Free Immortal Mine by Cindy C Bennett

descriptive verbs, but
never “colorless.”
    “They’re not exactly colorless, they
just—”
    “There you are, kiddo.” My father’s words
boom across the yard, and I realize how close Sam and I are
standing as he stares into my eyes, and I take a step backward, a
little freaked by Sam’s intensely worried demeanor.
    “Hey, dad,” I say back, turning to see him
and my mother striding across the yard toward us. I roll my eyes.
Remember me saying how everyone in town wears jeans except on
Sunday’s? I should have qualified that with: except my parents.
They always dress in one of two ways: as if they are on a safari,
or they were headed to 4 o’clock tea with the Queen. Today, they
are in Safari mode—my dad even has the hat, and the shorts with
knee-socks.
    As they near, smiling expectantly toward
Sam, I turn back.
    “Sam, these are my parents, Jonas and Beth
Parker. Mom and dad, this is Sam Coleman.”
    Sam still looks stunned, and slightly
nauseated. Somehow I doubt my eyes can be the cause of such a
reaction, so there must be something else going on.
    “How are you, Sam? Welcome to town,” my
father says, pumping his hand.
    “Oh… yes, thanks,” Sam’s response is rote,
distracted.
    “Sam, would you like to stay for dinner?”
This from my mother, who I love, but I groan at her invitation.
Since I usually cook, it’s extra work for me, not her.
    “What?” That pulls Sam out of his reverie,
though the furrow in his forehead doesn’t ease. “Dinner? Uh, no…
no, thanks. I… I have to go. I have to be…” He glances at me again,
in an expression close to horror and I find myself caught up by it.
Now he has me worried. Something is definitely wrong.
    He turns away, striding toward his truck
without a backward glance. He slams the door behind him and guns it
down the driveway.
    “Okay,” I murmur, “that was odd.”
    “Well, isn’t he a tall drink of water,” my
father teases, and I groan.
    “Please, dad, that’s creepy.”
    “Oh, but darling, your father’s right. No
wonder you’ve been in such a bind about him.”
    “Mom!” I head toward the house, but they
follow, tormenting me.
    “Did you see them when we came out? Gazing
into one anoth—”
    I slam the door behind me, shutting out the
rest of my father’s words, but not the sound of their laughter.
    Sometimes, loneliness is the better
option.
     
     

Chapter 11

Sam
     
    I slam the door open, and Shane’s reaction
is immediate. He stands and steps toward the closet where we keep
the weapons, his eyes never leaving me. Then, whatever he sees, he
relaxes.
    “Her eyes!” I explode.
    His alarm turns to amusement as he looks at
me.
    “Do you have them in your hand?” he asks
lightly.
    “What?” His question throws me, until I
follow his gaze down to my clenched fists. I relax them and blow
out a breath.
    “You wanna sit?” he asks, indicating the
table.
    “Yes,” I huff, then proceed to pace beside
the table, while Shane slides back into the chair he had vacated,
where he was working on one of his blasted Sudoku puzzles. I can’t
stand the things myself.
    “You want to tell me about it, or just wear
a hole in the floor?” Shane continues writing numbers, not lifting
his eyes.
    I grunt, not sure how to tell him. Finally,
I just blurt it out.
    “They’re colorless.”
    That stops Shane short, and he looks at me
in some alarm.
    “I thought they were unusual… gold. They
appeared gold the few times I glimpsed them. Her rim is still large
enough to give the impression….” I stop pacing and drop into the
chair across from him. I think back to all the times I’d seen her.
She was either wearing those infernal sunglasses, or far away, or
not looking at me….
    “How did I miss it?” Misery laces my voice
as I drop my head into my hands.
    “That’s no’ hard to fathom. You weren’t
lookin’, now, were ya?” I can gauge the strength of Shane’s upset
by the fact that he’s allowed the slightest burr to creep