybe she’s psychic.”
Nathan recalled all of the inappropriate thoughts he’d had about Cynthia recently. “God, I hope not.”
Cynthia laughed and retreated to the doorstep. “Have a good weekend!”
Nathan smiled to himself as he cycled off down the Headington Hill. For one evening, life was good.
There was a black Mercedes S-class parked in the driveway when Nathan got home, and that was all the warning he got. Heart racing in his chest, he locked his bike in the garden and let himself in the front door.
“Nathan, is that you?” Aunt Anna asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway. She looked worried. Then Dad stepped out of the lounge.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“Uh, I was out with a friend,” Nathan replied. “Aunt Anna knew where I was. Hey, Dad. Is Mum here?”
Benjamin Delacroix glared down at him. “What friend is this?”
“Cynthia Rymes.” If there was one rule Nathan adhered to with his father, it was always giving as little information as possible to get by.
“A girlfriend?”
“She’s a girl, yes.”
“You know what I mean, Nathan.”
“A friend who is a girl.”
“So you’re not dating.”
They’d been on one date. “No,” Nathan said.
“Good,” said his father. “You don’t need any distractions right now.”
Nathan didn’t twitch, but inwardly he was thinking, oh, shit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NATHAN’S FATHER ACCOMPANIED NATHAN to training the next day. Normally, when he was in town, Nathan got Saturday off training so he could spend one-on-one time with his father. Today, Benjamin Delacroix was waiting expectantly when Nathan came down the stairs, dressed in tracksuit trousers and a T-shirt.
“That’s what you wear to training?”
“Grey’s never told me I should where anything else,” Nathan said.
“You don’t wear your uniform?”
“No, I mean, not if we’re doing combat training in the garage.”
“Hmm,” his father said, but he didn’t elaborate.
Nathan felt uncomfortably scrutinised throughout breakfast, and the silence in the car was deafening when his father drove him to Grey’s house.
They were around the corner from Grey’s house before his father spoke.
“Grey is concerned that you’ve been distracted lately. This isn’t because of that girl, is it?”
“Dad, can we forget about the girl? Please?” Nathan asked. “I’m trying to remember my Arabic conjugations. I think Grey’s going to quiz me on them this afternoon.”
“He’s not,” Dad said certainly. Well, he would probably know. He set Nathan’s training schedule. “I’ve heard from your school, as well. Did you know you’re failing maths and economics?”
“Yes, actually,” Nathan said sarcastically. “I am aware.”
“I know that hunter training has to take precedence, but I don’t want you failing your classes.”
“Yes, Dad.”
They pulled up in Grey’s driveway, and Nathan’s dad parked behind Grey’s car.
“You probably shouldn’t park their car in. Mrs Larson might have to go out later,” Nathan said.
“I can move the car,” his father replied.
Grey was waiting for them, and he immediately set Nathan to jogging up the street and back for a warm-up. It was a relief to get away from his father. Amazingly, his father had no magic, therefore no aura, and yet still he somehow seemed to fill up every room he entered. It was like he was followed around by his own personal ominous black cloud.
Nathan performed better in training than he had in a long time. Having his father there focused him. He was hyperaware of everything, and made fewer mistakes, but having his father standing by and waiting for him to mess up was pretty nerve-wracking.
He was put through his paces in hand-to-hand, knife fighting, general fitness, and assorted other weapons. He was even asked to spar with a sword, which was his worst style. When was he ever going to need it? No one carried swords anymore these days. After lunch, he got tested in all of his languages, along with magi-science, general knowledge about the supernatural, tracking and espionage skills, and warding. By seven o’clock his head was spinning, and it was a miracle that he managed to answer the questions on warding correctly.
On the drive back, he got the first opportunity of the day to check his phone and discovered that Cynthia had sent him an essay.
Cynthia: Hey
Cynthia: I had fun last night
Cynthia: I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for being a bit weird yesterday. I’ve been thinking about it, and you didn’t deserve that. It’s just, you’re so talented at everything, and you don’t even seem to realise it
Cynthia: Bet you’re even better than me at lacrosse and tennis
Cynthia: Anyway, I’m just being stupid and girly. I know you have training, so I’ll leave you to it :)
Cynthia: Okay, I hope you’re busy at training and not ignoring me
Cynthia: Please don’t be ignoring me
Cynthia: I’ll stop being annoying now
Nathan: I’m so sorry, my dad pitched up unexpectedly and I’ve been busy all day
Cynthia: Hey, that’s great!
Nathan had a sudden inkling that he had not explained his relationship with his dad very well yesterday.
Cynthia: Is he staying for your birthday?
Nathan considered that message very carefully, before replying.
Nathan: I’m not sure
Cynthia: I hope he does!
On Sunday morning, Nathan came down to find his father in the kitchen, bag packed and ready to go.
“Morning, Dad,” he said. Catching sight of Aunt Anna, he added, “Good morning Aunt Anna. Do you need help with breakfast?”
“I think your father is taking you out.”
Dad picked a café for breakfast, irrespective of Nathan’s preferences, and he had soon elicited them a table. Nathan studied the people walking by outside and wondered if he was going to have enough time to make a moderate effort on his geo and econ homework this weekend.
“I came down here,” his father began gravely, “Because Grey was concerned that you were having doubts about your own capabilities.”
Nathan looked at his father. Dad hadn’t shaved since he’d arrived, and he was now starting to look a bit scruffy.
“To be honest, I’m a little bit confused as to what’s going on here, son. You performed excellently yesterday in training. Based on that, I would happily recommend you straight into an advanced apprenticeship.”
“Really?” Nathan asked in surprise. His father had never actually expressed any kind of pride in his achievements before.
His father waved that comment away as though it was nothing. “It’s your head that’s the problem, Nathan.”
Ouch.
“I’m not sure you want to be a hunter.”
“Of course I want to be a hunter, Dad,” Nathan said. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”
“I don’t know that I’m too sure,” his dad said. “I think you’re letting yourself be pulled in different directions, and you’re losing discipline.” And then he said the damning words: “I don’t think you’re ready.”
“I am ready!” Nathan protested. “I’ve worked my butt off for this!”
“No,” said his father. “I think you
think you’re ready, but moving on to an apprenticeship is no joke, Nathan. You’ll be in the field—I know you’ve been in the field before, but this is different. You won’t be observing. People will be depending on you to hold up your end of the team. You’ll be pulling difficult hours, and I can’t have you failing school because you’re struggling to balance competing commitments. You need to get your marks up, and we’ll revisit this in the new year. For now, I’m pulling you out of your initiation.”
An odd feeling filled Nathan—frustration, disappointment, anger… relief. He’d been so scared of making a decision, making the wrong decision, and now it had been taken out of his hands.
“That’s not fair, Dad. This should be my decision.”
“I have to sign off on your training. I want you to take this as an opportunity to get your head back in the game, Nathan. I think initiations have been worrying you. Maybe you didn’t even realise it. Without that looming over you, you’ll have a chance to get your priorities straight.”
Nathan stared at the tablecloth and tried to figure out what the right answer was. What would demonstrate the right level of frustration at being robbed of the chance to initiate immediately, but the right level of subordination to his father, who was a senior agent?
“Yes, Dad,” he said finally, “I understand.”
“Good, I’m glad we got that sorted out. So, do you have plans to celebrate your birthday with your friends? How is that friend of yours—what was his name, Matt—doing by the way? Did his parents sort out their drama?”
And Nathan ate his breakfast and gave stock answers and wondered what the hell he was going to do now.
The next two days, Nathan was listless and demotivated. He felt robbed of purpose and wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. On his birthday, he avoided well-wishers, sequestering himself in the gym over lunch.
He was eighteen today. He should have been happy. His usual training had even been cancelled today—not because it was his birthday, but because Grey had a training day over at HQ. That had meant he was able to sleep in a bit longer, which meant he had dodged Jess’s ongoing tantrum about how unfair it was that Dad had spent all his time with Nathan and barely spoken to her all weekend.
Nathan was on his third set of push-ups when Matt entered the school gym.
“There you are. Mate, you know it’s lunch, right?”
“Mm-hmm.” Nathan continued to count. Seven-eight-nine-ten.
“Come on, it’s your birthday, and we literally haven’t spent any time together. What’s got into you lately, anyway?”
Nathan stared at the ground. What had got into him? He didn’t know, and that was the problem.
“Look, whatever it is, just come spend time with your friends and forget about it. Are we going out this weekend?”
“You’re right.” Nathan stood up and grabbed his bag.
“I’m right?” Matt asked, looking confused.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m getting out of here.”
“What?” Matt asked. “Wait, you can’t just walk out of school! Aren’t you failing econ? Mr Matthews will kill you!”
“So? If I’m going to fail econ, I can fail econ from home just as well as from here,” Nathan said. “See you tomorrow, maybe.”
He headed for the bike shed. Matt chased after him.
“Have you gone insane? You never skive. You’ve skived, like, once in seven years!”
“This makes twice,” Nathan said, unlocking his bike.
“They’ll catch you. You can’t just walk out!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nathan repeated. He swung his leg over his bike and cycled off of school grounds.
He texted Adrian from the traffic lights, before cycling up to Lily’s house.
Lily lived with Damien in a house in Park Town which Nathan was sure had cost over a million pounds. It wasn’t even a big house, but it made up for that by being old and fancy and having a snazzy address. Also, the inside looked straight out of an interior design catalogue for the 1800s.
If you needed proper sympathy and a serious ear to listen, well, Nathan probably had the wrong friends for that, but Lily would do in a pinch. She opened the door for him.
“I’ve been pulled from initiations,” Nathan said, standing on her doorstep in his sports kit and feeling a bit like a dog that had been shut out in the rain. This was as pathetic as it got.
“Oh no,” Lily said sympathetically. “I see why you wanted to meet. Come in. Do you want tea?”
“Fuck tea,” Adrian declared. “This calls for something stronger than tea.”
“I’m eighteen, anyway,” Nathan said. “May as well celebrate the first day I can drink legally by getting smashed at two PM, right?”
Adrian helped himself to Damien’s wine cabinet. Monica arrived about half a bottle in, took one look at Nathan’s sorry expression, and threw his present down on the other sofa.
“Oh, Nathan,” she said, and hugged him.
“My dad decided to postpone my initiations to January,” Nathan mumbled into her cashmere jumper.
“My brother’s an arse,” Adrian said. “He’s afraid you’ll be a better hunter than him.”
“Why?” Monica asked, squishing herself onto the sofa with Nathan and Lily, her legs across Nathan’s lap. “I thought you were really good.”
“He said I performed excellently in all aspects of my training, but he isn’t sure if I actually want to be a hunter,” Nathan said dully.
“Do you want to be a hunter?” Monica asked in her typical undiplomatic way.
“No clue.”
“So he’s right?”
“It’s not fair, though,” Lily said. “The decision should be up to Nathan.”
“No, that’s the thing,” Nathan said. “Monica’s right, Dad is right. He got it in one.”
“Nathan’s problem is he has a conscience,” Adrian put in. “Hunters aren’t supposed to have a conscience.”
“I like you as you are,” Monica said. “You don’t complain when I put my feet on your lap. Pass the wine.” She stole Nathan’s glass, topped it up, and downed half of it in one go. Nathan gave her a look. “What?” she asked. “Morocco’s Muslim. No alcohol. Besides, I’m doing you a favour. You should pace yourself.”
Nathan let his head fall back against the sofa. The ceiling had little swirls in the paint. “Can we order lunch?”
“Chinese takeaway?” Lily asked hopefully.
Over lunch, Nathan texted Cynthia telling her where he was and offering for her to join them. He doubted she would skive off school, but hopefully she’d come afterwards. Lily, in particular, was in favour of this plan.
“I can’t believe I’m the only one who hasn’t met her! You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I don’t think you’ve missed much,” Adrian said. “They’re not technically dating—I’m not sure Nathan has figured out how to get past the holding hands stage of the relationship yet.”
“I have to managed to get past that!” Nathan said. “And I’ll have you know I like holding hands with Cynthia!” He regretted that second part immediately.
“So innocent,” Monica said in a baby voice.
“Have you managed to get her top off yet?” Adrian asked.
“We’ve been dating for a week,” Nathan groaned. “She’ll take her top off for me when she’s good and ready to.”
“Have you managed to get her top button undone yet?” Adrian continued innocently.
Nathan slugged Adrian as hard as possible on the arm.
Cynthia joined them around five, dressed in sports clothes and with a tennis bag on her back.
“Wow, who lives here?” she asked, impressed.
“Lily,” Nathan replied, gesturing to the blond girl. Lily waved.
“I’m not dressed for a party,” Cynthia added, bestowing Lily with a nervous smile.
“This isn’t a party,” Nathan said reassuringly. “And we’re definitely not going out.”
“W
e are going out,” said Monica. “You just don’t know it yet.”
“We are not going out,” Nathan repeated.
“What happened?” Cynthia asked softly, squeezing his wrist with her hands. “Did you skip school?”
Nathan avoided her gaze, suddenly a little bit ashamed of his behaviour. “Um, I got pulled from hunter initiations,” he said. “Come meet Lily.”
Lily had the temperament of a socially awkward sixteen-year-old, so of course she and Cynthia got on like a house on fire. Within about ten minutes, Lily was plaiting Cynthia’s hair. Cynthia gave Nathan a sheepish smile.
“Want wine?” Nathan held the bottle out to her.
“I, um, my mum will kill me,” she said.
“You can always stay over here,” Lily said.
“It’s a school night,” Cynthia protested. “My mum really will kill me.”
“In fairness,” said Adrian, “This is probably the safest place in Oxford for you to be. We have a hunter, two vampires, and a witch all under the same roof.”
“All drunk.”
“Vampires can’t get drunk.” Adrian toasted her.
“Oh, really?” Cynthia launched back into her never-ending questions about the supernatural. Monica put a glass of wine in her hand, and she drank it, and they soon discovered that shifters couldn’t get drunk either.
“I mean, we heal pretty fast,” Cynthia said, “And I never get sick. Oh, this sucks! Hey, though I guess I don’t need to avoid alcohol at parties for fear of getting grounded anymore.”
“Your mum does grounding?” Nathan asked incredulously. “That’s a bit… old-fashioned.”
“Don’t your parents?” Cynthia asked. “Won’t your dad be mad?”
“Dad went back to London on Sunday,” Nathan said.
“What? But it’s your eighteenth! Why didn’t he just stay the extra two days?”
“That’s not his M.O.,” Nathan said.
“He’s a shit father,” Adrian said.
“Adrian,” Nathan warned.
“No, Nate, he is,” Adrian said flatly. “Alright, even our dad actually showed his face more than about once every three months. He sat in on my training so often that he was practically training me himself. Made me want to smack him, but at least he was there.”
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