Silverthorn by Sydney Bristow Page B

right to hurt another person. No wonder Alexis consumed so much alcohol. She probably used it as a crutch to deal with our mother. Again, I couldn’t condone that behavior, but at least I understood why she resorted to drowning her sorrows.
    “I suspected she was hooked on something …but you let her watch over your daughter?” Anger shot through my system, triggering an enormous amount of heat through me.
    “Guilty until proven innocent, is that it? Well, I couldn’t prove anything. I searched the house at least ten times: kitchen cabinets, under the bed, behind the flat screen, at the back of the closet. I looked all over. I didn’t see a thing.”
    “You saw the bruises on Celestina.”
    “She told me she tripped down the stairs.”
    “But your house is a flat. There aren’t any stairs!”
    “It happened downtown at Macy’s.”
    “How often does that happen? A teenager falling down the stairs at a department store? Open your bloodshot eyes, for God sake! This is your daughter !”
    Alexis pushed down both hands as she steadied her breathing. “Look, I can see why you’d be suspicious. Mother gave you up for adoption. I get it, okay? But it doesn’t mean that she’s moronic enough to let Zephora take control of her body.”
    I didn’t follow how giving me up for adoption related to our mother allowing Zephora to enter her body. I guessed Alexis referred to our mother having poor judgment.
    “Mother had magic flowing through her veins. Why would she turn to drugs? Wasn’t magic enough?”
    I’d had enough of my sister’s ignorance. “I need you to listen, okay? Our mother is dead. Zephora has control of her body. And your daughter is scared.”
    Alexis took another swig from the vodka bottle and rushed up to me, leaving only an inch between us. “You’re seriously cracked! You need a psychiatrist.”
    “Listen,” I said, trying to disregard the alcohol fumes that singed the interior of my nose. “You can hate me all you want, but your daughter is—”
    “I don’t buy whatever shit you’re shoveling. So go sell your crazy someplace else.” She took another pull from the bottle and swallowed. “And if you visit my workplace again, you’re gonna wish my daughter hadn’t saved your life!”

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
     
     
    The moment I stepped out of the strip club, I felt cleaner, more sanitary. I had nothing against those who visited those types of establishments, but I breathed easier outside of its confines. My phone rang. “Hello?”
    “It’s Kendall. Are you okay? Brandon and I are at Nolan’s. With everything going on, I was too freaked out to stay at home.”
    “Good idea.” I was also spooked about staying at my place after Darius’s threat of burning down the place. But intuition told me that all paranormal creatures frowned upon such human methods of destruction, regarding them as beneath them, as though those with supernatural abilities should handle all conflicts fairly…by using their gifts to end any given dispute. “Is it big enough for you guys?”
    Kendall chuckled. “There’s plenty of room for you. Come on by.”
    I took down Nolan’s address and drove over. All the while, I suspected that someone (or something) followed me. I checked my mirrors every minute or so, but I hadn’t seen any vehicles swerving in and out of lanes to keep up with me. Since I hadn’t taken a course in tactical defensive driving techniques, I had no idea whether someone trailed me or not. So when I exited my car in Streeterville, I glanced around but didn’t see any vehicles park immediately or shut off their lights and creep up the street. All told, it seemed like paranoia had gotten the best of me.
    Shaking off my neuroses, I walked up seven concrete steps until I reached the porch and stood on a Guns N’ Roses welcome mat, featuring…what else? A couple shiny pistols surrounded by crimson roses. That tickled me. During my college career, I’d read a couple of academic