Laurel tilted her head to one side. “Do you prefer the screams,” she asked Dean softly, “or the blood?” There was a single beat of silence, and then Lia sauntered into the room behind my little sister. “I give that a nine out of ten for delivery,” Lia told Laurel. “But a ten for creepy content.” Laurel shrugged, her expression unchanging. “I try.” Most of the time, Laurel tried not to be creepy—and failed. But my sister was strangely at ease with Lia, who was already training her to use her unnatural solemnity to her advantage and to spot lies.
