Birthright

CHAPTER FOUR

Kray was startled out of sleep the next morning by the sharp rap on his bedroom door. As Uncle James opened the door, he rolled to his side and read the clock. 6:30 a.m. Too early for school.

"I received a message from your school," Uncle James said, staring down his long nose with a condemning expression. He was a slender, brown-haired man with thin lips incapable of forming a smile. "You are suspended for a week."

Kray blinked, still wrapped up in sleep. "What?" he asked groggily.

"I said that you are suspended for a week. Something about a fight at Berkley Park."

His head fell back on the pillow. He waited for his uncle to scold him; perhaps this would be the first time he would ever do so. James Eagan and his wife hadn't bothered with him ever since he joined the family. Not to criticize him, not to advise him—all that mattered was that he did his chores and stayed out of their way.

"This means you have plenty of time to repaint the backyard fence and cut the grass," Uncle James said predictably. "I suggest you get an early start."

"Yes, sir," he said, but the man was already out of the door.

It took him all morning to get the work done. Soon as he checked on Grams, Kray headed out of the door, driffer strapped to his back, and went jogging. The streets were empty at this hour, except a few residents taking out the trash or walking along the sidewalks. Best time to get away from the house and still avoid the chaos of the outside world.

Winded, he finally stopped for breath. As he sat on the curb of the sidewalk, an elderly woman passed, carrying several grocery bags.

He immediately perked up at the sight of her. Teanh Morrison. One of the Drasse family's maids—and a Faithful. As always, the black markings on her body captured his attention. All mature Sansers had them, though based on what he'd heard, no one really knew what they meant—if they were even words that curved and twisted all over their skin.

Kray observed the rest of her. She'd aged a lot since he first saw her at Alex's house years ago. Sansers were beyond human, with incredible strength and speed, but she appeared so frail now, and she clearly favored her right leg.

Still he hesitated to lend a helping hand with the bags, conflicting thoughts racing through his mind. He remembered the Liberation incident, but he also couldn't get Grams' words about her husband out of his mind. So what now? Walk away and pretend he hadn't seen her? Or become involved and risk getting even more ostracized?

Kray snorted at that. Not like he could ruin his reputation any further.

Sympathy for the old woman overcame his reluctance. If there was one thing his grandmother had taught him, it was to show kindness to others. So he glided over to her side and hopped off his driffer, saying, "Mrs. Morrison? Let me help you with those bags."

The relief in her eyes hit him hard. And to think he'd almost convinced himself to walk away.

"Thank you, dear." She handed him the three bags in her left hand, flashing him the strange markings on her arms.

Kray jerked his gaze away from them and grabbed the bags. His knees nearly buckled at the weight. Seeing the grimace he wasn't quick to mask, Mrs. Morrison chuckled. "Perhaps I should take these back. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself on my account."

His ego smarted. "I have a better idea." He adjusted the settings on his driffer. When it rose up to his waist, he hung the bags from the middle. "Hand me the rest of your bags."

When the job was done, he surveyed his handiwork and nodded with satisfaction. "That should make things easy."

"If I had known these gadgets could be so useful, I would have brought my son's," she said, shaking her head with amazement as she began to walk. "These old bones aren't as strong as they used to be."