All Wounds by Dina James Page A

instead of some annoyingly cheerful voice telling her about the day’s weather. Of course, unless she changed the time she got up, and she couldn’t do that now with all she did in preparation for the day in the mornings, she was stuck with irritating energetic radio personalities. They seemed to be on every station in the morning—even the Spanish one.
    She sat up and stretched with a yawn, groaning inwardly as she remembered she had an algebra test that afternoon she hadn’t had time to study for.
    A smell reached her nose, cutting off her deep morning inhalation.
    Oh, no. Nana. Rebecca leapt out of bed and sprinted down the hall to the kitchen, where she stopped dead in her tracks at the doorway. Her mouth fell open as her eyes widened.
    Nana was standing next to the stove, scrambling eggs. In another skillet on the stovetop was the source of the smell that had awakened Rebecca...
    bacon frying. The table was set with two plates, forks, knives, napkins and glasses. Juice was poured. Nothing was on fire.
    The gorgeous blond boy she’d met the previous evening was sitting at the table. Dark, wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes, and Rebecca noticed the kitchen windows had been covered over with thick blankets from the linen closet upstairs, making the room dark. The only light came from the bulb in the vent hood over the stove, illuminating the food Nana was cooking.
    Toast popped up, making Rebecca jump.
    Syd raised an eyebrow at her over his glasses. “A fair morning to you, Acolyte.”
    “Oh, Rebecca, you’re up!” Nana said over her shoulder before Rebecca had a chance to return Syd’s greeting. “I hope I didn’t wake you with the noise. I tried to be quiet.”
    Rebecca shook her head, still staring. Nana was...making breakfast...
    like normal...
    “Oh, good,” Nana said as she reached for the butter dish and a butter-knife. She slathered each slice of toasted bread with a creamy yellow pat and set them on a plate. “Sit down. The eggs are almost ready. I was going to make biscuits, but I couldn’t find the flour.”
    “We don’t have any,” Rebecca replied, still struck by the sheer weird-ness of the scene. “I don’t know how to use it and so I haven’t bought any since I cleaned out the pantry last.”
    Nana nodded absently as she brought the eggs over to the table.
    “Well, we’ll have to get some more,” she said, scraping eggs from the skillet onto the plates. “I can’t make any kind of bread without it. I’ll need baking powder, too. And more butter. I saw baking soda in the back of the fridge, and though that’s probably still good for baking, I’ll need a fresh box of that too.”
    Rebecca just stared at her grandmother. Nana looked back at her with eyes that saw her clearly...like it used to be. Was it going to be like this every morning now while Syd was around? She hoped so.
    “Come on, Rebecca. Eggs are getting cold. Come and eat,” Nana urged, beckoning to her granddaughter with a gesture.
    “I promise I won’t bite,” Syd said.
    Rebecca scowled at him as she crossed the kitchen to one of the chairs and looked down at the plate Nana pointed to. The eggs looked and smelled normal. Nana obviously remembered she was an awesome cook. Rebecca glanced at Syd and sat down. “Uh...morning, Blondie.”
    “So it is,” he replied. “Morning for you, rather. This time is my night, past my usual time to retire. One of my kind should be well into rest by mortal sunrise. However, you are mortal, and we are not at the lair.”
    “I don’t get it,” Rebecca said. “If you should be in bed, why are you still here? Oh. Ryan, right? How is he?”
    “Rebecca,” Nana said. “Syd is still here because you need to start your training right away. I told you last night, I can’t help you. Now, get some breakfast in you. As for Ryan, he made it through the night and will need to be fed before you go to school. Syd was going to give you a quick lesson before you leave the prote—the