“I thought you guys left,” Rye says to her.
Jenny is cautious as she sees the blood on us. I hang back since he seems to have bonded with her.
“No. Mom and Dad let me stay for a few more rides, some ice cream, and look at my pretty face paint!”
I look down to find a pink horse painted on her hand and hearts on her cheek in the same shade.
“Do you like my horse?” she asks me.
A horse.
I blink a few times.
It’s a horse.
Of all things, that can’t be coincidental. I lock eyes with Rye, whose jaw drops open.
“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I say, managing a smile for the girl.
“And my friend Mattie gave me flowers. I was sad because I didn’t get any but then she gave me some. Here, you can have one.” Jenny smiles as she takes out a crushed rose from her jacket.
She holds it out to me and I hesitate for a moment.
“Do you want it?” Jenny asks, completely innocent.
My heart hammers so hard, I’m sure Rye and Jenny will be able to hear it.
“Yeah, I’ll take the rose. Thank you.” I smile. And just like that, everything officially changes. I got my wish and the adventure starts right here.
My name is Sailor Monroe, and I’m the Paradox.
I’m sore all over, but I did just help fight off three Slip Demons, so I guess that’s normal. Whatever normal means anymore. My phone beeps and I check it.
Mel: got a clue on the dagger. TTYL
I can only hope that will end well. We could really use a win. Jinx is thankfully going to be okay, but if he hadn’t been teleported when he was, he’d be dead.
Staring blankly into my closet, I can’t seem to decide what to wear. Dad is downstairs cooking; the smells are wafting up to me as usual.
I had a rough night; sleep didn’t come too easy. I kept seeing Aziza throwing fireballs but they weren’t hitting the demon, they were hitting me. For whatever reason, Aziza hates me, yet she saved my life. That’s something. Maybe I can be the Paradox they expect.
Finally, I choose my favorite purple sweater and a pair of black skinny jeans, turning to see how my butt looks in the pants. Will Rye like this on me? Just thinking of that beautiful jerk makes my heart flip flop. With one more glance and a sigh, I brush some gloss over my lips to complete my look, give my chestnut hair a little toss, and head down to join my dad. He’s humming something I don’t recognize and bopping around the kitchen. I smile, remembering days like this as a child. Of course, Mom was also bopping around with him. It’s amazing how easy it is to conceal sadness, but would we have been able to stop her even if we’d known? It’s a question that haunts me, made worse by the fact I’ll never get an answer to it.
With effort, I let go of the question. At least for now. For now, I want to just enjoy how happy my dad is. Sunlight beams through our kitchen window and dust particles float in its rays. Eggs and bacon, the usual, sizzle on the stove, and I open the fridge to pour us some orange juice.
“You are awfully cheerful this morning,” I say, laughing as he spins around and taps a wooden spoon on the island counter.
“Just happy is all. Glad that the two of us are in a nice small town and can start over. A clean start.”
I sip my juice and nod in silent agreement.
“So, what about it, kiddo? Are you really okay with this move? I know it’s a sleepy town where nothing happens, but you’ve already made some good friends, right Biscuit?”
Sure, nothing happens here. Oh, wait…actually, Dad, I almost drowned and helped kill a total of four Slip Demons. Well technically one of those pretty much killed me. Bet that will go great with some sunny-side ups.
“Yeah, kind of a slow town,” I agree.
I can’t laugh at the irony, but oh if he knew. He looks on the verge of saying something but thinks better of it and turns back to humming and cooking. My eyes narrow. He’s up to something. This isn’t just eggs and bacon. He’s whipping up cinnamon French toast.
“What’s all this? A feast. What’s the occasion, Dad?”
Dad laughs over his shoulder.
“Geez, can’t I cook for you without malicious intent?”
Of course, but not when French toast is involved.
“Whatever. I have to get to school,” I grumble, taking eggs and bacon and sandwiching them between two pieces of bread.
“Wait, Biscuit. Come on, French toast.”
Dad points both hands to the battered pieces of bread he’s getting ready to fry to golden perfection. My tummy growls, giving away my hunger. I roll my eyes and sit down, earning a big cheesy grin from him.
“Now, how about some cheese in those eggs?”
He returns to humming and I watch and wait, until my plate is heaped high with delicious food. I know my stomach will probably hate me soon, but I dig in anyway. We eat in silence. Dad keeps looking at me like he still has something to say. As I am heading for the door, he stops me short.
“Look, I have to confess something.”
“So that was a win-me-over breakfast?”
“No. Well, yes and no. Don’t be angry.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Something happened last night. Something that I think might be a good thing but I really want you to think about it.”
“Okay.”
He’s starting to freak me out.
“Okay,” he says slowly. He brushes his
