SEATTLE

6-Family

"And you're a...neko?" I asked Sora, sounding distant even to myself.

He smiled and nodded, whipping the hat off his head. His cat ears, freed from their prison, twitched happily.

I felt a grin creeping onto my face. I knew it would take a while to really come to terms with this crazy revelation, but the idea was pretty amazing. It was as if I could feel my brain adjusting. I couldn't, of course, but that's how it felt.

I sat there, grinning like a fool, until Enrique cleared his throat. As I turned my gaze on him, the beginnings of a headache thudded in my temples. He was watching me in silence, his eyes searching for acceptance. I forced my grin to what I hoped was a less psychotic-looking smile before asking, "And you are...?"

A warm smile spread across Enrique's pink lips, though I was busily berating myself over how rude my phrasing had seemed. Before I could raise a hand to my forehead in a physical addition to my chastisement, he replied, "I'm an elemental."

I thought about it for a moment. Elementals had just barely crossed my paranormal radar. However, I had a basic idea of what they were. That is, I hoped I did.

"What element do you control?" I asked, trying to look as if I knew what I was talking about.

"Water," he replied. One point for me.

"Do you turn into a fish?" I asked, feeling foolish.

A burst of Mihael's laughter erupted in the hallway, telling me I had every right to be turning the color of a ripe tomato.

Even Enrique was finding it difficult to keep the corners of his lips from curling upward. I grimaced, letting my head fall forward. A dull thud announced the introduction of my frontal bone to the wooden surface of the table.

"Ignore me. I'm not exactly well-informed," I mumbled around the oak. Or maybe it was pine. It smelled like pine.

"Obviously," Francis commented, breezing past us.

I glared at him through the window between my cloaking hair and the table.

"Well what are you? A living encyclopedia?" I shot back.

Francis froze. He stood at an angle to me, but I could see his frown, and through his eyes I could see anger and depression battling for dominance. Without answering, he turned and walked back out, leaving the room colder than a cryogenic chamber.

Dead silence reigned for a full minute. Slowly, like birds rising on a chilly Spring morning, sound and movement returned. Drake cleared his throat self-consciously.

"You should go after him."

"And get myself decapitated?" I asked dubiously.

Sora rolled his eyes. "Francis wouldn't hurt you. He likes you," he explained condescendingly, as if I were five years old.

I made a face at him. I prefer to think of myself as six-and-a-half.

Nevertheless, I pushed away from the table and headed out, searching for Francis. I passed Mihael at the door, now sober. He opened his mouth to speak, but I ignored him.

I found Francis on the second floor. He was looking out the window, his shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets, golden eyes stormy. Shadows of emotion flickered across his face like storm clouds pushed by the wind.

Tentatively, I laid a hand on his upper arm. He seemed to snap out of a daze, turning his gaze on me. His expression softened.

"I'm sorry," I whispered past a lump that had formed in my throat.