Glass Pomegranate: Volume I

Chapter Thirty: Some Kind Of Illegal

Kismet woke alone on the couch. Pain throbbed in her chest, an ache so deep it left her gasping.

She shook her head, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Crusted tears scratched under her palms.

The living room window was still open. The scent of rain drying in the sun wafted in on the cool morning breeze. It chilled her skin, bringing her closer to awareness. Pots and pans clattered in the kitchen and eggs sizzled on the stove. Kismet sat up and peeked over the back of the couch.

Alistair slouched at the table, nursing a mug of coffee while Nyx was busy at the stove. Navy blue and ash grey ribbons emanated from both siblings. The pain in Kismet's chest did not belong to her alone.

To a degree, she understood Angel's need to peel himself off like a band-aid, but the wound left behind was still open and bleeding.

"You want eggs?" Alistair asked when he noticed she was awake.

Kismet nodded and got off the couch, padding into the kitchen to sit with him at the table. Nyx focused on the frying pan, scrambling the eggs with a fork. Oil hissed and spat. She cursed, hopping out of the way.

"Would you like some help?" Kismet asked.

"No, I got it," she said. Her body held tight and tense.

"Those eggs are good and scrambled," said Alistair. "Why not sit down?"

"I'm fine." She removed the pan from the burner and scraped the eggs onto a plate. "Anyone want any pancakes?"

Kismet almost wanted to say yes simply to appease her.

Alistair leaned back, groaning in exasperation. "Please sit down."

"I will, I will, just let me get this sorted." Nyx arranged the eggs alongside toast on three separate plates before bringing them to the table. "Then I just gotta -"

"You're killing me here," he complained.

Nyx sighed and slouched into the chair between them. She shifted her eggs with a fork. "Are these too fluffy?"

"They're fine," said Kismet, taking a bite. They needed more salt, but she didn't dare say so.

"Are you sure he's really gone?" Alistair asked. "Remember when we were thirteen? He ran away but came right -"

"I'm sure," Nyx snapped, her fork fell, clanking on the ceramic plate.

Waves of grief poured from Alistair in long, rippling ribbons. "He didn't say good-bye to me."

Kismet's stomach churned.

It's all my fault. Maybe I didn't try hard enough to make Angel stay. I shouldn't have read Jay's mind or said anything to Daisy at all. I destroyed everything. Again.

"Is it because he thought we would care if he came from a lab or something?" Alistair asked. "It doesn't change anything. He's still the same old Grub to me. I just wish he'd given me an opportunity to say so."

"He had his mind set on leaving," said Nyx. "You're the only one who could have talked any sense into him."

After breakfast, Alistair excused himself to go to work and promised to return in the evening.

Kismet helped Nyx clear the table. The scrape of forks against ceramic plates filled the silence.

A loud knock on the door made them jump and Nyx put the plate down.

Angel.

Kismet cringed in the split second it took Nyx to correct her thought, collect herself again and head for the door. She followed her into the porch.