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8:00 p.m.

Corin and Prudence were out on the balcony chatting, and Angela had stepped out to walk Violette to the elevator, leaving Ezekiel alone in the kitchen. Wishing to be helpful, he removed his jacket, gloves, and rolled up his sleeves to clean the dishes. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Prudence couldn’t see his furry, clawed hands from where she stood. She and Corin were looking out at the city, their backs to the balcony doors.

Angela returned and joined Ezekiel in the kitchen, bumping hips with him as she took up drying the cleaned dishes. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Indeed.” Ezekiel made to pass Angela another clean dish to dry, pretended to almost drop it, but caught it balanced on its rim on one finger. “Tada.”

“If you think you’ve seen Uncle Corin mad, just wait and see how he reacts if you break one of those,” Angela scolded with a grin, taking the plate from him. “He says this china belonged to my great-great-grandparents. Or was it three greats?”

“Fear not, your dinnerware is in safe hands.” One of Ezekiel’s claws nicked the surface of the plate he was sponging, cutting a jagged scratch in the pattern. He froze, gave Angela a panicked look, and quickly mended the scratch and restored the pattern with his transmutative magic. “You can’t tell this was scratched, right?” he whispered.

“Um …” Angela took the plate and scrutinized the spot. “Maybe.”

Ezekiel’s eyes widened. “Maybe?”

“It’s fine,” Angela said, drying the dish and hiding it at the bottom of the pile.

Ezekiel glared at his black nails. “These blasted things.” He used his magic to dissolve the tips of his claws, along with the hair coating the back and palms of his hands.

“Why don’t you get rid of the hair and claws whenever they grow back?”

“They grow back so fast, and it’s just tedious reducing the nails over and over every few minutes—or the fur every half hour.” He stared at his momentarily bare hand. “What I find most disturbing is the fur and claws don’t smell like any creature I’ve ever encountered.”

Angela touched Ezekiel’s wet hand. Her warm skin felt so soft. “For what it’s worth, the way your hands look doesn’t bother me.”

Ezekiel gave Angela an appreciative smile, then returned to cleaning dishes and changed the topic. “Violette seemed to enjoy herself.”

“I think so too. She and I talked about going shopping this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Ezekiel kept his misgivings to himself, only to then remember Angela was an empath.

Angela sighed. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

Ezekiel winced. “No, it’s just the same reservations as before. I think Violette is a nice person. I really do. So don’t pay my anxiety any mind.” He shrugged. “She probably doesn’t even know her wild rose perfume is a hunter’s trick.”

Angela set the plate she’d just dried down and turned to Ezekiel. “Look, I don’t want to put you and Uncle Corin in a position where you feel unsafe.”

“Well, if you decide to not associate with Violette because of us, then Corin and I will feel guilty.” Ezekiel faced Angela and leaned his hip against the counter. “May I ask why you’re so interested in getting to know her?”

Angela crossed her arms and considered the question. “I sort of relate to her. We’re both … overly emotional people. I mean, it’s not for the same reason. I’m emotional because I constantly channel other people’s feelings. Violette has an anxiety disorder. I can at least block the emotions if I concentrate hard enough or put distance between me and who I’m channeling. Violette doesn’t have that luxury, so I can’t say I know exactly what she’s going through.”

“Perhaps, but I do see why you empathize with her condition.” Ezekiel shook his head. “I mean empathize in the non-magical sense.”

“I understood what you meant.” Angela looked at her fingertips and pinched one. “Growing up, I was constantly on edge because of my recurrent empathic upheavals. I used to chew my fingernails because of the continual stress. It got so bad that I sometimes made my fingertips bleed. To stop, I had to train myself into a different nervous habit—pinching my fingertips. I noticed Violette has a similar tick. She scratches her elbow.”

“I noticed.”

Angela combed her bangs back and sighed. “I didn’t have many friends growing up. Actually, I only had one. Honorato, and he was the best, but … I’ve always really wanted … a girlfriend.” Angela blushed. “I mean a friend who’s a girl, not a girlfriend.”

Ezekiel held his hands up. “Hey, you’re speaking to a bisexual man. I wouldn’t judge if you and Violette developed something more than a friendship.”

Angela laughed and shook her head. “No, no, no, I support the LGBT community, but I’m very much straight, I assure you.”

“Understood.” Ezekiel cupped Angela’s hand, being careful to not prick her with his newly regrown claws. “If you feel some sort of kinship with Violette, then I wholeheartedly support your friendship. Not that it would matter if I didn’t. You’re not beholden to … oof!”

Angela had surprised Ezekiel with yet another hug. “I know I don’t need your permission, but I appreciate the reassurance all the same,” she whispered.

Ezekiel returned Angela’s embrace with a chuckle. “Two surprise hugs in one night? It must be my lucky day.”

They held each other for a long time. When they released each other, Ezekiel glanced toward the balcony doors. Corin and Prudence were still deep in conversation. Ezekiel cleared his throat and returned to the sink. “Let’s finish up, shall we?”

“Right.” Angela returned to drying the dishes. “Out of curiosity, why did you call your dealership Bloodstone Antiquities?”

“Oh, that.” Ezekiel cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t laugh, but Bloodstone was a surname I considered adopting when I first changed my name.”

Angela pressed her lips together like she was trying not to grin. “Edgar Blood-stone. A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Hence why I chose Blair instead, but I still liked the name Bloodstone. So I used it for my dealership.”

“I understand why you and Uncle Corin change your first names every few decades, but why change your last name? If you can just tell people your current persona is the son of your previous alias, why not call yourself Edgar Blake?”

Ezekiel’s cheerful expression faded, and a leaden feeling settled in his chest. “I didn’t change my name just to hide the fact I don’t age. I was … am trying to hide from someone.”

Angela stopped drying and gave Ezekiel a concerned look. “Who?”

Ezekiel hesitated, a lump forming in his throat. “He was … my … was my …” He fell silent and avoided eye contact.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Angela said, touching Ezekiel’s shoulder.

Ezekiel cupped Angela’s hand. “Another time, perhaps. I do take comfort when I confide in you, but tonight was such a lovely evening. I don’t want to spoil it with unhappy memories.”

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