“You don’t want to know,” I said, unwrapping the foil and sticking the gum in my mouth. I glanced Peter’s way and found him watching me, an indecipherable look in his eyes.
I went to stand next to my mum, who threw her arm around my shoulders. Thankfully she’d been too busy canoodling with Dad to notice the exchange with Peter Senior. “You look cold. Why didn’t you wear a thicker coat than this?” she tugged at the collar of my more than adequate winter jacket.
“I’m fine,” I said, waving away her fussing.
“She’s half-vampire,” my dad reminded her, affection in his voice. “She doesn’t feel the cold as most do, lumina mea.”
“Right. How could I forget?” Mum chuckled as my grandfather Martin approached. Granddad was entirely human and was one of the few aware of the supernatural side of our city. He was also one of my favourite people in the whole entire world, and I knew the feeling was mutual.
“Darya, you look older every time I see you,” he said, pulling me into a hug.
“You’re lucky I’m still young enough to take that as a compliment,” I said, returning his hug. Granddad Martin was the kind of man you felt entirely comfortable just sitting quietly in a room with, and he had wisdom few humans possessed. During the war, a sorcerer had sent him to dwell for months in a hell dimension until my mother was able to find someone to help her rescue him. Granddad never spoke about that period, and I often wanted to ask him about what he’d experienced, but I was too afraid to dredge up old hurts.
We chatted for a few minutes, just catching up, before I went to speak with Dad.
“Did you find any information about the demon?” I asked quietly. Try as I might to enjoy New Year’s, I still had a pit in my stomach about Angela’s mystery peeper. I needed to know if there was anything I should be concerned about. If she was in any kind of danger.
“Unfortunately, no. Officially, no new demons are living in Tribane, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t someone who already resides here. I’ve assigned several vampires to patrol Angela’s neighbourhood at night and some shapeshifters during the day. If this person returns, they’ll weed him out.”
“Okay,” I said, considering doing a little sleuthing of my own. I didn’t feel comfortable sitting back and letting others investigate this matter, especially since it pertained to my blood donor.
I noticed my father stiffen, a look of irritation briefly crossing his features when he turned around. Peter Senior stood behind him, and my dhampir sense of smell picked up the faint notes of alcohol on the man’s breath. It seemed a little hypocritical to forbid your son from drinking while you yourself got completely wasted.
“Mr Girard,” Dad said with forced politeness. He was well aware of Peter Senior’s disdain for our family, though he always dealt with him gracefully. “How can I help you?”
A sneer shaped Peter Senior’s lips as he glanced from me to my father. “You keep that daughter of yours away from my son. I saw her batting her eyelashes at him earlier, and I’ll be damned if I let my eldest go anywhere near a Cristescu.”
My stomach twisted, both in embarrassment and anger. Sure, there’d been eye contact, but I hadn’t been batting my flipping eyelashes! Just like that, my mother, as well as my uncles, gathered close.
Dad’s arm came around my shoulders. “I can assure you, my daughter has no interest in your son. However, they do go to school together, and I won’t forbid her from being friends with any of her fellow students at St. Bastian’s.”
“If I see her near him again, I’ll remove him from St. Bastian’s and have him educated elsewhere. Peter is the most talented warlock at that school, so I’m sure Principal Wolf will be unhappy about losing such a well-performing student.”
“As I said, my daughter has no interest in your son,” Dad repeated, and I felt a little bit ill. If only he knew the truth.
“Yes, well, it better stay that way,” Peter Senior replied irritably before stalking off and returning to his family.
“What a horrible man,” Uncle Alvie exclaimed once he was out of earshot.
“I have no idea what he was talking about,” I said, turning to Dad. “Peter offered me a piece of gum, and his dad just lost it.”
“Don’t fret,” Dad reassured. “That man will find any excuse to cause conflict with us, but he’s all bark and no bite. I’ve been dealing with his hatred for the better part of two decades. I know how to handle him.”
I nodded, but I still felt uneasy, mainly because I did like Peter, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t even exchange a few words with him without causing so much family drama. “Are you okay, honey?” Mum asked. “You’re looking a little bit pale.”