CELIA

So strange having a newbie here. To know he’s judging everything we do. Like we’re judging him. I guess it’s mutual.

The air in the house is stilted. Even the conversation today is hyped up. We talk about all kinds of stupid shit just like everybody, but right now the Ciphers are trying to impress our potential recruit by acting like they’re planning their next attack to save mankind. They’re puffed up, watchful of him to make sure he knows they’re fierce. It’s like you stuck a grizzly in a lion’s den and the cats want to make sure the bear doesn’t underestimate them.

Sean’s interesting, I’ll give him that. He doesn’t wear his fear on his sleeve. Can’t tell if he’s nervous. Sure, those sapphires are sharp, interested, focused in a heightened way, but his shoulders aren’t tense.

The calm stare he gave me just now was…disarming.

My glance gets stolen by the back door as it swings open. Atlas precedes his father, both heading for the food as Jett walks away, holding Luna’s hand, plate full. Honey Badger nods to him, and receives one in return. A collective awkwardness drifts over the conversations as we attempt to act normal, but we’re watching them, too. I tell Sage something about climate change and she nods like she heard me when she didn’t. And who cares what I said, because I made it up.

Luna and Jett go eat outside in the screened-in porch. I know she’s telling Jett what happened with my mom. It hurts to sit here and not go eavesdrop, but I never do that. We need some semblance of privacy in a communal household. When people want to share with the group, they will. But I’m itching to hear.

My eyes flit to Sean in the windowsill, and hold.

He’s staring at me, too.

Did he ever look away?

Atlas calls over from shoveling cheesy potatoes onto his already full plate, “Celia, Sean, let’s eat in the big parlor.”

Our newbie reacts, eyebrows hitching. We stand and I touch Sage’s shoulder. She wasn’t invited because she can’t be around Atlas without insulting him. Rolling her eyes is the signal to me that she doesn’t want to join, anyway.

The three of us walk to the grand parlor together. We have three sitting rooms. I’m not including the TV room. One we turned into a game room with a regulation sized pool table and everything. Another is upstairs, much smaller than the other two since it’s mostly bedrooms up there. But this parlor is the largest by far. In the olden days it was used primarily for hosting parties and entertaining high society. Sunbeams filtered through gauzy curtains soften the immense space. Atlas and I head for the main conversation area, its velvet chairs shaved by use and worn down to the filling in parts. The walnut coffee and side tables are so stained it looks like art.

Sean takes his seat last, not much left on his plate. He picks at it and waits.

Atlas motions to him while he look at me, “Sean lost his dad when he was a kid. Maybe that’s why he likes to fight.”

Sapphires lock onto me and I blink a few times, quietly telling Atlas, “Maybe he didn’t want you telling me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal.”

“No secrets here,” Atlas shrugs, digging in.

I stare at his lack of sensitivity, especially since his telling a secret is why Sage misses Luke so much.

Sean picks up a fried crawfish, and offers with zero emotion, “It’s not that personal.”

I’m used to men covering up feelings so his denouncement doesn’t shock me in the slightest. But that he even had to pretend to not care about something as painful as losing his father, has me pissed off. “I haven’t lost anyone, so what’s my excuse, Atlas?”

“You were raised in this life.”

“So were other people here, and they don’t go on the road with us.”

“Not all girls are like you and Soph,” he shrugs.

Sean asks, “Sage never goes out?”

Crossing my legs and setting my plate in the center I smooth my voice, “She’s been out with us on some smaller things. Totally trained but…” I glance to Atlas to help me out.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” he mutters.

“You’re so transparent.”

Atlas shrugs, avoids me, digs into cajun chicken and sausage gumbo with his fingers and pretends to throw it at me. I duck but he zooms his hands back to his lips and eats with a lot of moaning, laughter in his dark blue eyes.

Sean bluntly asks, “Honey Badger ask you to check me out, just you two?”

Atlas’s smile freezes. “My dad said if you’re gonna be here a while we needed to watch you. It’ll be our crew you’d join…if you get voted in.”

“If,” Sean nods, setting his empty plate down. “Jett says we’re training today. I’m ready whenever you are.”

We stare at him, and I smile, “Don’t need to heal, do you.” It was a statement, not a question. I’m learning that our newbie says what he means.

Sean rests his palms backwards on his thighs, fingers pointing in. Everything he does is masculine. I can’t imagine him crossing his legs even if someone held a gun to his head. “Bruises don’t last forever.”

Atlas mutters, “Well let me eat my food first.”

“Sure,” Sean says, sapphires glinting in a beam of sunlight as he turns his head to scan the room. “Bet you guys know this place inside and out.”

“Born and raised,” I proudly announce. “Literally born in this house. All of us kids.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “How’d you manage that?”

Glancing to Atlas I hesitate. He nods for me to go ahead. Running my fingers through my hair and stretching I mumble, “It’s so weird telling someone we don’t know, about our private life.” I take a breath, return to Sean, and explain, “We can’t go to hospitals with knife wounds or gunshot wounds. It would raise too many questions. We have our own doctors. And midwives have been on retainer, too.”

Atlas jumps in, “When you’re out there helping people, they’re grateful. Word spreads, all under the radar. Some know medical people, tell them we’ve been asking for help. A few discreet phone calls later, along with some bank information for money transfers, and we’ve got ourselves a doctor who won’t tell a soul about us.”

Sean glances to me. “How do you get money?”

“We steal it from evil fuckheads most of the time. Give some to the people they were hurting, keep some for us so we can stay in business. Have food. And a lot of times gratitude moves people to open their pockets. It’s not just the poor we help. We got a wealthy woman out of an abusive marriage two years ago. That scumbag won’t bother her again. She gave us…what was it?” I ask Atlas.

He sets his empty plate down and licks his lips. “Million point five in the coffer.”

Sean’s eyebrows shoot up, then furrow. Involuntarily he glances around.

Atlas and I exchange a look, knowing what he must be thinking.

To fuck with Sean I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh…nothing.”

“You don’t like how we fixed up the place?”

He stares at me.

Atlas cocks his handsome head, flatly asks Sean, “We put all that money back into redecorating this room and the back porch.”

Newbie blinks from him to me. I’ve got total poker-face going. He licks his lips, still frowning a beat. A smile spreads, “You’re fucking with me.”

Atlas cracks up, and I slap his leg. “We could have kept that going for an hour! Why’d you laugh?”

Sean smiles, “You’re not giving me enough credit.”

Leaning on the arm of my chair I ask, “Why should I give you any? I don’t know you yet.”

“Yet.”

When he said that, something flickered in his eyes—only perceptible if you were looking into them. So Atlas didn’t catch it. He takes Sean’s ‘yet’ retort as acknowledgement that Sean knows he’s on trial. But there was something sexy to it that sent a zing into my blood. Frowning I unravel my legs and head for the kitchen. “Oh, and Sean, here the women don’t clean up after you. Grab your own plate.”

His laughter follows me into the old foyer.