L.L. Foster - The Kindred

She must’ve made a sound, because Bliss turned and saw her standing there.

“Gaby! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Something in Bliss’s expression put Gaby on alert. “Just got here.” She strode to the table and pulled out a chair. “Whatever that is, it smells good.”

“You hungry?” Before Gaby could answer, nervous energy carried Bliss across the kitchen to get a bowl and spoon. “It should be ready enough for you.”

Eyes narrowed, Gaby studied Bliss’s frenetic aura. Something was wrong, but she’d give Bliss a little time before she grilled her. “Thanks.”

Bliss dished up enough stew to feed two grown men.

Gaby looked toward the empty coffeepot and sighed. She could really use a kick of caffeine. “What’s up, Bliss?”

Her narrow shoulders stiffened. Keeping her back to Gaby, she ladled in yet another serving of the aromatic stew. “Nothing . . . probably.” She jerked around with a forced smile. “Are you just visiting or is . . . anything wrong?”

“So I’m to go first?”

Bliss rolled in her lips, and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“All right.” Gaby lifted her arm. “You got a first-aid kit around here anywhere?”

“What?” Bliss almost dropped the bowl. “Oh my God, Gaby. What happened?” She rushed forward, plopped the bowl on the table, and stared wide-eyed at the seeping wound. She swallowed twice. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s a little flesh wound, that’s all.” But she wanted to have it properly cleaned and bandaged before she returned to the tattoo parlor and, ultimately, to Luther.

“You’re not hurt anywhere else?” Her hands twisted together. “You’re sure?”

“I’m fine.” Bliss had a burgeoning special ability that she’d yet to master. Had she seen something happening to Gaby?

“I think Morty keeps a kit downstairs. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait.” Detaining her with a hold on her arm, Gaby met her gaze and infused her tone with command. “This is just between us, Bliss. Got it?”

“I won’t say anything.” She patted Gaby’s hand on her arm and tried another tentative smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Gaby pulled the stew around in front of her and started to eat. Before Luther, she’d never paid much attention to food. She could go days without eating, and often only fed herself out of boredom, or when she saw others eat and remembered that she should, too.

Mort, much like an anxious lapdog, had taken great pleasure in badgering her into sharing meals with him. For the longest time she had resisted his efforts at friendship. The idea of anyone caring about her, knowing her beyond a brief exchange, had been . . . unsettling.

And sure enough, the moment she decided to accept the idea of friends, she’d become inundated with them. Mort, Bliss, Luther . . . and Ann. They were all unique, different not only from Gaby, but from each other.

And Ann was the oddest friend of all.

Morty and Bliss she could understand. Like her, they had survived the dredges of society, accepting abuse as commonplace, taking it as their due. That sort of background bred familiarity, an affinity that outsiders couldn’t fathom.

And Luther, well, he claimed some bizarre sexual chemistry—and more. He wanted her, and maybe after that happened he would lose interest. She wasn’t versed enough in men, or relationships, to be sure.

But Ann proved an enigma. She was a beautiful, confident, educated woman with a career in law enforcement. She had breeding and class, and one of the biggest hearts ever.

Gaby would never comprehend why any of them wanted to be a part of her life, but the idea grew on her each and every day.

She had just wolfed down her last bite when Bliss returned with an armful of ointments and bandages and such.

Setting it all on the table, she pulled around a chair for herself and reached for Gaby’s arm. “Let me see.”

“I can do it. But if you want to help, make some coffee, will you?”

Bliss hovered, her big eyes wounded and worried.

“Bliss, seriously, it’s not that bad.” Something other than her meager injury had spooked the girl. Gaby would find out what it was before she left.

“You really do want coffee?”

“Desperately. It’s colder than a dead witch’s left tit in a brass bra out there.”

Choking on a snicker, Bliss moved away to start coffee preparations. As Gaby unwrapped her makeshift bandage, she asked, “The food was good. When did you learn to cook?”

“Ann’s teaching me.”

Hearing the smile in Bliss’s tone, Gaby rolled her eyes. Didn’t Ann have enough to do by being Luther’s partner and Mort’s lover? “She’s a fucking saint, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, just about.”

The wound didn’t look too bad, Gaby decided. In a few days, she’d be almost healed.

“Ohmigod.” Bliss stood over her again. “Gaby, what happened?”

“An accident, that’s all.” Gaby rose from her seat and went to the kitchen sink to wet some paper towels. She scrubbed at the skin blackened by the heat of the bullet and removed the dried blood encrusted around it until she could see the inch-wide furrow gouged out of her flesh.

Already it looked better, but then, she’d always been a really fast healer.

“What kind of accident?”

Glancing at Bliss, seeing her white face, Gaby said, “Nothing.”

“It looks like something.” Bliss swallowed hard. “You know you can trust me, Gaby, right? I can keep secrets. I promise.”

Because Bliss looked so damned hopeful, Gaby gave in. “It’s just a gunshot that missed, that’s all.”

Bliss faltered back a step. She looked sick and scared. “It did not miss!”

“Mostly missed. Trust me, he was hoping for a kill shot.”

Breathing hard and fast, Bliss put a hand to her heart. “He?”

“Just some idiot gang thug.”

Bliss studied her face. “Did you kill him?”

“No, so don’t go fainting on me.” No way in hell would Gaby tell Bliss what she had done to the cutthroat dealers. “Why so damned curious? If you have something to tell me, Bliss, just spit it out.”

Bliss hesitated, and that annoyed Gaby even more. Then, with a determined expression, Bliss said, “First things first. Please, sit down and let me help.”

She urged Gaby back to her seat.

Gaby gave an aggrieved huff, but what the hell, why not? If it made Bliss happy, she could put up with her fussing. “Isn’t that coffee done yet?”

“Not yet. Soon.” Being more careful than necessary, Bliss took out a tube of ointment and coated the wound, put a clean gauze pad over it, and taped it in place.

As she smoothed the edge of the tape down, Bliss whispered, “I keep seeing you with a kid, Gaby.” Other than a quick glance at her face, she didn’t meet Gaby’s gaze. “Not a child of your own—”

“Course not.” Nothing could be more absurd. She was only just learning to deal with adults.

“But . . . a little girl who’s in a lot of danger.”

“Good.” Gaby sat back and crossed her arms.

“Good?”

“I saw it, too, Bliss.” Unwilling to expound on that for fear that others might discover her pastime as a graphic novelist, Gaby said, “Not the way you did. Not like a vision or anything. But I just sensed that she’s there and in some kind of trouble. Really bad trouble.”

Tears filled Bliss’s eyes and she nodded. “Really bad.”

“If you saw it, too, then maybe you have some details that’ll help me to find her before it’s too late.”

“I wish to God I did, Gaby. But all I keep seeing is you with this scared little girl who . . . ”

“Tell me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know if I can. It’s . . . it’s just so horrible.”