Chapter 8 - The Transition

“It changes things in what way?” Steve asked, his voice laced with suspicion as he studied his mother’s face. The midday sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows caught the subtle flush on her cheeks, a reminder of what had transpired just moments ago.

Susan turned back to the stove, her hips swaying slightly as she moved. She didn’t answer immediately, instead focusing on flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “I was asked to tell you to call your grandma if you have questions,” she finally said, her tone casual.

Mia, sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her pancakes, chimed in with an impish grin. “Will it be a clothing optional party?” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief.

Steve barely registered her question. His mind was already racing, caught on his mother’s words. Grandma? Why does this involve her? He frowned.

“Why do I need to call Grandma for this?” he asked, his voice low and edged with confusion. He watched as Susan wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped closer to him.

She cupped his face with one hand, her touch warm and lingering. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was anything but motherly. Her tongue darted into his mouth tasting the syrup. It was soft, yet deliberate, and it left him reeling when she pulled away. “Because it was her idea,” Susan explained, her breath warm against his skin. “Because I don’t know why she’s doing this. And because she told me you don’t call her often, and she’d like to have a conversation with her only grandson.”

With that, she turned back to the stove, leaving Steve standing there, his pulse throbbing in his ears. He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the last bite of his pancake and retreated to his room, his mind a whirlwind of questions.

Once inside, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why had his recently discovered ... talent ... marked a change in the clan? Why was his grandmother implicated? By association, he knew she was part of the clan, but the way his mom had explained it, there seemed to be more to this than they were telling him.

He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen. Grandma Standford. The woman who had always been a pillar of warmth and wisdom now felt like a mystery waiting to be unraveled. Taking a deep breath, he dialed her number, his heart pounding in anticipation of what she might say—and what it would mean for him.

He took a deep breath and reached for his phone, dialing her number. After a few rings, her voice came through, smooth and melodic, instantly calming his nerves. “Hello?” she said, her tone as reassuring as ever.

“Hi, Grandma,” Steve replied, sitting up straighter on his bed. His grandmother had always demanded respect in his eyes—she was a force to be reckoned with.

When he was little, he’d once gone with her to a garage to pick up her car. Steve had been intimidated when a six-foot-five mechanic appeared, telling her there were unexpected repairs and that her bill would be higher than expected. Grandma had smiled sweetly and proceeded to whittle that mountain of a man down to size until he gave her what she wanted, nearly running away in tears. She’d driven out of the garage having paid the agreed-upon charge. “Never let anyone intimidate you,” she’d told him afterward. “In this world, those who try to assert dominance over the weak are cowards and are easy to dominate in return.” Steve had respected his grandmother more than anyone else he knew.