Infusion by Alyssa Thiessen

Author:Alyssa Thiessen [Thiessen, Alyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Charlie Dawg Press
Published: 2016-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

When I got home, the house was dark. I turned the doorknob carefully so even the click of the latch was quiet. I eased the door mostly open, stopping short of where it creaked, and edged in. I froze on the threshold.

Illuminated by the nightlight, Mikey stood at the kitchen counter with a glass of water and an empty plate beside him. His jaw dropped as he registered my unexpected presence in the doorway, sneaking back in after one in the morning.

I was so caught.

He recovered quickly. “Where have you been?” His voice was cold. He slammed the glass on the counter. For a man who wasn’t my father, he willingly played the role when it suited him.

“Sorry.” I avoided his eyes. “Lisa had a crisis. She needed me to come over.”

He shook his head before I’d finished. “No excuse for leaving without asking. Get upstairs. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Mikey—”

“Now.” He cut me off.

“Listen, I—”

“That’s enough!” he shouted.

I winced. No way Mom slept through that. She was probably listening and waiting for me to diffuse the situation.

I wasn’t in the mood to diffuse anything. I stepped toward him. If he really wanted to play Dad, I’d let him help me with my long-overdue training. I hadn’t tried to pull thoughts from any ordinaries before. It was as good a time as any to practice with a person I wasn’t connected to. I rested my hand on his arm.

“Sorry I let you down.” I tried to make my voice sound sincere. I searched as quickly as possible inside his mind for a menial piece of information. Definitely did not want anything too personal. I considered the empty plate. His food would be especially difficult because it wasn’t on his mind at all. Perfect.

I read his anger loud and clear. He didn’t buy my apology.

But there—just below his current ire was his memory from earlier this evening. He’d reached in the fridge and pulled out a box. Pizza. He’d plopped two hefty slices on a plate, then watched it circle around and around in the microwave.

He glared at my hand, then jerked his arm away from my touch.

“Was it the last slice of pizza?” I wanted to know if I was right.

“Who cares if it was the last one?” he exploded, flinging the plate against the wall beside me. It shattered, throwing shards of glass over the carpet and my hair. I ducked. “I said, get upstairs!”

I whirled without a word and took the stairs two at a time. I’d rarely seen his temper, but I knew it existed. Usually, I just stayed out of his way, which suited us both fine. He never revealed it to my mom—guess he had better sense than to do that.

I slammed my door and lay down on my bed. My heart pounded, but it wasn’t fear. It was elation. Adrenaline. I did it. I found a random thought in someone—when he wasn’t even thinking it. And, if I could read someone like that, maybe I’d find the information we needed from the creatures.

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