Flock (The Ravenhood #1)(54)
“Who are you?” Her accent is thick, and I make it a point to brush up on my French.
“Hi, I’m Cecelia.”
She turns to Dominic. “Ta copine?” Your girlfriend?
This, I understand and I answer for myself. “Non.” No.
She harrumphs as Dominic helps her into the front seat.
“Comment ?a va?”
“English, Tatie, and we aren’t talking about that tonight.” Dominic never speaks French, which is odd because of his ‘Frenchman’ nickname. Maybe it’s for lack of competent company.
He eyes me and shuts the door, rounding the car. Those few seconds alone with her intimidate the hell out of me. Though sickly, she commands an air of respect. I keep my mouth shut and am surprisingly relieved when Dominic is back behind the wheel. A few minutes of silence ensue as I study her and the resemblance between the two of them. It’s there, especially if I picture her a few years younger with more life in her eyes, her frame. When she speaks up, her question is directed to me.
“Why did you come?”
“She’s Sean’s girlfriend, I’m giving her a ride,” Dominic offers as we pull up to a pharmacy drive-thru. The cashier greets Dominic, her face lighting up like Christmas. Beneath her white jacket she sports a risqué dress, her face painted up like she’s going out for a night on the town, rather than working a respectable shift as a professional. He’s mildly pleasant with her which only pisses me off. He pays for the medications and asks for a water which the girl supplies, her ample breasts on display as she graces us all with a view.
“Salope,” Dominic’s aunt says with clear disdain. I know it’s an insult to the girl trying to give us something resembling a window pole dance. I try to hide my grin, but Dominic eyes me in the rearview and doesn’t miss it. I swear I see his lips twitch. He’s so impossible to read, this man. We pull up just a car length past the window and he opens the bag, palming some of the medication, handing her a dose with the water.
“I’m not a child.”
“Take it.” His voice is full of command.
Grumbling, she takes the pills and swallows. I see his lips tilt up again as he studies her, his eyes shining with the closest thing I’ve seen to affection from him. I feel that look pierce the surface of my skin, the warmth and respect he’s showing her satisfying some need inside me. Like I knew it was there and needed confirmation.
“How many more treatments?” she asks.
“We’ve been over this. Six.”
“Putain.” Fuck.
I laugh out loud because I know that one.
“Je ne veux plus de ce poison. Laisse-moi mourir.” I don’t want this poison anymore. Just let me die.
“English, Tatie.” He wants me privy to their exchange. Since when is Dominic so considerate?
“Put me in a box and forget me.”
“I would have when I was younger. You were a horrible parent.”
“That’s why I didn’t have children.” She turns to him, lifting her chin defiantly. “I was barely twenty when I took you. You did not starve. You—”
“Hush, Tatie,” he gives her the side-eye, “let’s get you home and comfortable.”
“No such thing with this sickness. I don’t know why you take me.”
“Because my first murder attempts failed, and you’ve grown on me.”
“That’s only because you honor your parents.”
He swallows, and we ride in amicable silence for a few minutes before Dominic turns into a small driveway. His headlights beam on a Cape Cod-style house with overgrown plants on the porch, most of them dying.
“Stay,” he gets out of the car and points to her where she sits in her seat. She doesn’t say a word to me. Dominic opens the door and lifts her easily. I get out and he looks over his shoulder.
“No, stay, I’ll be back in a minute.”
I ignore him and scramble to the porch to open the screen door.
“Ha, I like her,” his aunt says, scanning me in the dim light from the streetlamp. Dominic curses as he holds her against him and fumbles with the keys before he hands them to me. I hold each key up until he nods at one and then twist it in the lock and walk in, turning on the closest light and can’t help but cringe at the scattering of a few roaches on the wall. This is the house Dominic grew up in?
Dominic walks her to an old beige recliner, and she sighs in relief when they get there. She kicks back, and he spreads a blanket over her lap before disappearing down a hall.
“You’re looking at him the same way as the girl was at the pharmacy.”
“He’s hard not to notice,” I admit truthfully, “but getting easier to ignore with his sunny disposition.”
I carefully assess the house while trying not to make it obvious what I’m doing. It’s nothing but old furniture in need of a thorough dusting, cleaning, and extermination. I don’t know how she expects to get well in an environment that’s anything but sterile, but from what she said in the car, she’s not intent on a recovery. She examines me from her chair and I return her stare, just as curious. She’s reading me, and she’s doing it with Dominic’s silver eyes. The resemblance is most definitely there. Early forties at most, I decide as I stare her down. It’s tragic. She’s too young not to fight.