“It’s okay, I’ve seen it,” said Seb. He crumpled up the wax paper that his taco had come in, pitching it into a garbage can. He was dryly aware that even as he was talking to the girls, part of him was scanning every aura he passed. Yes, he’d certainly given up searching – didn’t even think about it any more.

Lucy gave a little pout. “Oh. Well, will you still be here in a few days? Doing your psychic readings?” She bantered the words, making it clear that she didn’t believe in that stuff for a second.

“Maybe – I haven’t decided yet.” Or decided what to do with the gaping years ahead of him, either. Not wanting to think about it, he said, “Who knows, maybe I’ll give it all up and become a violinist.”

“A violinist?” Amanda nudged him. “No way, you look like you’re strictly an electric-guitar man. I keep expecting you to whip out your axe and start doing ‘Stairway to Heaven’.”

Seb held back a smile. He could never resist an opening like this. “No, my father’s a classical violinist,” he said seriously. “I guess it’s just in the blood, you know?”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yes, I was raised on that stuff. My mother’s an opera singer. She plays too, though. Piano. She says it helps her relax, so she likes to take it on tour with her – it’s so difficult getting it on flights. Because it always has to be her piano; no other one will do.”

Amanda’s brown eyes had gone wide. “Wow – are you serious?”

“No, he’s not serious,” laughed Lucy. “Get your brain in gear, Amanda.”

The dark-haired girl made a rueful face. “Okay, you got me, Seb. So what do your parents really do?”

“Really? They run a circus training school.”

Lucy snickered. “You’re not going to get anything out of him. Don’t you remember from last night? Seb’s the original man of mystery.” She squeezed his arm, giving him an arch smile. “I bet your parents are really Mr. and Mrs. Ordinary of Boring, Mexico.”

He laughed out loud at that – if only she knew. “Yes, I think maybe you’re right,” he said.

Leaning close, Lucy traced the thin scar on his forearm, from a knife fight when he was younger. He caught a whiff of her shampoo; it smelled like oranges. “Let me guess – a swordfight with pirates, right?”

“Just a cat scratch. It was a big cat, though.” Even without the sultry pink lights shifting through her aura, Seb was very aware that Lucy was coming on to him a little. As she touched his arm, he knew without trying that she was wondering what it would be like to kiss him; planning how she could get him on his own at the hostel later.